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As they approached the temple, it didn’t look particularly impressive compared to the two larger pyramids. But once they’d mounted the steps of the platform in front of it, they could see the detail of the carved snake heads and the elaborate depictions of serpents winding their way around each level.
“It’s certainly all about snakes,” Sam said.
“Go snake or go home. That’s my new motto.”
“You’re in the right place, then. All snake all the time.”
“But with feathers. Don’t forget the plumage.”
“Of course not.”
“Looks like it’s closed off to visitors,” Remi observed. “And they’re working on some of the heads.”
“I have a feeling this is a bit like owning a bridge. You’re never really done with maintenance.”
“Then this was the center of the city?”
“That’s the thinking. But the rest is under that farmland over there.”
“And that shopping center.”
Remi pointed to the pyramid. “So you think our chamber could be along the back side? Can we get over there?”
“Doesn’t look that way. It’s cordoned off. Besides, once we have a permit, we’ll be out here for days while we excavate. I’m sure there’s nothing to see until then—just more dirt.”
After twenty minutes looking over the Citadel, they headed back to the main entrance, where a row of taxis waited in the sweltering heat for exhausted visitors. As they took the first in line, Remi sneaked a peek behind them, where their shadow was hobbling as fast as he could to the parking lot.
“Should we wait for him?” she suggested.
“No. Why make anything easy?”
“I wonder who he is? Or, rather, who put him up to it?”
“Someone really frustrated about now. Don’t worry. We’ll ditch them once we have the permit. There are small hotels around here we can stay where we’ll never be found. The trail will end with an empty bag.”
“I hope you’re right.”
The trip back took an hour, and, after a late lunch at a nearby restaurant, they went to the Institute. Outside, two police cars were parked at the curb, with a few curious students standing near them.
“I wonder what this is all about?” Remi muttered as they entered the building.
Maribela was standing at the security desk, talking with a police officer in hushed tones. When she saw them, she disengaged and approached, strain evident on her beautiful face.
“What is it, Maribela?” Sam asked.
“It’s Carlos. He’s disappeared. The police say he’s been kidnapped.”
“Carlos?” Remi blurted.
Maribela frowned and nodded. “It’s a regrettable part of living in Mexico City. Kidnappings happen all too often.”
“That’s terrible. What are the police doing?”
“They’re going through his office to see if there’s anything that could help identify the kidnappers, but it’s purely a formality. These are usually organized criminal gangs that do it for the money. They target the wealthy and the powerful. I’m afraid that Carlos is a little of both, between his family fortune and his position with the government.”
“Do . . . do the kidnappers usually harm their victims?” Remi asked.
Maribela’s face clouded further. “Sometimes. There’s no way of predicting it. But we’ll pray that there’s a swift resolution to this and that Carlos is returned to us unharmed. I’m afraid that’s all we can do.”