Thieves Till We Die (17 page)

‘If he thinks he's king, he probably reckons the treasure is his by rights,' Jonah suggested.

‘Or maybe it's not only the treasure he's after,' said Coldhardt.

‘I know
something
they're after,' Tye offered. ‘Kabacra talked about an untraceable cargo being ready for collection from a freight truck on Interstate
40 tomorrow night.'

‘What kind of cargo?' yawned Motti.

‘I don't know. I only know a dark red freight truck with no real security, meant to be carrying eucalyptus, will pass exit 85 on I-40 around half-eleven – and Traynor's going to be picking up whatever it's carrying.'

‘That sounds like plenty of detail,' Con observed. ‘You say you overheard this information?'

‘I was in the next room.'

Motti nodded. ‘And were you dressed yet?'

‘That's enough, Motti,' Coldhardt warned him. ‘You heard no other details, Tye?'

‘That's when I made a break for it. I figured the info could be useful to you.' She paused. ‘And I didn't want to stick around to face Traynor again.'

‘The information is intriguing.' Coldhardt tapped his lips with a finger. ‘What cargo, I wonder? Another significant antique weapon from his strongroom?'

‘Or more modern weapons,' said Motti. ‘Guns and stuff.'

‘Whatever the cargo, it must be relevant to their plans …' Coldhardt looked round at them. ‘So we shall steal it ahead of them.'

‘Suppose it could be another clue as to where to find the temple,' Jonah suggested.

‘Maybe,' said Tye doubtfully. ‘But Traynor and some woman were talking about being close to finding an exact location a few days back.'

Con arched an eyebrow. ‘More information you just happened to overhear?'

Tye glared at her. ‘Yes.'

Coldhardt looked grave. ‘Well, if nothing else, stealing something that Sixth Sun needs should set back their plans – buy us the time we need to locate the temple ourselves.'

‘I don't trust this,' said Con. ‘It feels like a set-up.'

Tye stared, and Jonah winced to see so much hurt in her eyes. ‘You really think that?'

‘'Course we don't,' Patch piped up, frowning in Con's direction. ‘Do we?'

‘Tye cares about Ramez, and Sixth Sun have threatened to kill him,' Con retorted coolly. ‘She could be betraying us in order to save him.'

Coldhardt looked at Tye, his expression unreadable. ‘Tye, you must know that Sixth Sun will kill Ramez whatever you do. If he is their Perfect Sacrifice then he is vital to their plans. They will have invested far too much time, money and effort to let him go now.'

‘I know,' Tye snapped, ‘that's why we've got to go back to Santa Fe and get him away.'

Coldhardt shook his head. ‘Out of the question.'

‘But we
have
to! And we have to get hold of his nephews too, Sixth Sun will kill them if he …' Tye leaned forwards in her seat. ‘Coldhardt,
please
. Ramez is going to be hacked open for a goddess no one's worshipped for hundreds of years!'

‘It must be something to do with the codex prophecy,' Coldhardt remarked. ‘When the earth shakes the sun from the sky, the bloodied sword is wiped clean and Perfect Sacrifice is made, and when her attendants reach into their hearts, then Coatlicue will arise from her temple and feast on the poison in men.'

‘Oh God. I get it.' Tye was watching him closely. ‘You
want
him to die, don't you? You want to know what will happen when he's sacrificed – you think Coatlicue really
will
rise up, like Traynor.'

‘The prophecy's stuffed full of figures of speech,' Jonah said quickly. ‘That bit must mean that a way into the buried temple will appear if –'

Tye wasn't listening. ‘You do, don't you?' She bunched her fists, stalked closer to Coldhardt and shouted, ‘
Don't you!
'

Jonah held his breath, waiting for the inevitable reaction.

But Coldhardt seemed unfazed. ‘If you want me to consider helping Ramez, Tye,' he said calmly, ‘first you must prove yourself to me once more.'

She turned and sat back down in her chair. ‘What do I have to do?' she said dully.

‘That's better,' he whispered, leaning back in his chair, the faintest smile on his face. ‘For a start, why not drive your colleagues along Interstate 40 tomorrow night and help them to hijack a freight lorry?'

