CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR JAGUAR TEMPLE CALAKMUL BIOSPHERE RESERVE

JAGUAR TEMPLE

CALAKMUL BIOSPHERE RESERVE

January 10

Jacob sat at the president of Mexico’s ornate desk in the National Palace. The president, Se?or Chaboya, was pacing nervously, surreptitiously glancing at the imposter US president, forced to kneel between two jaguar priests.

Victor was on the phone.

“Mr. Calakmul, we have the German chancellor.”

“Excellent,” Jacob said, feeling a surge of delight. “Another success. Have him brought to the Jaguar Temple. La Noche Triste begins this evening. One by one, they will fall.”

“Yes, sir. The cartels are preparing to launch raids against checkpoints in California, Arizona, and Texas. The Department of Homeland Security is still unaware of the impending attacks. They’re focused on the confusion in Washington, DC, right now.”

“The confusion will make them blind,” Jacob agreed. “Excellent. What news from the Pentagon?”

“Special Forces are deploying quick-strike units to Mexico. They have one aircraft carrier, the USS Botany Bay, in international waters. The satellites are in position to track our land.”

“Good,” Jacob said. “I want them to watch the carnage. I’ll have Uacmitun hunt the Special Forces in the jungle. He’ll make quick work of them.”

“Sir, there is one piece of troubling news.”

“Oh?”

As silence fell, Jacob glared back at Mr. Brower. Did the man speak Spanish? Did he understand what was being said? Jacob decided he didn’t care. Soon the fake president would be dead, another prop used in the drama of conquest.

“Barcenas is dead.”

Jacob leaned forward in the chair, resting his elbow on the polished table. “What?”

“He was killed at an executive airport in Florida by Steve Lund.”

Anger sizzled inside Jacob’s bones. He squeezed the handset. “Suki did this,” he said in a low voice quavering with wrath.

“I believe so. The FBI was called in. Lund, Sarina, Suki, and Jane Louise took off thirty minutes ago, bound for the Marine Corps airfield at Quantico, Virginia.”

Another wave of blistering heat sizzled inside Jacob’s chest. The Order of the Jaguar Priests had not successfully infiltrated the marines. Quantico was off-limits. Lund had chosen that destination because he’d guessed they would be safe there.

“Where is Mr. Roth?” Jacob growled.

“He’s still at FBI headquarters with the director. We have eyes on the floor, but they’re heavily guarded.”

“And you still don’t know where they’re staying?”

“The best lead we have is the Providence Inn. The databases show nothing certain. We’re trying to hack into the surveillance cameras, but that’s taking time, and we still won’t be able to see into the rooms. It may be premature, but I’d like to send some men to the hotel to make inquiries in person.”

“I’ll send Mataré. He has a score to settle.”

“If you wish. Is that all?”

“That is all. Good work, Victor. The end times are here.”

“Let them come,” Victor said, and Jacob ended the call.

He set the phone down in the cradle and pressed his fingers together over his mouth. He gave Brower another look, meeting the man’s fierce glare with an expression of unconcern.

“Do you speak Spanish, Mr. Brower?”

“Un poquito,”Brower said huskily.

“Then I will say this in English, just in case,” Jacob continued. “Tonight, you will die in a ceremony nearly as ancient as the world. A little dart with a special toxin will prick your flesh, rendering you conscious but immobile. It will increase your heart rate. Awaken your senses. You will feel ... everything. I will stand over you with a dagger made of obsidian. Sharper than any surgeon’s scalpel. At midnight, in front of a cheering crowd of the elite, I will unbutton your shirt, cut open your chest just below your nipple, and extract your heart. You will be alive when this happens, Mr. Brower. Your bleeding body will be thrown down the steep steps of the temple. But it is the heart that Kukulkán desires as a proper sacrifice.” Jacob said this last part with a mocking tone. The god of creation had always spoken symbolically. He wanted his followers’ devotion, their desire to serve, their willingness to help one another. His devious brother had hungered for more literal sacrifices.

“I swore an oath to defend the Constitution, not a single man,” Brower said. “You’ll have to root through a lot of rib cages to get that out.”

