Chapter 33: The Last Walk
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Cold night. I tell the others to pull back a few hundred yards so they can get some sleep. I need them fresh before morning. Brooks snuggles up with Mayfair. Not affectionately, necessarily - although in their case I will assume that is also involved. It's just the logical way to stay warm. Muwan looks uncomfortable, then rolls up in his blanket instead. I don't know if the kid is still slightly modest, or just hesitant to impose.
Dinah takes over main watch at one, and again at three, so I can grab some combat naps. Sufficient, since I did get a decent three hours last night.
There has been activity around the pyramid all night. Good indication that Jones was right. The rest of the camp is dark. No parties, no gossip. Even better indication that I was. The soldiers are resting seriously because they expect to march.
No one has gone near the cage with Dick and company. Not even to give them blankets. Fortunately, the night is warm enough that it shouldn't be actually uncomfortable - but I'll still put it on my retribution list. Hmmmm. Santa Amoza prisons are decent - as South America goes - but no system is entirely uncorruptable. And what Gomez can bribe to get? Wayne can afford to take away. Lets see how *he* enjoys a few nights with no mattress. But... I remind myself... we have to convict the bastard first.
False dawn. The pyramid action gets louder and a lot more purposeful. There has been singing off and on all night, but those were generally single voices. Now it sounds like Franciscan night at Gotham Cathedral. I call Dinah, and tell her to wake Muwan, Mayfair, and Brooks. It's been a short night for those not trained to it, and I want to give them time to come fully alert. Ramon Quesada has been whimpering - or maybe praying - on and off all night. Not loud enough to disrupt sleep, so I assume my two are rested and ready to go.
"B..ruce?" Dinah is a low voice in my earphone. "Amhacutec is leaving his tent. He's got Gomez with him, and a bunch of ... dressed up soldiers. Lots of feathers and fringe, and I don't see any guns on them. Just those funky wooden swords"
A good sign - twice over. It means that this likely is party time, and it also means they will be a lot safer to take out. Not that the swords can be discounted totally. The onyx chips on the edges are molecule sharp. In the hands of an expert, lethal even to a well armored opponent. The active word there is - in the hands of an expert. I'm betting Amhacutec doesn't have anyone who qualifies.
Dinah clicks me again. "I've got another group on the north side approaching the pyramid. I think the could be headed for the cage. Should I wake Indy?"
"Indy?" Interesting choice.
"I'm already up, Bruce." Dick's voice, low and confident.
Roger. Dinah may have known that. Even so...
A tapping sound, a few strange bits I'll interpret as scratches, and then "Jones here."
"It's starting, Indy." Dinah - leaping to conclusions.
Dinah is competent, but she has the weakness of watching the wrong man. Should I? No. I can't justify telling her about Jones. Not yet. It's his secret, not mine, and in my circle gossip is slightly less forgivable then homicide. Just ask Tim. So unless either the combat situation or their relationship becomes truly serious?
"Give me a play-by-play, Doll." Indy asks Dinah. "It's a little dark from where I am."
"Well." Her tone hesitates, and which much mean she's rechecking the grounds. Good. Her position covers the area's that are blocked to me, so I need her to be exact. "There's Amhacutec, standing in front of his tent. He's all dressed up. Looks like a carpet roll with legs."
True enough. The man is still in shadow, but the torches being held by his escort allow me to pick out every detail. In acid-trip color. I wonder that he can move, given the layers of capes and necklaces he's carrying. And that headdress must be painful to balance. Feathers don't way that much, but still? I've seen lower hats on showgirls in Vegas. It should make him easier to capture.
"Gomez is just behind him." Dinah continues. "He looks a bit more comfy, but not by much."
"What does his hat look like?"
I'll trust that is a tactical question. This is not time for Jones to get scholastic on me.
"Round thing - with sort of a curvy part sticking forward. And maybe half a feather duster on top."
"A noble - not a priest. He'll stay with the prince. They should stop at the platform just below the top altar level."
Tactical. Good. One point for Jones. I send a note via Oracle. Transfer more support to Dinah, since she will have two targets.
"The procession is moving now."
