Havana Storm (Dirk Pitt 23)

“At least we have the photographs, even if my camera will never work again.” She shot her brother a cross gaze.

“I thought it was a disposable,” Dirk said.

“Yes, it is something.” Madero retrieved a folder with Summer’s photographs of the stone. He displayed one that had been enlarged to show details of the glyph.

“Can you tell us what the stone represents?” Summer asked.

“Much along the lines of the codex.” Enthusiasm returned to his voice. “As you can see from the alignment of the glyphs, the stone was cut or broken in half, your piece representing the left-hand segment. The angular designs along the perimeter represent the sun, which symbolizes life and the present era in Aztec lore. The design is very similar to the Aztec calendar stone, except that the interior glyphs are carved in a top-to-bottom narrative rather than concentric circles.”

“Do the glyphs match those on the calendar stone?” Dirk asked.

“More similar to the Stone of Tizoc. It was a sacrificial altar stone, elaborately carved, but also of a commemorative nature. Yours appears to be carved from the same material, a volcanic rock called andesite. While the altar stone is full of proper names, titles, and places, your stone represents more of a narrative tale.”

Summer looked at Madero with anticipation. “And what exactly is the tale?”

“Regrettably, we only have half, but we can make some speculations.” Madero took a deep breath and pointed to the top of the stone, where several rows of glyphs filled the surface within the sun border.

“Here we see skeletal glyphs, which indicate death and sorrow. Like the codex, it is not clear if this is the result of some regional battle or the arrival of the Spaniards. Then we find an image of Huitzilopochtli, the ancestral deity and war god. He appears to be directing an important procession of some sort, the meaning of which is evidently on the other half. And both the Eagle and Jaguar Warriors again signify an importance to the traveling group.”

Madero rubbed his eyes, then turned back to the image. “Next we find some glyphs indicating water and fishing, which are interspersed with our familiar tracks, indicating travels. The interval spacing suggests to me a voyage, as the codex indicated, that possibly lasted over a week. Then things get interesting.”

At the bottom of the glyphs was a rounded blank space along the stone’s broken edge. Madero pointed out a jagged line running beneath it and two irregular circles inside.

“This is some sort of map. It is my belief they carved an image of their destination. From the portion we can see, it was some sort of bay that contained a number of islands. Unfortunately, we would need the other half of the stone to complete the picture.”

“Could that simply be a rendition of Tenochtitlan?” Dirk asked.

“From what we know, the shape of Lake Texcoco doesn’t seem to match. I had the same thought, particularly when I saw this.”

/> He pointed to the image of a bird’s head and neck that ran off the broken edge.

“A flamingo?” Summer asked.

“Or maybe a crane,” Madero said, “signifying Aztlán.”

“Professor Torres told us about Aztlán,” Dirk said. “It was the Aztecs’ ancestral homeland, described as an island within a lagoon.”

“Aztlán, the ‘place of the cranes,’ believed to be somewhere north of the Aztec empire, from where the Mexica originally emigrated.” Madero stared at the stone. “I may be falsely extrapolating, but along with the reference to Huitzilopochtli, the message seems clear. A group of important Aztecs made a pilgrimage to Aztlán. The codex would seem to confirm the trip was made across water and that the voyage was successful.”

“Why the pilgrimage?” Summer asked. “And what were they transporting?”

Madero shrugged. “With only half the stone, we’ll be left with an eternal mystery.”

“It may not be for long,” Dirk said.

“What are you saying?”

“We have a lead on the other half of the stone.”

Madero turned pale and Summer laughed.

“It’s still a long shot,” she said. “I consulted a family friend in Washington, St. Julien Perlmutter, who’s an expert marine historian. He has an associate at the General Archives of the Indies in Seville, who produced a registry of ships that sailed to the New World in the early sixteenth century. One of the ships was named the Bad Bear.”

“I don’t understand,” Madero said.

“I didn’t either, at first,” she said. “I sent Perlmutter a copy of the codex page that showed the galleon with the glyph of the monkey. He went through the ship rolls, searching for some connection to a monkey or other primate, but came up empty. Fortunately, Perlmutter’s a stubborn man and he kept looking for an angle. He found it when he researched the word for monkey in Nahuatl.”

“Ozomahtli,” Madero said.