Bones of the Sun God Read online

  Phillip Force

  “Great,” Sam said sarcastically. “So Ramos was right. No wonder he thinks I’m here looking for his gold.” He was about to say something else but went quiet as a van pulled into the driveway next to the motel. “He’s from Xibalba,” Sam said as a man in blue overalls got out. “We need to get out of here.”

  Mary jumped onto the bike and started the engine. Sam stared down the long, empty alley.

  “Hurry up,” Mary urged.

  Sam didn’t move. The alley was the obvious getaway route. Too obvious. “We’re not going that way,” he said.

  Mary didn’t question Sam. She turned the bike, he climbed on, and they took off across the parking lot and past the van. There was no sign of the man in blue overalls, but when Sam turned to look behind them, he saw Azeem’s yellow Mustang convertible swing into the far end of the alley, racing after them.

  16

  MOVING HOUSE

  “WHICH WAY?” MARY SHOUTED OVER her shoulder.

  Sam watched Azeem’s car gaining on them, “Just go fast!”

  Mary saw the big car in her side mirror but didn’t ask for details. The bike sped up, forcing Sam to hold tighter. Mary had her backpack on, so he was pushed to the very back of the passenger seat. With Sam’s rear end sticking out across the mudguard, every bump in the road vibrated through him like an awkward butt massage.

  “Hold on,” Mary yelled as they swung into another street.

  A horn blast filled the air, and as Mary increased the revs, Sam watched the yellow car skid around the corner behind them.

  “You need to lose this guy,” Sam said.

  “Any ideas? You know the town.”

  He had none. He’d only been in Orange Walk a few hours longer than Mary, and most of that time he had been on the run.

  But then he saw something he recognized. “See that big white place ahead?” he asked, pointing to an old building on the left. “Go in there.”

  “In! You serious?”

  “There’s a wheelchair ramp. Look.” Sam pointed over her shoulder.

  “Got it,” Mary said.

  Sam looked back and stifled a yelp as he saw the yellow car was now less than a bus length behind them and closing fast. Azeem was hunched over the wheel, screaming words Sam couldn’t hear.

  The bike swerved left as Mary took them onto the ramp and up into the bus depot. Azeem skidded to a stop in a cloud of white brake smoke. Sam saw him thump the steering wheel in anger, then he turned back to watch as Mary navigated her way through the crowd.

  It was a human slalom course. Some people jumped out of the way, others froze on the spot and stared at the two kids on the motorbike as they sped past. Sam didn’t need to give directions; the exit was easy to spot, a big arch, identical to the one they had entered under. He assumed there was a matching wheelchair ramp, but he didn’t know for sure.

  Just as he spotted the ramp, Mary called out over the noise of the engine and protesting people. “Which way when we get out?”

  Sam had no idea. “Go left,” he said. It made sense, he told himself. Their stunt had bought them some time, but not much. Azeem would have driven up the road and around the depot. He would be coming from the right.

  Mary gunned the bike down the ramp, swerved left, and powered down the street. Sam’s heart sank as he saw the dead end ahead. Mary didn’t say a word, but she didn’t slow down, either. She turned her head left and right, and Sam realized she was looking for the way out that Sam was leading her to.

  “I blew it,” Sam said with a growing sense of panic. Mary kept going and Sam looked back down the road past the depot to the intersection. There was no sign of the yellow car. If they were going to turn, they needed to do it fast. Sam leaned in to speak into Mary’s ear, but she swung the bike viciously to the right, and he almost slipped off. The building in front of them was four stories high and covered in scaffolding. Instead of slowing, Mary sped up, as if she was going to crash into the building. Sam would have cried out if there had been time. The bike missed the corner of the building, but there was no alleyway, only a narrow builder’s walkway that led up to the second floor.

  That was Mary’s target.

  She raced up the narrow wooden walkway and down the side of the building, slowing only a fraction. Sam looked down to the ground below, amazed at how little wood was on each side of the bike. He stayed frozen to the seat, petrified that any movement would knock them off the walkway. Then the wall of the building was gone, and ahead, Sam saw planks angled into the building. Mary steered the bike off the planks and onto the concrete and skidded to a stop.