“Bravely spoken,” Jacob said, impressed. “But I’m no fool. I know your country’s people better than its protectors do. Precious few of your fellow citizens would not betray that bit of paper for a swallow of carbonated soda or the momentary thrill of a tiny pill.”

Jacob nodded to the two jaguar priests with him. “Take him to the temple dungeon with the others.”

“Yes, Great One,” said one of the priests. They hoisted Brower to his feet and walked to the obsidian mirror decorating the wall of the office. A wreath of black smoke exuded from it, and they stepped into the mist and disappeared.

Jacob looked at Se?or Chaboya, who had sweat dripping down the sides of his face. He looked terrified. He swallowed noticeably. Was he expecting to die?

“Do not let the American military act within your borders with such impunity,” Jacob said. “Send the marines against them. The army. They cannot win. And when I rebuild Tenochtitlán—here, where it once stood—I will make you ruler over it, Se?or Chaboya. In my house, there are many mansions. You will get yours if you remain faithful.”

“Y-yes, Great One,” Se?or Chaboya said, looking relieved. He sank to his knees and began murmuring incoherently.

Jacob sat at the desk, savoring the feeling of strength and power it gave him. As in any war, there was no controlling all circumstances. The surprise in the Situation Room had proven that to be true. Power was a game. The jaguar priests were immune to the bullets and missiles that the US government could unleash against them. Even the most expensive and complex fighter jet was powerless against the fury of a tornado. Battleships could be sunk by tsunamis. But there was a teenage girl with a stolen bracelet who could pierce the defenses provided by the kem ?m. And so could any other who knew its secrets.

Suki would die and with her, her power and knowledge. Especially her knowledge of Aztlán. He’d right the mistake he’d made in letting her live. Indeed, the whole family would die. He should have killed them a year ago when he had the chance.

Jacob rose from the seat and walked to the obsidian mirror, invoking its power. He shielded himself with kem ?m, just in case someone was waiting for him on the other side.

He was greeted by the other guardians posted there. It was his own “situation room.” A place where the jaguar priests of the past had spun their webs of deceit and murder in order to topple kingdoms and corrupt high priests. The mirrors gave them the ability to spy on their enemies. And to reach those who were thought to be unreachable.

After exiting the portal, he walked briskly through the winding tunnels. He felt young, alive. The master of the moment. Hundreds of the wealthiest, most corrupt people in the world were assembled here to see the dawning of a new age. People who had deceived their neighbors, friends, and even family members to achieve a position of rank in the old world become new again. Instead of skyscrapers, there would be pyramids built throughout North and South America. Instead of football and soccer, the death games would provide entertainment. Instead of cheering for Britain’s Premier League, there would be cheering for the warriors in the arena.

Then he entered his private chamber and found Angélica prostrate on the bed with Uacmitun standing over her.

His warrior chief looked startled by his sudden arrival.

For an instant, the world slowed. Betrayal, seduction, revenge, murder. The explosion within his heart made his eyes start to glow, made the promised taste of blood tingle in his mouth. He would shred them both to pieces. He would ...

No.

The selfish part of his mind stopped abruptly. This was not as it seemed. If he transformed into a jaguar, he’d be vulnerable. Uacmitun knew this.

“Atin ri ik,”Jacob gasped, invoking the word that would dispel all illusions.

A warrior who had been invisible stood in the corner, a blowgun pressed to his lips, ready to shoot. It was Bajibal, one of Uacmitun’s young protégés. The young man’s eyes widened with shock when he realized he was visible.

Jacob leaped at him. The dart hissed from the tube, deflecting off his shield of kem ?m. The young man’s neck was broken in a fluid action as soon as Jacob landed.

Uacmitun had staged this scene. He came at Jacob with a macuahuitl sword that must have been concealed in the sheets. Channeling the power through his bracelet, he sucked the web of kem ?m away from Jacob to make him vulnerable.

Angélica didn’t scream. Didn’t move at all. She was paralyzed, he realized. Victim to the same toxin used on the sacrificial victims.