Dinah has Amhacutec covered, so I turn my attention to the Jaguar priest. Not as many torches there, but with night-vision binoculars it doesn't matter. Even the false dawn is bright enough to let me pick up colors. Not that the priest has too many. He is also decked out, but his outfit has given up the feathers for bone and fur. The spotted furs are presumedly Jaguar. The bones? Those I wont think about. After the first murder, all the rest are free.
"They should stop at the plaza." Indy is telling Dinah. "The soldiers will stay down at the foot of the pyramid. Only Amhacutec and Gomez will go up."
"Thanks, Indy." Dinah says as the row of torches comes to halt in a shaky line. "You are right on."
"Confirmed." I add. "I have them stopped about fifteen feet from the bottom step. The other party is coming up fast from the east."
" In sight now. Oh - oh!". I can hear Dinah shift into launch position. "There is a big guy in front of Amhacutec now holding a spear."
Part of the ritual." Jones sounds confident. I gather that everything is - from his point of view - reassuringly on track. "Check the outskirts. There should be four more of those."
"Mr. Wayne? I have one spearman." Muwan enters the conversation, also letting us know he has reached his point. "North east side - just behind where the kitchen was.
Men with spears? I lower my binoculars to the outskirts of the camp. Yes. "Check." I acknowledge. "Also a soldier with a spear below me at southwest." Not much of a spear. Short. Narrow shaft. Big bundles of feathers and beads tied under the head disrupting the balance. No other arms. No cape either. Just a skimpy skirt. The jungle isn't that warm. At least not this early in the morning. The sun will warm things quickly - but not for another fifteen minutes. Right now that stone pavement has to feel like ice in through those thin sandals. I can see the man rubbing his arms from here. Good. A cold opponent is a slow opponent.
"OK." Jones comes back. " In a minute they are going to run into the camp, then back out. You don't need to stop them. It's just part of the show."
"If they reach Pau'ah.? I question.
"They won't go that far," Jones reassures me. "They're just going to wave the spears around and scare away evil. But? If there's a working bath up there... don't be near it. The ritual calls for them to wash off the evil influences."
And no sane person would take a dip in the river. Understood. I move a bit deeper into the foliage. Being seen now would be lethal to more then the plan. Even as I do so, my spear- carrier starts sprinting for the plaza. Good thing we have Jones. Otherwise it would look like someone had been discovered. As it is? All four men play clank-the-spear before jogging off.
The main spearman collects the priest and a few assistants and heads off for the prisoners.
"Indy?" Dinah sounds a bit nervous. "They're headed your way."
"Show time." Indy leans back against the woven wall, stretching out his legs in a caricature of comfort.
No nerves there. My respect for Jones grows. Not that he's in any mortal danger, but most civilian's actual fear is pain, not really death. I assume that pain is still a part of his universe.
"Fifteen seconds", I warn. "Going into silence."
"Understood." Dick drops to the floor and curls up as if he was still asleep.
Now the only noise is the slap of sandals on stone and the plainchant rumble of voices singing in Quechua. Plus, of course, the whimpers from Quesada. I don't know if he's begging or praying - and it doesn't matter. No one is paying attention either way. Dick wanted to reassure the man, but I forbade it. There is always the chance that he is a plant rather then a prisoner. Not that these folk look that sophisticated, but... that's a very old ruse. Better safe. He will react more convincingly if he believes.
They pass over something in a jug. Quesada drinks it. Dick and Jones don't. The chief priest looks like he wants to argue the point, but after a glance at the brightening sky gives it up. More proof they are running short of time. He just hits them all with a faceful of corn flour and calls it a day.
Jones brushes it off his shoulder. "Que? Ninguna ropa del Partido?"
One of the guards strikes Jones across the mouth. He looks like he's like to make a job of it, but after a glare from the priest restricts himself to jerking the doctor into line - with only slightly excessive force.
"Que classe du un bastardo barato es usted?" Jones snarls at the priest. "Cuando yo lego a Ukhu, yo'll dice Aska Wiracocha para secar sus pelotas para emparejar su cara!"
