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On his last trip to Guatemala, he’d persuaded his pilot to continue north after they were done scanning the Xmakabatún ruins. They’d flown across the Mexican border, to an uncharted and unexplored place within the Calakmul Biosphere Reserve. Because of the dense jungles in that area, there was no way to see it by satellite, but that’s where the LiDAR equipment was so powerful. The pinpricks of laser light could penetrate the minuscule gaps in the leaves and hit the ground of the jungle floor, revealing changes in the topography. Like the symmetrical rise of a pyramid compared to an irregular hilltop. Dr. Estrada’s research was primarily focused on ruins in Guatemala because of grants and funding provided to that country. The Mexican government had forbidden permission for his research, but the temptation had been too hard to ignore . . .
It had happened over a year ago, right before Christmas. Estrada and his pilot had gotten far enough to see part of a temple protruding from the jungle. A man had been on the ground, looking up at them. It had been . . . disarming. And then a storm had appeared out of nowhere and nearly blown their airplane out of the sky. Dr. Estrada had been in mortal dread that they would crash into the jungle and die, but they’d made it out somehow. He hadn’t told anyone about that little excursion. Not the dean at the university. Not his own wife. For months afterward, he’d dreaded getting a call from someone in the US government responding to a complaint from Mexican authorities. Now, perhaps, it had come.
“Why would you think you’re in trouble, Dr. Estrada?” asked Agent Foster.
Dr. Estrada lowered his voice and hunched his shoulders. He was sweating as if he were in the server room instead of an air-conditioned office space. “How can I help you, Agent Foster?” His voice was shaking. That made him sound guilty, right?
“If I understand your research, Dr. Estrada, you use laser technology to map ruins in the Yucatán Peninsula. There was a National Geographic special on it a few years ago. I watched the clip.”
I’m in trouble. I’m in deep trouble. He took a worried sip from the cup of xocolatl, anticipating the coldness but welcoming the flush of energy it gave him. It was a special drink made in the Yucatán. He’d discovered it from an Indigenous tribe that had little contact with the outside world and had purchased the beans and other ingredients so he could make it himself. It wasn’t cheap, but it was so much better than coffee.
“Yes. That’s my research. I’m with the Qualcomm Institute that—”
“I know, Dr. Estrada. I also understand that your work is primarily out of Guatemala and Belize. But have you ever used your equipment across the border in Mexico?”
Deep trouble. I’m screwed.
“W-why do you ask?” Dr. Estrada said. His hand was literally shaking. Illari was giving him a questioning look that wasn’t helping his nerves. His mouth was dry. He needed to use the bathroom very badly.
“You sound nervous, Dr. Estrada. Is everything all right? Are you alone?”
“No . . . I’m . . . my research assistant is with me. Several others. Winter quarter just began, so there are a lot more people here this week.”
“I won’t take up much of your time, Dr. Estrada. But can you answer my question? Has your research ever covered areas inside Mexico?”
Don’t lie to the FBI. His stomach clenched further. If he admitted to it on the phone, he might get charged with a crime. But why would Agent Foster be calling him if he didn’t already know? They’d hunted down the plane. They’d probably spoken to the pilot. The bribe that Dr. Estrada had paid to keep him quiet wouldn’t be enough for him to lie to the FBI.
“Yes. Yes . . . I have.”
He was doomed. His career would be over. All his work would be questioned. He never should have coaxed the pilot into entering Mexican airspace. He cursed himself for being a fool.
“You have?” The agent sounded startled. “And you used your LiDAR equipment?”
“Yes,” Dr. Estrada said, wincing, waiting for the blow to fall.
A pause. Then Agent Foster continued. “Have you examined the data? I know that you’ve found thousands of ruins in the jungle down there. Did any strike you as being exceptionally large or well preserved?”
“Or inhabited?” Dr. Estrada said, half choking.
“You found something.”
Dr. Estrada collected his breath. “Yes,” he whispered. “I’ve told no one, not even my colleagues here. Only the pilot knows.” He turned away from Illari so she couldn’t see his face.
“But the data is there? At the institute?”
“Yes. There are terabytes of data on those ruins.”
“Thank you, Dr. Estrada. The information you’ve provided is very useful. We’ll be in touch soon.”
“Am I in—” he started, but the call ended abruptly.
“Who was that?” Illari asked worriedly.
“Someone from the FBI,” he said. “They want to talk about my research. Our research.”
“Did it have . . . anything to do with me?” She looked guilty as she said it, and it occurred to him that she might have secrets of her own.
“Not specifically, no,” he muttered.
