Beautiful Sacrifice

understand,” she said to Philip. “This codex wasn’t a linear compilation of names and events. The glyphs required nuanced interpretation rather than measurement in situ. Shades of possibility and meaning, like poetry.”
    “Rubbish, not science,” Philip agreed. “But there were solid facts. The Spaniards had already arrived. They were called ghost men, greedy and grasping, forever hungry. And the creator or creators of the codex scorned the phonetic alphabet the Spaniards introduced. This codex is true to the Maya.”
    “So you have a translation?” she asked.
    “It’s in my book,” Philip said.
    Lina glanced around the study. “Which one?”
    “The one I’m writing.”
    “I remember when you started it almost ten years ago,” she said, her mouth tightening. “The first thing you took for your ‘scholarly study’ was the jade pendant that is presently gathering dust in your study. Where is your manuscript?”
    “In my head. You think I’d trust it on paper or in a computer where anyone could steal it?”
    “In your head,” she repeated. “What about your notes?”
    “You must think I’m as stupid as you are.” He tapped his head. “It’s in here, all of it.”
    She slumped back against Hunter’s chest and asked, “Is it ever going to come out?”
    “Not until I have enough proof that no one can question it, or me,” Philip snapped. “I’ll never be made to look the fool again.”
    “Really?” Lina gestured to the empty box in the open vault. “Looks like someone fooled you but good.”
    The reminder bled the heat of indignation out of Philip, leaving him hollow and pale again.
    “Who else knew about the codex?” Hunter asked.
    “No one.”
    “Pull your head out of your butt,” Hunter said impatiently. “Someone else had to know. The jungle only looks empty. Who helped you get into the temple? Who watched you leave with a codex? Who knew you brought the codex here? Where did you get the climate-controlled box? Who helped you learn about the glyphs that baffled you? Somebody else knew. Somebody talked. Somebody always does.”
    “They wouldn’t have betrayed me,” Philip said, shaking his head. “I have too much information.”
    “Who?” Hunter asked.
    Philip just shook his head.
    Hunter abandoned the direct approach. He’d circle back to it in a few minutes, then go in and around and back again and again and again, until Philip forgot where he had been, where he had drawn lines, what he had said, and what he didn’t want to say.
    “Was the vault open when you came in today?” Hunter asked.
    “No.”
    “Who else knows the combination?”
    Philip’s eyes widened. “No one. Do you think I’m crazy?”
    Hunter doubted the other man truly wanted the answer to that question.
    “If no one knew the combination,” Hunter said, “how did the codex go missing?”
    The older man blinked, confused. “Lina must have—”
    “Try again,” Hunter cut in. “That dog don’t hunt.”
    Philip floundered, then said, “Celia.”
    “How?” Lina straightened. “You said no one else knew the combination.”
    “I don’t know.” Philip said sullenly. “I don’t trust females and I never have. You’re taking her side. You always have.”
    Hunter wondered if that pout had got Philip far with his parents, peers, or estranged wife. It sure looked ridiculous on a grown man.
    From the expression on Lina’s face, it wasn’t working on her either.
    “Where do you write down combinations, passwords, that sort of thing?” Hunter asked.
    “Why would I tell you?” Philip asked, but his eyes flicked toward his desk.
    Lina headed for it.
    “What are you doing?” Philip demanded.
    She didn’t bother to answer.
    “When was the last time you saw the codex?” Hunter asked.
    A blink, a frown, a confused shake of Philip’s head.
    “Yesterday?” Hunter asked.
    Silence.
    “Look at me,” Hunter snarled.
    Philip stiffened and started to argue. A glance at Hunter’s eyes changed the older man’s mind. Whatever Philip saw made him even more wan.
    “When was the last time you saw the codex?” Hunter repeated, his voice much softer than his eyes.
    “I…what day is today?”
    “The twenty-first of December, 2012,” Lina said without looking up from her search through the desk’s belly drawer. “Abuelita’s birthday.”
    “I know the year,” Philip said, contempt dripping.
    “Good for you,” Hunter said. “The codex. When did you last see it?”
    The older man