Spanish - so I assume Jones is taunting the man to impress Quesada. Maybe to pick up the Aztec man's spirits. Not that it seems to be helping. Much.
No reply from the priest. I know he speaks Spanish - but he's not driven like Gomez. Not a world- conqueror, just a man with a job. The truly dangerous type. Probably doesn't even consider himself evil. He just chops people up and goes home to the wife and kids. That might make him slightly more dangerous. 'Good' men don't compromise. Too often they don't surrender. I have enough blood on my hands.
One of the soldiers cuts off Jones' shirt. Memo: Watch for concealed daggers. Those the troops apparently *do* know how to use, and they are *sharp*! Not that any of the nicks look dangerous, and Jones will heal fast enough. One of the guards reaches for Dinah's gold necklace only to get his hand slapped. The soldier with the spear snaps something. I don't know the language but that sounded suspiciously like 'later'.
As they push him forward, Jones mutters "Lousy way to treat a god."
Dick takes the hint and unpeels his shirt voluntarily. He goes out to stand behind Jones, but get pulled up front. A lot more gently and with something that looked suspiciously like a grope. Again one of the guards gets his hand slapped - and this time I'd guess the command as 'forget it'. Soldier-boy looks a lot less happy. I guess what he has in mind wouldn't work post-mortem. Soldier-boy also goes on my workout list.
Quesada drops his cape to the floor and shuffles over to stand behind Jones. Same shuffle I usually see at a line-up. Clearly he understands the routine. He's muttering non stop now - Spanish prayers and something in his own language which I assume is ditto. He looks on the edge of hyperventilation. I consider that, then put it aside. Nothing I can do. If he faints at this point, all the better. A limp body is hard to move. They might leave him behind - out of danger and out of our way.
Several other soldiers move to both sides. I gather that is supposed to be honor guard, but it looks more like the last walk at Bellereve. Not unique for Dick. I suspect even the voluntary volunteers would be rethinking their career choice at this point. Not that they would stop Dick if he wanted to break out. They are standing too close, and spears are a poor choice of weapon for prisoner control. Still? For your average drugged civilian it would more then suffice.
And that drink in the jug was a drug. Not just alcohol. Quesada is slipping fast from hyper to half-comatose. Not necessarily good. Not once he gets to the pyramid. If he can't walk away from there, we will have to leave him. Without anyone left to finish the sacrifice he should survive until the cleanup crew gets here... probably... but I hate risking the innocent.
Not a long march. They meet up with the four other spearmen who have - as Jones predicted - jogged back to the base of the pyramid. According to Oracle this is where the future divinity is supposed to get a last kiss from the local virgins. No women here - so they skip that part. Although a few of the soldiers look like they might step in to that duty. *grrrr*
I focus back on the action. Dick looks cold. Jones looks interested. Quesada looks stoned.
Another offering of bread - sancu as Jones calls it - dipped in fresh blood. This time it's not voluntary. At Jones' nod, Dick takes a bite. From his expression? it's everything he suspected - and worse. And this from he kid who *devoured * Belly Busters? I make a note to tease him about it later. I know he would like to spit it out - just to singe priesties fur. Good idea - bad time. Which Dick knows. He swallows. Maybe I won't tease him after all. At least - not too badly.
The lead spear man hustles them to the foot of the narrow steps to the first platform, where they meet up with Amhacutec and Gomez. The priest starts singing something, only to be cut off by Gomez. That earns the prince a nasty look. Confirmed: the Jaguar priest is a traditionalist. His gods are not happily mocked. But Amhacutec's gods are a bit more submissive, and today the prince is working against a deadline.
Amhacutec whispers something, which gets brings a growl from Mayfair and gets the high priest smiling again. Oracle beeps in with my first translation. "Amhacutec promised him he could sacrifice the princess ... Presumedly Mona Savage?." I second that growl. Having met the lady I do understand the urge.. but civilized people don't give in to those urges.
Two of the spearmen tie Jones and Quesada to the two side pillars, then take their places at either side of the seated prince. Jones quips something again. Not very loud. I miss it in the background noise. Must be the local language, as Amhacutec gets it and Gomez doesn't. One of the spearmen looks like he'd like to try another slap - but apparently that just isn't done. He gives Jones a growl which I interpret as 'you'll get yours' and leans back to watch the show.
