“One man.” Russo shrugged, almost lifting Lex off the ground with the simple action. “Must be a scout.”
“But he’ll be in radio contact.” Alicia said, thinking about what had to be done. Ahead, Crouch stared up at the layered mountain as it rose up out of the desert, each fifteen-foot-high level a large step of pure jagged rock jutting toward them in wedges.
Alicia knew they had to draw the scout in. If he was any good he’d be in constant contact with Coker, have eyes on all their party in case someone suddenly vanished, be fully armed, and might even have a secondary spotter further back.
“No choice.” Crouch also seemed to be computing the scenario as he stared up at the multi-ridged mountain. “We have to capture him. It’s the only set-up that buys us time.”
“How long would the cavalry take to get here?” Caitlyn wondered. “If you pushed the button now?”
Crouch smiled at her. “Out here, Caitlyn, that’s a beautiful analogy. They used to film all the old westerns here and over near Kanab.” He seemed lost for a moment, the sentimentalist in him taking over. Alicia imagined what it must have been like watching the legendary Audie Murphy, John Wayne and Alias Smith and Jones gracing the silver screen.
“Michael?” she prompted gently.
“Oh yes. Well, it would take them an hour to mobilize and reach us. But I can’t push the button until we find something definitive. The resources involved in steaming to our rescue in sufficient force are tremendous and it’s not just about money. Entire units and groups of men and women have to literally put their lives on hold to make this happen properly.”
“I get it,” Caitlyn said. Alicia knew Crouch wasn’t just talking about cops or soldiers, he was referencing Aztec specialists around the world, important security professionals that couldn’t afford to order an operation on bad information, key members of the World Heritage Committee, even Interpol would have an interest in Coker and his boss and were ready to lead an operation of their own in conjunction with the United States.
“Oh my God,” Crouch suddenly breathed, still staring up at the ridges rising out of the desert, and then repeated more slowly. “Oh… my… God.”
Alicia raised an eyebrow. Crouch wasn’t exactly known for his proliferate cursing. Now what?
“It’s the mountain,” he whispered. “It’s formed of fucking terraces. Look!”
Alicia looked up. Something that had been staring them in the face all the way across the flat desert now became apparently obvious. The line of the poem ran through her mind — among the terraces — making her heart soar as yet another clue presented before them.
Lex grunted. Alicia realized it had actually been an exuberant shout but thanks to Russo’s arm — as thick as an anaconda — the cry had escaped as little more than a mumble.
Crouch almost fell to his knees, the only thing stopping him the knowledge that Coker’s scout was undoubtedly watching them. He knew they’d already lingered too long. “Drink break,” he said. “I need some time. Just grab a perch and take a break.”
He refrained from breaking out the map, its contents already committed to memory. Still, he wanted to. He was a man of paper and files, and pen and ink; pre-Android. Yes, he could navigate his way around a mainframe universe with the best of them — but he didn’t really enjoy it. Comfort was holding the evidence physically in his hand, not something encased in plastic, metal or rubber.
Among the terraces,
Look between Hummingbird and the Ritual for your final guidance.
The guiding line he’d drawn, now firmly in his mind, dissected the cliffs in half. They should stay on track. He would leave the problem of Coker’s scout for Alicia and her crew to take care of. He took a swig from a water bottle and motioned Caitlyn across. “Any ideas?”
“Only that the Ritual clearly points toward the Aztec belief in sacrifice. Ritual bloodletting was an accepted norm at the time, as customary as vacation time and Sunday trading hours are to us.”
Cruz took over, remembering his lessons. “The Ritual stems chiefly from their primary god, Huitzilopochtli, god of war and symbol of the sun, built around a belief that every day the young Aztec warrior must banish from the sky the creature of darkness using the weapon of sunlight. But every evening he fails and the creatures are reborn. He needs sustenance for his fight and his diet is human blood.”
“And the people accepted this?” Caitlyn wondered. “Their fathers. Sons? Daughters?”
“The priests were a powerful ruling body,” Cruz said. “As were the kings. As the Aztec empire grew it ensnared more captives for human sacrifice. The increase in captives led to the need for more war. And retellings of gruesome, bloody ceremonies strikes terror into the hearts of their enemies.”
“A long-used method in the art of war,” Crouch said.
“Indeed. I have read that when the great pyramid in Tenochtitlan was enlarged in the fifteenth century the resulting ceremony and celebration comprised of so much killing that the lines of victims stretched out of the city and the massacre lasted four days. You think the Spartans were hardened and bloodthirsty? They had nothing on the Aztecs.”
“Non-stop sacrifice,” Crouch said. “And all to their gods.”
“But how does the Ritual help us now?” Caitlyn wondered
Cruz shook his head. “I don’t know. Perhaps we’ll find an altar up there. But an annual reaping of twenty to fifty thousand victims clearly means something to these people. And with most of them being sacrificed to Huitzilopochtli, the sun god, it is he who is of most importance.”
Crouch eyed the rising sun. “I have a feeling we should hurry. What more do you know of this sun god, Jose?” The boss rose, packing his water bottle away.
“My Aztec knowledge is unfortunately limited,” Cruz admitted. “Gleaned through only a few months of lessons under Carlos, browsing and speed reading. The Nahua tribe and their old ancestors are not my only job function, you know. And they had so many gods—” He shook his head. “Only a professor that devotes his life to their history would know more than a smattering about all of them.”
Crouch gave Caitlyn the eye. “Perhaps you could help?”
The young woman produced a tablet computer. “Equipped with the best signal boosters money can buy, though no doubt we’ll get a better signal out here than in Marble bloody Arch.”
Crouch shrugged into his pack. “Ready?” he called out, enquiring with that one word as to how they were planning to deal with the scout.
Alicia gazed on ahead. “He’s about thirty feet behind us. Used our snack time to creep up. He’s good, but not as good as us. Start climbing those… terraces, sir. We’ll bag him.”
Crouch set off, eager to stay well ahead of Coker. The rocky terraces didn’t pose a problem to the climbers, despite jutting out one above the other and rising for hundreds of feet; their sides were crumbled and eroded, and angled to provide enough purchase for scrambling — a technique not without its hazards but not terribly dangerous.
Crouch went first, pointing out the safe purchase points. Caitlyn paused in his wake, allowing tumbling rocks to pass her by before starting up. Lex came next, employing a similar tactic, and then Cruz; leaving the three soldiers to bring up the rear. Laughing aloud, Alicia shoved Russo ahead with an ass-jab that made the big man squeal. Healey declined her gracious extended offer and motioned for her to precede him. The scout behind would have no idea they knew of his presence.
On the first terrace, Alicia confirmed their suspicions were real. As they moved from its front to its back where the mountain rose, they effectively passed from the scout’s sight. Three terraces and they had carefully monitored his progress, learning his habit. On the fourth Alicia spoke quickly.