EIGHT
Nick Caner flew south into Mexico, a country Hernån
Cortés reportedly described by crumpling a piece of paper to
illustrate the mountains that crown two thirds of the land. The
Mexican state of Chiapas, Tiger Santos's destination, is far
south, on Guatemala, and the people there are
mostly Mayan Indians. The Maya, at the height of their
civilization, built great temple complexes to honor their
gods, and the most important of their gods was Itzamnå—
Jtzamnå, the name printed on the scrap of hidden under
the wristwatch band of Carter's attacker in San Antonio and
the name that appeared in a KGB report Maxim Bar-
kov, the KGB chief in Mexico.
Carter considered this as he headed toward Tuxtla Gutiér-
rez, the capital city of Chiapas, where there was an airport.
Beneath him the Sierra Madre del Sur rolled and jutted, green
and fertile with nature and the primitive farming of
backbreaking Indian labor. The unique pueblos of the
Anasazi and the majestic pyrarnids of the Maya had given the
modem descendants of both tribes concrete gifts from their
pasts. History can be consolation for the reduced present, and
a hotr for a better future.
Again Hawk was waiting for Carter's call.
"Norfolk, Atlanta, New Orleans, Houston, and San An-
tonio," Hawk said, his distant voice gruff with tension. "I
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don't Iüce it. Too much geography involved. Apparently
Santos stopped in each city. He must be more than a little
crazy, all the shooting he does. We found a few witnesses
who also saw one or two 'passengers' sneaking onto the jet at
each stop. Far as we can tell, that 's what Santos was doing in
every city—picking up l*ople. The purpose and ultimate
destination are still mysteries."
' 'Perhaps I can help you, sir, " Carter said, then he told his
superior what Dan Shew had overheard and seen in the New
Mexico desert.
"You'd tktter get right down there to Qliapas," Hawk
advised. "Navy jets, eh?"
Carter smiled as he listened to Hawk puffing on one of his
adored cigars in his office in the Press and
Wiré Services Building on Dupont Circle in Washington,
D.C.
"I'm on my way, " Carter said. ' 'Should land in an hour or
"Navy jets!" Hawk suddenly exploded. ' 'Christ! '9
'SMakes it t(X) big an orrration for drugs or black-market
pharmaceuticals, " Carter mused.
"I'm going to call someone at the Pentagon," Hawk
muttered. "I don't like this at all. "
"I'd like to know what Maxim Barkov's connection is to
Itzamnå," Carter said thoughtfully.
' 'M15 has 'lost' the new decodings and translations,"
Hawk growled. "Stuck in some computer somewhere
tween there and here. If it weren 't so important, I'd laugh. "
Carter could hear him chewing on his cigar. Hawk 's cigars
were a source of consolation and celebration, depending on
which emotion was more appropriate to the occasion.
• They'll locate it, " Hawk decided. "Probably have the
wrong program file word for it. In any case, I'll find out and
get you the information. But meanwhile, Nick, I want you to
take care of yourself. Get those injuries seen to, then find out
what the hell is going on in Chiapas!"
MAYAN CONNECTION
57



57
Nick Carter sat in the quiet, nighttime Chiapas airport bar
and nursed a Dos Equis He was tired and frustrated.
He'd been through the airport—searched it and talked to
personnel—but had found no sign of Tiger Santos or a U. S.
Navy jet.
Carter got up abruptly and carried his briefcase through the
restroom door marked Men, Hombres, and Xib-—English,
Spanish, and Mayan. Carter lay the briefcase across the sink
and took a deep breath. He looked in the tile-framed mirror
and saw the tiredness etched on his lean, mgged face. Sud-
denly the cheeks were gaunt, the eyes glazed.
He popped open the briefcase. No one else was in the cool ,
tiled restroom, so he stripped off his cotton shirt and peeled
the bandages from his chest. lhe lacerations were healing
rapidly, almost closed, with no sign of infection. Soon they
would be only pale pink ribbons snaking across his chest,
additions to his collection of scars. He swallowed some an-
tibiotics and dabbed on more antiseptic, feeling the reassur-
ing sting in the cuts. New, thinner bandages in place, he
smiled in the mirror. Already he felt better.
Caner lathered soap onto his hands, and scrubbed his
underarms, neck, and face. He rinsed with wurn water, then
splashed his face and neck with cold.
Chills spread up his spine. Vigor was retuming to his face.
He put the simple white cotton shirt back on, brushed his
thick dark hair, and retumed his supplies to the briefcase. He
stood back from the mirror, briefcase in hand, and looked at
himself.
There was color in his tan face again, and a sparkle in his
eyes. •me hollowness was gone, replaced by a look of health
and eagerness to live. He grinned at himself, pleased with the
transformation, and swung out the door and back to his table
in the 'bar.
lhe Dos Equis had a good bite to it. Carter drank and
looked at a brilliantly painted Tree of Life that decorated the
wall across from his table. 'Ihe Tree of Life was a Bible in
clay, telling in ornate, handmade figures the story of Adam
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and Eve. From tyr center of the tree, the traditional serpent
stared out at him, but instead of its being sleek and evilly
conniving, it was plumed and benign.
'Una Otra , porfavor," Carter said to the bartender across
the quiet room, raising his almost empty glass. He drained it
and glanced at the four other customers spread around the
small room.
The bartender ncxided. He had a round face, straight eye-
brows, and a shaggy haircut that caused his heavy dark hair to
jut at strange angles. He glanced in the mirror at himself and
smiled appreciatively.
As the bartender returned to work behind the bar, Carter
watched a young woman with skin the color of café au lait
saunter into the room. She swung up the bar, put one hip on a
barstool, and leaned an on the bar. She was mysed in
such a way that her slim hips, krautiful legs, and high round
breasts were a glaring invitation.
It was a new reason for Carter to smile.
' 'Carta Blanca, ' ' the young woman said to the bartender.
He gave her a dazzling grin of white, square teeth that
gleamed in his dark face. He patted his unruly hair, creating
even more tufts that stuck out from his head.
"I've just come from Mexico City, and I'm thirsty, " she
told him in Spanish.
"It is a long flight," the bartender sympathized, hungry
eyes on her, His Spanish had a slight Mayan accent.
lhe bartender pushed Caner's Dos Equis aside and pulled
out a bottle of Carta Blanca. He the lid and
poured it into the glass he 'd gotten for Carter's He slid
the glass with the golden Cana Blanca across the bar to the
young woman.
' 'Gracias," she said. "l've been waiting for this." She
tipped the glass and drank.
As Carter watched her, the bartender got out another glass
and brought the bottle of Ihs Equis to Carter's table.
Caner readjusted his attention to the bartender.
"Is that Eve's serpent in the Tree of Life, " Carter asked
THE MAYAN CONNECTION
im conversationally in Spanish, "or Kukulkån?"
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THE MAYAN CONNECTION
im conversationally in Spanish, "or Kukulkån?"
59
Ihe bartender's eyes had been wandering back to the
oman at the bar, but now they retumed to Carter with
spect.
"You know about the old gcxls, seior?"
"Some. As I recall, Kukulkån is the narne the Maya gave
Quetzalcoatl, the Aztec's feathered serpent god, when
ey incorporated him into their worship. "
"That is correct," the bartender said and smiled. But he
as losing interest.
"Eve's serpent didn't have feathers."
The bartender shrugged.
'"Who is to say?" he said. ' "Ihis is a land of the mysteri-
us. Perhaps here the serpent does. " He edged back toward
e bar. "This is an old land, senor, and men and gods live
ong beyond their times. "
ente young woman was listening from the bar. Her long
hair was pulled back arxi twisted at the nalr of her neck.
r face's delicate tx.)ne stucture gave her a refined beauty
was at odds with the seductive way she stocxi. She was
ter something.
' 'What about women?" she asked the bartender.
The bartender returned to his post behind the bar. He
•ped the bar in front of the woman with an immaculate
hite cloth. He stared at her breasts while he worked.
"Men make history," he said. "Women are history. It is
natural way. "
"It is our counüy's way," she said, putting her glass on
polished bar. S There's a difference between natural and
tural. " She looked down into her golden beer. "I've been
earing stories about ghosts in the jungle south of here. I 'm
archeologist. I've working on the pyramid at Cuello
n Belize. I 've heard that there are some unexplored temples
are being used for old rites down south. I've been told
at you know where I can find them. "
The bartender whisked the white cloth from the bar and his
es from her round, softly heaving breasts. He turned to
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wash glasqes in the sink. His hands moved busily. He lifted
glass to see whether it was clean. He inspected it carefully
turning it from side to side in the light above his head.
don 't know what you mean, senorita , "he said. ' 'I hav
work to do. "
' 'Whole villages vanishing, " she went on. "Strange gcxi
or godlike flying into the jungle. "
The bartender shrugged and lifted a wet hand to smooth
wild hair on his head that he gloried in. He smoothed it as ift
remove attention from himself.
She watched him silently, tapping her fingers on the bar
frustrated.
Caner picked up his Dos Equis and walked to the bar. H
sat down trside her.
She looked at him, and he looked into her eyes. Her ey
were a deep blue, the color of lapis lazuli, and he smiled.
g 'Hello, Linda," he said in English. "You're new at this.
Much blatant. You've frightened him off. "
"Nick!" she exclaimed in her soft Texas accent. ' 'Wha
. " She frowned, hairline creases forming
are you
tween her dark brows. She seemed to shiver, then sh
gathered herself together and hopped off the barstool t
leave.
