Ice Shock(65)

“If ‘they are watching,’ then the message has to be as subtle as possible. Hidden in plain view. So anyone could see one or two postcards and not get the whole message.”

What do we have? Photos of Mayan ruins: Tikal, Labna, Calakmul, Altun Ha … I can’t remember them all.

And then I realize. I’ve been stupid. Blind as a bat.

It’s another acrostic.

I call Tyler again. This time he sounds really annoyed.

“Man, what? I’d just gone to sleep!”

“Tyler … this is really, really important. Can you read out the names of the ruins in the photos? In order of dates!”

I hear Tyler grumbling as he crawls out of bed and gropes around his desk. Papers rustle. “They’re here somewhere …”

“Tyler … just get them!”

“Chill, man. You’re so weird lately. Telling me to get out of Oxford! I don’t know … what’s the deal?”

I grit my teeth. Finally he finds the postcards.

“Okay. Here we go. First one is—Tikal. Next is Labna. Next, Altun Ha, Calakmul, Ocosingo, Tikal again, Altun Ha again, Labna again, Palenque.”

I scribble the names down.

“You done?”

“Awesome, thanks.”

“Okay. Can I go to sleep now?”

“Uhhh … listen, think you could go around tomorrow and check if there are any more postcards?”

Tyler lets off a stream of swear words.

“So that’s a ‘no’ … ?”

“Yeah, Josh, it’s a ‘no.’ I’m going to London tomorrow for the day. Where are you? You know your mom called here yesterday? Emmy’s mom told her you were with me. I had to tell her you’d gone out to the movies.”

“Thanks, Tyler, you’re a pal.”

I snap the phone closed and hand it back to Ixchel. My hands are actually trembling with excitement.

I can already see a pattern.

T-L-A-C-O-T-A-L-P.

“That’s a Mexican place name,” I say, breathless with the rush of discovery. “Has to be.”

“Close enough,” Ixchel says, frowning. “It could mean ‘Tlacotalpan.’”

“Where’s that? I’ve never heard of it.”

“It’s a small town, not too close,” she admits, “on the way back to Veracruz.”

“That’s it, then. We’re going. We’ll sneak aboard the bus with these Americans. How’s the driver going to know we’re not with them? He’s bound to be going somewhere useful.”

Ixchel hesitates, looks doubtful. “I don’t know. Maybe …”

“What?”

There’s real anxiety on Ixchel’s face. “We really should take the Adapter straight to Ek Naab.”

I can hardly believe what she’s saying. “You mean … you and I go straight back to Ek Naab? Not to Tlacotalpan?”

Ixchel nods slowly, gazes directly into my eyes. Something about her expression irritates me. A feeling of frustration wells up inside, and I step away from her. “No way! Montoyo will flip his lid if he finds out I ran off again. And he’ll blame Benicio! I’m not doing that to Benicio, not again.”

“But, Josh. We’re close to Ek Naab here. We have to tell the Executive what we found about the Sect, about that Revival Chamber, what we saw them trying with the Key and the Adapter. We need to do that right away. When they hear what we know, they won’t care that we sneaked away from Benicio.”

I glance away, avoiding her eyes. I take a deep breath. “All right. I admit it—this isn’t just about going back with Benicio. This is about me. I need to know who’s sending these postcards. I need to go to that place.”

“Yes, but later! We should get back now,” she insists. “No more adventures.”

“No!”

Ixchel stops in her tracks.

“This is a message about my father,” I say. “I know it. Someone knows the truth! Maybe someone in the NRO who’s afraid to talk. Don’t you get it? I have to go.”





BLOG ENTRY: WAITING




Hey, Mom. I thought about calling you. It’s four a.m. here, ten in the morning in England, so you should be finished with breakfast. I didn’t want to have to lie to you, though. You still think I’m staying with Emmy’s family, and I’m feeling a little bad about that. So I texted you again. Just to let you know I’m okay and ask how you are. But of course, you won’t be able to reply—this number will just come up as “Anonymous.”

I’m waiting in yet another bus station, this time for a bus to Tlacotalpan. Not a fancy tourist-style bus this time—just a regular rickety one full of ordinary Mexican workers and farmers carrying chickens and goats.