Jonah decided to stay out of Tye's way for the rest of the day. He was dying to talk with her again, but didn't trust himself not to mess up like before. Besides, she needed to rest, while he needed to make sense of those sodding pictograms – both the one he'd put together with the help of the statuette, and the one in the codex.

After another few frustrating hours he went to see Con, to see how her own researches were going. He found her in her room, sprawled on her stomach on
the bed, crunching crisps and flicking through a big pile of printouts.

‘Good afternoon, Jonah.' She smiled at him and pulled off her glasses. ‘Delight me. Tell me you have had a breakthrough.'

‘A breakdown's more likely,' he sighed. ‘My latest theory on those symbols is that they both mean, “anyone trying to translate these will go mental”.'

She smiled. ‘I have a theory too. The heart in this pictogram – it could be a cacao pod.'

‘A what?'

She grabbed a piece of paper and leaned up to pass it to him, affording him a view down her pale blue blouse that Patch would have killed for. Jonah took the printout and tried to focus on the line drawing. It showed a man striking another man with a knife, and the blood falling against a tree covered in strange fruits.

‘It's a cacao tree. The pods are its fruit – and from the seeds are made cocoa and chocolate, yes?'

‘The Aztecs were big on Dairy Milk, were they?'

‘They were very big on
real
chocolate,' she told him. ‘Not sugary stuff – strong, bitter and spicy. They made drinks from it. People drank it at marriage ceremonies and baptisms, priests made special chocolate pastes and daubed them over temple walls.'

Jonah was left none the wiser by the picture and handed it back. ‘Is the guy in the picture being sacrificed?'

‘No. He is simply a nobleman, spilling some of his blood to honour the gods.' She knelt up and patted the bed, indicating Jonah should sit beside her. ‘Chocolate was felt to be the blood of the earth, and
there was a sacred association with human blood. Chocolate held deep symbolic meaning.'

He perched himself beside her. ‘Guess the Aztecs liked their deep, symbolic meanings, huh?'

‘Yes.' She smiled at him, her pale eyes holding his. ‘In Nahuatl, Aztec poets and thinkers would often pair two words together to create a metaphor for something totally different.'

Jonah frowned. ‘How d'you mean?'

‘For instance, the words for “mat” and “seat”, when paired, were taken to mean “rulership”, yes? Because the rulers sat in judgement over the people, I suppose.' Her eyes glittered. ‘And according to the experts online, “heart” and “blood”, when paired, were taken to mean “cacao”.'

‘So, you think the pictogram could be showing a cacao tree pod and not a human heart?'

‘It is possible.'

‘But not very helpful,' Jonah pointed out. ‘We go from a heart dripping blood into a box, to a cacao pod dripping chocolate into a box.'

‘Or boxes. Look at that outside edge. I am thinking there might be one behind the other.'

‘Well, then, dripping chocolate into boxes. What kind of a clue is that?'

‘I don't know …' Con deliberately leaned against him as she reached for something under the covers. ‘But it seems a tasty proposition, yes?'

She produced a small box of posh chocolates, opened it and waved it under his nose so he caught the enticing scent. Then she smiled up at him. ‘Help yourself.'

Jonah regarded her warily. Con knew he was Tye's biggest supporter – was she making a play for him in the hope of weakening Tye's position further?

‘They look great. But I don't fancy one right now.'

‘Oh.' She popped one of the chocolates in her mouth and put her specs back on. Was that just the faintest trace of red in her cheeks? ‘You are saving yourself for supper, yes?'

‘Mm. Patch says he's making pizza – God help us.'

Con didn't reply. Already she seemed a million miles away, poring over her papers like he'd never been there. How could she just turn it off and on like that? Just how strongly did she ever feel anything?

Shaking his head, Jonah walked away from her cool enigma and back to the puzzles on his PC.

Around seven o'clock, Jonah was brooding in his room when his mobile went. He hoped it would be Tye. It was Patch.

‘Dinner's served in the hangout in about ten minutes,' he announced. ‘Can you call for Tye and bring her over?'

He blinked. ‘Why me?'

‘Just thought you might want to.'

And because you knew Motti and Con would tell you where to go
. ‘OK, fine.' Jonah held the phone between his cheek and shoulder as he pulled on his trainers – no point in wasting time. ‘Pizzas doing OK?'

‘I'm not sure about the
foie gras
one. It smells gross.' Patch paused. ‘But then it's posh, so it's probably meant to.'