Carter grabbed her arm arxl sat her back on the Sh
glared at him, angry.
Carter tumed to the bartender while holding on to Linda.
s 'I admire your Tree of Life," Carter said casually i
Spanish to the man behind the bar. U'l 'd like to buy it. Is it fo
sale?"
"They are sold all over the city, " the bartender said, hi
back still to them.
"I'd like one just like yours. I'll pay you well."-
The bartender shook his head.
"Go to the city. The Michoacån Shop. "
'It would be more convenient to buy yours, " Caner said
disaprx)inted. "But I supB)se if I must
I'll need direc-
tions. "
THE MAYAN CONNECTION
61




61
The bartender gave them hurriedly, never once looking at
Caner or Linda. Carter thanked him, pulled Linda to his
table, picked up his briefcase, and took her out the door into
the night.
Linda wrenched her arm free.
"Goddamn you!" she fumed. "You've ruined every-
"You've got a lot to learn," Carter said, amused.
She stalked off toward a dusty taxi. Carter followed her.
"German extraction, " he said behind her back. "A Mexi-
can citizen, but working for someone . . perhaps the U.S.
govemment?' '
She walked faster and pulled open the taxi's door.
She whispered her destination to the driver, got in, and
started to slam the door.
Carter grabbed it, slid in next to her, and closed the door
quietly.
"Educated," he went on in English. "Probably working
for the government. The President, perhaps?"
She sat back in the comer against the door, crossing her
arrns over her magnificent breasts.
'Get away from me. I don't want you. I don't need you. "
She held her head high and proud.
"You've come a long way from San Antonio," Carter
observed.
"l was working! "
"Did you have to turn any tricks? You were so grubby
back there that maybe you got away without having to.
Unfortunately, you 're going to have to get veed to it. Part of
the business for female agents. "
She slapped his face.
He caught the hand in midair and laughed.
O'Now that I've got you," he said and grinned, "I know
just what I'm going to do with you!"
The taxi stopped in front of an old hotel built of stone. Blue
and green tile bordered the large double doors and the win-
dows of the flat, two-story building. Large wrought-iron
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lanterns sent light out onto the old paved street.
Linda threw money at the driver.
"My wife!" Carter told the driver in Spanish. "Sony. "
Linda snarled under her breath, got out of the taxi, and
marched toward the hotel 's double doors.
The driver followed herwith his eyes, mxiding and smiling
as Carter slid across the seat to get out.
"She is high-strung, that one, " the driver observed. "Be
firm. She will respect you and give you many babies!"
Carter laughed again and followed Linda through the dou-
ble doors.
"Get away from me!" she hissed.
'€Wouldn't dream of it. "
' 'I hate you!"
"You used to be impressed that I was a spy!"
' 'Screw you. "
The clerk the registration desk stared at them.
Carter waved.
"Wife's a little peeved at me," Carter called to him in
Spanish.
nie registration clerk smiled, understanding, his Ekn sus-
pended above the desk as he took in the excitement.
Linda stalked to him.
' This man is not my husband!" she ' 'He's
mnoying me. Get rid of him!"
Having given her orders, she turned, arrogant as a queen,
and walked haughtily to an old-fashioned elevator set in a
wrought-iron cage.
Carter went to the desk and got out his wallet.
' 'Guess we've both too much to drink, " he explained
and smiled. " 'Send two good dinners up. Steak, com, fmit. A
bottle of champagne. The tzst you have. " Carter winked and
handed the clerk fifty dollars.
The clerk droprHl his pen and sliprEd the money into his
trouser pocket. He was savvy ami hoped to have more sophis-
ticated guests who could afford to be accommcxiated.
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63
'Of course, seior," he said smoothly. "Will there be
anything else?"
lhe old elevator hummed, carrying Linda up.
"Better give me a key. She'll probably lock me out. "
They laughed and watched the elevator disaprrar. In Latin
countries, a woman is to tamed--even a wife—when she
is young and beautiful.
"l understand completely, seior!"
Carter watched the clerk pull a key from the pigeonhole
2C.
"Gracias," Carter said and saluted. He marched to the
stairwell, feeling better than he had in days.






==============================================================




The Tuxtla Hotel room was large and airy. The window
was open, and a cool mountain breeze blew against an old
overstuffed chair. There were wooden night tables on either
side of the wrought-iron double bed, a carved table that held a
clay water pitcher and glasses, and an overhead light sus-
IEnded beneath a slowly rotating ceiling fan. 'Ihe bathroom
door was closed. Carter shut the room 's door behind him and
locked it.
He heard running water from the bathroorn. A small
stream, probably the sink. Carter sat in the comfortable chair
and out the window across the city. He thought about
Mexico's weath: more oil than Saudi Arabia, more natural
gas than the United States, and fertile land for fanning corn,
wheat, cotton, and bananas. Still, the nation's capital——
Mexico City—had grown into the largest city in the world,
unwieldy with rusants trying to escape the poverty of rural
areas only to find new mwerty in the concrete bungalows
built like cereal tx»ces on the outskirts of the city. Without
resources, a country couldn't provide food and work for its
people. But even with resources, it often couldn 't do the job.
Still, Mexico tried. Inflation slowed, and the peso was
regaining strength. The government was returning land to the
peasants and teaching them to work it more productively.
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NICK CARTER
lhere was an air of contemporary optimism to the country;
people truly wanted to push the past into an exciting future.
Carter heard the stream of water in the bathroom stop.
He got up and walked softly to the door.
Tie knob tumed.
Carter flattened himself against the wall.
Linda came out, still in her dress and pumps, smelling of
an old-fashioned rose water, a toothbrush in her hand. She
crossed the room to the bed where her suitcase lay
Carter inside the bathroom and turned on the
bathtub's taps.
"Who's that?" Linda yelled and ran to the bathroom.
"What are you doing?"
Carter whisked her up and threw her over his shoulder.
sve wanted to give you a bath since I first saw you in San
Antonio," he said.
'Stop it! ' ' she yelled, t*ating her fists against his shoulder
blades.
He laughed and carried her to the bed.
'Get out of here! Help! Help!" she screamed.
Caner dumped her onto the bed.
"No one's going to help," he said. hotel clerk has
fifty dollars that says we're married. "
He rolled her over and unzipped the back of her dress. She
struggled like a salamander and wiggled across the bed.
don'tneed a bath! " she wailed. ' 'I've got work todo! "
' 'We 'II go to the Michoacån Shop tomorrow moming, ' ' he
promised her. "First thing."
He sat her up and pulled the dress down overher shoulders.
She popped up from the bed and' ran to the door, the dress
crumpled around her waist.
"You can 't get away, " he said, grabbing her around the
hips.
is rape! Help! Help!"
"If I can't undress you, you'll go in as you are."
She kicked him as he picked her up to carry her into the
bathroom. Her feet pummeled his side until her pumps fell
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soap. It sudsed brown. He rinsed and washed it three times
until at last her own golden color shone through like the sun.
"Stand up," he said.
As she stood, the water ran from her like a fountain. She
had a tiny waist that flared downward into slim hips framing a
golden triangle of soft hair. Above the waist were high, full
breasts, against her ribcage like birds in flight.
He lathered the washcloth and her legs, her arms,
her back, her hips, her flat belly, her round, soft breasts. She
watched him with hot eyes.
When he was done, he breathed deeply.
"Sit down and rinse off," he said.
s 'In this water?"
She stared at him, pulling him to her with her eyes, and he
forced his gaze down to notice the muddy brown water.
"Right," he said and pulled the plug.
When he looked up, she was still watching him. She
her head, questioning.
As soon as the water drained out, he put the plug back in
and on the spigots.
"May I sit down now, please?" she asked
you like."
She sat, and the water slowly rose around her, over her
downy pubic hair, over her waist, up to her breasts that
floated with the ebb flow of the clean water,
s 'I didn 't recognize you tonight," she said. "In the bar."
"You haven't had the training yet. "
' 'You 're dressed so differently. You were a cowboy in San
Antonio. If I hadn't been told to watch for you, I would've
thought you were just another dirty cowboy. "
He grinned.
"I wanted to go to tEd with you then," she murmured.
"And now?"
She looked up.
"I'm thinking about it," she said.
Carter roared with laughter.
She blushed crimson, angry, and scooped up some water
and threw it in his face. He laughed harder, and she rose from
THE MAYAN CONNECTION
69




69
the water like a virago, splashing him, pulling at his shirt
buttons, tugging at his belt.
He picked her up.
She grabbed a towel and bit his neck.
He camed her toward the bed.
She wrapped her legs around his waist. He stomrd trside
the bed, stood legs spraddled, and held her ass tight against
his She panted, staring into his eyes as she toweled
herself off.
Caner stocxl Linda on the and strimrd off his clothes,
then pulled her back to him, kissing her shoulders, her throat,
her ears. Her hips moved, slightly at first, then more insis-
tently. Her eyelids lowered, lost in desire. He snatched the
towel away. He kissed her lips and die sudden
burst of moisture. Her tongue eagerly explored his mouth.
His hands moved up to the beautiful high breasts. She slid
down his belly, leaving a trail of heat. He seized her hips and
thrust into her, and she moaned. And they made love stand-
ing next to the old wrought-iron bed in a room full of fresh
mountain breezes.
When the kncxk on the door came, they were lying in bed,
Linda 's head buried in Carter's shoulder, half asleep.
' 'Hmmm?" Linda sighed.
"1'11 get it," Carter said drowsily and smiled.
