CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX CIA HEADQUARTERS LANGLEY, VIRGINIA

CIA HEADQUARTERS

LANGLEY, VIRGINIA

January 10

Dr. Estrada gazed in awe at the marble floors in an offset checkerboard pattern—dark gray and light gray. The round sigil of the Central Intelligence Agency was emblazoned with a compass rose in the center. This was like a scene from the movies, but it was really happening. He glanced over at Illari, wonderstruck.

She walked alongside him, next to Director Wright. They’d flown in a helicopter to Langley, riding over the crush of traffic on the beltway. It was dizzying how many places they’d been to over the last couple of days.

A CIA operative greeted them at the front of the building. “Director, I’m Agent O’Keefe. Director Kershaw is waiting in the ops room. Dr. Estrada, Miss Chaska—welcome to Langley.”

Dr. Estrada nodded, and they were given security badges and taken through the security turnstiles. Even though it was after seven p.m., the agency was thrumming with people. It looked like an all-hands-on-deck moment. The smell of stale coffee wafted on the air.

“This is a big facility,” Dr. Estrada commented to Director Wright as they walked.

“Used to be the largest intelligence base in the world. But now Germany’s BND holds that honor. Don’t tell Director Kershaw I mentioned it.” He gave him a sardonic grin.

“I won’t,” Dr. Estrada said. He was an archaeologist, not a spy. This was all way out of his league.

“This way,” said the agent guiding them. They were brought to a secure room accessed by badge. When the door opened, Dr. Estrada had to remind himself not to stare. It was the quintessential war room of a spy agency—monitors bracketed to the walls, desks covered in computers and monitors, each one showing a different scene. It was pandemonium, as information was relayed in real time. Men and women with headsets were talking simultaneously.

There was a series of ever-shifting satellite images on the main monitors. Dr. Estrada recognized them as video feeds of the jungle compound in the Yucatán that he’d flown over all those months ago.

“Is that from satellites?” Dr. Estrada asked over the commotion.

“No, those are from infrared cameras on the drones we have positioned over the compound,” replied the agent. “We’ve switched over now that we have a web of drones overhead. Here’s Director Kershaw.” He indicated a serious-looking woman with brown-rimmed glasses, hair just past her shoulders, and a frown. She had on a business suit, black, with a tan blouse beneath. He guessed her to be in her sixties.

When she got close enough, Director Wright shook her hand. “Gina.”

“Bill,” she replied sternly. Then she reached for Dr. Estrada’s hand and shook it with a firm grip. “Doctor. Welcome. Is this Miss Chaska?”

“Yes,” he replied, and introduced Illari. Although he’d been shocked to learn about her affiliation with the Mexica, not to mention the work she’d been doing for Mr. Roth, he didn’t think less of her for it. He’d been keeping a secret himself, after all, and these were unprecedented times. Moreover, her decision to store the information had been helpful to all of them, and he’d be a fool to blame the means for the end they all desired. Calakmul was unleashing madness and violence on the world, and they needed people like Illari to stand against him. For all she might agree with some of his arguments, she would never stoop to violence to achieve her desired goal.

“Miss Chaska, can you work with Agent O’Keefe?” She nodded to their escort. “He’ll connect your laptop to our network so you can access the data set. There’s something of particular importance going on right now, and you are both uniquely suited to lend assistance to the government.”

“What do you mean?” Dr. Estrada asked.

“I’ll show you. O’Keefe—now.”

Agent O’Keefe led Illari to a nearby desk, which had a spot cleared away, and they began to set up her laptop.

“How’s it going hunting down the NSA moles, Bill?” Director Kershaw asked Wright. “Need any help?”

“We’re doing our job. You do yours. Gina, why don’t you tell Dr. Estrada about the lights?”

There was obviously a bit of rivalry between the two, but Dr. Estrada imagined there would be, given they worked for competing agencies. He needed a shower and a cup of xocolatl, but he had a feeling neither would be coming soon. “Lights?” he asked in confusion.

“Have you ever been to Cholula, Mexico, before?” Kershaw asked him.