‘Uh-huh.' Jonah took a vague stab at styling his
hair one-handed in front of the mirror. ‘I think I'll stick to ham and pineapple.'

‘Closest I could get was ham and blueberry.'

‘Then I think I'll stick to toast!'

‘Just make sure you get her here, right? I gotta surprise for her.'

‘As if the blueberries weren't surprise enough,' Jonah muttered as Patch rang off. He checked his reflection again – he'd do – and set off down the corridor towards Tye's room in the east wing, his heart slowly crawling up his throat.

He knocked, but there was no reply. ‘Hey. It's me. You in there?'

‘Somewhere,' came the muffled reply.

Jonah licked his dry lips. ‘Patch wants us to get down to the hangout. He's got something special cooking.'

There was a pause, and the sound of unenthusiastic movement. A few seconds later the door opened and Tye looked out at him. She looked like she hadn't slept for days. ‘I'm not hungry.'

‘Probably a good thing.' Jonah offered an awkward smile. ‘I could try to tempt you by saying everyone's going to be there, but I guess that's not much incentive right now.'

‘You guess right.' She sighed. ‘Still, I suppose I've got to start “proving my loyalty” sometime.'

‘Not to me,' he murmured.

She opened her mouth to say something, but then seemed to think better of it. She closed her bedroom door and they set off together along the corridor. ‘I just don't want a big fuss, you know?'

‘It'll be fine,' he assured her, hoping for the best. ‘It's just pizza. No one's going to make a song and dance out of it.'

No one except Patch, it appeared.

A homemade banner was draped above the entrance to the hangout – WELCOME BACK HOME. From the writing and messy felt-tip scribbles, it was fairly obvious their most junior member was responsible.

‘Oh, great,' murmured Tye.

‘Here she is!' Patch cheered. ‘Let a banging evening commence!' He shook up a bottle of champagne, which exploded with a loud pop and a rush of white foam.

‘You wanna watch out, man,' said Motti, slumped in one of the leather armchairs. ‘You could have your eye out with that.' He let off a party popper with an ironic expression. ‘Hey, Tye, Jonah. Come on in. Hope you ate already.'

‘And no one's allowed to be lippy,' Patch warned him. ‘Or they get a
fat
lippy.'

‘Can they
wear
lippy?' Con was still doing her make-up as she breezed into the hangout without a glance at Tye and Jonah. ‘I mean, this is a special occasion, yes? And so of course I wish to look my best.'

Tye threw a daggered look at Jonah like he had led her into a den of lions. He shrugged helplessly.

‘Nice banner, Patch.' Con sat down opposite Motti. ‘You even spelled everything right.'

‘I looked up the words. I may not have been to school much but God can I ever rustle up some grub!'
Patch gestured to the coffee bar counter, which was piled high with sloppy slices, and hit a button on a remote control. Music started blasting out of the speakers, naff cheesy disco stuff, as he came over to join them and let off another popper. ‘Help yourself, peeps! Sooner they're finished, sooner we can let off the fireworks. I bought up two grands' worth – my own cash, mind. The bloke thought it was a wind-up …' When no one moved he looked crestfallen. ‘Aw, come on, then. I worked my bum off making this lot.'

‘Jonah does not have much appetite at the moment,' said Con, carefully applying her eyeshadow. ‘But I expect he will manage something, won't you, Jonah?'

Tye looked between Jonah and Con, then turned quickly to Patch. ‘Well, I'm going to stuff myself.' She gave him a hug, and he responded with enthusiasm. ‘Thanks for going to all this trouble, Patch.'

‘But no, she still won't lay you,' added Motti.

‘Oh, Patch?' Con batted her heavily mascaraed eyelashes in his direction. ‘Would you fetch me a slice of each?'

‘I'm the chef, not the waiter!' he protested.

‘So fetch yourself some, too.' She wriggled in her seat. ‘We can sit and eat them together, yes?'

‘On my way!' Patch cried as he scooted off.

‘Like a dog thrown a bone,' murmured Jonah.

‘Nuh-uh. That's a dog with a
boner
.' Motti mooched over to Tye. ‘Hey. Want me to get you something?'

Tye smiled. ‘Sure. Except I don't know what there is.'