It was their dinner, rolled in by a deferential waiter who
kept his eyes mcxiestly lowered.
'By the window, please,' ' Carter told him in Spanish. He
held a towel wrapped around his hips.
"Ihe waiter nodded and pushed the old mahogany cart
beneath the window. He left for the hall returned again
with two hand-carved mahogany chairs. These he placed on
either side of the cart. He struck a match and lit three candles
set in an ornate brass candelabra in the center of the cart. Next
he pulled out a silver bucket of ice from the bottom shelf of
the cart. In the ice bucket was a bottle of Califomia
champagne.
'Would you like me to open it, seior?' ' the waiter asked,
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his gaze glued to the hardwood floor.
"l 'II take care of it. Gracias. " Carter handed him a crisp
five-dollar bill.
"Muchas gracias, seior!" the waiter said, feeling the bill
with his thumb and forefinger. "Muchisimas gracias!" He
dropped the bill inside the band of his white trousers and
low. "We of the hotel wish you health and long
As the waiter bowed his way to the door, he lifted the side
of his head and glanced at the bed. Linda grinned at him. A
shy smiled spread across his Indian face.
"And plea.se thank the registration cleric for us, " Caner
said.
Ihe waiter nodded and sidled out the door, beaming.
People of all cultures enjoyed the vicarious thrill of bringing
two lovers together.
the door closed, Linda jumped out of bed.
"I'm starved"'
She started for the table, then realized she was nude. She
grabbed the sheet and it around her. Carter held a
chair for her, then slid it her to the cart.
"Aren 't you going to put something on?' ' she asked as she
lifted food covers and put them on the floor.
"Would you feel more comfortable?" he said and sat
naked in his chair.
"Nope! ' ' She dropped her sheet, and herporcelain breasts
swung over the steaming fod "Let's eat!"
Carter rubbed his hands. It had been days since he'd had
time for a good meal.
"I really messed up at the airport bar, didn 't I?' ' she said as
she cut her steak.
'Too direct," he said. He slathered butter on his ear of
com. "Sex and direct questions work sometimes, but not
always. It's much better to get the person to feel safe. Fit
yourself into their way of thinking, then invite them to give
you information. "
"You're a Killmaster, aren't you?" she asked, chewing
thoughtfully. "%at's tops. "
THE MAYAN CONNECTION
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71
"It's a challenge," he admitted. com was good, so
fresh it must have been picked at sundown.
"You're a challenge," she said, laughing. "Oh, God—I
feel so good! Be careful I don't fall in love with you!"
He looked over his ear of corn into her srrctacular blue
eyes. Suddenly shy, she gazed at her focxi and concentrated
on eating. He watched her srnooth face, vibrant with sexual
satisfaction. She was impatient, eating the fcxxi as if it were
the best and last meal of her life. She did everything with
eagerness, almost as if she always wanted to one jump
ahead of where she was.
"You're tcxy impatient," he told her. "Life comes in
morsels, not gulps. "
"I have too much to learn and too little me to leam it, "
she explained. She looked up and smiled, then returned to her
meal. "Will you teach me?
He ate his steak. It was a cutofmeat unknown to him. Each
country had its own way of butchering. This meat was tender
and delicious.
"What are you doing here?" he asked.
' Vlhe President's not sure what's going on down here.
There have been some strange tales coming back to his ears. ' '
She put down her knife and fork. "He's aware of the foreign
agents in Mexico. Either he didn 't know you Sd be here, or he
didn't tell me. " The last was a question.
"No one knows I •m here."
'Good," she said and nodded. "It has something to do
with the Cuban you were chasing. Something to do with the
Indians down here, too. Does Itzamnå mean anything to
Carter shrugged.
"A Mayan god," he said.
She watched him.
"You're t(X) casual," she decided. "You know that It-
zamnå is a code word or something more. " She grinned.
"How Ss that for improving my techniques?"
He had to laugh.
"Much better. "
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"So why are you here?" she asked, and picked up her
knife and fork again.
' •The same as you. Trying to find out exactly what 's going
on. ' ' He told her about Tiger Santos 's trip through the United
States picking up secretive, dark-clothed figures.
She was thoughtful.
"Doesn 't make much sense to me yet, " she said. S 'Do you
think they were fugitives who had to leave the counuy?"
' 'MaytE. Or maybe they were simply bringing something
into Mexico. "
She sighed.
' Oh, well. I guess it's our job to find out what's going
He shook his head. She had a refreshing way of assuming
victory. She had yet to learn the price of it.
"We'll start at the Michoacån Shop tomorrow. " She set
her fork and knife down again. Her plate was clean. "When
are we going to have the champagne?"
He grinned at her.
"Later. ' '
She stared into his eyes, then pulled him toward her with a
sudden flare of desire. She ran her fingers up his arm and
touched his lips.
' 'Aren't you finished yet?" she asked softly. "Please
hurry. t'
He ate, watching her, as she seemed to melt into the chair.
At last hc stood, and she rose to meet him. He pulled her
against him, her thighs satiny and hot. He drew her head back
and kissed her.
"I want to go to bed," she murmured. "Now!"
He picked her up, carried her across the room, and placed
her gently onto the bed.
"Come here," she whispered huskily. "Again and
again. "




==========================================



Far from the world of the assembly line, the Michoacån
Shop nestled among other small shops in a cramped street of
whitewashed stucco buildings. Before each doorway was a
potter or weaver or silversmith. All were at work already, the
dawn tuming the sky a dusky rose on the horizon, the bite of
night 's mountain coolness still in the air. Some of the artisans
sang melodies as old as the crafts they worked. Others had
steaming bowls of thin gruel beside them, alternately eating
and working.
The woman before the Wchoacån had grizzled gray hair
and a face whose downturned lines spread like a river across
it. Two fat braids intertwined with red wool hung from her
head. Her hands worked quickly, shaping flowers, birds , and
stars.
She up and smiled at the norteamericanos.
' 'Do you like them?" she asked in Spanish. "See, I line
them up so." She to a row of newly made clay
figurines. "When I am done, I can sit back and look at them.
They make me feel gocxi, here. ' ' She tapped herplump chest.
like them," Linda said.-'The details."
The woman smiled, her crinkled face glowing with the
praise.
Nick Carter looked at the Tree of Life tEhind her and
through the doorway at more of various sizes.
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Caner gestured at the large tree behind her.
"Do you make these?" he asked. "I saw one similar to
that one at the airport. "
She nodded, pleased.
S These will go on the next one, " she said and gestured to
the row of figures in the dust before her. "But that one at the
airport was *Ecial."
"The serpent?" Linda neked.
"Kukulkån," the old woman said, "More and
more the old gcds are important. '9
"It was cornmissioned then?" Carter asked.
"l have many people far away who want them. ney come
with burros and carry them away south for villagers. Dieties
cross all lines in our country. "
"I'd like to buy that one for the Tuxtla Hotel," Carter
said. He pulled out his wallet.
"Seventeen thousand six hundred pesos," the woman
said, smiling. 'CNO bargaining. "
Carter did some quick arithmetic and handed her five
twenty-dollar bills. She counted the money, folded it, and
stuffed it down her bodice.
"A start to the day," she said with a grin.
g 'If I were to look for them farther south, where would I
go?" Carter asked as he picked up the Tree of Life.
jungle. " The woman shook her braided head. ' 'But
it is very dangerous to those who do not know the ways. "
"I'm an archeologist, ' ' Linda offered. s 'I've srrnt a lot of
time in the jungle. "
lhe woman shrugged heavy shoulders.
"Very well. It is east of here. Near the ruins of Bonam-
par'
Carter looked at Linda.
' 'I know the area, " she said. "Treacherous. "
' 'A few small villages," the old woman said, her lined
face concemed.
' 'Gracias," Carter said.
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He hoisted the Tree of Life the dirt road, Linda took
his arm, and they walked off.
'Beware the mysteries!" the woman called after them.
' mere is much magic in the jungle!"
Caner thanked her again, and he and Linda walked down
the cramped street toward the center of Tuxtla Gutiérrez and
their hotel.
"Are you really an archeologist?" Carter asked.
"l had a few courses in college, " Linda said, "but arche-
ology 's too tame for me; the dead leaving adventure for the
living. "
"So what did you study?"
' 'Nothing. Everything. I didn 't finish. I guess I 'm restless.
My stepfather knows the President
and so here I am.
Gainfully employed. "
"You do special jobs for the President?" Carter asked,
surprised.
'This is my first. I likeit. . . movingaround . . even
San Antone. Except I had a hard time explaining tojohns why
I wouldn't take their money and go to with them. " She
shook her head and looked around the city. "I've always
liked this town. There's a steadiness down here away from
the glitter of a big city. Something to hold onto. An anchor. I
don 't Imow what it is exactly. I wish I did trcause I think it's
important. "
' 'You 'd like that same steadiness inside you, " Carter said
softly.
"That's probably it. I'll find it someday. "
They walked on past pink stone buildings and yards full of
chickens. Dogs darted between them, their noses high and
twitching. Dirty children with few clothes and fewer toys
played along the road, pushing sticks in the din and knotting
rags into ropes that they playfully threw around one another.
lhe day would be sunny and clear; the sky was already a
deep blue.
lhe day shift clerk was puzzled but appreciative of Carter
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and Linda 's gift to the hotel ofthe Tree ofLife. ney set it up
in the lobby, then took the rickety elevator to the second
floor.
'Ille men were waiting for them in the room.
Flat against the wall.
When Linda walked in, one grabbed her and threw her to
the wrought-iron bed.
