Free Treasure of the Mayan King (2012) by Alehandro, Zabala

them for violating his tomb. That is impossible! Let us not panic, Chauncy, there is a scientific explanation for these phenomena.”
    Chauncy held his nose because of the stench of the vomit
    Comandante Solis looked around with a terrified expression. He saw that, one by one, his men were succumbing to the mysterious ailment. His men were yelling and begging him to leave the site without King Chac’s remains, lest the king’s ghost kill them all.
    “What is the meaning of this?” Solis shouted to no one in particular. A moment later a deep anger came to his eyes and he spun around and approached Dr. Sova.
    Before he could speak, a look flickered across his face. Chauncy stared in horror as Solis began to cough. The commander tried to conceal his discomfort, but within seconds he, too, was on the ground vomiting.
    Dr. Sova overpowered Comandante Solis and picked up his gun from the ground. “Chauncy, quickly, get a rope and tie up this swine!”
    As they tied the commander’s arms, Dr. Sova ordered the other archaeologists and laborers to bind up the rest of the rebels. Within moments, all of the rebels were sitting inside the courtyard with their hands tied behind their backs. All of the men were looking at Dr. Sova. The doctor was going to dramatically make an example of Solis.
    Dr. Sova lifted Solis by his shirt collar, forcing the commander to stand up in front of his men. Vomit dripped from his chin to his stained shirt. His face was contorted with pain.
    Dr. Sova plucked a small vial from his shirt pocket and tapped it on Solis’ forehead. “You fool! Do you know what this is, Commander?”
    Comandante Solis closed his eyes as the object was tapped against his forehead. Opening them again when the doctor had stopped, he glanced at the vial but didn’t answer.
    “It is syrup of Ipecac in a concentrated form. Do you know what it does?”
    Solis glared and shook his head.
    Dr. Sova laughed. “Are you having trouble figuring it out? Ha, ha! Well, I will indulge you. In mild doses, this syrup makes you nauseated. In strong doses, it gives you horrendous stomach cramps and produces extreme vomiting seizures. Understand now?”
    Now the commander’s expression would have melted ice. “So you are responsible for this?”
    “Bang!” Dr. Sova said, clearly enjoying himself. “Did you hear that, ladies and gentlemen? Comandante Solis just had a flashing revelation! If you have not pieced the puzzle together yet, allow me to do it for you. I took advantage of your men and their natural disposition to superstition. All this time they thought it was the evil spirit of King Chac. This morning, via a bit of sleight of hand, I poisoned your water supply.”
    “But what about the wailing in the hills, surely you could not have done that!”
    Dr. Sova laughed again as he pulled a small black object from his pocket. “This is called a remote control, in case you did not know that. And this…” Dr. Sova held the remote in the air for all to see and then pressed a button on it.
    Immediately a wailing sound cut through the air, reverberating from the hills.
    “How did you do that?” Comandante Solis demanded in an incredulous tone.
    Dr. Sova turned off the wailing sound and returned the remote to his pocket. “Many years ago I read an article about music therapy. It went on to explain how dairy farmers in the Midwestern United States would play music for their cows, such as Mozart, Beethoven, Bach and other classics. They noticed that the cows were actually producing more milk. So I thought to myself, why not do the same for my workers so they can be more productive?
    “So when I first came to Palenque, I had special weatherproof wireless speakers installed in the hills that were linked to a CD player in my tent. I had planned to try playing classical music for them, but as time went on I became distracted with other matters and dropped the experiment. Last night, however, I covered my head in my bed sheets so as not to