Free The Maya Codex by Adrian D'Hagé

miss you terribly, my sweet. I long for your touch.
    Your Ramona. Always. xx

    Levi knew he was running out of time. He’d thoroughly investigated Pyramids I, II, III, and IV, but without success. In Pyramid IV, he’d discovered a secret niche, much like the one where he’d discovered the male figurine in Pyramid I all those years ago, but the niche was empty. Had one of the figurines already been discovered by someone else? In the past week, he’d attempted to examine the small room beneath the decorative comb on top of Pyramid V, but each time he’d been disturbed by either von Heißen or Father Ehrlichmann. It was as if his every move was being watched. Somehow he would have to find a way to examine Pyramid V late at night, after von Heißen and Ehrlichmann had retired.
    Levi looked at his watch: 5 p.m. Dusk was only an hour away. He would pay a courtesy visit to von Heißen’s tent on his way to meet the village elders.
    ‘Well, Herr Professor. To what do I owe this unexpected pleasure?’ von Heißen sneered. The level in the bottle of Glenfiddich, one of several dozen von Heißen had insisted be included in the cargo, was well down.
    ‘Just to let you know I’m sharing a meal with the villagers tonight. I’m not sure what time I’ll be back.’
    ‘Why do you want to eat with the hired help?’ Von Heißen refilled his metal tumbler.
    ‘If you are to understand Mayan hieroglyphics, Sturmbannführer, you must first understand the culture, and in any case I consider it an honour to share a meal with these people. They have much to teach us.’
    ‘Well, that’s your view, Weizman. If you want to go and eat beans and bananas, I’m not going to stop you. But you might remind the head honcho down there that I’ve yet to see the young woman I pointed out to him. Her name was Itzy something or other …’ Von Heißen was already slurring his words. ‘We Germans are the descendants of the master race, Weizman, remind him of that, too.’
    Levi turned on his heel, his anger rising. In von Heißen and Himmler’s twisted world, ancient skulls could somehow provide proof of the master race, while the modern Maya descendants somehow fell outside of their bizarre mathematical calculations. Levi strode across the dirt airstrip and when he reached the jungle track that led to the village, he stopped and took several deep breaths. It was pointless enough arguing with von Heißen when he was sober, he reminded himself, let alone when he was full of piss and wind.
    The village was nearly three kilometres from the ruins, but Levi had only gone about half a kilometre when he sensed he was being followed. He turned to look back, peering past the heavy leaves and foliage hanging over the jungle track, but apart from a troop of howler monkeys above and the throaty squawks and screams of a pair of red macaws ahead, the track seemed deserted. Half an hour later he reached the river. The water ran swiftly, and the roar of the falls grew louder as Levi approached the rickety rope bridge that spanned the crossing point. It was hard to see in the eerie half-light, but again, Levi sensed movement a hundred metres or so along the track behind him. He moved off the track and waited.

7
    VIENNA, MARCH 1938
    I t was still dark when Chancellor von Schuschnigg’s phone dragged him from the depths of an exhausted sleep. The Austrian Chancellor groped for the bedside-lamp switch and looked at his watch: 5.30 a.m.
    ‘Schuschnigg.’
    ‘Es tut mir leid Sie zu wecken, Herr Bundeskanzler,’ the Austrian Chief of Police apologised, ‘but the Germans have closed the border at Salzburg. All rail traffic has been halted and I have reports German troops are massing on the other side.’
    Von Schuschnigg thanked him and hung up. Wearily he swung his feet out of bed and headed for the bathroom. An hour later his black Mercedes turned into the Ballhausplatz . A light dusting of snow glistened in the headlights.
    Herr Seyss-Inquart, a young pro-Nazi