Instantly Carter pulled out Wilhelmina.
Another Luger smashed it from his hand.
Carter tackled a third man, slamming into his legs and
knocking him over, then he jumped up and whirled around.
A 9mm Luger was straight at his heart.
g Tie her up," the Cuban holding the gun ordered in
Spanish.
ne Cuban on the flcx»r struggled to his feet, rubbing his
legs. The other Cuban pulled the draperies from the window
and sliced them into strips with his machete.
The Cuban with the Luger backed away from Carter.
e 'I remember your feet," he told Carter. "Stay back."
"San Antonio?" Carter asked.
The Cuban with the gun ncxided curtly. He was a short,
swarthy man with a large hooked nose and two fingers
missing from his left hand.
' 'What do you want?" Carter asked.
"You, Killmaster," the Cuban replied sourly. 'Only
you."
It was late afternoon. The Mexican jungle was hot and
humid, full of the tantalizing of fever-carrying ticks
and poisonous coral snakes. Nick Carter and the three Cu-
bans rcxie a jeep along a rough path overhung with lush
vegetation. Animals and birds made raucous sounds, then
disappeared into the thick jungle before the jeep came into
view. The men had been traveling for hours.
ne three Cubans wouldn 't talk. They sat in stony silence,
rifles crossed over their arms. The one whose legs Carter had
nearly crushed drove the jeep through the jungle wilderness.
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They had traveled south first on the Pan American Highway
and then had veered east on a dirt road that was probably only
a map-maker's memory. The leader with the Luger sat next to
Caner in the back seat of the jeep, Carter's briefcase braced
his ankles.
"A lot of unexplored Mayan ruins around here, I hear, "
Carter said conversationally.
lhe leader grunted and stared ahead at the primitive,
winding road.
Time passed with the Constant roar ofthe jeep's motor, the
circling of the water bottle, and an crcasional stip of wild
boar jerky handed out.
It was twilight when the jeep turned off the road and
tx:nnnced along a path so narrow that branches scratched the
jeep. lhey drove through mudholes, the brown water splash-
ing out of sight tpneath the flat wide leaves and luxuriant
dark flowers that Hmmed the road.
Ahead, two torches were set on long poles in the ground.
fie jeep stopped in a patch of fems, the torches ' yellow light
showing the wide mouth of a cave.
'Get out," the leader said curtly. 'Over there." He
pointed the Luger at the cave, where a tall, heavyset man
stood below the entryway, a canteen in his hand. It was
another Cuban, and by the arrogant way he stcxxi, he was the
real leader.
Carter stretched and walked toward him, the Luger held to
his spine by the other Cuban. Carter hoped that at last he
would learn something useful.
"Inside, " the tall Cuban said. "Follow me. "
Polychrome bits of pottery littered the entryway. Flat
sedimentary rocks lay stacked by nature into walls on either
side. They climbed twelve feet, scrambling over loose rock,
into the torch-lit cave. In the center of the large cavem a
cooking fire burned, and in it a large black iron pot set on
stones bubbled. From the smell, Carter guessed it was some
sort of stew. On the walls, figures with feathers, flattened
foreheads, and ferocious eyes were painted in faded colors.
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They were authentic Mayan cave paintings, perhaps a
thousand years old.
Carter thought of Linda, missed her, but was glad the
Cubans hadn't wanted her, t(X).
Ihe tall Cuban with the canteen sat down on a boulder and
gestured at another boulder beside him.
"At last, Killmaster. " His voice wasn't pleasant.
Carter sat down. The aches from the ride
were already disaprEaring. He looked around the cavern at
the nearby pool fed by a shallow underground strearn, at the
stalactites dripping from the ceiling, at an old Indian who
came to squat tEside the cooking pot. Ihe old man had
wrinkles all over, even on his hands. He squatted five
feet away, his back to the tk)ulders on which Carter the
Cuban sat, and stirred the stew that smelled of meat and
vegetables. Carter watched the wrinkled hands.
"What were you doing in Tuxtla Gutiérrez?" the Cuban
asked Carter. He had large liquid eyes, black and piercing.
He kept them as the threw his head back to drink from
the canteen.
"Vacation," Carter said.
The Cuban gestured to the old Indian.
"We'll eat now, " he told him.
ne old man picked up two pottery tx»wls and
dished out the stew. Carter seven Cubans, including
the one he sat next to and the ones he 'd seen outside and who
now occasionally drifted into the mouth of the cave to look
briefly at Carter and the Cuban. There to be only the
one Mexican.
"Killmasters never take vacations," the Cuban said.
or what is Itzamnå?"
supreme Mayan diety, " Carter said. '"Ihe inventor
of writing and patron of culture and the sciences. "
"Don't play games with me, Carter. "
"So you don 't know anything it either, " Carter said
and smiled.
The Cuban hesitated, then gestured for the bowls of stew.
THE MAYAN CONNECI'ION
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79
"You've had a long ride," he said. "We'll eat first, then
"You haven't tried bribery yet," Carter suggested, still
smiling. 'Or torture."
'SOId-fashioned, and often not effective. "
The Cuban accepted the full bowl from the old Indian and
handed it to Carter. 'Ihen he tcx)k the second bowl, blew
across the top, and
Carter watched him eat. ne old man had put nothing but
stew into either bowl, but still Carter was cautious.
"Eat!" the Cuban commanded, licking his lips.
"Your bowl looks better than mine. "
ne Cuban at Carter and shrugged.
"Very well. "
ney traded tx)wls.
ne stew was heavily spiced and contained corn, chilies,
beans, and chicken, as well as large hunks of potat(Es,
carrots, onions, and some other root vegetables that Carter
didn't recognize.
"I'm sure you understand our interest, " the Cuban went
on thoughtfully. "Central America is to us. " He
stopped eating and stuck up his thumb. "In Guatemala, the
Indians side with Marxist freedom fighters against the gov-
emment. In retaliation, the government death squads murder
them .
moderates, extremists, women, children, all!
Only two FErcent of the control two thirds of the
farmland. It is outrageous! " The Cuban's eyes narrowed,
and he stuck up his index finger alongside his thumb. "In El
Salvador, it is much the same. Kidnappings, killings. Instead
of your government allowing us to negotiate a compromise
with the Salvadoran government, you insist on a military
decision. For the present govemment! Against the Marxists!
Not even a voice! " The Cuban stuck up his middle finger.
"In Nicaragua, our Sandinista government must fight not
only rxwerty and a shaky æonomy, but the old government
gone into hiding and fighting now as guemllas. Your gov-
emment buys them guns and bullets, and they kill us! " The
Cuban stuck up his ring finger. "Mexico! Here, in Mayan
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country, anything can happen. We know the United States is
interested in the strange things going on here. They send their
best man-—Nick Caner. We know the KGB is interested.
Maxim Barkov has been seen here repeatedly. And there are
strange rumors of flying ghosts and odd events in the
jungle. " The Cuban dropped his hand and slapped his leg.
'If AXE and the KGB are interested, you know damnedwell
we want to know what's going on too!"
Ihe Cuban glared at Carter. Then, his iritation tuming to
hunger, he ate for a few minutes before speaking again.
"We are on the Guatemalan border here. 'Ihe fight for
freedom is just over the mountains. "
"Your brand of freedom isn't ours, " Carter remarked.
The Cuban finished his stew and drank from the canteen.
"When was the last time Castro was to anything? "
Carter asked. ' 'He rules Cuba as if it were a fief and he were
King George of England. "
'Our guerrillas fight with your weapons," the Cuban
said, nestling the canteen tetween his legs. "How do you
think they got them? Stolen from the capitalist governments
you supply. Without your guns, we wouldn 't have a chance
to win. Without your guns, so many people wouldn't
killed. On either side. "
Carter ate the last of his stew and set the bowl on the rocky
ground.
' 'You 'r justifying your own aggression with ours. Is that
'*We will win."
"Maybe. But the cost will be high. And what will you be
left with? Freedom for corpses is meaningless. "
' 'What did your Patrick Henry say? 'Give me liberty or
give me death!' " The Cuban sneered.
A sudden dizziness swept over Carter.
"Democratic capitalism is slow, but it works. " Carter
massaged his temples. 'Given a chance, the govemments
will feed the people, makejobs, give them a chance at longer,
healthier lives. "
"Bullshit! They have had their chances and all they do is
THE MAYAN CONNECTION
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81
work the peasants like slaves. They steal the land. Starve the
people. The only thing that is working—-growing-—is their
bank accounts! "
Carter desperately wanted to lie down. He squared his
broad shoulders, but dizziness engulfed him. He swayed.
' Those were the old days," Carter mumbled. 'Times
have changed
The Cuban put a hand on Carter's back.
' 'Feeling ill, compadre?"
' 'I'm all right."
Caner stood, needing to walk. He hoped walking around
would shake off the nausea.
Ihe Cuban beside him and took his arm.
germs way.
He led Carter to a thin blanket. Carter could no longer
focus. His knees buckled, and he collapsed onto the blanket
beside the cooking fire. The old Indian grinned at him. Carter
closed his eyes, then he jerked upright and stnjggled to his
feet.
C Give in to it, compadre," the Cuban said. "It is an easy
thing. Feel the goodness of it. You will go away inside , have
important dreams."
Mayan
Carter felt himself falling again. %ere was nothing he
could do. The blanket was soft over the rock floor. Ihe rock
floor was soft, too, a downy bed.
"What was in the stew .
' ' Carter murmured from the
floor.