“I have,” he answered. “The largest pyramid in the world is there.”

Wright frowned. “I thought it was in Giza? I’ve been to that one.”

Dr. Estrada shook his head. “Cholula is four times larger than Giza and twice the volume. You don’t know about it because it’s buried. It looks like a hill.”

Wright glanced at Kershaw in confusion.

“He’s right,” she said. “There’s a little Catholic church on top, built by Cortés. The pyramid wasn’t rediscovered until 1910.”

“You know your history,” Dr. Estrada said, impressed.

“Actually, I learned it from Wikipedia on my phone about an hour ago,” she said with a chuckle. “That’s why you’re here. Let’s sit down, and I’ll explain what we know while they set up your assistant’s laptop.”

She brought them to a small briefing table, just the three of them so they could face one another. The layout of the room made him think longingly of the Qualcomm Institute in San Diego. They all lowered into their chairs.

“Dr. Estrada,” Director Kershaw said, leaning forward so he could hear her better, “the jungles of the Yucatán have continued to light up beyond the original locations. We’re seeing residual photonic evidence from hundreds if not thousands of structures beneath the jungle canopy. The epicenter was Chichén Itzá. It’s spreading up and down from there. These are large swaths of jungle that are typically dark after sunset, except for a few scattered locations that have power.”

“Director Kershaw, the majority of my research is in Guatemala, not the Yucatán. I don’t know how I can help you.”

“This is bigger than Guatemala or even Mexico, and you’re an expert in Maya history and culture. I don’t have time to read a hundred books. Neither do my agents. So ... a few questions. Let’s start with Cholula. What is its significance other than being the largest pyramid in the world?”

“It was dedicated to Quetzalcóatl by the Aztec.”

“And Quetzalcóatl is Kukulkán?” she probed.

“Yes. Same god, different language and culture but similar enough. Both names mean ‘feathered serpent’ or ‘precious serpent.’ You know, it’s a common belief that Montezuma thought Cortés was the return of Kukulkán, which is why he didn’t attack the Spanish at first.”

“Is that what scholars believe today?”

“They have been debating it for years. And not just scholars. Some religions believe that Christianity existed in Mesoamerica during, after, or even before the Nativity story even happened.”

“We’ll address the metaphysical later,” Kershaw said. “O’Keefe, is her laptop set up?”

“Yes. We’re logged into the AWS account,” Agent O’Keefe answered.

“Okay. Switch the main screens back to satellite imagery, please.”

Dr. Estrada gazed at the large screens along the far end of the wall. The screens flickered and then showed a global satellite array of North and South America. He could see the terminus of where night had fallen across Brazil and the East Coast, though lights from major population centers provided dots and clusters of illumination.

“Isolate the light spectrum that Wachowski discovered,” she said next.

“Which light spectrum?” Wright asked. “Infrared? Ultraviolet?”

“Man-made ranges. Streetlights. Neon signs. Halogen tubes. Stadiums. We’re matching the light signature we found down in the Yucatán.”

The screen shifted again. Dr. Estrada stared in confusion for a moment, but then he saw it—a serpentine pattern of light going from Arizona, down through Mexico, through the Central American countries, and ending in Peru.

“This is all the same light spectrum?” Director Wright asked, his voice betraying awe and fear.

“Yes. Satellites don’t lie.”

“Have you told the president?”

“I don’t know what to tell the president,” Kershaw said. “Dr. Estrada, Miss Chaska—what do you make of it?”

Dr. Estrada rose from his chair, dumb with wonder, and walked to the front of the room where the screens displayed the images. Illari joined him, her face full of awe. The pattern formed an unmistakable image of the feathered serpent.

“The head of the snake is here,” Dr. Estrada said, pointing to the band in Arizona ... no—southern Utah. He traced it down its circuitous path, long and slender.

“Tlachihualtepetl is here,” Illari said, pointing to a spot just east of Mexico City. It was glowing in a concentrated way. “In a snake’s biology, this would be the ... heart ... I think.”

“What is that?” Kershaw asked. She and Director Wright had joined them up front.