Not as good as I had hoped. Jones had suggested that the 'court' might be left alone up there. Oracle had confirmed that. Maybe her research was off - or maybe the prince is just appropriately paranoid. I sure wouldn't trust his allies. No matter. This arrangement leaves Amhacutec and Gomez with only two guards - and those are the lightly armed spearmen. Gomez shouldn't know how to fight. Amhacutec might, but he's too hampered to be effective. The steps are too narrow for swift support to arrive from below - even if I didn't have plans in place to disrupt the soldiers. The situation is still well within planned parameters.
I watch narrow-eyes as the chief spear-carrier and two others nudge Dick up the remaining stairs at spear point. With the Jaguar priest, that will make four at the main altar - and all at least passably armed. But? I will have Dick.
Another message through Oracle. Concentrate defense on the bottom on the structure - and on maintaining our escape route. We will be coming out fast.
I hear the acknowledgement at the back of my mind as I watch them tie Dick to the altar. he jerks. I wince. Involuntary. That stone has to be cold - and Dick's back is still sensitive. Likely the small fires that burned off and on all night were just enough to leave hot ashes without actually warming the stone.
I should have thought of that. Should have sent for the silicone spray before I let Dick go down. As it is?
I watch as the Jaguar Priest kneels behind the altar. When he come up, he has a long handled knife held in both hands. Carved jade, gold beadwork fringe, curved onyx blade. No question what we are looking at. This is the Tongue of the Jaguar.
I hear a gasp. Muwan. Something muttered in K'iche'. From the accent, Brooks. An obscenity in English from Jones. They know what they are seeing. So do I.
OK. Jumpline in one hand - knife in the other.
"Ready, people?" I hear the various sounds of acknowledgement. "On my word."
The chanting gets louder. Much louder.
The priest raises the blade.
I am four seconds from Dick. A lot can happen in four seconds.
"Now!"
*END CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE*
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Cold night. I tell the others to pull back a few hundred yards so they can get some sleep. I need them fresh before morning. Brooks snuggles up with Mayfair. Not affectionately, necessarily - although in their case I will assume that is also involved. It's just the logical way to stay warm. Muwan looks uncomfortable, then rolls up in his blanket instead. I don't know if the kid is still slightly modest, or just hesitant to impose.
Dinah takes over main watch at one, and again at three, so I can grab some combat naps. Sufficient, since I did get a decent three hours last night.
There has been activity around the pyramid all night. Good indication that Jones was right. The rest of the camp is dark. No parties, no gossip. Even better indication that I was. The soldiers are resting seriously because they expect to march.
No one has gone near the cage with Dick and company. Not even to give them blankets. Fortunately, the night is warm enough that it shouldn't be actually uncomfortable - but I'll still put it on my retribution list. Hmmmm. Santa Amoza prisons are decent - as South America goes - but no system is entirely uncorruptable. And what Gomez can bribe to get? Wayne can afford to take away. Lets see how *he* enjoys a few nights with no mattress. But... I remind myself... we have to convict the bastard first.
False dawn. The pyramid action gets louder and a lot more purposeful. There has been singing off and on all night, but those were generally single voices. Now it sounds like Franciscan night at Gotham Cathedral. I call Dinah, and tell her to wake Muwan, Mayfair, and Brooks. It's been a short night for those not trained to it, and I want to give them time to come fully alert. Ramon Quesada has been whimpering - or maybe praying - on and off all night. Not loud enough to disrupt sleep, so I assume my two are rested and ready to go.
"B..ruce?" Dinah is a low voice in my earphone. "Amhacutec is leaving his tent. He's got Gomez with him, and a bunch of ... dressed up soldiers. Lots of feathers and fringe, and I don't see any guns on them. Just those funky wooden swords"
A good sign - twice over. It means that this likely is party time, and it also means they will be a lot safer to take out. Not that the swords can be discounted totally. The onyx chips on the edges are molecule sharp. In the hands of an expert, lethal even to a well armored opponent. The active word there is - in the hands of an expert. I'm betting Amhacutec doesn't have anyone who qualifies.