The old man began to chant and sprinkled something wet
over Carter. Carter's eyes fell closed.
' 'An ancient Mayan formula," the Cuban said. "From
long before the time of the conquistadores. "
The dizziness was gone. Carter drifted into a land of pale
blue and pink clouds. The clouds circled his feet, rose to his
knees, and he walked lightly into emptiness.
"Itzamnå," the Cuban said quietly. "Itzamnå has called
you here. "
Carter's throat itched with the need to talk. He pressed his
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lips together as his mind walked onward.
"You must tell me," the Cuban said. "You have no
choice. "
Carter nodded. He didn't want to nod.
"What else is happening in Chiapas?"
'Ihe old Indian's chant was rhythmic, lulling.
e Tiger Santos," Carter mumbled against his will. "Navy
His mouth went dead. He couldn 't feel it. In the clouds he
saw the canteen. Thirsty. He walked toward the Cuban's
canteen, saw him drinking from it all through dinnerz lhe
canteen! lhe canteen had to contain the antidote!
S Carter! " The Cuban 's voice came from another world.
S 'Caner! What else? Where is Tiger Santos?"




====================================================



ELEVEN
Nick Carter's head was swollen to twice its size. He lifted
numb hands and felt it. His fingers jerked away. The head
was t(X) tender to touch. He heard himself groan. •men cold
silence. The scrambling of feet over loose
Caner rolled over and opened slitted eyes.
'Ihe Cuban's canteen was by the boulder, next to Carter's
briefcase.
He dragged himselfthere on his elbows, lifted the canteen,
and poured brackish water down his furry throat.
The feet were padding toward him.
He grabbed the briefcase, it, and pulled out
Wilhelmina.
"Save your strength, N3, " the voice said, echoing in the
empty cavem. A man 's voice. English. An American accent.
"Who. . . 2"
'CIA. Philip Tice. Sorry I couldn't get here sooner. "
Caner sighed and drank again from the canteen.
"What the hell happened to you?" Tice asked.
The cobwebs were clearing from Carter's swollen head.
He orrned his eyes wide and found himself staring at a
of a man. Tice was probably six and a half feet tall, and must
have weighed close to three hundred pounds, all of it muscle.
He had pale blue eyes and sandy hair swept back thick and
neat. Caner finished the canteen.
84
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NICK CARTER
"Sandinistas?" Philip Tice wanted to know.
' 'Cubans," Caner replied, sitting up. His head whirled.
He was groggy and felt as ifhe'd slept a week. "Hell ofa way
to get a good night's rest.
Tice smiled.
g 'You're a hard man to find," he said. S Tat girl Linda
wouldn 't •talk until she was sure who I was. Then tracking
you here
. well, the Mayans aren't easy to buy."
*'You came to rescue me?"
' 'That, and to get your help. "
Carter stood and stretched. He swung his shoulders, then
touched his fingers to his t(ES. His head had cleared and was
back to its normal size, but he sat down again , still weak from
the drug that had been in the stew.
"Why'd they leave you alive?" Tice wondered. "I'd just
atX)t1t decided I'd find you up and dead. "
'To make a point. They don 't care whether I like them;
they just want me to reslxct the rightness of their thinking.
And they don't know what's going on down here. Ihey
probably figure I might be useful to them later. I'll be easier
to find than someone they don't know."
"Makes sense," the CIA man said. S 'Hawk sends his
regardS. s'
' That's comforting. "
Carter rubbed his head, and both men laughed.
' 'Does he always smoke those rotten cigars? ' ' Philip Tice
sat on the Cuban 's boulder. He was dressed in camouflage
pants and shirt, the brown and gren zebra stripes making
him look like an overgrown jungle plant.
' 'Lang as I've known him. He says he likes them."
Caner pulled his own camouflage clothes from his brief-
case. He stood and off his silk trousers and madras
shirt.
"What do you need help with?" Carter asked as he
dressed.
"We're missing some cash. Enough to make us nervous.
One million dollars, approximately. "
THE MAYAN CONNECTION
Caner whistled.
85



85
"To fight the Communist rebels in Central America,"
Tice said.
"Figures. "
Caner filled the Cuban 's canteen at the shallow stream and
attached it to his txlt on the opposite side from where he'd
carry Wilhelmina in a holster.
'S You think Tiger Santos brought it in?"
' 'Yeah. Those people he was picking up were Sandinistas
and Cubans. Exiles. They sidetracked the money on the way
to the right hands. A bunch of moles, dammit. But our
information is that the money never got to their regular ret*l
forces either. Word is that it's floating around here some-
where. "
"And nobody knows why."
'Exactly. "
g 'Then we'd better get going. You got a jeep?"
Tice stocxi, bandoliers across his shoulders swaying
against his mountainous chest.
' 'You bet. Only way to get anywhere around here. I've
heard there's something going on farther south. Want to give
it a shot?"
Carter strode to the entrance of the cave. Moming light
shone murky and thin through low gray clouds.
"Sounds like as gocx:l a place to start as any."
The rain trgan lightly, then quickly turned into a
downpour. It ravaged thejungle leaves, whipping them into a
froth of green. Nick Caner ami the CIA man rode the jounc-
ing jeep dressed in lightweight army ponchos, their heads
covered against the torrent.
"When you 're ready to switch, " Carter said, "I'll drive. "
Tice nodded. Ticks fell from the trees and slid down the
men's mynchos onto the jeep's floor. Rattlesnakes, fer-de-
lances, and coral snakes lay drowned on the pitted, muddy
roid. lhe jeep splashed and rumbled forward, crossing
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storm-created streams, bouncing around boulders moved by
the rain onto the road. Tice slapped at his hands, flicking
away ticks.
"Look out ahead! " Carter shouted.
An enorrnous tree lay across the road, its branches sticking
out like to snare the unwary.
Tice hit the brakes, and the jeep skidded to a muddy halt.
Carter hopped out onto moss and waded forward. The tree
was at least thirty feet long and four feet wide. Carter looked
at it from tip to base and shcx)k his head. The tip had fallen
deep into the jungle, but the base.
"Watch out! It's
A suddenly quivered from the bark next to Caner's
side.
He ducked and ran back to the jeep.
More and a few rifle shots hit the jeep as Tice leaped
out. *Ihe two men crouched the vehicle. Arrows sang
through the storm and splashed into mudholes around them.
' 'What the hell is tms all ' Tice growled to Carter.
"Sorry," Carter said. "l should've looked at the base
first. Chopped by crude axes. "
"Indians?"
"Them or someone who wants us to think they are."
Tice propped his M-16 on the jeep door, staying below
with Carter, sheltered by the jeep. Two rifles fired from the
jungle at the M-16. A spate of arrows landed amund the
agents. Then nothing.
* Vlhey don't have a lot of ammunition, " Tice remarked.
S They'll try to circle us," Carter said.
' 'Why do they want us?"
"Don't know yet," Caner said. "Listen!"
ney were silent. Only an occasional arrow shot through
the storm at them. ftunder rolled far away. The rain
"I don't hear anything," Tice said.
"They're moving, " Carter whispered. "Breaking up into
two or three groups. One's going to try to cross the road. You
MAYAN CONNECTION
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can hear them talking just under the sound of the rain. "
"I don't hear a damned thing, " Tice said, initated.
S Tere they go!" Carter said softly.
A group of young Indians in white garments and
bar feet dashed ghostlike through the curtain of rain to the
forest on the other side of the road.
Tice fired and got the last one in the thigh. The Indian kept
running, the blocxi diluting to pink in the rain.
"Let's get out of here," Carter said. "l don't want to kill
these kids. ' '
Arrows from their side ofthe road sailed through the rain at
Carter and Tice. Carter opened thejeep door. Tice lunged in,
Carter following quickly, but not before an arrow pinned
together the front and back flaps of his poncho.
Carter started the jeep, keeping low in his seat.
c 'They could be renegades, " Carter said. ' *Ihey're losing
their land, these jungle people. Some of them have turned to
ambush and thievery to live. "
"But you donst think so," Tice said, squatting on the
floor.
S Vlhey're just boys," Carter said, jerking the jeep into
reverse.
Gunfire again rang in the air. The left fmnt of the jeep
s Vlhey got a tire!" the CIA man moaned.
' 'Primitive, but not stupid," Caner said.
Ihe jeep lurched backward. Clusters of arrows whizzed
over their heads. More gunfire took out the remaining three
tires. lhe jeep clunked on, back down the road,
'Jhen another tree fell behind them.
Caner stopped the jeep.
"Damn!" Tice said. "We're cut off!"
• Ihat does it," Caner said. "We've got no choice. "
He hit the brakes and peered over the left side of the jeep.
Tice warily lifted his eyes over the right side.
"Watch out! " Tice called.
A long spear sliced through the rain over their heads. The
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two men stared into the impenetrable jungle. The thick vege-
tation ran together like a solid green wall.
fien Carter saw the flash of wet brown skin.
He fired.
The txxly hurtled off a high branch into the muddy road.
The boy bit his lips and held his shoulder where blood
showed pink. He wore a quiver across his back. His bow lay
twenty feet away.
Tice fired, and another Indian from his side of the road fell
from the trees.
The first boy staggered to his feet and headed toward the
bow. Carter fired in front of the boy's feet.
"Go back!" Carter shouted in Spanish.
ne boy shook his head and staggered on.
A barrage of bullets thundered in the air. lhe looked
around wildly. Bodies fell from the trees. ne scooped
up his bow and dashed into the jungle.
"Now what?" Tice growled.
