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She hoped none of them were in a kicking sort of mood.

In the flickering light of the campfire, Jacobs’ eyes narrowed thoughtfully.

Ellie’s mind spun. What glass had Kuyoc been talking about?

Abruptly, she knew the answer. It was the Smoking Mirror.

The iconography of the mirror had been haunting her ever since she had first picked up the medallion back in London. Ellie knew the mythological glass was associated with the legends of Tulan in both Mayan and Aztec cultures. Apparently, Jacobs and Dawson were aware of that as well.

And so was Kuyoc.

Jacobs strode across the plaza to loom over the smaller man.

“Which glass would that be?” he said evenly.

The sound of his voice from so close by sent another shiver over Ellie’s skin.

“The one your men are up in that temple hunting for,” Kuyoc returned just as calmly, meeting Jacobs’ icy gaze. “The one that is worth more than all the rest of the riches of this city combined.”

Jacobs titled his head thoughtfully. “And how do you know about it?” he quietly demanded.

“Because I have been here before, obviously,” Kuyoc retorted blithely.

Ellie clenched her teeth against a gasp, even as the pieces began to shuffle into place. Kuyoc’s warnings and threats back in Santa Dolores hadn’t been bizarre superstition. He’d been trying to scare them away from Tulan… because he had known exactly where it was and why it mattered.

But why had he followed them here? Was he trying to save the ruins from looting? But then, why insist on getting himself captured?

None of it made any sense.

“Why don’t you send me up to the temple?” Kuyoc suggested. “I might know a thing or two that could help you find what you’re looking for.”

“Is that right?” Jacobs returned smoothly.

Ellie felt an instinctive sense of danger flare, as it did anytime Jacobs asked a direct question in that same easy, dangerous tone.

The small, weathered priest met Jacobs’ gaze unflinchingly as his eyes glittered with dark intelligence.

“It is,” he replied. His words resonated with certainty.

Something in Jacobs’ eyes shifted, moving from challenge to an unsettling interest.

“Well,” he mused quietly. “That does change things.”

A new voice cut through the wind-tossed gloom, echoing clearly from across the plaza.

“Boss!”

Ellie risked a better peek through her fence of mules and saw Braxton Pickett striding toward them. His lip was split, and an angry bruise marred his cheek.

He was dragging Mendez by the collar. As he neared, Pickett shoved the smaller man toward Jacobs’ feet. His words rang out clear and bold across the shadowed stillness of the city.

“This idiot has lost the woman!”

?

Thirty-Four

A few minutes earlier