The sword had jagged teeth of obsidian. Uacmitun swung it deftly, powerfully, trying to saw Jacob in half.

K’awex.Speed.

Chuq’ab.Strength. Muscle.

Jacob invoked these words, his ring granting him special power over those who also had magic items or only knew the words. He dodged the first sweeps of the blade, nimbly evading the deadly edges that would have killed him. Then he lunged forward, smashing the heel of his hand against Uacmitun’s nose. It would have been a killing blow, but the hardened warrior had turned his head just in time, so the blow landed on his cheek instead, cracking the bone. Uacmitun roared in pain and tried again to slice through his master.

Jacob spun around behind him and kicked the back of Uacmitun’s knee, forcing him to kneel. The warrior swept the sword around behind him, trying to catch any part of his nimble prey.

“Tuqar!”Jacob seethed, invoking a word that would send ripples of weakness through Uacmitun’s body. The man’s muscles began to quiver with the exertion, and when he tried to get up, Jacob kicked him in the face, knocking him back down. The macuahuitl sword struck the ground and slid away. The warrior scrabbled for it on the ground.

“Moyirik!”Jacob shouted at him, and Uacmitun’s eyes went milky white with blindness. Kukulkán healed infirmities. His brother caused them.

Uacmitun’s prime physique was trembling with weakness. The sword seemed too heavy for him. He was gasping for breath, turning one way, then another, confused by his sudden inability to see.

“Salabataj!”Jacob invoked the word that would dislocate his enemy’s shoulder. The pain made Uacmitun shriek in agony, and the blade landed on the stone floor with a thud.

“Kill me!” Uacmitun pleaded in despair. “Kill me, Great One! You are invincible!”

“Memarik,”Jacob shot back, depriving the man of his ability to speak. Uacmitun began to choke until he gasped. He sank to his knees, head bent low, exposing his neck for the killing blow.

It did not come. Jacob called out for his servants, and they hurried in. “Take him to the arena,” he ordered in their tongue. “Chain him there for all to see.”

The feelings of rage and power had begun to shrink. This was not a fight to the death like the one he’d had with his own father. A fight between equals. Uacmitun wasn’t a worthy foe. But making an example of him would instill fear in the others.

After the servants had dragged the two bodies away, Jacob turned to the bed. Angélica was starting to twitch. He knelt near her, stroking the hair from her face.

Tears were in her eyes.

He kissed her mouth and tasted a salty drop on his tongue.

Her body continued to convulse as the toxin wore off. There were so many plants within the jungles of the Yucatán. Some with healing properties that could cure cancer. Some that would remove fevers and sicknesses. The ancient Maya knew their efficacy from Kukulkán, but that knowledge had mostly been lost, burned by the Spanish priests out of fear and superstition. But the Order of the Jaguar Priests had their own records. Their own ways of remembering the past.

“I was ... so afraid,” Angélica whispered when she finally regained the ability to speak.

“That I would kill you in a blind rage?” he asked, smiling. He kissed the tip of her nose.

She nodded, shuddering, her arms coming up and wrapping around him. She was trembling still. The violence of their plan had never sat well with her on a personal level. In theory, she agreed with him, but her heart was soft. And now violence had been visited on her directly.

He comforted her with kisses.

“He . . . he . . .”

“Hush,” Jacob said soothingly. “When we returned from Montana, he saw that we were both younger. He realized you knew the secret of Aztlán. The secret of eternal youth. He lost his mind with the lust for that knowledge. And for you.”

Lust was a powerful seducer. It could make the wisest into fools. Jacob had seen it growing inside his warrior chief. He was used to getting his pick of the servants. He’d wanted Angélica from the beginning because she was forbidden.

Hadn’t Saint Augustine said it so well? “Lord, give me chastity. But not yet.”

Angélica swallowed, then said, “He ... he always looked at me ...”

“I know. One cannot help but gaze at the beauty of the sun. But you are mine. My Malintzin. You taught me how to defeat the West. How to twist their pride and greed against them. And you will bear me a son, one we will teach in our ways. One who will rule the world after us.”