No arrows or whined past them. No bullets shot at
them. The gunfire that was concentrated in the jungle sud-
denly
'General Hilario Hiler's greetings! " a voice bellowed at
the two men from the dense jungle in Spanish.
Tice looked at Carter.
"Sounds older, like a soldier," Tice said.
"Where are the Indian txys?" Caner shouted back.
"Ran away!" the voice yelled. "May we join you?"
"General Hiler?" Tice asked Carter.
"Mexican hero," Carter explained, then shouted again at
the wall of jungle. "Keep your in front of you!"
A dozen soldiers steplHi from trees and bushes into the
trough of mud that had once txen a road. 'lhere were still five
Indian txys in the road with various injuries. They moaned
softly. Spears and arrows jutted at odd angles from the mud
l*side them. *Ihe rain beat down with new vigor.
"Thanks for your help, " Tice said to the rangy lieutenant
who led the soldiers toward them.
THE MAYAN CONNECTION
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89
"We appreciate it," Carter said. SSHave any medics?"
' 'Luis!" the lieutenant called. ' 'See what you can do for
the renegades. "
lhe medic ran to an injured youth, opened a small kit with
a red cross on it, and went to work.
'You are a hard man to find, Setior Carter, " the lieutenant
said.
' 'It 's interesting that so many people are looking for me. ' '
'The general wants to you, " the lieutenant went on.
' 'It is a good thing he trained us to ride toward the sounds of
gunfire. Otherwise, you would be " Ihe lieutenant
stared up at Tice 's height as the two agents got out ofthejeep.
' 'Who is this?" he a«ked.
"Philip Tice, CIA," Tice said and stocxi like a majestic
rooted to the spot.
'*Bueno," the lieutenant said. "It might interest you to
come along also."
"Where to?" Tice wanted to know.
' 'Monte Vista," the lieutenant said. general's
ranch. He is waiting for Seöor Carter. "
' 'You think these Indian kids are renegades?' Carter went
on thoughtfully.
mie lieutenant looked at the wounded youths. Sadness
filled his face.
S'Lngging, cattle, squatters," the lieutenant said, spread-
ing his arms to encompass the area. 'Our jungles grow
smaller as Mexico grows larger. Some of our people live in
remote They only know the jungle. When it gets cut
down, they lose their homes. They have no fcxxl. ney have
nowhere to go, so they moved in on other tribes that are
losing their lands themselves. It is inevitable. They become
renegades. They cause a lot oftrouble. Kill people. Get killed
themselves. " The lieutenant wiped a hand across his rain-
drenched face. "Senseless. "
Caner and Tice ncxided.
"l will leave the medic, " the lieutenant said and walked
back toward the wall of jungle.
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"You have a chain saw?" Tice called to him, gesturing at
the two trees that blocked the road. s 'I think we can drive her
if we can get her out."
young lieutenant smiled.
e 'We ride! "he said. 'Like the conquistadores! ne horses
are there. " He gestued into the wildemess. "My general
sent his best stallion for you, Seior Carter, but perhaps it
would be txtter to carry this gigante ! " The lieutenant grinned
good-naturedly at Philip Tice.
Tice laughed and clapped the lieutenant on the shoulder.
' 'Don't worry, hijo," he told the general's man. "l can
ride two at a time if I have to!"
Wielding machetes, soldiers with rifles slung over their
backs cut through the tangled underbrush, and the lieutenant,
Carter, and Tice followed. At last they reached a clearing
where horses pawed the leafy duff and snorted the wet air.
At the storm stoplHi, and the green jungle
sparkled with rain like diamonds on leaves and
moss. Nick Carter, Philip Tice, the lieutenant, and the sol-
diers rcxie a high path pounded hard and clear by centuries of
animals ami humans. The jungle smelled of wet earth and
rich vegetation. Bees and flies buzzed in the wann air.
Parrots screeched. Steam rose and wavered like wraiths from
the jungle flcxr.
"How much farther?" Tice to the lieutenant
' 'A kilometer now!" the lieutenant yelled. "Mayt* less!"
Tice patted the neck of the big roan stallion the general had
intended for Carter.
"Your mother didn't feed you enough vegetables," he
advised Carter.
"Your mother fed you tcx) much spinach," Caner re-
torted, "and kept you out in the Califomia sun t(X) long. "
lhey laughed, and the horses pranced forward. Carter, his
briefcase across the saddle, an ebony stallion slightly
smaller than Tice's. It had a leggy gait and excess energy
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coiled in its loins and shmrlders. Two ofthe general 's soldiers
had doubled up so that Caner would have his own mount.
"So this General Hiler is a hero," Tice said. "Pull some
information from that legendary encycl(Fiic knowledge of
yours and tell me atx»ut him. "
Carter laughed again.
s 'A real fighter," he trgan. "Asked to assigned as a
special observer for Mexico in tX)th Korea and Vietnam. He
saw a lot of action in wars, unusual for his psition and
rank, but the general 's a professional. He 't let anyone
do his dirty work for him. Then, during Vietnam, his father
died, aryl he to run the ranch. It 's big-—spreads over
southern Chiapas and into Guatemala. An interesting man.
Spent some time in a Mexican prison, too. Shot a rival in a
love affair. Very Latin temperament. His wife had died in
childbirth in the early sixties. Ten years later he fell in love
with an actress in Mexico City. Alicia Piedra. She
seeing someone else ' ' Carter shrugged. "Hiler shot
the lover and was going to Alicia Piedra 's apartment to get
her, t(X), when the police caught him."
"Has an old-fashioned ccxie of honor, " Tice mused.
"Add to that a fiery temrrr, wealth, and education, and
you've got quite a man."
"How do you think he fits into this?" Tice asked quietly.
we'll find out Stay loose. He's fought for
the United States, but who knows what his politics are now. "
The group rode amund an immense of water hyacinths
that extended in a white arxi green carpet. Long-homed tan
and brown cattle sloshed through the flowered meadow in an
inegular, slow-moving line.
' 'I grew up on a ranch in the Santa Ynez Valley, " Tice said
thoughtfully, his big frame rcxking easily with the stallion.
"In the spring there was a burst of Califomia wildflowers that
turned the mountains purple and orange. I went on roundups
as a kid, mended fences, cows when the milker broke,
fed the chickens and ducks, did every kind of chore imagina-
ble. I always had at least one dog that followed me
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everywhere. ' ' Tice looked across the white hyacinths sway-
ing in a light breeze. "Sometimes I miss it."
Nostalgia could be a useful emotion, Carter thought, It
reminded one of the past so that future goals could be
understocxi.
"Maybe I •II go back Tice said. "My sister
Marian runs the ranch, but I've got a share in it. "
•nie riders left the meadow of water hyacinths and rode
their mounts up a steep hill that dropped over the crest into a
gentle decline toward corrals and buildings. It was General
Hiler's Rancho Monte Vista. Tice stared down, his light blue
eyes feeding on the panorama.
An array of thatch-roofed huts nestled around a great
hacienda built in a U-shape. nirough corrals and ranch
buildings, charros rode multicolored herding horses
and cattle. The charros wore wide-brimmed hats and swung
stiff lariats. In the distance, thin wisps of smoke rose from
the jungle around the wide, flat hacienda and corrals. The
Indians were out again after the storm with machetes, clear-
ing the jungle in the ancient slash-and-bum faming
technique to make room to plant corn, and coffee.
*Ihe group down onto the plateau, trtween a short
row of thatch-roofed tiendas sporting signs that said Coca-
Cola, Fanta, and Pepsi. Indians stood in the doorways , drink-
ing and waving to the soldiers.
'Antonio! Quépasa?' ' a young woman in an embroidered
skirt and blouse called to the lieutenant.
'Ihe lieutenant laughed and shrugged.
"Nada," he shouted. "Nothing's hap}xning."
They rode on past children playing in the dirt, past soldiers
drilling beside the corral that held extra work horses, past
rain-wet clothes drying on the grass, and into the central
courtyard of the impressive hacienda.
lhere, on the terra-cotta tiles of the central stairway, stood
three people, one of them Linda. Her golden hair drifted
around her shoulders in the light breeze. Her face was radiant
with a shy smile directed at Carter.
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As he dismounted with the other men, Carter smiled at her
and shook his
In front of Linda stcxxj a short, robust man built like a
bronze bedspring. He smartly returned the salutes ofhis men.
General Hilario Hiler. Behind him and next to Linda, holding
her hand, was another woman of about I inda 's age. She was
shorter than the general, bronze and graceful in a flowing
white huipile that fell below her knees.
"You found them eh?" the general said in Indian dialect
to the lieutenant. He was dressed in green fatigues, the press
of his pants knife-sharp. nere were no identification patches
on any of the soldiers' uniforms.
'Yes, sir! ' ' the lieutenant said and tumed briskly to order
the men to lead the horses for a cooling walk and nxtxlown.
Carter and Tice to the steps.
"Come in, Nick Caner," the general said. ' 'Who is your
friend here who rcxie my Diablo?"
Philip Tice intrcxiuced himself as they entered a spacious
whitewashed room with thick dark ceiling beams. On a
distant wall was a Tree of Life with the same feathered
serpent Carter had seen in Tuxtla Gutiérrez. Another wall
held photographs of Emiliano Zapata and Pancho Villa
around a banner proclaiming the 1910 revolutionary CD',
"Land and Liberty!" Bark paintings of flowers and bril-
liantly plumed birds decorated a third wall. The paintings
surrounded a rubbing of ancient Mayan glyphs and a render-
ing of a fierce Mayan warrior with a multicolored
shield, and feathered headdress.
