pdouglas.thecodex-第35章

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　He　shuddered。　〃Once　he　had　the　chief　as　a　hostage；　we　made　our　way　up　into　the　mountains　toward　the　White　City。〃
　〃Hauser　knows　it's　the　White　City？〃
　〃He　learned　it　from　an　Indian　prisoner。　But　he　doesn't　know　where　the　tomb　is　in　the　White　City。　Apparently　only　the　chief　and　a　few　elders　know　the　exact　location　of　father's　tomb。〃
　〃How　did　you　escape？〃　Tom　asked。
　Philip　closed　his　eyes。　〃Kidnapping　the　chief　stirred　up　the　Indians　to　war。　They　attacked　Hauser　while　he　was　en　route　to　the　White　City。　Even　with　their　heavy　weapons　Hauser　and　his　men　had　their　hands　full。　He'd　taken　the　chains　off　me　to　use　them　on　the　chief。　At　the　height　of　the　attack　I　managed　to　get　away。　I　spent　the　last　ten　days　walking…crawling；　actually…back　here；　surviving　on　insects　and　lizards。　Three　days　ago　I　reached　this　river。　There　was　no　way　to　cross。　I　was　starving；　and　I　couldn't　walk　anymore。　So　I　sat　down　under　a　tree　to　wait　for　the　end。〃
　〃You　were　sitting　under　that　tree　for　three　days？〃
　〃Three；　four　days…God　only　knows。　They　all　ran　together。〃
　〃My　God；　Philip；　how　awful。〃
　〃On　the　contrary。　It　was　a　refreshing　feeling。　Because　I　didn't　care　anymore。　About　anything。　I'd　never　felt　so　free　in　my　life　as　while　I　was　sitting　under　that　tree。　I　believe　I　might　have　actually　been　happy　for　a　moment　or　two。〃
　The　fire　had　died　down。　Tom　added　a　few　more　sticks　and　stirred　it　back　to　life。
　〃Did　you　see　the　White　City？〃　Vernon　asked。
　〃I　escaped　before　they　got　there。〃
　〃How　far　is　it　from　here　to　the　Sierra　Azul？〃
　〃Ten　miles；　maybe；　to　the　foothills；　and　another　ten　or　twelve　to　the　city。〃
　There　was　a　silence。　The　fire　crackled；　hissed。　A　bird　sang　a　mournful　song　in　a　distant　tree。　Philip　closed　his　eyes　and　murmured；　his　voice　heavy　with　sarcasm；　〃Dear　old　Father；　what　a　fine　legacy　you　left　to　your　adoring　children。〃
　
　43
　
　The　temple　lay　buried　in　lianas；　the　front　colonnade　supported　by　square　pillars　of　limestone　streaked　with　green　moss；　holding　up　part　of　a　stone　roof。　Hauser　stood　outside；　looking　at　the　curious　hieroglyphics　carved　into　the　pillars；　the　strange　faces；　animals；　dots；　and　lines。　It　reminded　him　of　the　Codex。
　〃Stay　outside；〃　he　said　to　his　men　and　slashed　a　hole　in　the　screen　of　vegetation。　It　was　gloomy。　He　shined　a　flashlight　around。　There　were　no　snakes　or　jaguars；　just　a　mess　of　spiders　in　one　corner　and　some　mice　scurrying　away。　It　was　dry　and　sheltered…a　good　place　to　establish　his　headquarters。
　He　strolled　deeper　into　the　temple。　At　the　back　stood　another　row　of　square　stone　pillars　framing　a　ruined　doorway　leading　out　to　a　gloomy　courtyard。　He　stepped　through。　A　few　statues　lay　tumbled　about；　deeply　eroded　by　time；　wet　in　the　rain。　Great　roots　of　trees　snaked　over　the　stones　like　fat　anacondas；　heaving　apart　walls　and　roofs；　until　the　trees　themselves　became　an　integral　part　of　what　was　holding　the　structure　together。　On　the　far　side　of　the　courtyard　a　second　doorway　led　into　a　small　chamber　with　a　carved　stone　man　lying　on　his　back；　holding　a　bowl。
　Hauser　came　back　out　to　his　waiting　soldiers。　Two　of　them　held　between　them　the　captured　chief；　a　bowed　old　man；　almost　naked　except　for　a　loincloth　and　a　piece　of　leather　tied　over　his　shoulder　and　belted　around　his　waist。　His　body　was　one　mass　of　wrinkles。　He　was　just　about　the　oldest…looking　man　Hauser　had　ever　seen…and　yet　he　knew　he　probably　wasn't　older　than　sixty。　The　jungle　ages　you　fast。
　Hauser　gestured　to　the　teniente。　〃We'll　stay　here。　Have　the　soldiers　clean　this　room　out　for　my　cot　and　table。〃　He　nodded　to　the　old　man。　〃Chain　him　in　the　small　room　across　the　courtyard　and　put　a　guard　on　him。〃
