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“Tell me what they saw.”
“The Maya didn’t draw letters. They drew pictures or symbols that meant certain things when combined. For example, the glyph utchi is made of three symbols: ut, ch, and i. It means ‘It happened’ or ‘It came to pass,’ which is a phrase found over six hundred times in ancient texts like the Bible. Don’t get me started on the similarities between the Maya creation myth and the Book of Genesis. The glyph for utchi looks like the profile of a smiling man with pointed teeth.”
“Pointed teeth?”
“The Maya were big on cosmetic dentistry. It would blow your mind what they knew about tooth anatomy. So yeah, a glyph with a guy with pointed teeth wouldn’t be weird to them at all.”
“Are you saying Calakmul bit the people in the Situation Room with his teeth?”
Roth shook his head. “No. I told you. He can literally transform into a jaguar. That’s probably his favorite form, which is a huge symbol of power to the Maya. But from my readings, a Maya sorcerer can transform into almost any animal. Birds, fish, crocodiles.”
“Really?” The question was asked innocuously but with an undertone of disbelief.
“I know this sounds like the X-Files. I get that. But historians for centuries have found evidence of shape-shifting in almost every culture. Werewolves in medieval France. The skinwalkers of the Navajo. Dracula. It’s there. I don’t know how it happens. I can’t explain it. But yesterday, my boys saw a glyph on the wall, and then a jaguar priest started chasing us. He ran faster than our Uber. On all fours.”
Director Wright leaned forward, resting his head on his thumb and forefinger. “You saw this happen?”
“We hit him and put a dent in the car.”
“Sir, if I may?” Monica spoke up.
He looked at her and nodded curtly.
“There’s a weakness that happens when these people transform,” she explained.
“I read your report, Agent Sanchez.”
“Do you believe it now? Jordan Scott was able to kill the jaguar priest at the cabin because he was just starting to transform. Calakmul would have been vulnerable in the Situation Room if he transformed into a jaguar.”
“The power went out,” Wright said thoughtfully. “It was totally dark.”
“We can’t afford to rest on our old assumptions,” Monica insisted. “I didn’t know about the plan to impersonate the president.”
“You weren’t supposed to know,” Carter said icily.
Wright held up his hand. “That was my decision.”
Carter looked smug.
“And it was wrong,” Wright finished. Roth bit off the chuckle before it escaped his mouth. He rubbed his lips, trying not to laugh.
“That’s why you’re here, Mr. Roth. Agent Sanchez. What is Calakmul’s next move? He did not abduct or kill the president. Clearly, he realized they were all imposters, so why take Brower instead of killing him like the others?”
Roth thought about it. “If they were all in disguise, who was Brower playing?”
“President Parker. He has a similar build, and he was determined to take the highest risk himself.”
“That’s why Calakmul took him,” Roth said.
“But he knew he was an imposter?”
“That wouldn’t matter to Calakmul,” Roth said, leaning forward. He pointed to the picture of Jacob on the table. “If he only looked like the president, it would be enough. He’s going to bring him to the Jaguar Temple in the Yucatán and sacrifice him on an altar. He’ll do it in front of everyone who has gathered down there, including Senator Coudron’s ‘friend.’ The one who went to Cancún for the holidays.”
Wright rubbed his temples. “So you’re telling me that my friend is about to be murdered in a gruesome and horrific way?”
“I’m sorry, yes. I’m guessing Calakmul will continue his plan as though nothing happened. He’s going to attack at the Mexican border using cartels and paramilitary types. And he’ll let his plague wreak havoc on us until we start a civil war against each other because some will be so desperate to survive that they’ll do anything to join him. Calakmul wants revenge against Europe too, because . . . you know . . . the Spanish.”
“Europe?” Wright exclaimed.