Dinah clicks me again. "I've got another group on the north side approaching the pyramid. I think the could be headed for the cage. Should I wake Indy?"
"Indy?" Interesting choice.
"I'm already up, Bruce." Dick's voice, low and confident.
Roger. Dinah may have known that. Even so...
A tapping sound, a few strange bits I'll interpret as scratches, and then "Jones here."
"It's starting, Indy." Dinah - leaping to conclusions.
Dinah is competent, but she has the weakness of watching the wrong man. Should I? No. I can't justify telling her about Jones. Not yet. It's his secret, not mine, and in my circle gossip is slightly less forgivable then homicide. Just ask Tim. So unless either the combat situation or their relationship becomes truly serious?
"Give me a play-by-play, Doll." Indy asks Dinah. "It's a little dark from where I am."
"Well." Her tone hesitates, and which much mean she's rechecking the grounds. Good. Her position covers the area's that are blocked to me, so I need her to be exact. "There's Amhacutec, standing in front of his tent. He's all dressed up. Looks like a carpet roll with legs."
True enough. The man is still in shadow, but the torches being held by his escort allow me to pick out every detail. In acid-trip color. I wonder that he can move, given the layers of capes and necklaces he's carrying. And that headdress must be painful to balance. Feathers don't way that much, but still? I've seen lower hats on showgirls in Vegas. It should make him easier to capture.
"Gomez is just behind him." Dinah continues. "He looks a bit more comfy, but not by much."
"What does his hat look like?"
I'll trust that is a tactical question. This is not time for Jones to get scholastic on me.
"Round thing - with sort of a curvy part sticking forward. And maybe half a feather duster on top."
"A noble - not a priest. He'll stay with the prince. They should stop at the platform just below the top altar level."
Tactical. Good. One point for Jones. I send a note via Oracle. Transfer more support to Dinah, since she will have two targets.
"The procession is moving now."
Dinah has Amhacutec covered, so I turn my attention to the Jaguar priest. Not as many torches there, but with night-vision binoculars it doesn't matter. Even the false dawn is bright enough to let me pick up colors. Not that the priest has too many. He is also decked out, but his outfit has given up the feathers for bone and fur. The spotted furs are presumedly Jaguar. The bones? Those I wont think about. After the first murder, all the rest are free.
"They should stop at the plaza." Indy is telling Dinah. "The soldiers will stay down at the foot of the pyramid. Only Amhacutec and Gomez will go up."
"Thanks, Indy." Dinah says as the row of torches comes to halt in a shaky line. "You are right on."
"Confirmed." I add. "I have them stopped about fifteen feet from the bottom step. The other party is coming up fast from the east."
" In sight now. Oh - oh!". I can hear Dinah shift into launch position. "There is a big guy in front of Amhacutec now holding a spear."
Part of the ritual." Jones sounds confident. I gather that everything is - from his point of view - reassuringly on track. "Check the outskirts. There should be four more of those."
"Mr. Wayne? I have one spearman." Muwan enters the conversation, also letting us know he has reached his point. "North east side - just behind where the kitchen was.
Men with spears? I lower my binoculars to the outskirts of the camp. Yes. "Check." I acknowledge. "Also a soldier with a spear below me at southwest." Not much of a spear. Short. Narrow shaft. Big bundles of feathers and beads tied under the head disrupting the balance. No other arms. No cape either. Just a skimpy skirt. The jungle isn't that warm. At least not this early in the morning. The sun will warm things quickly - but not for another fifteen minutes. Right now that stone pavement has to feel like ice in through those thin sandals. I can see the man rubbing his arms from here. Good. A cold opponent is a slow opponent.
"OK." Jones comes back. " In a minute they are going to run into the camp, then back out. You don't need to stop them. It's just part of the show."
"If they reach Pau'ah.? I question.
"They won't go that far," Jones reassures me. "They're just going to wave the spears around and scare away evil. But? If there's a working bath up there... don't be near it. The ritual calls for them to wash off the evil influences."