  Sam didn’t trust himself to speak as he climbed off.

  Mary killed the engine and put the bike on its stand. She turned to Sam, her face as white as milk. “I can’t believe I just did that,” she said, looking down at her shaking hands. “That was crazy.”

  Sam laughed weakly. “Are you telling me you haven’t done something like that before?”

  “No way!” said Mary. “I just saw the ramp and went for it. Did we get rid of him?”

  Sam went back to the walkway to watch the narrow strip of road. It was deserted, but after a couple of minutes, the front of Azeem’s yellow Mustang rolled into view. Sam pulled his head back and listened to the rumbling V8 as it continued down the road.

  “Is it him?” Mary asked.

  Sam didn’t answer. Tires squealed as the car spun around and roared back the other way. It didn’t stop. Sam listened to it disappearing up the road before he returned to Mary. “I think we’re safe.”

  “For now,” Mary said.

  She waved her hand around them. Piles of bricks dotted the concrete floor. Wheelbarrows and toolboxes were lined up under the windows facing the street. “We’re lucky it’s a Sunday. If people had been working here, they would have called the police.”

  “They still could.”

  Mary nodded. “You’re right. We can’t stay here. We need to find somewhere safe.”

  Somewhere safe. The words triggered something in Sam’s mind. He reached behind Mary, took his notebook from her bag. They were Elio’s words. He’d said them in Xibalba when he’d given him the map—a place to go if you need somewhere safe. Sam checked the boy’s hand-drawn map and noticed the scrawl at the bottom. It was an address.

  “I think I have somewhere for us to go,” Sam said as he checked his Orange Walk map. “Elio told me about it.”

  “Good,” Mary said. “Let’s give it another hour; then we’ll go.”

  Sam sat down next to a pile of cement bags, leaned back, and tried to get comfortable. His phone was digging into his hip, so he took it out of his pocket. On the screen was a message telling him he’d received another e-mail from his uncle.

  From: Jasper Force [email protected]

  Date: Sunday, Sep 20, 2015

  To: Sam Force [email protected]

  My Sam,

  I have been contacted by our anonymous friend TF again. He has told me the ancient code of the Templar Knights may be of assistance to you (see below).

  This may seem odd to you. I was confused myself until I thought back over our discoveries in Egypt. Remember, we learned from the diary of Mary’s grandfather that the Templar Knights discovered the original Ark and learned of a second one, hidden in Amarna by the Pharaoh Akhenaten. That sacred cargo was transported to Belize in 1942 on board submarine 518 and is the reason your parents went there. It makes sense that the Templar Knights knew of the importance of Belize, but exactly how they are linked to this mystery I have yet to determine. Look out for their logo; it may lead you to new clues.

  TF also asked me again to remind you not to involve Mary in any of this.

  My boy, I do hope you are staying out of harm’s way.

  Please contact me and let me know you are okay.

  xxx Jasper

  Sam stared at the screen. He recognized the cross his uncle had drawn. He had seen it on the hilt of the dagger in Felix Ramos’s office and on the neckl
ace the man had worn during his performance at Xibalba. Did the mysterious TF know something his parents hadn’t? Sam wasn’t so sure it mattered now. His parents had declared Belize a dead end and left. Their trail had gone cold. The bearded man had been right: there was nothing here for Sam.

  “What are you looking at?” Mary asked.

  “It’s an e-mail from my uncle.”

  “He doesn’t suspect anything, does he?” Mary asked. “He could make trouble with my father.”

  “No,” Sam said, quickly closing the e-mail. “He still thinks I’m in Boston.”

  “Well, that’s one good piece of news, isn’t it?” Mary got up and dusted off her jeans. “This place Elio told you about . . . Is it far?”

  “No,” Sam said. “Just out of town.”

  Mary walked to the window that looked down on the street. “Looks quiet down there,” she said. “Why don’t we get going?”

  “Sure,” Sam said, glad Mary had made the call. He knew he wouldn’t be able to rest until they were somewhere safer.

