The Jaguar Queen Read online

  This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.

  THE JAGUAR QUEEN

  First edition. January 12, 2021.

  Copyright © 2021 Betsey Kulakowski.

  ISBN: 978-1948263825

  Written by Betsey Kulakowski.

  Table of Contents

  Copyright Page

  Praise for Betsey Kulakowski and The Veritas Codex Series

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Epilogue

  Afterword

  Preview of The Alien Accord (Book 3 in The Veritas Codex series)

  About the Author

  Also by Betsey Kulakowski

  About the Publisher

  Sign up for Betsey Kulakowski's Mailing List

  Praise for Betsey Kulakowski and The Veritas Codex Series

  “Realistic heroes and villains. International intrigue. More plot twists than a cup of nightcrawlers. Betsey has definitely raised the bar [in The Jaguar Queen].”

  J. Don Wright, author of Behold!

  “The Jaguar Queen keeps the momentum going in the Veritas Codex series. I am becoming very invested in the team of Lauren, Rowan, Bahati and Jean-Rene. “

  Donna Key

  “I couldn’t put [The Veritas Codex] down! I knew halfway through that it was going to be a late night because I couldn’t quit turning the pages. I can’t wait for the next book in the series.”

  Lisa Smallwood

  “I enjoyed [The Veritas Codex]. The writing is well done. I really liked the characters. It kept me engaged to the point I was speed reading (to find out what was going to happen) and I had to slow myself down!”

  Terri Folks

  “Loved it, very engrossing and well written!”

  Lisa Dewberry

  Copyright © 2021 by Betsey Kulakowski

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  For Dwayne, Ian and Rachel. Thank you for always supporting me and encouraging me to achieve my dreams.

  Some say the world will end in fire,

  Some say in ice.

  —Robert Frost

  Prologue

  “Think anyone will miss these?” Matt asked as he came into the lab carrying a crate from the antiquities room.

  “What’s this?” Dr. Enrique DeLaFuentes glanced up at his research assistant.

  “I found some more pieces in the warehouse we can... fence,” the assistant said, lowering his voice. “You want to see?”

  “I do not,” the professor snapped. “I told you. I can’t be associated with this little side project you have going.”

  “And I thought we were a team.” Matt smirked.

  “You know I can’t ...” Dr. DeLaFuentes scowled, sitting back from his work. “And you know why.”

  “I get it,” Matt said, glancing up as there was a shuffle at the door. Voices from the hallway alerted them. The two men exchanged fearful glances and DeLaFuentes nodded at him to move on. Matt quickly retreated to the desk at the back of the lab, trying to melt into the shadows as he booted up the computer and slunk back behind the monitor. The last thing he needed was to get in trouble with the Dean. Dr. DeLaFuentes returned his attention to his work.

  “Enrique,” Dr. Alvarado said as he came into the lab. “Dr. DeLaFuentes? You were expected in my office at 10:00. We had a meeting.”

  The professor looked up from the worktable where he sat hovering over scraps of an ancient document. He seemed surprised to find anyone in the room, much less his boss. The oculus of the jeweler’s loupe made his left eye appear grotesquely oversized. He looked lost, oblivious to his surroundings.

  “Our meeting isn’t until Thursday.” Enrique DeLaFuentes grunted.

  “Today is Thursday,” Alvarado snapped.

  “Oh,” he just shrugged. He returned his attention to his work.

  “Excuse me?”

  “Huh?” The professor looked up, still oblivious to his boss’ anger or the reason for it.

  “What are you looking at that is so important that you chose not to show up for a mandatory meeting?”

  “The Codex.” He grunted, drawn back to the document.

  Alvarado’s brow lifted. “Which one?”

  “Grolier.” He answered curtly.

  “Bah! Everyone knows, the Grolier Codex is a fake! Some clever forger was trying to intimate something he saw on a Maya calendar somewhere.” Suddenly the administrator seemed more interested in the work than some stupid meeting.

  DeLaFuentes’ head shot up and his eyes narrowed. “I disagree. I don’t think it is a fake—and I can prove it.” The professor shook his head. If the Dean wanted a fight, he’d give him one. “Look.” He slid back off the stool and handed the loupe to his doubting colleague.

  The document on the table was in bad shape. Large sections were missing, and the edges where the pages had crumbled away were browned and faded from the intrusion of water. The tallest fragment might have measured 17 centimeters at best, while the width was little more than 12 centimeters. It was no grand grimoire, but the line drawings of Maya gods reflected the art of the ancient era, influenced by the work of the Toltec and other tribes that battled for authority in the region. “It references the star of Venus, which would have been visible in the region. Similar references have been found in other murals in the Yucatán. There are deities that are known, such as the Death God you see here, and this...” His hand moved to the other side of the page. “The Jaguar Queen, a goddess who fell from the stars and became one of the greatest Queens of the ancient era.” DeLaFuentes pointed. “Before she was sacrificed to the gods.”

  “Sacrificed?”

  “You know about the blood rituals, right?”

  “Yes of course. They were intended to give back to the gods what the gods had given.”

