The Mayan Codex

78

‘Well stone me – we’ve got ourselves an honest-to-God ragged trousered philanthropist.’

Abi was tucked into the lee of one of the more extreme of the ruined buildings. It was situated outside the main Ek Balam tourist zone, on a raised tump, thick with ancient scatterings. Athame was standing beside him. The Glock was tucked into the back of Abi’s trousers, disguised by the Guayabera shirt that he had bought for exactly that purpose in Veracruz. Athame was carrying her Walther P4 in the backpack she wore at all times. Given her diminutive size, the backpack made her look like Dopey, from Walt Disney’s Snow White.

‘I don’t think you should do this.’

‘Do what?’

‘Go against Madame, our mother’s, wishes.’

‘What she doesn’t know won’t hurt her, Athame. And I don’t intend to blunder into that crowd over there, six-shooters blazing. I’ve got a more subtle approach in mind.’

‘She could simply cut us all loose. Without a penny to our names.’

‘So what? We can always steal. We’ve spent the past fifteen years being trained in every damned knavery known to man. And for what? To baby-sit the man who killed our brother? And the policeman who harried him to death? Calque and Sabir aren’t leaving Mexico alive, I can tell you that much. And if I have to do them myself, I will.’

‘And Lamia?’

‘I know you’ve always had a soft spot for her, Athame, but she’s in with Sabir now. She’s given herself to him. And she’s not the sort of woman who goes off half-cocked, if you’ll forgive my pun. She burned her bridges back at the chateau, and as far as I’m concerned that puts her out of the running for Barbie Doll of the Year Award. If I get my hands on her I’m going to use her to wring whatever I can out of Sabir. And when I’m through with her, she dies. Straight into the cenote with the rest of them. Christ, she’ll have six men all to herself down there.’

‘You’re sick, Abi. You know that?’

‘Are you going to stand in my way when it comes to it?’

Athame shook her head. ‘No. She burned her bridges, as you said. But I won’t let you abuse her. You can use her, fine. Threaten Sabir all you want. But I won’t see her hurt more than necessary. We were sisters once, remember.’

‘Does she remember that, do you think? Does she think as kindly of you as you do of her? I doubt it somehow.’

Up on the pyramid, the Halach Uinic was making way for one of the other priests.

‘Looks like we’re about to get the straight guff from the mestizo’s book. This, I want to hear. Think what that damned thing’s worth, Athame. One of only four remaining Maya codices. And with an attribution, to boot.’

‘What do you mean, an attribution?’

‘The mestizo’s got a mother, hasn’t he? And she knows all about the book his family have been guarding for hundreds of years. We get hold of the thing and we can work on him through her. Cherchez la femme. Isn’t that what the English tell us we French say all the time? They’re right, of course. Achilles’s problem wasn’t with his heel. It was with Briseis. If he hadn’t fallen in love with her and lost the plot, he would have survived the Trojan campaign and probably lived to a wise old age. Instead he let that bastard Paris skewer him in the foot. The same thing is going to happen to Sabir. Only his foot will be the last one of his body parts I’ll focus on.’

‘Listen, Abi. The priest is starting to read from the book.’

‘I can’t wait. I love bedtime stories.’