  GETTING OUT OF THE BUILDING was almost as dangerous as the ride in. Mary didn’t trust herself to ride the bike, so she pushed it. Sam followed, his heart in his mouth as he watched her steer the bike along the narrow walkway.

  When she finally got to street level, Mary sent Sam ahead to make sure there were no surprises waiting for them. The way was clear. Sam took another look at the map and picked out a route that would take then through the back alleys.

  The ride only took a few minutes, but it felt like every eye in Orange Walk was on them. Mary stayed just below the speed limit, while Sam kept checking behind for any sign of danger. He called out directions from memory and was relieved to see that they were heading away from the center of town. The final street they turned into ran down to the river and ended at a concrete boat ramp. Along the riverbank, a row of aging boat sheds stuck out over the river.

  Sam left Mary with the bike and followed a narrow path to number 8, the last shed. Sam smiled as he pulled out his pocketknife and opened the lock-picking attachment. Elio had known he’d make short work of the old padlock.

  A steep hill covered in bushes rose behind the sheds. Mary wheeled the bike down the path and hid it among the trees opposite their new hideout. Sam took one last look outside to make sure no one had seen them, then he followed her inside.

  Someone had once lived there. A rusty old bed leaned up against one wall, with a bench and sink opposite. In the middle, two chairs flanked a wooden table. The most noticeable feature of the room was the fact that the front half of the floor was missing. From the edge, Sam and Mary looked down into the water. Two large doors that could open out onto the river were bolted shut, and from the spiderwebs covering them, it was obvious the place hadn’t been used for a long time.

  Sam eyed the old bed longingly. The saggy brown mattress looked like a giant piece of toast, and he wasn’t sure if the rusted fame would support a body, but he was willing to find out.

  “Nice place, Force,” Mary said with a smile.

  He chuckled. “Yeah, sorry. It got five stars on the website.”

  Mary laughed then went serious. “What are we going to do about your friend?”

  “I thought we could call the police in Belize City . . . once we get to the airport.”

  Mary stared at him but didn’t say anything, so Sam continued. “This is a dead end. You said it yourself. The e-mail to your father proves it. And with Azeem and his boss hunting us . . . I just think it’s too risky.”

  Mary shook her head. “There could still be important clues here. Sub 518 carried the Ark here. Where is it? If your parents left, where did they go? We can’t just give up because some guy in a car chased us.”

  “I’m not talking about giving up!” Sam snapped. “And it wasn’t just being chased by a car. I’ve had people after me since I got here. Since before I got here!”

  “What do you mean?” Mary asked.

  “Remember the man with the beard in Egypt?”

  Mary nodded. “The one who works for the people who took your parents?”

  “Yes. He found me in Boston. He told me not to come here. He said it was a dead end.”

  “How did he know you were coming to Belize?”

  “I guess he figured I would want to come here and search for my parents. He tried to help me in Egypt. Warn me away. He said the same about Belize. Don’t you see? That proves there’s nothing here.”

  “But we can’t just give up!”

  “I’m not giving up!” Sam’s voice thundered across the small room, and Mary winced at his outburst. He immediately felt bad. “I’m sorry . . . I know we need new clues. I just don’t know where to look. We thought Lamanai was linked to the pyramid network. That e-mail my parents sent to your dad proves it isn’t. There’s just a crazy guy protecting some gold that he found. That’s why my parents left!”

  “You should have told me about the bearded man,” Mary said. “We should have put off this trip.”

  “That’s why I didn’t say anything,” Sam said. “I wanted to come. I just didn’t think it would be . . . so hard.”

  Mary’s face softened, and she placed a hand on Sam’s arm. “You must be exhausted. You’ve had less than an hour of sleep since you got here. Get some rest, and then we’ll make a plan.” She steered him toward the bed.

  Sam nodded and sat down. The bedsprings screamed in protest as he lay back. On the wall next to the bed was a narrow wooden shelf. At one end, an old bottle had the dried remains of a flower poking out of it. Someone had made a halfhearted attempt to pretty up the place. Next to the bottle, a faded piece of paper had been pinned to the wood. It was so dusty and sun-damaged, it was almost the same color as the wall, and he hadn’t noticed it until he lay down.