'This is my daughter Agrafina and my almost-daughter
Linda," the general said and gestured to the two young
women. "But then you know Linda, don't you, Serior Car-
ter?' ' The general slamrd his thigh and laughed with delight.
' Ihe world is very small after all!"
They sat in simple, leather-covered chairs. With the rough
wooden tables, handmade furniture, wall decorations, and
electric lights, it was the room of a contemporary warrior
whose heart was still in the past.
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' Tea! " the general commanded, and the two women ro
and left. "You will stay with us a few days," the gene
said, directing his attention to Carter and Tice. "We have
fiesta that stans tonight and runs through tomorrow. Yo
must stay to see that. And your clothes
"Hege
disdainfully at the muddy ponchos and camouflage pan
Carter and Tice wore. "It will take some time for them to
properly laundered and prepared for you. Meanwhile
ah, here is fre tea! "
Agrafina camed a tray of steaming pottery mugs, follow
by Linda with another tray holding a pitcher and two bowls
They set the trays on a low table in front of the general.
"Honey and milk?" Agrafina asked the two norteameri
canos, her eyes mcxlestly lowered.
"lhis is Mayan herbal tea, " Linda explained. "l>liciou
plain.
Caner and Tice their tea straight, looking at on
another as they drank. Ihe general poured honey and
into his. Ihe women stood behind General Hiler's chair
waiting to serve him.
"Linda, " Carter said, "your last name wouldn't happe
to Piedra?"
Linda's eyes went wide with surprise, the ge
chuckled.
'I 'd heard that Alicia Piedra had a daughter, ' ' Caner wen
on, and he smiled too.
"Alicia! " The general heaved a sigh. "Such a woman! "
' 'My name is Stone," Linda said, her fingers movin
across the back of the general's tall chair. "My mother tcx)
the name Piedra when we moved from Houston and sh
started acting in Mexico City. I was a little girl then. "
"Now it makes sense, " Caner mused. ' The slight Tex
accent. Piedra means Stone in Spanish. Your people
originally from England, not Germany. But close enough
Saxons and Vikings, the English. "
Linda nodded.
' *She grew up with my Agrafina," the general explained
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patting Linda 's hand. ' 'She srrnt summers here at the ranch.
Her scarlet mother remarried a few years ago. ' ' He smiled to
the sting from his words. The wound had healed, but it
still pained him.
Tice had been watching the play Carter and Linda
with interest. He turned to the general.
s 'I like your ranch," Tice said. "Reminds me of one I
grew up on in California. "
' 'Ah! California! That is a different story," the general
said and drank some tea. ' 'Our people the Rio Grande
into Texas and cut the barbed wire into Califomia. There
aren't enough jobs and land for them in Mexico. It is a
tragedy of evil proportions. "
' 'The people here at Monte Vista seem busy enough,"
Tice said.
The general shrugged.
' 'One bean in the chili pot. Not enough to ease the pangs of
the multitudes of hungry, or the dreams of the landless. We
are an agrarian country , but the postage-stamp farms go to the
eldest son, and the younger children are left with nothing but
dreams. Most of the land is still controlled by great corpora-
tions ranches."
"Like yours," Carter pointed out.
' 'No! ' ' The general shook his head emphatically. ' 'Monte
Vista is an ejido now"'
"Community owned," Carter mused. "But that only
complicates the problem. A family can occupy its little piece
forever, but it can't sell, rent, or mortgage it. The younger
children will still grow up to be landless. "
' 'The sun sets slowly over Monte Vista," the general
argued. s SThere is more than enough land for generations. "
"And what about your sons?" Tice to know.
s 'I have no sons, " the general said. "Agrafina will get the
hacienda, the land around it, and some land behind the east
mountain. ' '
"I will comfortable," Agrafina said softly, gazing
shyly at Tice.
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She was in her mid-twenties, a spinster in a land where
most Indian girls married at fifteen. Something had pre-
vented her marriage.
Tice grinned at her and ran a hand through his sandy hair.
' *She'll fine," Linda said. "She's much loved here. "
The general watched Agrafina and Tice. He frowned.
"I've t*en admiring your Tree of Life, General, " Caner
said. "Did you get it in Tuxtla?"
The general turned and gazed at the brightly colored clay
and wire creation on the wall. Then his eyes moved to the
wall that contained the rubbing of the ancient Mayan carv-
ings.
"Tuxtla Gutiérrez, yes," he said.
"And the serpent is Kukulcån," Carter went on.
"A great gcxl. A Mayan gcxi! And in that tree," the
General said and waved at the wall, "it is the center of a
Christian story. And why not? We are Mayans first.
Thousands of years ago we were a jungle trit*, as innocent
and unsophisticated as a monkey in a tree. Yet we grew to
build stone cities so magnificent that the fint conquistadores
thought they were the work of Romans or Phcxnicians. 'lhere
were three million of us! Our cities towered above the
jungle!" the general said. Energy radiated from him in hot
waves. "Our Erople spread throughout southern Mexico,
Guatemala, El Salvador, and Honduras! We created beauti-
ful works of an! An accurate calendar! Writings to
record our lives!"
"Papa, ' ' Agrafina said hesitantly , pressing a small hand to
his shoulder.
Linda's face was white.
"No! " he said. ' 'lhey should know! We did not build our
great cities with slave labor. We had a sense of community,
of togetherness. The cities were built for the people by the
people. We gave our labor and time instead of paying taxes.
We honored our gcxis and our people with cities that touched
the stars! We were glorious then. For almost four thousand
years we were one! Then came the terrible Spanish. Still, the
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Maya were the last to fall because we were the most noble
fighters. It was the Spaniards' chicken and guns that
killed us! We did not have a chance!"
"Papa, please," Agrafina said in her soft voice.
nie general looked around the room, his black eyes blaz-
ing. He lifted a tense hand to pat Agrafina's fingers that
gripped his shoulder.
"Do not worm" he told her. "Those who do not care
have no heart!" He at Carter and Tice. "Today we
have a new chance. New times. New ways. We are tcxiay's
Maya making a better future, but still we must honor our
great past. You see that. "
"It won 't be easy, " Tice said, watching the General and
glancing at Agrafina.
i 'Life is not easy!" the general said and slapped the flat of
his hands against the arms ofhis chair. "Enough! I have been
a poor host. Our guests are wet and tired. Show them to their
rooms. Dinner is at sundown."



=======================================================




TYELVE
Nick Caner and Philip Tice were given adjoining rooms
that opened onto die left side of the hacienda's U. The young
women pointed out big washtubs full of hot, sudsy water in
each room and fresh clothes laid out on the Agrafina
left, her eyes lingering on the CIA agent who filled his
doorway and watched until she was gone.
' 'I can 't come in, " Linda whispered after Tice closed
his door. She looked at the courtyard.
Men tended a smol&ring pit and smoked hand-
rolled cigarettes. Women caried out tables, cloths, and pot-
tery. They sent inquisitive glances toward Carter and Linda.
Carter looked down at Linda. She leaned against the door-
frame, then moved so close to him that his head filled with
her musky scent.
' general wouldn 't like us to obvious, " he said. He
ran his thumb across a high cheektx:me, then down the
smooth outline of her face to her chin.
'Tonight," she said. "I have something to tell you. I'll
come tonight. ' '
Her eyes closed. She tcnk a deep breath, then marched
back toward the living room. She was learning.
Carter went inside the room and closed the dcxr. He
undressed and peeled off the bandages that covered his chest.
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The wounds had continued to heal, and there was no sign of
infection.
He climbed into the short bathtub, his knees folded against
his chest, and stared out the window at the verdant mountains
that gave the isolated ranch its name—Mountain View. He
bathed slowly, soaking his tired body, and rememtrred the
hot eagerness of Linda in Tuxtla Gutiérrez.
Outside, hooves thundered across the hard soil. Cattle
lowed. People worked, their conversations full of
excitement at the coming fiesta night. Carter watched the sun
set, watched vermillion and chartreuse stream across the sky.
He watched the day die and knew that he waited för the
explosion of violence that bubbled beneath the ordinariness
of Rancho Monte Vista.
The door thudded with a knock.
'"Come in, Tice," Carter called from the tub.
The big man walked in, dressed in the simple white cotton
trousers and shirt of the campesino. The sleeves stomrd at
his forearms, and the tousers ended well above his ankles.
He laughed and shrugged the too-tight shirt.
' 'Not exactly designer fashions, " Tice commented.
"You'll never pass," Carter said and laughd
Tice sat on the cot.
"What do you think?" the CIA man said, suddenly seri-
"I still don't know. *Ihe general's excitable. lhe daugh-
ter's worried. "
"Some girl, that Agrafina!" Tice said, his blue eyes
dancing.
"Stay away from her, hil. Unless you want to wind up
dead. "
"l got that impression tcx)."
Carter stocxi up in the tub, and Tice threw him a towel.
"I like this place," Tice said.
'I know. Agrafina knows, too. And so does the general. ' '
Philip Tice dropped his head into his hands.
"l've at the work t(X) long, I guess." He shook his
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head and looked up. 'Too many countries. Last time I was
home was in '82. Half the time I'm never sure whether I'm
doing any good."
' 'It's that way for all of us," Carter said, dressing in the
rough cotton clothes. "Every once in a while, though, we get
a chance to do something we're sure of. Maybe that 'II be the
way it is this time. "
Tice st(xxi and stretched carefully in the tight clothes, an
elephant with the grace of a tiger. He reassembled his face
into a mask that hid his emotions and showed the world a
professional.
