Black Rain

Kaufman looked again. “Why is it you see a tree, when we don’t?” He turned to face her. “You’re expecting a tree, maybe?”

“No,” she said. “Not expecting one. But you do see it repeatedly in Mayan art. It’s called the World Tree. It connects the three zones of existence, the underworld at its roots, the middle world that we live in at the trunk and the realm of the gods at the top in the branches. That’s what I see here,” she said, certain of it now. “This is art. Not writing.”

Kaufman took one more look and then tapped Lang, who switched back to normal light. It took their eyes a second to adjust.

“Ms. Briggs, do you know what an electro-graphic ground scan is?”

She nodded. “It checks electrical resistance to determine the mineral makeup of the underground layers. We use them sometimes before we excavate.”

“It can be used like an ultrasound,” Kaufman said. “We’ve run several of them this morning, along with a series of ultrasounds, and we think this place is built over the top of a large cavern. Would that surprise you?”

She and McCarter had guessed there was a cave, but she didn’t want to give that away. “Not really. The sulfur fumes have to come from somewhere, either volcanic vents or a sulfur cave. We poked around a bit but we couldn’t find an entrance.”

Kaufman smiled. “That’s because the temple was built right on top of it. The water proves it. The temple is the entrance to the cave.”

Kaufman pointed to the well and the three of them peered into the darkness of that circular abyss. “Poe would be proud.”

Susan gazed into the well again.

Kaufman signaled one of his men. “Take her back to the others,” he said. “And make sure they have proper food and water.” He looked at Susan. “You see? I keep my promises.”

“I suppose you’d be angry if I spoke about what I saw here?” Susan guessed.

“Not at all,” Kaufman said. “Feel free to discuss it. Perhaps your Professor McCarter will have some thoughts on what you’ve seen. If he does, I’d like to hear them.”

Susan nodded, confused and surprised, but much calmer than she’d been before.

As she was led out, she glanced back at Kaufman. He was pulling something from his pocket, but before she could see what it was, the guard pushed her forward and she ascended the stairs.

Standing in the altar room, Kaufman turned to Lang. “This is where Dixon found the stones,” he said. “And the fifth crystal.”

Lang seemed unhappy with that conclusion. “That guy was out of his mind, I don’t know about trusting anything he said. If these crystals are what you think they are, then they came from some type of machinery. Not …” He waved his hand toward the altar. “This.”

“The natives found them,” Kaufman said with certainty. “Idolizing what they found, they used the crystals as some type of holy object. Worshipping it for what they knew it could do.”

“The NRI’s theory,” Lang noted.

“It got them—and us—this far,” Kaufman reminded him. “It’s kind of late to start questioning it.”

Lang backed down and turned to the altar, switching the black light back on, illuminating the marks in the stone: the tree that Susan had seen. There were four small depressions in the bottom of the design, one in the central trunk portion and four more at the top. “I’d just like some proof.”

Kaufman nodded and opened the small box in his hand. A jeweler’s case, it contained the gray metallic stones and the crystal Dixon had found.

He placed them in the depressions, the cubes at the bottom and the crystal at the top. The cubes fit snugly, but the crystal did not. He moved it to the center slot, where it slid into place with a soft click.

From deeper in the same pocket Kaufman pulled a second case, one he’d taken from Danielle after her capture. Lined up inside like darts were the Martin’s crystals. He placed the crystals in various spots at the top of the design, moving them around until all three fit snugly. Nothing happened.

One of the mercenaries commented, “No magic,” he said, making a whooshing sound as he finished.

“We’re not looking for magic,” Kaufman said, aggravated.

“Still,” Lang noted. “We are one short.”

“Yes,” Kaufman said, remembering that the NRI had dissected one of the crystals. There were five slots but only four complete crystals. “Although, I don’t think it matters here,” he said, looking at Lang. “This isn’t anything, is it?”

Lang shook his head. “I don’t see any way this could generate energy. The girl’s right: this is just art. Ancient, primitive art.”

Kaufman looked around. “Yes,” he said. “Just art. Like any church, the shiny things go up front, but the real truths are kept hidden in a vault somewhere.”

Lang nodded. “Why don’t we get the ultrasound equipment in here and see what we can uncover?”

Kaufman didn’t respond. He was staring at the design on the altar. “Do you see a tree here?” he asked.

Lang studied the markings once again. “Yeah, I guess I can. Like the girl said, ‘the path connecting the three zones of existence.’”