Dr. Estrada looked at Illari. “That makes sense. Tlachihualtepetl is the Nahuatl name for Cholula. It means ‘made-by-hand mountain’ ... or ‘temple.’ The ancients all built temples on higher ground.”

“And it goes down here to the Yucatán. There’s El Castillo. Tulum. Tikal. So many lights.”

“All the way down to Peru,” Wright said. “I’ve been to Machu Picchu. So you’re saying that the Aztec and Maya built this pattern? It’s man-made?”

“This is incredible,” Dr. Estrada said in awe. “Yes. This is all man-made. But no one civilization made it. The different parts of the design must have been built independently of each other.”

“How is that possible?” Kershaw asked. “They had no GPS. We’re talking thousands of miles.”

“We don’t know,” Dr. Estrada said. “Just like we don’t know who built the Serpent Mound in Ohio.”

“The Serpent Mound?” Wright asked, perplexed. “There’s another one?”

“The largest effigy of a serpent, until now, was in Ohio. That one was four hundred meters long. Archaeologists haven’t been able to pinpoint when it was built, but it’s probably over two thousand years old. Evidence suggests that multiple civilizations constructed it.”

“This is a sign,” Illari said in awe, pointing to the satellite imagery. “Look at the distance. This is the area of Cemanahuac.”

“What does that term mean?” Kershaw asked.

Wright spoke up. “Agent Sanchez mentioned it. You brought it up in your meeting with Lund. It’s the Aztec empire reborn, correct?”

“Not exactly,” Dr. Estrada said, feeling piqued. “It is what the Aztec empire may have called itself. It comes from the Nahuatl words meaning ‘to be surrounded by water.’” He pointed out the geography on the map as he spoke. “The Atlantic Ocean, the Pacific Ocean. There is even a belief that this area up in Arizona and Utah used to be under water—that Aztlán ... where the Aztec came from ... was somewhere there. The origin you see.” He gestured to the board. “Of the snake.”

“This is Cemanahuac,” Illari insisted, her eyes glowing with hope. “Finally.”

“The Aztec never reached or conquered Peru,” Dr. Estrada objected.

“I’m not saying they did,” she shot back. “The Maya, the Aztec, the Olmec, the Inca—they all worshipped the serpent god. Like you said, they were building this independently of each other. Each of these civilizations had a prophecy about his return. It’s happening.”

“You mean Calakmul is claiming to be the return of the Aztec god?” Kershaw asked in bafflement.

Illari shook her head. “No! He believes the Jaguar Prophecies are about him. But this is so much bigger than him. This is the land Kukulkán is reclaiming. This will be Cemanahuac. United at last. It was never united before. There was always war. Conflict. Betrayal. But he’s coming back to change all of that.”

“Cemanahuac is an Aztec myth!” Dr. Estrada said.

Illari turned on him. “Myths come from somewhere. What if there is a common origin?”

“There is no evidence of that!” Dr. Estrada shot back. “It’s just a theory.”

“I’d like to hear it,” Director Kershaw said. “Whatever is happening is happening quickly. Our assets in the Mexican government have said that they’re preparing to attack our ships and our jets and our borders. There was an order given from the presidential palace to mobilize the military.”

That was news to Dr. Estrada. He gazed at her in bafflement.

“That is not the way of Kukulkán,” Illari said. “It will be a peaceful conquest. He will bring healing, peace, and new technology, all through a principle of nonviolence.”

“Director Kershaw,” said an agent breathlessly, rushing to the front. “There’s something you need to see. Switch the screens!”

They flickered back to the drone footage of the temple. The lens had zoomed in to the base of the temple, where a crowd of men had gathered.

“Identity confirmed,” said another agent. “EAD Brower, the German chancellor, the British prime minister, and the king of Spain. They are all at the base of the pyramid, surrounded by warriors of some sort. Now they are being pulled up the steps.”

“Nonviolence? That’s not how it looks to me,” said Kershaw adamantly. “I need to speak to the BND director and MI6 before their leaders are executed. Where is the insertion team?”

A woman agent spoke up. “They just landed in Cozumel.”

Kershaw grimaced. “We’re too late.”