　The　soldiers　hustled　the　old　Indian　chief　into　the　temple。　Hauser　settled　himself　down　on　a　block　of　stone　and　drew　a　fresh　cigar　tube　from　his　shirt　pocket；　unscrewed　the　cap；　and　slid　the　cigar　out。　It　was　still　covered　in　a　cedarwood　wrapper。　He　smelled　the　wrapper；　crushed　it　in　his　hand；　smelled　it　again；　inhaling　the　exquisite　fragrance；　and　then　began　the　ritual　that　he　loved　so　well　of　lighting　the　cigar。
　As　he　smoked；　he　looked　at　the　ruins　of　a　pyramid　directly　in　front　of　him。　It　was　nothing　like　Chichén　Itzá　or　Copán；　but　as　Mayan　pyramids　went　it　was　impressive　enough。　Important　burials　were　often　found　in　pyramids。　Hauser　was　convinced　old　Max　had　reburied　himself　in　a　tomb　he　once　robbed。　If　so；　it　had　to　be　an　important　tomb；　to　hold　all　of　Max's　stuff。
　The　stairway　going　up　the　pyramid　had　been　heaved　apart　by　tree　roots；　which　had　levered　out　many　blocks　and　sent　them　tumbling　to　the　bottom。　At　the　top　was　the　small　room　held　up　by　four　square　pillars；　with　four　doors　and　a　shallow　stone　altar　where　the　Maya　sacrificed　their　victims。　Hauser　inhaled。　That　would　have　been　something　to　see；　the　priest　splitting　the　victim　at　the　breastbone；　wrenching　apart　the　rib　cage；　cutting　out　the　beating　heart　and　holding　it　up　with　a　shriek　of　triumph　while　the　body　was　tumbled　down　the　stairs；　to　be　hacked　up　by　waiting　nobles　and　made　into　corn　stew。
　What　barbarians。
　Hauser　smoked　with　pleasure。　The　White　City　was　fairly　impressive　even　covered　as　it　was　by　vegetation。　Max　had　hardly　scratched　the　surface。　There　was　a　great　deal　more　worth　taking　here。　Even　a　simple　block　with；　say；　a　jaguar　head　carved　on　it　could　fetch　a　hundred　grand。　He'd　have　to　be　careful　to　keep　the　location　secret。
　In　its　heyday　the　White　City　would　have　been　amazing…Hauser　could　almost　see　it　in　his　mind's　eye：　the　temples　new　and　gleaming　white；　the　ball　games　（where　the　losers　lost　their　heads）；　the　roaring　crowds　of　spectators；　the　processions　of　the　priests　decked　out　in　gold；　feathers；　and　jade。　And　what　had　happened？　Now　their　descendants　lived　in　bark　huts　and　their　head　priest　was　a　man　in　rags。　Funny　how　things　change。
　He　drew　in　another　lungful　of　smoke。　It　was　true　that　not　all　had　gone　according　to　plan。　No　matter。　Long　experience　had　taught　him　that　any　op　was　an　exercise　in　improvisation。　Those　who　thought　they　could　plan　an　op　and　execute　it　flawlessly　always　died　following　the　book。　That　was　his　great　strength：　improvisation。　Human　beings　were　inherently　unpredictable。
　Take　Philip。　In　that　first　meeting　he　had　seemed　all　show　in　his　expensive　suit；　with　his　affected　mannerisms　and　phony　upper…class　accent。　He　could　still　scarcely　believe　the　man　had　managed　to　escape。　He　would　probably　expire　in　the　jungle…he　was　already　on　his　last　legs　when　he　made　off…but　still；　Hauser　was　concerned。　And　impressed。　Perhaps　a　little　of　Max　had　rubbed　off　on　the　effete　little　bastard　after　all。　Max。　What　a　crazy　old　shit　he'd　turned　out　to　be。
　The　main　thing　was　to　keep　his　priorities　straight。　The　Codex；　first；　and　then　the　rest　of　the　stuff；　later。　And　then　third；　the　White　City　itself。　Over　the　past　few　years　Hauser　had　followed　with　interest　the　looting　of　Site　Q。　The　White　City　was　going　to　be　his　Site　Q。
　He　examined　the　end　of　his　cigar；　holding　it　up　so　the　curl　of　smoke　tickled　his　nostrils。　The　cigars　had　weathered　the　journey　through　the　rainforest　well…you　might　even　say　they'd　improved。
　The　teniente　came　out　and　saluted。　〃Ready；　sir。〃