And no sane person would take a dip in the river. Understood. I move a bit deeper into the foliage. Being seen now would be lethal to more then the plan. Even as I do so, my spear- carrier starts sprinting for the plaza. Good thing we have Jones. Otherwise it would look like someone had been discovered. As it is? All four men play clank-the-spear before jogging off.
The main spearman collects the priest and a few assistants and heads off for the prisoners.
"Indy?" Dinah sounds a bit nervous. "They're headed your way."
"Show time." Indy leans back against the woven wall, stretching out his legs in a caricature of comfort.
No nerves there. My respect for Jones grows. Not that he's in any mortal danger, but most civilian's actual fear is pain, not really death. I assume that pain is still a part of his universe.
"Fifteen seconds", I warn. "Going into silence."
"Understood." Dick drops to the floor and curls up as if he was still asleep.
Now the only noise is the slap of sandals on stone and the plainchant rumble of voices singing in Quechua. Plus, of course, the whimpers from Quesada. I don't know if he's begging or praying - and it doesn't matter. No one is paying attention either way. Dick wanted to reassure the man, but I forbade it. There is always the chance that he is a plant rather then a prisoner. Not that these folk look that sophisticated, but... that's a very old ruse. Better safe. He will react more convincingly if he believes.
They pass over something in a jug. Quesada drinks it. Dick and Jones don't. The chief priest looks like he wants to argue the point, but after a glance at the brightening sky gives it up. More proof they are running short of time. He just hits them all with a faceful of corn flour and calls it a day.
Jones brushes it off his shoulder. "Que? Ninguna ropa del Partido?"
One of the guards strikes Jones across the mouth. He looks like he's like to make a job of it, but after a glare from the priest restricts himself to jerking the doctor into line - with only slightly excessive force.
"Que classe du un bastardo barato es usted?" Jones snarls at the priest. "Cuando yo lego a Ukhu, yo'll dice Aska Wiracocha para secar sus pelotas para emparejar su cara!"
Spanish - so I assume Jones is taunting the man to impress Quesada. Maybe to pick up the Aztec man's spirits. Not that it seems to be helping. Much.
No reply from the priest. I know he speaks Spanish - but he's not driven like Gomez. Not a world- conqueror, just a man with a job. The truly dangerous type. Probably doesn't even consider himself evil. He just chops people up and goes home to the wife and kids. That might make him slightly more dangerous. 'Good' men don't compromise. Too often they don't surrender. I have enough blood on my hands.
One of the soldiers cuts off Jones' shirt. Memo: Watch for concealed daggers. Those the troops apparently *do* know how to use, and they are *sharp*! Not that any of the nicks look dangerous, and Jones will heal fast enough. One of the guards reaches for Dinah's gold necklace only to get his hand slapped. The soldier with the spear snaps something. I don't know the language but that sounded suspiciously like 'later'.
As they push him forward, Jones mutters "Lousy way to treat a god."
Dick takes the hint and unpeels his shirt voluntarily. He goes out to stand behind Jones, but get pulled up front. A lot more gently and with something that looked suspiciously like a grope. Again one of the guards gets his hand slapped - and this time I'd guess the command as 'forget it'. Soldier-boy looks a lot less happy. I guess what he has in mind wouldn't work post-mortem. Soldier-boy also goes on my workout list.
Quesada drops his cape to the floor and shuffles over to stand behind Jones. Same shuffle I usually see at a line-up. Clearly he understands the routine. He's muttering non stop now - Spanish prayers and something in his own language which I assume is ditto. He looks on the edge of hyperventilation. I consider that, then put it aside. Nothing I can do. If he faints at this point, all the better. A limp body is hard to move. They might leave him behind - out of danger and out of our way.
Several other soldiers move to both sides. I gather that is supposed to be honor guard, but it looks more like the last walk at Bellereve. Not unique for Dick. I suspect even the voluntary volunteers would be rethinking their career choice at this point. Not that they would stop Dick if he wanted to break out. They are standing too close, and spears are a poor choice of weapon for prisoner control. Still? For your average drugged civilian it would more then suffice.