  Sam lifted his hand and touched the paper. It was dry, and the pin holding it fell out. The piece of paper fell onto the mattress next to Sam. He picked it up and studied the blacks lines on it. A drawing, someone’s artwork. He ran his fingers over the paper, feeling raised lines made by charcoal. There were eyes on the page, but the rest of the drawing had faded away. At the bottom was a word. It started with the letter B. Sam was tired, but curiosity spurred him on. He held the drawing closer to his face. B-A . . .

  Sam sat up, and the springs shrieked again.

  At the table, Mary turned with a start. “What’s wrong?”

  “ ‘Bast.’ The word on this drawing. It is ‘Bast.’ ”

  “The Egyptian cat god?”

  “Yes!” Sam got up and crossed to Mary. “Look at this.” He slapped the drawing down in front of her.

  “Someone drew an image of Bast,” Mary said.

  “Not ‘someone,’ ” Sam replied. “My mother.”

  17

  SOMETHING FISHY

  THE TIREDNESS HAD FADED AWAY as if he’d just drunk a magic potion, or the world’s most powerful energy drink. Sam paced the floor of the boat shed between the bed and table.

  Mary studied the drawing. “Are you sure your mother drew this?”

  “Positive,” Sam replied. “She drew all the time. Every moment she sat down, she’d have her old charcoal pencil and pad out. That’s where I got it from.”

  “So what does it mean?”

  “I don’t know.” Sam stopped pacing and began to turn slowly, seeing the old shack with new eyes. “Help me look around.”

  “No problem.” Mary threw up her hands. “It’s not like we have much ground to cover.”

  Sam didn’t reply; he had returned to the bed. He ran his fingers along the shelf, leaving a small, wood-colored trail in the dust. A flashback to room inspections at St. Albans made him laugh.

  “Glad to see you’re in a better mood,” Mary said.

  Sam got down on the floor and crawled under the bed.

  “That’s your uncle’s favorite hiding place, isn’t it?” Mary said.

  “Yeah. Not my parents’ style, but worth a look.”

  “I’ve been meaning
to ask you about that hole in your pants,” Mary said. “I can see your undies. It’s not very classy.”

  Sam’s movement under the bed had created a mini–dust storm. He laughed, then sneezed. He had completely forgotten about his missing patch.

  “Stop looking at my butt and look for clues,” he said as he rolled onto his back for a better look under the mattress.

  As he expected, there was nothing.

  As he shuffled out, he noticed something on the floorboards. A drawing that had been covered by a layer of dust until his body had disturbed it.

  Sam recognized it. His mother had drawn the same one on the note he had found in his father’s trench coat.

  “Mary, come and look at this,” he called out as he slid out from under the bed. “This is a Templar logo, isn’t it?”

  Mary peered over his shoulder. The logo had been drawn a few inches under the bed. Just out of view unless you were looking for it.

  “It’s almost a Templar cross,” Mary said. “But one of the ends has been made into a point.”

  There was something else about it, Sam realized: the cross had been drawn on an angle. Standing next to the bed it looked more like an X than a cross. X marks the spot. Sam pressed the floorboard with his foot. It didn’t budge. He looked down at the logo. The part that had been drawn wrong was on the outside. By itself it would have looked like an arrow—an arrow pointing where?

  Sam turned his head, following the direction it was pointing. He walked slowly across the floor. He had almost reached the corner when the floorboard under his foot creaked.

  “Out of the way,” Mary said. She elbowed past and dropped to her knees. The floorboard Sam had stepped on had been cut into a short length no longer than an arm. Mary pushed on one end and the other popped up. She hooked her fingernails into the edge and lifted the board out. Underneath was one of the thick wooden beams the hut had been built on, but this section had been hollowed out. Inside the small wooden cavity were some papers.

  Mary looked up at Sam. “Well done, Mr. Force.”