　Hauser　followed　him　into　the　ruined　temple。　The　soldiers　were　fixing　up　the　outer　part；　raking　up　the　animal　crap；　burning　out　the　cobwebs；　sprinkling　water　to　keep　down　the　dust；　and　carpeting　the　ground　with　cut　ferns。　He　ducked　through　the　low　stone　doorway　into　the　inner　courtyard；　passed　by　the　tumbled　statues；　and　went　into　the　room　in　the　back。　The　wizened　old　Indian　was　chained　up　to　one　of　the　stone　pillars。　Hauser　shined　the　light　on　him。　He　was　an　old　bugger；　but　he　returned　the　gaze；　and　there　wasn't　even　a　trace　of　fear　on　his　face。　Hauser　didn't　like　that。　It　reminded　him　of　the　face　of　Ocotal。　These　damn　Indians　were　like　the　Viet　Cong。
　〃Thank　you；　Teniente；〃　he　said　to　the　soldier。
　〃Who　will　translate？　He　speaks　no　Spanish。〃
　〃I'll　make　myself　understood。〃
　The　teniente　withdrew。　Hauser　looked　at　the　Indian；　and　once　again　the　Indian　returned　the　look。　Not　defiant；　not　angry；　not　fearful…just　observing。
　Hauser　seated　himself　on　the　corner　of　the　stone　altar；　carefully　rubbed　the　ash　off　his　cigar；　which　had　gone　out；　and　relit　it。
　〃My　name's　Marcus；〃　he　said　with　a　smile。　He　could　already　feel　this　was　going　to　be　a　hard　case。　〃Here's　the　situation；　chief。　I　want　you　to　tell　me　where　you　and　your　people　buried　Maxwell　Broadbent。　If　you　do；　no　problem；　we'll　just　go　in　there；　take　what　we　want；　and　leave　you　in　peace。　If　you　don't；　bad　things　will　happen　to　you　and　your　people。　I'll　discover　the　location　of　the　tomb　and　rob　it　anyway。　So　which　way　do　you　want　to　go？〃
　He　looked　up　at　the　man；　puffing　vigorously　on　the　cigar；　getting　a　good　red　tip　going。　The　man　hadn't　understood　a　word。　No　matter。　He　was　no　fool：　He　knew　what　Hauser　wanted。
　〃Maxwell　Broadbent？〃　Hauser　repeated　slowly；　enunciating　every　syllable。　He　made　a　universal　gesture　indicating　a　question；　a　shrug　with　hands　turned　up。
　The　Indian　said　nothing。　Hauser　rose　and　walked　toward　the　old　man；　puffing　vigorously　on　the　cigar；　getting　a　good　long　glow　to　the　tip。　Then　he　stopped；　removed　the　cigar　from　his　mouth；　and　held　it　up　in　front　of　the　man's　face。　〃Care　for　a　cigar？〃
　
　44
　
　Philip's　story　was　over。　The　sun　had　set　long　ago；　and　the　fire　had　fallen　to　a　vermilion　heap　of　coals。　Tom　could　hardly　believe　what　his　brother　had　endured。
　Sally　spoke　first。　〃Hauser's　mitting　genocide　up　there。〃
　There　was　an　uneasy　silence。
　〃We've　got　to　do　something。〃
　〃Like　what？〃　Vernon　asked。　His　voice　sounded　tired。
　〃We　go　to　the　mountain　Indians；　offer　our　services。　In　partnership　with　them；　we　can　defeat　Hauser。〃
　Don　Alfonso　spread　his　hands。　〃Curandera；　they　will　kill　us　before　we　can　speak。〃
　〃I'll　go　into　the　village；　unarmed。　They　won't　kill　an　unarmed　woman。〃
　〃Yes　they　will。　And　what　can　we　do？　We　have　one　rifle　against　professional　soldiers　with　automatic　weapons。　We　are　weak。　We　are　hungry。　We　do　not　even　have　a　change　of　clothes　among　us…and　we　have　a　man　who　cannot　walk。〃
　〃So　what　are　you　suggesting？〃
　〃It　is　over。　We　must　go　back。〃
　〃You　said　we'd　never　get　across　the　swamp。〃
　〃Now　we　know　they　left　their　boats　at　the　Macaturi　Falls。　We　go　and　steal　them。〃
　〃And　then？〃　Sally　asked。
　〃I　go　back　to　Pito　Solo　and　you　go　home。〃
　〃And　just　leave　Hauser　up　here；　killing　everyone？〃
　〃Yes。〃
　Sally　was　furious。　〃I　don't　accept　that。　He's　got　to　be　stopped。　We'll　contact　the　government；　have　them　send　in　troops　to　arrest　him。〃
　Don　Alfonso　looked　very　tired。　〃Curandera；　the　government　will　do　nothing。〃
　〃How　do　you　know？〃
　〃This　man　has　already　made　arrangements　with　the　government。　We　can　do　nothing　except　accept　our　powerlessness。〃
　〃I　don't　accept　it！〃
　Don　Alfonso　gazed　at　her　with　old；　sad　eyes。　He　carefully　scraped　out　his　pipe；　knocked　the　crumbs　out；　filled　it；　and　relit　it　with　a　stick　from　the　fire。　〃Many　years　ago；〃　he　said；　〃when　I　was　a　boy；　I　remember　when　the　first　white　man　came　to　our　village。　He　was　a　small　man　with　a　big　hat　and　a　pointed　beard。　We　thought　he　might　be　a　ghost。　He　took　out　these　turdlike　yellow　lumps　of　metal　and　asked　if　we　had　seen　anything　like　it。　His　hands　were　shaking；　and　t