Beautiful Sacrifice

Lina pointed out. “A sixth Maya book is a secret that I can’t imagine being kept.”
    “Okay. You see anything here that looks like the photographs?”
    “No.”
    “What photographs?” Mercurio asked.
    Watching the other man, Hunter reached into one of the cargo pockets on his new pants. He spread the photos across an empty worktable and turned to watch Mercurio. The man came to a point, all but quivering like a bird dog as his eyes swept from photo to photo, then began again for a more leisurely look.
    “Well cared for,” Mercurio said. “The photographer should be fired.”
    Hunter waited.
    So did Lina. She didn’t need Hunter’s neutral expression to know that he wanted her quiet right now.
    “Anything else?” Hunter asked when Mercurio remained silent.
    “What is their provenance?” Mercurio countered.
    “Zero.”
    The other man didn’t look surprised.
    “You missing any pieces from your digs?” Hunter asked.
    “None that I know of. Certainly no artifacts of this quality. My digs share a similar style—especially with that scepter, but I’ve found nothing like that mask. Is it real or of modern manufacture?”
    “I don’t know,” Lina said. “I’ve never studied the artifact itself, only the photos.”
    “And you think I have?” Mercurio asked, looking at her. “You flatter me, querida . I have found some hints of Kawa’il, some sigils on goods. But I can’t prove they weren’t imported from Yucatan. In fact, anything regarding Kawa’il can’t be proved beyond academic doubt as indigenous to my Belize digs.”
    “Then why is Philip…” Her voice dried up.
    “So paranoid about my digs?” Mercurio’s smile was different from his earlier ones. Harder.
    “Yes,” Lina said.
    “Because he is not quite sane. Digs of this quality and apparent age”—Mercurio gestured to the photos—“have only been discovered on Reyes Balam land. I don’t know what your father has found since I left. Certainly he never found artifacts of this magnificence when I was with him, querida .”
    “If you wanted to buy them, who would you go to?” Hunter asked, his eyes the color of winter ice. He was really tired of hearing the other man call Lina “darling.”
    “To you, of course,” Mercurio said. “You’re the man with the photos.”
    “These photos are as close as I can come to the real thing,” Hunter said. “Who would you try next?”
    “Cecilia Reyes Balam,” Mercurio said.
    “Not Simon Crutchfeldt?” Lina asked. “Or Philip?”
    “If Crutchfeldt owned these, he wouldn’t keep them longenough for word to get out,” Mercurio said. “He is a businessman as much as he is a collector. Only a collector would be fool enough to keep artifacts such as those. As for Philip, if he had them, I would be the last to know. He wouldn’t spit on my grave. Vindictive bastard.” Then, quickly, “My apologies, Lina.”
    “Not necessary.” Her voice, like her face, revealed no emotion.
    “That takes care of the obvious suspects,” Hunter said. “Anyone else?”
    “Carlos, of course,” Mercurio said. “But, assuming those artifacts are as good as they look, he wouldn’t sell them.”
    “He’d give them to the museum,” Lina said.
    Carlos laughed softly. “Such beautiful innocence, querida . It is one of your greatest lures.”
    “I don’t find it alluring to be called naive,” she said evenly. “Are you saying Carlos would sell those artifacts on the black market?”
    “No. I’m saying that the only way Carlos would let go of those artifacts is if he had better pieces in his collection.”
    “We have nothing to equal them in the museum,” Lina said.
    Mercurio’s smile was both gentle and amused. “You must be the only person in Mexico who doesn’t know that Carlos has a personal collection, and I’m not referring to your Houston museum.”
    “So he might know about these artifacts?” Hunter asked quickly.
    The quick flare of temper in Lina’s eyes had warned him that she was reaching her limit on being patronized by Mercurio ak Chan de la Poole. That was fine with Hunter, but theyhad more questions to be answered before he let her shred the handsome Mexican.
    “Carlos?” Mercurio shrugged. “He is a man who keeps his own counsel. Lina’s abuelita might know. She and Carlos are close.”
    “Why?” Hunter asked. “She’s two generations older than he is.”
    “He is the only reasonably direct male descendant of the Reyes Balam line,” Mercurio said.