  “Well, when famine and war decimated the region, the Jaguar King realized he had to give her back to the gods,” DeLaFuentes said.

  Alvarado studied the images amazed they were still legible, considering the thousands of years they had spent lost beneath the consuming jungle, followed by another decade of hanging on the wall in a cantina in a cheap picture frame. The smell of moldering earth and cigarette smoke lingered as they both leaned over and inspected it.

  “What is it I am looking at, Enrique?” Alvarado groused, thoroughly inspecting the document with the loupe. “Ink? What’s the big deal about the ink?”

  “Look past the ink,” he said. “That’s not the real treasure here. What do you see?”

  “I see plaster, what looks like surgically precise cuts ... like scalpel marks.”

  “It’s what you can’t see that is truly spectacular,” Enrique said. “I’ve conducted a full chemical analysis of the page. It contains only minerals used prior to the European conquest of the Americas. There are no modern inorganic materials. There’s nothing here that would contradict the fact that this codex is a
uthentic.”

  “But what about these cuts? Looks like modern tooling. The water staining at the edges?”

  “Induced degradation. Cracks in the gypsum plaster used to prepare the surface of the document prior to painting.” DeLaFuentes growled. “Look, all the figures conform to the use of sketch and gridlines we typically see in Maya murals.” There was a long pause as DeLaFuentes sat stewing. “You know if this document had been found in a library or a museum, we wouldn’t be having this conversation and I wouldn’t have to justify my research to anyone. But just because someone framed it and hung it on the wall in a bar, suddenly my credibility comes into question.”

  “So what does it mean?” Alvarado sat back and waved his hand over the page.

  “Radiocarbon dating places the Grolier Codex at approximately 1230.”

  Alvarado turned and arched a curious brow at the much older scientist. “Did you say 1230? Pre-Columbian?”

  “Give or take 110 years, plus or minus.”

  “No modern pigments are found here. This is the traditional Maya ink seen in other codices. It’s exceedingly difficult, if not impossible to reproduce ancient inks using modern ingredients.”

  “But ... if ... if it’s authentic, that would make this one of the oldest Maya codices ever found in Meso-America.”

  “The oldest Maya codex ... the only pre-Columbian codex discovered in the course of the 20th century.” DeLaFuentes corrected him. “And there are no ifs about it. It is genuine. And this codex can help prove my theory.” Alvarado glanced up at him. “The Maya were not indigenous to Meso-America.”

  “Not indigenous? What do you mean not indigenous? Where did they come from?”

  “It’s no coincidence that Maya temples are very much like those in Angkor Wat or Egypt.”

  “Interesting theory, Doctor.” His boss sniffed. “But it will have to wait for another day.”

  DeLaFuentes’ heavy brow joined into a unified line of bushy gray over his eyes and nose.

  “This so-called Apocalypse is coming,” the boss said. “The field research teams have been selected to go to Chichén Itzá and assignments have been made. You missed last week’s meeting too. So, you will remain here and help the field research teams on the back end. Dr. Acela will need your help gathering equipment and getting everything ready for the team. Dr. Bechtler and Dr. Haas have teams going to Tikal to examine the structure his team found with the LIDAR. You will also have to fill in and lecture for Dr. Soto’s class. Her undergrad students aren’t eligible to conduct field research. It’s a new cohort and they don’t have enough education or experience in the field.”

  DeLaFuentes was about to protest when the computer beeped, and a shuffling noise followed. Alvarado’s eye was drawn to the back of the lab. “Who’s back there?”

  The assistant popped up, busted. “I’m Matt ... Matt Iago,” he said with an awkward wave. “I’m ...” His eyes darted to Professor DeLaFuentes.

  “He’s my research assistant.” DeLaFuentes snapped.

  Alvarado fixed his eye on him, sharply. “Aren’t you a little old to be a research assistant?” Alvarado took a verbal swipe at him, even though they were about the same age.

  “He’s a grad student ...” DeLaFuentes defended.

  “I’m a late bloomer.” Iago added with a wry grin.

  Alvarado stood and scowled at the assistant who stood transfixed, looking like a frightened deer in the headlights. Alvarado caught DeLaFuentes by the lapel of his moth-eaten old lab coat and all but drug him out to the doorway. “The reason I wanted you in my office this morning was to speak with you about the artifact log.”

  “What about it?”

  “You’ve signed out nineteen different artifacts in the past two weeks,” he said. “Why do you need so many?”

  “I’m a research scientist,” DeLaFuentes said, as if that were sufficient.

  “You know the rules,” Alvarado spat. “One artifact at a time.”

  DeLaFuentes’ eyes shifted side-to-side before he puffed up. His color rose until his cheeks and eyelids were almost purple. “But ... but ...” he sputtered. “I am a tenured professor! I will not be micromanaged like a stupid lab assistant!”

  Alvarado held up a finger. “The rules apply to everyone, even tenured professors.”

  DeLaFuentes’ upper lip rolled up and his mustache looked like a writhing wooly caterpillar beneath his wide, flat nose as he sneered. “Fine.” He spat, resigning indignantly. “But I expect to be assigned to field work just like all the snot-nosed brats in this department!”