"Ready?" Carter asked.
They walked along the porch toward the central living
room. Carter camed his briefcase, and Tice his rifle and
bandoliers. The courtyard was bright with paper lantems and
Indians dressed in colorful cotton clothes, Three guitarists
and a drummer started to play, and the crowd froze then
swirled into a fast dance of celebration. The haunting music
followed Carter and Tice into the living room.
As they entered, a slight man with Slavic features, dressed
in loose peasant clothes, looked up from talking with the
general. The man nodded briskly , stocxi , and left. He brushed
past Carter and Tice as if he didn't see them.
' 'Barkov! " Caner whispered to Tice.
Tice nodded, eyes narrowed.
They watched the KGB 's Mexican chief mingle with cam-
pesinos, charros, and soldiers around the outdoor barbeque
Pit.
'Sony I didn 't introduce you, " the general said, walking
toward them with a glass in his hand. "And old friend from
Mexico City. Just dromHl in this afternoon. Has to leave
now. "
"Must have flown in, " Carter said. '*But I didn't hear a
plane. "
Carter watched Barkov take a plate full of food. Even the
KGB has to eat.
' 'The landing field is over on Agrafina's land, " the gen-
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eral said easily. "Behind the east mountain. " He waved a
glass containing an amber liquid. "May I offer you some
aguardiente?"
lhe homemade sugar cane liquor burnai Carter's throat
and sent a pleasant glow through him. *Ihe general led the two
agents onto the outside terra-cotta steps. Laughing and talk-
ing, the Indians in the courtyard gathered in front of them,
drawn by the general's presence. Still by the barbeque,
Barkov ate and watched. His sharp eyes darted around the
courtyard as if he owned every arch and tile.
' 'A healthy life for our general!" a man called.
"A long life! We will together! "
"To Hilario Hiler! One of us!"
ne Indians raised bowls and cups in salute. General Hiler
had made life go€xi for them, and their gratitude showai in
the love on their beaming faces. Hiler returned their smiles.
Ihe general orpned his anns.
"Eat! Drink!" His voice rang out across the crowd. g 'We
Maya will show the world a better way to live! "
They gave a shout, then drank from their cups and bowls.
ne general nodded, smiling, then led Carter and Tice
through the throng toward the Barkov handed his
empty plate to an old woman and moved off, skirting the
crowd.
Tice looked questioningly at Carter. Carter nodded, and
the CIA man followed the KGB chief.
Linda and Agrafina passed full plates to Carter and the
general. Then Agrafina turned to scan the fiesteros who
memly ate and danced beneath the stars. From her eager
stance, Carter knew she was lcx)king for Tice, but
Barkov—with Tice tailing—had left the courtyard and dis-
appeared into the night.
Linda next to Carter, eating from her own plate of
roasted beef, tortillas, rice, and beans.
"I'm lucky I came here, " she said. didn 't know where
else to go
after those men took you away. I thought
Papa Hiler could help me. 'i
THE MAYAN CONNECTION
"His men found Tice and me. "
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"His men found Tice and me. "
They were already out looking when I got here. "
103
"Did Barkov call the general and tell him to find me?"
She shrugged, then pulled the sleeve of her loose dress
back over her naked shoulder.
'*They're old friends, Papa Hiler and Barkov." She
stopped and gazed reflectively at Carter. "Because of the
you think they're involved in the Itzamnå
TreeofLife. . .
business?
"Perhaps. "
Four men carrying a litter on poles walked into the center
of the crowd. On the litter, set in a of fems, was a statue
with reptilian features and a lxxiy combining parts of a
lizard, and snake.
of the devil! "
"Itzamnå himself," Caner breathed and looked at her.
"How long since you've visited Monte Vista?"
' 'Too long.
ney watched the litter bearers as they walked through the
crowd, their heads high and proud. Each wore colored cros-
ses painted above their eyes. A fifth man followed, carrying a
crate of squawking sacrificial chickens. The crowd bowed
low, and those with similar crosses painted atxwe their eyes
sang and followed the statue down the road toward a big
ceremonial hut blazing with light.
General Hiler joined Carter and Linda:
' 'The old religion speaks again, " he said, gesturing at the
crowd whose eyes followed the and worshippers toward
the hut. ' Vl'he Maya of Central America will unite. Once
more we will rule ourselves to greatness! "
s 'The (Xids are against you," Carter said.
' 'Go! Follow them if you like. See our sincerity!"
don't need to. " He smiled at the general. "I
you. Are you counting on Maxim Barkov to make your plans
work?"
ne general shrugged ard took a drink. His wily eyes
assessed Carter. For a moment he was again the jungle hero
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who fought bravely in Korea and Vietnam.
"He helps us," Hiler said at last. s swe accept help from all
quartets. " The seriousness in his face disappeared into a
charming grin. "l would like the help of the United States. A
great country, it t(X) began like oun+--with a revolution! But
ours will be a revolution of peace!"
Carter the general thoughtfully.
"Where is Tice?" the general asked, turning his head.
"No matter. Go! Dance, drink, sing! Tonight and tomorrow
we celebrate our good tEginning! " He pushed Caner and
Linda away.
Linda took Caner's hand. In the other, Carter carried his
briefcase.
"Where to?" she asked.
Ihey gave their plates to the women at the barbeque pit and
walked among charros and campesinos watching the fes-
tivities. The men smoked, the sweet smell of marijuana
swirled around them.
"What did you want to tell me? ' ' Carter murmured to her
in English.
' 'A small thing, but perhaps it's important," she said.
' me man who tied me up--the one in the Hotel Tuxtla-—
said something I thought might be useful. I'd wanted to tell
you when we were in bed tonight. " She squeezed his hand.
"You understand. 'i
They walked out of the courtyard, two lovers taking an
evening stroll. The intimacy that comes after good lovemak-
ing made all secrets more important.
"And that was?"
"He wamed me. He said, 'Get out of Giapas. Stay out of
Cobån. ' Then he gagged me. "
"Cobån's in Guatemala. lhere's an airport there."
"Who was he?"
"A Cuban guerrilla. ney 've been tracking Itzamnå since
before San Antonio. It's got them womed too, whatever it
is."
"How did you. get away?"
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Carter told her as they walked toward the brightly lit
ceremonial hut. Low, moaning singing rose from there and
spread into the night. To their right, horses in a big corral
stocxl silent and unmoving as statues.
Caner heard a click. He pulled Wilhelmina from beneath
his loose shirt.
Feet scuffled on dirt.
"Stay here!" Carter whispered to Linda.
He ran silently, bending low to the ground.
A body thumped to the packed dirt near the corral.
In the light of the half moon, five figures struggled. Horses
whinnied and fled across the corral. A very tall figure picked
up another soldier and heaved him away.
Caner flung Hugo through the air.
A man fell, blocxl streaming black on his green unifonn.
The stiletto hung from his side, embedded in his heart.
g Slhanks! " Tice grunted.
Another figure watched, his clothes gleaming a
pale blue in the moonlight. Maxim Barkov. His face was
lined in cruel delight. He held two rifles, one his own, the
other Tice's.
He heard Carter and whipped around. Effortlessly Carter
kicked the rifles away and smashed a fist into Barkov's jaw.
The punch was not hard enough to break anything, just hard
enough to knock him out. Carter wanted to talk to Barkov.
Tice picked up two soldiers and crashed their faces to-
gether. Ihe hollow sound of noses smashing reverberated in
the night.
niere was a noise of running feet approaching.
Carter retrieved Hugo and kicked the legs out from under
the last soldier, a short man who cried out in pain.
As the man fell, he shoved a long knife into Philip Tice's
stomach.
Blocxi gushed.
The big man staggered.
"Nick! " he gasped, pitching over onto his side.
Carter dropped beside him. Tice's hands were wrapped
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around the knife. Blocxi coveted his fingers. His face was
contorted in pain.
"Don't pull it out!" Caner warned him, then tumed.
The new soldiers were on Carter immediately.
Carter jumped up and slashed Hugo across the face of the
first. The on the stiletto mixed with the cascade su•eam-
ing from the soldier's face.
Instantly Carter blasted back an elbow into another sol-
dier's rib cage. Bones cracked. The soldier fell, gasping for
Carter spun and saw that the odds were still thirty to one.
Caner barreled among four soldiers, knocking them into
the corral 's fence. They lay draped like scarecrows across the
rails, stunned.
"Hold on, Tice!" Carter yelled.
He streaked away.
"Nick! " Linda called out.
Behind him Carter could hear the H)0ts of the soldiers
pounding the ground in pursuit.
Linda ran beside him, light and fast as a gazelle.
*This way! " she panted, leading him toward the light and
sounds of the ceremonial hut.
Once inside, they slowed, weaving their way among the
worshippers.
Across the rc»m, behind an altar, stcxxi Agrafina, resplen-
dent in feathers, and flowers. Ihe altar was low aryl
bowl-shaped. A scarificial altar. The heavy scent of incense
hung in the air. lhe chickens clucked in their cages t*side the
altar.
The soldiers entered, stirring the dust on the din floor as
they skidded to slow down.
Caner and Linda threaded their way toward Agrafina. the
soldiers behind in slow but steady pursuit. The men smiled
grimly. They had cornered Carter.
nie worshippers raised dazed faces, txwildered. Agrafina
chanted. Her eyes were closed. Her soft voice filled the
with its intensity.
THE MAYAN CONNECTION
' 'Agrafina! " Linda cried.
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