And that drink in the jug was a drug. Not just alcohol. Quesada is slipping fast from hyper to half-comatose. Not necessarily good. Not once he gets to the pyramid. If he can't walk away from there, we will have to leave him. Without anyone left to finish the sacrifice he should survive until the cleanup crew gets here... probably... but I hate risking the innocent.
Not a long march. They meet up with the four other spearmen who have - as Jones predicted - jogged back to the base of the pyramid. According to Oracle this is where the future divinity is supposed to get a last kiss from the local virgins. No women here - so they skip that part. Although a few of the soldiers look like they might step in to that duty. *grrrr*
I focus back on the action. Dick looks cold. Jones looks interested. Quesada looks stoned.
Another offering of bread - sancu as Jones calls it - dipped in fresh blood. This time it's not voluntary. At Jones' nod, Dick takes a bite. From his expression? it's everything he suspected - and worse. And this from he kid who *devoured * Belly Busters? I make a note to tease him about it later. I know he would like to spit it out - just to singe priesties fur. Good idea - bad time. Which Dick knows. He swallows. Maybe I won't tease him after all. At least - not too badly.
The lead spear man hustles them to the foot of the narrow steps to the first platform, where they meet up with Amhacutec and Gomez. The priest starts singing something, only to be cut off by Gomez. That earns the prince a nasty look. Confirmed: the Jaguar priest is a traditionalist. His gods are not happily mocked. But Amhacutec's gods are a bit more submissive, and today the prince is working against a deadline.
Amhacutec whispers something, which gets brings a growl from Mayfair and gets the high priest smiling again. Oracle beeps in with my first translation. "Amhacutec promised him he could sacrifice the princess ... Presumedly Mona Savage?." I second that growl. Having met the lady I do understand the urge.. but civilized people don't give in to those urges.
Two of the spearmen tie Jones and Quesada to the two side pillars, then take their places at either side of the seated prince. Jones quips something again. Not very loud. I miss it in the background noise. Must be the local language, as Amhacutec gets it and Gomez doesn't. One of the spearmen looks like he'd like to try another slap - but apparently that just isn't done. He gives Jones a growl which I interpret as 'you'll get yours' and leans back to watch the show.
Not as good as I had hoped. Jones had suggested that the 'court' might be left alone up there. Oracle had confirmed that. Maybe her research was off - or maybe the prince is just appropriately paranoid. I sure wouldn't trust his allies. No matter. This arrangement leaves Amhacutec and Gomez with only two guards - and those are the lightly armed spearmen. Gomez shouldn't know how to fight. Amhacutec might, but he's too hampered to be effective. The steps are too narrow for swift support to arrive from below - even if I didn't have plans in place to disrupt the soldiers. The situation is still well within planned parameters.
I watch narrow-eyes as the chief spear-carrier and two others nudge Dick up the remaining stairs at spear point. With the Jaguar priest, that will make four at the main altar - and all at least passably armed. But? I will have Dick.
Another message through Oracle. Concentrate defense on the bottom on the structure - and on maintaining our escape route. We will be coming out fast.
I hear the acknowledgement at the back of my mind as I watch them tie Dick to the altar. he jerks. I wince. Involuntary. That stone has to be cold - and Dick's back is still sensitive. Likely the small fires that burned off and on all night were just enough to leave hot ashes without actually warming the stone.
I should have thought of that. Should have sent for the silicone spray before I let Dick go down. As it is?
I watch as the Jaguar Priest kneels behind the altar. When he come up, he has a long handled knife held in both hands. Carved jade, gold beadwork fringe, curved onyx blade. No question what we are looking at. This is the Tongue of the Jaguar.
I hear a gasp. Muwan. Something muttered in K'iche'. From the accent, Brooks. An obscenity in English from Jones. They know what they are seeing. So do I.
OK. Jumpline in one hand - knife in the other.
"Ready, people?" I hear the various sounds of acknowledgement. "On my word."
The chanting gets louder. Much louder.
The priest raises the blade.
I am four seconds from Dick. A lot can happen in four seconds.
"Now!"
*END CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE*