The Dig (The Blackwell Files Book 9) Read online

  “Why?” cut in Tan. “What difference does it make?”

  “Maybe none,” said Alton, turning to the younger man, “but you never know what information might prove crucial. It’s best to gather as much data as you can.”

  “Indeed,” said Cornick. “My team was originally working a dig site near the centro, the downtown area.”

  “Wait,” said Mallory, “you have an archeological site in the downtown of a metro area of four million people?”

  “Yes. It sounds strange, but that’s where the historic buildings of this area are located. Catholic structures like this one were built there over four hundred years ago. But here’s the rub: like many older sites, they were built on the ruins of even older ones. In this case, the catholic churches sit on top of pre-Columbian, Aztec temples and other ruins. That’s what we’re after.”

  “I see. And that’s what was revealed by the earthquake, right?” said Mallory.

  “Exactly,” said Cornick. “A treasure trove unlike any we’ve ever encountered. I’ll show you once we finish these…unpleasant…details. Speaking of which, let me get on with it.” He cleared his throat. “As I said, before the earthquake, the entire team was working at the Chapalas site…in the centro.”

  “Chapalas?” said Alton.

  “Let me explain,” said Cornick. “The Aztecs didn’t rule their empire like Rome—conquering the native people and all that—as much as they formed alliances with indigenous groups. The area where Guadalajara now sits was in the northern part of the Aztec empire, pretty far from Tenochtitlan, the capital—and where Mexico City sits today. Yes, the tribes out here were part of the empire, but due to their distance, they enjoyed more liberties than Tenochtitlan’s residents. One of those local groups was the Chapalas. In fact, there’s a local lake and suburb named after this tribe.

  “Anyway, for the past two years, we’ve been in downtown Guadalajara, unearthing a Chapalas temple. That site is interesting…informative…but so far, it hasn’t told us much we didn’t already know.

  “Then the earthquake hit.” His eyes took on a faraway look. “And we discovered the temple of Mictlantecuhtli underneath this basilica.”

  “Mic-who?” asked Silva.

  Cornick smiled. “Mictlantecuhtli, lord of the underworld in the Aztec religion. This guy was a top dog, one of their most powerful gods.”

  “You said you found his temple underneath this church?” asked Mallory.

  “Yes. It’s an incredible find. And unexpected.”

  “Why?”

  “To answer that, I’ll have to give you a little background first. The arrival of the Spanish conquistadors spelled the end of the Aztec empire. Hernán Cortés conquered Tenochtitlan, the Aztec capital, in fifteen twenty-one and immediately set about looking for precious metals. Legend has it that when Cortés’s armies entered Tenochtitlan, the Aztecs moved their most prized belongings northward, away from the advancing troops. These belongings included their most sacred religious articles—the equivalent of the Shroud of Turin for Christians. The problem with this story is no one ever found these articles, so who could say if anything was really moved at all?

  “Seven years after conquering the Aztec capital, Cortés sent Nuño Beltrán de Guzmán northward with hundreds of Spanish soldiers and thousands of local warriors to ensure the continuity of his mining efforts. Word spread pretty quickly through the indigenous population how brutal Guzmán was. When he entered this area, Guzmán established the town of Guadalajara, named after his hometown in Spain. But a funny thing happened. The locals laid siege to the city and launched a series of vicious attacks known as the Mixtón Rebellion. Cortés had to send thousands of additional troops to eventually put down that rebellion.

  “So here’s the interesting question…what was so special about this area that got the locals’ dander up?” He leaned forward. “After nearly five hundred years, the temple underneath this basilica finally answers that question.”

  “How?” said Silva, her eyebrows gathered.

  “It’s filled with the evacuated treasures of Tenochtitlan. The legend was true: before the Aztecs lost their capital, they sent their religious totems north and stored them in an underground tunnel for safekeeping. In the seven years before Guzmán arrived, refugees from the capital worked with local groups to expand the tunnel into a full-blown temple, a subterranean duplicate of the original in Tenochtitlan. When Guzmán neared this area, though, they sealed up the tunnel so it wouldn’t be defiled by the Spanish heretics. Now we know why they attacked Guzmán’s garrison so ferociously. They were trying to regain control of their most sacred temple.”

