"Subscriptions have been picking up. So, where can I find him?"
The waiter made his face sad. "Jou cannot, senor. For he is like the wind, unseeable and unfindable unless he wishes otherwise."
"How much?" Remo said wearily.
The waiter's sad face brightened. "For fifty dollars cash I will point you in the correct direction."
Remo counted out the money.
"You go north along the Pan American Highway, senor. Drive to Mexico City."
"Mexico City?"
"Si. Subcomandante Verapaz even now leads a drive to wrest Mexico City from the oppressor. Jou will undoubtedly find him somewhere along the road, crushing his enemies and lighting joy in the hearts of Mexicans everywhere."
"Thanks. You're a big help."
"May I sell you an authorized Subcomandante Verapaz doll, senores? An autographed picture? Get them now because if Verapaz either dies or succeeds, the price will surely double."
"No, but you can tell us why you changed Boca Zotz to Chi Zotz."
"That will be five additional dollars."
"Forget it."
"It is a very interesting story."
"Tell me the story, and I'll pay you what I think it's worth," Remo countered.
"Boca is Spanish. We live no longer under Spanish yoke. Boca becomes Chi so that now we will live in the Mouth of the Bat."
"So what's Boca mean?"
The waiter showed Remo his empty palm.
Remo was thinking it over when the Master of Sinanju said, "It is Spanish for mouth."
"You changed the name from Bat's Mouth to Bat's Mouth?"
"No, we change it from Bat's Mouth to Mouth of the Bat. It is a very great difference to the people."
"It is a very great pain in the boca to find this dump," said Remo on his way out the door.
"The soldados all say this, too," the waiter said smugly, folding Remo's money into his pocket.
Chapter 28
"It is called the give-and-take palm," Assumpta was saying as she broke a wicked needlelike thorn off the weirdly barbed tree. "It is called that because to touch it improperly will cut you. But the bark of the give-and-take plant makes a wonderful bandage with which to bind the very wound it causes, or any wound."
As the Extinguisher watched, she stripped off the bark on long, gauzy rolls almost like Ace bandages.
The moonlight was spectral and it made her black hair shine. Her body was as supple as bamboo. She smelled faintly of coconut.
With sure movements she bound the knife wound and, using one of the long, tough thorns, speared the loose end, cinching it tight.
"The father of my father taught this to me. He was a H'men, which is the same to you as a doctor, but one who uses the plants and herbs of the forest to heal the sick."
The Extinguisher grunted his thanks. It would be something to remember.
They moved on. As they picked their way, she taught him how to recognize the trees of the Lacandon rain forest, which was a weird conglomeration of semitropical vegetation coexisting with oak and pine trees.
"The red-bark one was known as the turista tree, because it sheds its bark the way a sunburned gringo sheds his skin," she explained. "That is the ceiba. And that the Manzanillo."
"Speaking of the turistas," he said. "Give me a minute, will you?"
She waited patiently as the Extinguisher did what had to be done, thinking that this having to drop one's pants every two miles was one hell of a way to win the trust of an enemy.
Rejoining her, he discovered her hacking a gnarled vine in two. She drank from it as if it were a garden hose. They continued on.
He said little, so she filled in the silences.
Her full name was Assumpta Kaax. She had been raised Catholic in the village called Escuintla, which meant Place of Dogs.
"It was a well-named place, Senor Fury. The dogs, who need little to sustain themselves, did well. The Maya did not."
She was thirteen when Subcomandante Verapaz had come to the village with his knowledge and his medicines and his wise words. He politicized the village, and politicized Assumpta, too. When she came of age; she had two choices. Marry a village boy she did not like, much less love. Or join the Juarezistas.
"Not that this last was a choice," she added hastily. "I ran away from my village to do this. I ran from poverty to a new life. Now I am Lieutenant Balam-which means jaguar-a true follower of Lord Kukulcan."
"Who?"
"It is the name by which some Maya call Subcomandante Verapaz. Kukulcan was our god many baktuns ago. He came bringing corn seeds, writing and other knowledges that uplifted the Maya of that cycle."
"Are you trying to tell me Verapaz is a god?"
"This is what many believe."
"What do you believe?"
She was quiet for a long, pensive period. The only sounds were the peeping of tree toads and the soft rustle of their own bodies bruising foliage.
"My heart is torn two ways," she admitted finally. "The knowledge he brings has caused me to cast off the saints of the priests of the oppressors, as well as the demons of my ancestors. Yet Subcomandante Verapaz is godlike in his way. Like Kukulcan, he has uplifted us, politicized us, opened our minds. Now he leads us to our certain destiny."
"That's not an answer."
"The only answer I can truthfully give is that my heart is torn, but my mind is clear. I would die for my lord Verapaz."
"I understand," the Extinguisher said. And he did. Because his heart was torn, too. He was falling in love with this jungle she-jaguar .. ..
And unwittingly she was leading the Extinguisher to an inescapable rendezvous with betrayal.
Chapter 29
"It is twenty-five feet tall!" the voice shouted into the ears of the president of the Mexican United States. It was the defense minister.
"What is twenty-five feet tall?" asked the president, holding on to his desk as yet another stomachchurning aftershock rolled through.
"Coatlicue. She is growing!"
"Do not call it a she. It is a statue. Imaginary. Sexless."
"She grows by the hour. And the indios pour from the villages to follow her. They flow behind her, a river of humanity."
"She-I mean it-is heading south?"
"South, si."
"With no objective in mind?"
"None that we can discern, Excellency. She follows the Pan American Highway without deviation."
"Perhaps she will walk into the sea."
"Why would she do that?" the defense minister wondered aloud.
"Because if there is a true God in heaven, that is what He will compel her do," said the president. "Otherwise, I do not know what will happen. I can spare no units. I would not know what orders to give if I could. Coatlicue is a national treasure, a symbol of our joined mestizo heritage. If she were to be destroyed, we would have total revolt. I would sooner slap the pope in the face with my own hand."
"There is one hope," the defense minister said in a slightly calmer voice.
"And what is that?" asked the president, holding his deskblotter over his head to keep the falling plaster out of his hair.
"If Coatlicue continues as she does, she will inescapably reach Chiapas State."
"This could be good or this could be bad," the president mused.
"Subcomandante Verapaz virtually controls Chiapas. Perhaps she will become his problem."
"If there is any way to urge Coatlicue to do this, I will not complain about the result. For if only one irritation cancels out the other, it would be a boon."
"Yes, Excellency."
Chapter 30
The Extinguisher called a halt.
"We gotta give it a rest," he told Assumpta.
"Que? What do you mean?"
"I'm beat."
"That is no way for a guerrillero to talk. We will never be beaten. Our spirits are indomitable."
"My knees are weak. I think that last time under a sapodilla tree I dumped my balls with the rest of my load."
"Ah, you are weak from sickness, not fear."