  “You’ll get field work when I say you get field work,” Alvarado stated flatly. He turned and walked away. “And make sure all those artifacts on your work bench are returned to the vault immediately,” he called back.

  Matt was standing at the work bench with the crate in front of him, waiting for the tirade to end, but DeLaFuentes made a beeline for him. He was furious with the assistant. “Are you trying to get me fired? You signed out artifacts under my name, didn’t you?”

  “Not all of them.” He held up his hands defensively. “And all the ones I signed out under your name I put back. I might be a lab assistant, but I am not stupid!”

  “If you blow this, I will cut your throat myself,” DeLaFuentes said.

  “But Professor.” The student gulped. “I was incredibly careful. I checked to see what Dr. Soto and Dr. Bechtler’s teams were studying. I pulled artifacts related to their work. No one’s going to catch us. I told you. We’re going to get rich. No one is going to find out. We’re smarter than all of them.”

  DeLaFuentes scowled.

  “You know they don’t appreciate you.” Matt softened his tone. “You’ve worked your whole life for this University and what have they ever given you? Nothing. They don’t pay you a fair wage. They don’t respect you. You are the pre-eminent expert on the Maya here, and yet they’re not even taking you to Chichén Itzá on the eve of what is being touted as the end of the world—the Maya Apocalypse? They probably won’t even give you a lousy gold watch when you retire.”

  “This is all true.” The older man’s anger seemed to flame out and he sunk to the stool by the work bench. The chip on his shoulder, however, weighed heavily on him. “I should be leading that team.”

  “Yes you should. Meanwhile, all that ancient treasure sits down the hall gathering dust. Just imagine how much money one postage-stamp size fragment of that codex would bring. More than this stupid relic.” He picked up a ceramic tile with a Maya glyph carved into its surface. “This is your chance to share our Maya culture with the world, and... get what’s coming to you. You know you deserve it.”

  “You’re right,” DeLaFuentes stood. Resolve spread over his haggard face. “I do deserve it.”

  “Damned right you do.” Matt patted him on the shoulder. And so do I.

  * * *

  Matt was brooding when he returned to the antiquities room with the crate of pieces he’d planned to abscond with. He sat the crate down on a workbench next to the sign out sheet. He glanced at the log. As he inspected it, he noticed that he wasn’t the only one signing out multiple pieces at the same time. He scowled as he debated what he was going to do now. He’d been skimming obscure pieces here and there for the past few months. He knew a guy who’d take them and sell them to collectors for a small commission. Then he’d tell the crusty old professor he’d made half that, and they’d share the rest, fifty-fifty. Of course he was really getting 70 percent. But the way Matt saw it, he was taking all the risk. Why shouldn’t he get the lion’s share? Besides, he needed the money to finance a bigger project.

  This little ruse was all part of his master plan to get back to Chichén Itzá. He hoped this Maya Apocalypse foolishness combined with DeLaFuentes’ expertise would be his golden ticket. Alone, he was little more than a tourist. A tourist who had to buy a ticket and stay with a group and a lame tour guide. He needed full access to the site, one without prying eyes or incessant questions.

  �
�Hey!” A voice found him lost in thought. He nearly startled out of his skin.

  “Oh, hey, Ria.” He picked up the crate.

  “You got told to put back all the extra artifacts too?” Ria asked. She was Dr. Soto’s lab assistant. She had several items of her own to check in.

  “Yeah,” Matt said. “Like what difference does it make?”

  “Well I heard someone’s been stealing and selling artifacts on the black market,” she blabbed.

  Matt turned sharply. “What?” He drug the word out, trying to come off as completely stunned.

  “I know, right?” She bought his act, he was sure.

  “How do you know this?”

  “I overheard Dr. Alvarado talking to Dr. Soto yesterday.”

  “Who do they think would do that?” He crossed his arms and ran his thumb over his lower lip as he eyed her. His mind was awash with panic.

  Ria hesitated, looking over her shoulder to make sure she wasn’t overheard. “The only name I heard mentioned ... was DeLaFuentes. You know him better than anyone. Do you think he could do something like that?”

  Matt looked over the bin in front of him. His eye found the ceremonial dagger he already had a buyer for. “Who would want to take these ... these beautiful pieces? I mean ... this is our history.”

  Ria leaned in to inspect the tray and a flicker sparked in her eye. Her gaze lifted to match his. Her face went blank as if she were trying to hide the pieces she had just put together. Matt’s smile faded just as quickly as her’s did. Her finger raised weakly, pointing at him. “You ...” she started, but she didn’t finish.

  Like a jaguar striking, Matt turned sharply, moving so fast she never saw it coming. The obsidian blade, though ancient, was plenty sharp enough for the job. A thin red line formed across her neck. It seemed to widen. Then, in a gush, the blood poured from her throat. Her eyes went wide, but she remained frozen. She coughed, and the blood sprayed. Matt leapt aside, dodging it. Panic gripped him as he realized what he’d done. He’d had to. He had no choice. She’d caught him at his game, and he couldn’t afford to be caught. He’d already escaped from one jail. He would die before he went back.