  Cornick shrugged. “But they never did. They were defeated, and the secret of this temple’s location died with them—until now.”

  O’Neil whistled.

  Cornick grinned. “That was our reaction, too. This temple honors the normal pantheon of Aztec gods, but Mictlantecuhtli, the underworld god I mentioned earlier, is given a special place.”

  “Why’s that?” asked Mallory.

  “He was one of the principal gods in their religion. Ruler of the underworld…the only god with the power to decide who entered the underworld and who didn’t. He was the equivalent of Lucifer in the Christian religion. When the Aztecs performed their human sacrifice and occasional cannibalism, they did so in his name.”

  Mastana shivered but remained silent.

  “And now it’s time to explain how my team members are working to excavate the temple.” Cornick rose from his seat. “To do that, it’ll be easier if I show you the site itself.”

  CHAPTER 4

  Alton and the rest of the NSA team followed Cornick and Tan down the ladder, descending into a lonely circle of light surrounded by the tunnel’s gloomy depths.

  Cornick pulled a heavy tarp off a cylindrical object, revealing an imposing, stone statue at least four feet high. The skeletal, humanoid figure wore a tall headdress and sat with arms crossed—at rest yet nonetheless menacing.

  “This is the man himself, Mictlantecuhtli,” said Cornick. “Or should I say the god himself. Some cleaning lady was here on the night of the earthquake and peered down at this statue. I’m told it gave her quite a fright.”

  Alton could believe it. The statue creeped him out, too.

  “This is just a small one, though—meant to guard this passage,” mentioned Cornick. “The big daddy is in the temple.”

  “It’s bigger?” asked Alton.

  “Oh, yes.” Cornick flipped on a light switch, expanding the illumination to the far corners of a thirty-by-fifteen foot room. A tunnel entered from one narrow wall and exited out the other. The room looked to have been created by carving out this section of tunnel into a wider space. “This is just an antechamber. It’s a good thing the Aztecs built this tunnel through solid rock, or the earthquake would have leveled this place, and probably the basilica with it. We might’ve never known this was here.”

  Alton took in the chamber. Rows of pottery and other earthenware filled shelves carved into stone walls lined with hand-carved bricks. Human and animal figurines of various sizes and compositions were everywhere, some on higher shelves and others on pedestals of polished wood encrusted with ovals of quartz and onyx. In the corner, a set of golden jewelry lay displayed on a fold of ancient cloth.

  “Our biggest score—the temple—lies in that direction,” said the late-fifties archeologist, pointing into the gloom of the most distant tunnel. “Why don’t we go see it?”

  He flipped a switch on a hanging cable. A series of florescent lights mounted to the ceiling flooded the tunnel with light, revealing a continuous array of artifacts similar to those Alton had already observed.

  On the way, Tan pointed down a shadowy corridor branching off at ninety degrees. “That’s the funerary section.”

  “Funerary?” asked Mastana.

  “An underground graveyard,” replied Tan. “Only community leaders, the rich, and spiritual leaders were buried there. They were cremated and
laid to rest with property to help them in the afterlife, kind of like the Egyptians. They were also buried with their wives and slaves, who until then were very much alive.”

  A shudder passed through Mastana’s frame, but she said nothing. Small wonder this place bothered her. The Aztec rituals bore a sinister resemblance to those of the cult that had kidnapped the teenager the previous year.

  Two more minutes of walking led the group to a massive, arched doorway.

  Cornick moved aside a heavy curtain and ushered his guests inside. He gazed upon the space with the proud satisfaction of a father. “It’s the best ceremonial chamber I’ve encountered in my entire career. And that’s saying something.”

  The sight took Alton’s breath away. While stationed in Kabul, he had visited several historic sites, but none of them came close to matching the massive scale and unspoiled nature of the display before him.

