“Of course, of course.” He turned and went back to work.

Queen stood there long enough for the moment to become uncomfortable. She turned and rolled her eyes at Bishop and Knight, who grinned in reply. All three left the hut, worked their way back out of the camp, and entered the jungle. Hidden from view, they climbed a short hill, lay down on top, and waited for the inevitable.

*   *   *

HUDSON CONTINUED BRUSHING away at the piece, its visage both beautiful and haunting, but his thoughts were not on work. They were on the three strangers looking for the man who had become his friend over the past few months, Marc Kaufman. He was also keenly aware that they had made the journey to El Mirador in the midst of one of the worst storms the rainy season had brought that year. He had no idea what Kaufman’s relationship to the three visitors was, but they oozed bad intentions.

I’m a good judge of character, Hudson thought, and those three are up to no good. I need to warn Kaufman.

After waiting long enough for the strangers to leave camp, he left his workspace and stood in the doorway. A loud static hiss, created by rain beating down on the black tarps, filled the air. But visibility was good and he couldn’t see anyone in camp or in the jungle surrounding the site. Crouching, he skulked through the camp. As his booted feet squished through mud, water rose up over them, soaking his feet.

He arrived at Kaufman’s tent and squatted by the entrance. “Kaufman,” he whispered. “Are you in there?”

After getting no reply, he whispered again. “Are you asleep, man? Wake up!”

Impatience got the better of him and he unzipped the tent. He flung open the blue flap and looked inside. Kaufman wasn’t there.

Hudson stood up, scratching his head. He turned to head back to the science hut and came face-to-face with Queen. With a shout, he fell back into Kaufman’s tent. As Queen, Bishop, and Knight crouched down around him, he moved deeper into the tent.

“Who’s Kaufman?” Bishop asked, his statement punctuated by a boom of thunder that shook the forest floor.

“I don’t—”

Queen cleared her throat. She had a handgun leveled at Hudson.

Hudson’s face twisted in fear. “The man in the photo. He’s a … a journalist. He’s doing a piece on El Mirador for National Geographic. What … what do you want with him?”

“Where does he spend his time?” Knight asked.

Hudson looked at him dumbly.

“Is there a specific location he’s shown interest in?”

Hudson thought for a moment. “He toured the whole site, but has spent most of his time at the biggest pyramid.”

“La Danta?” Queen asked.

“Yes. In fact, that’s probably where he is now.” He nodded. “I’m certain of it. Since discovering the entrance he’s been—”