  He took a few steps into the chamber, then stopped to gaze in wonder. Within the circular room, a series of huge, stone statues spaced ten feet apart formed an inner arc. Sheets of gold foil covered floor-to-ceiling pillars resting flush against the wall.

  Fearsome turquoise masks and winding snake statues fashioned from gemstones rested on shelves carved into the rock walls. On a huge stone altar at the far end of the room, gold and silver figurines depicting a variety of human and other creatures surrounded a heavy, golden goblet. Ceremonial knives with warriors carved into the handles lay along each edge of the altar’s rough surface. An enormous, circular calendar hewn from volcanic rock had been mounted on the wall behind the altar. The patina of centuries couldn’t mask the value of this trove of antiquities. How many thousands of man hours had been required to carve and outfit this room?

  Yet not everything appeared in its pristine state. Behind the altar, several tarps shrouded a large object.

  Cornick followed Alton’s eyes.

  “That’s the crown jewel of this room,” said the archeologist. “The original statue of Mictlantecuhtli, dragged here from Tenochtitlan.”

  “How do you know it’s that particular one?”

  “Simple: this statue includes the legendary undertaker’s spear, the one Mictlantecuhtli supposedly used to guard the underworld. It was the only one ever made. I’ve read about it my entire career but never expected to find it. Nobody did.”

  “That’s why it’s covered up?” asked Mallory, stepping up from behind. “To keep it out of the public eye?”

  “That’s one reason. But we have round-the-clock security, so I’m not too worried about that. It’s really more so none of the work we’re doing in here will accidentally damage it. Something that priceless can never be replaced.”

  It seemed a reasonable precaution. The chamber already bore signs of extensive archeological work. Petite, numbered flags stood at the corners of dozens of spaces roped off with wooden stakes and wire. More wires crisscrossed each excavation pit, forming a grid. Adjacent to each excavation depression, numbered squares of paper held the contents of the corresponding space in the depression.

  In contrast to the stunning display of antiquities, an impressive array of a more modern type—archeological tools—filled the middle of the room. A steel container stuffed with hand spades, sifters, and other tools of the archeological trade rested near to the chamber’s entrance. Next to it sat four portable aluminum shelves containing dozens of electrical tools, ranging in size from tiny to almost more than a man could carry. Shovels and spades of various sizes hung from the back of each shelving unit. A stainless-steel, four-wheeled vehicle crept through the back of the chamber, pulling a load of dirt.

  Noticing Alton’s gaze, Cornick began pointing to the shelves’ more esoteric pieces of equipment. “That’s a laser…here’s a magnetometer…that device on the bottom shelf is an electromagnetic induction sensor.” He motioned to a wheeled apparatus painted a bright yellow, resting beyond the last shelf. “You wouldn’t guess it, but this is the crown jewel of our equipment.”

  “It looks like my Lawn Boy back home,” replied Alton, “but I’m going to bet it has another purpose.”

  Cornick cackled, his shoulders bobbing. “Yes. It’s a ground-penetrating radar—GPR for short. Lets us map out what’s underground without disturbing and potentially destroying artifacts.”

  “You don’t actually see what’s in the ground, though?”

  “Not exactly, but you’d be surprised at how much detail three-dimensional computer modeling can create from our scans.”

  “Not to ask a dumb question,” said Alton, “but we’re already underground. What do you need the GPR for?”

  Cornick smiled. “Excellent question, my lad—not dumb at all.” His eyes sparkled with excitement. “As magnificent as this chamber is, it’s only the tip of the iceberg. Preliminary tests show deeper tunnels running in all directions. But we can’t just take out a pickaxe and start whacking. We’d cause a cave-in before you know it. Then after another four hundred years, someone would end up excavating our bodies.”

  With a chuckle, Alton nodded. He, Cornick, and Elias Tan continued their stroll through the vast space until they reached the altar at its far wall.

  Alton turned and took in the entirety of the chamber. “This really is extraordinary.”

  “Isn’t it?” said Cornick. “Perhaps not as extensive as the one unearthed in Mexico City after the flood in two-thousand three, but impressive nonetheless.” He sighed. “Even with all this gear and a re-staffed team, though, it’ll take years to fully inventory everything.”

  “At least you have the right tools for the job. This equipment looks first rate.”

  Tan grunted and leaned against the altar. “Yes, it’s good, but don’t let that fool you.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “The equipment came courtesy of the Mexican government,” said Tan. “Dr. Salazar was the project’s lead Mexican researcher. Getting us that kind of stuff was one of his many talents. But day-to-day expenses don't capture the imagination of bureaucrats the way cutting-edge equipment does. You wouldn’t guess it, but meeting routine operating costs is our biggest challenge. It’s always hand-to-mouth when your job is funded by federal grants.”

  Cornick issued a soft laugh. “Elias is right, but that’s life when you’re in this business.” He grew earnest again. “I wouldn’t trade it, though.” He picked a diminutive golden figurine off the altar and held it up. Emeralds and onyx embedded in the statue’s war helmet gleamed in the artificial light. “Look at this sacred totem—five hundred years old, at least. More than twice the age of our country. And my eyes were the first to see it after all those centuries.” His face glowed with excitement.

  David approached from behind. “I hate to break up the Indiana Jones party, but I got ahold of Lieutenant Vasquez, the cop who’s working the murder cases. She asked if we could meet her at the Chapalas site—said it’s pretty close to her office.”

  Alton looked to Cornick.

  Grim determination replaced the scientist’s joy. “Yes, we should do that. I owe you an explanation of each team member’s work and details of the crimes. Chapalas would be a good place to start. That’s where Dr. Miller disappeared.”

  CHAPTER 5

  Alton and the other team members piled into several taxis from a herd that clung to the perimeter of the tourist area. With Dr. Cornick’s vehicle in the lead, the convoy weaved through crowded city streets into the centro, the city’s downtown district.

  The taxis let their passengers out on a side street abutting an expansive plaza. Cornick led the group across earthen brick patterns and around a circular fountain. He stopped in front of an ancient building constructed in the Spanish Renaissance style. Towers soared from each front corner, and a semi-circle of heavy stone topped with spires rested atop the building’s imposing face.

  “The Cathedral of the Assumption of Our Lady,” said Cornick. “More commonly known as the Guadalajara Cathedral.”

  Mastana approached from behind. “This is im
pressive, but I thought you said this was the site of a native tribe.”

  The scientist smiled. “Good question, young lady. Remember how I told you Cortes’ men conquered this area a few years after the Spaniards arrived? When they settled here, they continued a practice Cortes started in Mexico City. Namely, they didn’t simply destroy the Aztec temples. Like I mentioned earlier, they built their own cathedrals on top of them.”

  “Why?”

  “Partly symbolic…to show the heathens that their old religions were being replaced by Christianity. But partly practical, too. The Aztec temples were formidable structures. It was much easier for Cortes’ men to build on top of the existing temple infrastructure than start from scratch.”

  “Reminds me of the Darul Aman Palace in Kabul,” said Mallory. In response to Cornick’s raised eyebrows, she laughed and continued. “Alton and I visited that site a couple of times when we were stationed there. The guides said the same thing—that each conquering group built on top of the existing structures.”

  “Very good, Agent Blackwell,” said Cornick. “In this case, the cathedral was first built in fifteen forty-one, twenty years after Cortes landed in the New World and only thirteen years after Guzman first set foot in this area. That means the Chapalas artifacts buried underneath this structure didn’t have decades to be scattered to the wind. The speed with which the Spaniards built their cathedral ended up sealing off the underground remains as a sort of time capsule, preserving the pre-conquest relics in exceptionally good shape.”

  “And that’s what you’ve been focused on unearthing?” asked Mallory. “Those artifacts?”

  “Exactly.”

  David leaned close. “Lieutenant Vasquez just texted—said she’ll be here in about twenty minutes.”

  “In that case,” said the archeologist, “I’ll go ahead and show you Dr. Miller’s dig site. The lieutenant has already seen it plenty of times.”