Session 13 - Marcus Journal

I was a mess, Sloane left me for the evening to my own devices, largely consisting of alcohol consumption to a level I had not experienced since the war.

It was the first time I had seen Sloane as a support rather than a man in need of care.

The morning came after a long and violent headache, the punishment for my uncontrollable drinking.  Sloane had left me a note, he had arranged for his friends on the police force to arrange transport for my wife and daughter to Janet, she would send them away to a place of which I did not know and hopefully no one else would know either.

The day passed slowly, I found myself wandering off in my own head, without realising it, I had begun drawing the strange symbol in the air in front of me while whispering to myself.  Upon catching myself, I stopped instantly.  The problem I faced was that I caught myself doing this at least a dozen times during the course of the day.

As night fell, Sloane entered the penthouse, I instantly inquired as to the relocation of my family. Before he spoke to me, he packed Carl, his son who had been out most of the day with what I could only assume was an employee of Janet’s to take him all over the city.  Packing Carl’s things, he took him downstairs before returning alone several minutes later.  He filled me in on the basics, his Police friend Mr Dunn had arranged transport of my family through his connections within the Bostin Police Department, they were transported to the city limits of New York where Dunn was waiting.

Sloane had been involved in a lengthy discussion with Dunn, who in turn had had a long phone call with Janet, it was decided that due to the nature of the threat against everyone involved, that Dunn would be in charge of location and transportation.  As Sloane and I were in no state to make clear decisions when it came to the safety of our families, we had no choice in the matter.  My only hope was that Dunn was far enough removed from us as to not draw the attention of those watching us.

Janet entered soon after Sloane had filled me in on the transport arrangements.  She told us that my associate Father Rigel would be joining us within the next 48 hours, and that her guide to the Yukatan, Rick Luke would be here tomorrow night.

This gave Sloane and myself a day to put our minds to anything we thought useful for the upcoming expedition.  Sloane’s first thoughts were of weapons and explosives, after our exploits in Mexico, I couldn’t say I blamed him.

I began looking into the basics I could remember from my old days of travelling around the world.  It seemed harder now than it was then, possible due to the fact that it had been several years since and I had been working to put that all behind me.

Sloane returned after a short time with news that a shipment of arms would be delivered to the hanger tomorrow, he seemed reasonably pleased with himself at his acquisition.  Receiving that news I made my way to the library, I had some extensive reading to do on “Xoxul”, the tribe or entities resonating the deity or gods of the area, for all I knew, it was a place, not a person at all.

I spent hours at the library, stumbling across numerous texts written by many authors.  After reading several of these boos I discovered that Xoxul, of more particularly Chehen Xoxul, was more a place rather than an entity.  Source material into the location was contradictory however, the three books I discovered were: “Into the Yukatan Peninsula” by Dr Arthur Cartwright.  “The Diary of a Conquistador” by Francisco De La Belalcazar and “A Survey of Satan” by Glauco Suarez.

The first book by Dr Arthur Cartwright explains that he travelled to the Yukatan to investigate the Mayan Ruins there.  He explains his encounters with the primitive and wild natives of the emerald land.  The name Xoxul, Cartwright explains and translates as “Outcasts” or “Pariah” based on his conversations with the local Mayan population.  He remarks of the sizeable ruins and a pyramid concealed within the jungle, surrounded by smaller ruins, all packed together in a small community, something of a secret and remote place.

Cartwright also identifies the term “Golxumal”, he claims it refers to all the land controlled by the Xoxul around its centre Chihen Xoxul, making further references to sea voyages, it appears his experience of the area illustrates that the controlled territory was at one time very vast.

The second book by Glauco Suarez, a semi biographical study from 1527, Suarez was a monk attached to an expedition to conquer the Yukatan by the Spanish Conquistador Francisco De Montejo.  Suarez explains that his study shows the dire need for Christian missionaries to be in the Yukatan as the local worship something known as “Golxumal”.  By this text, it is not a place at all but a deity.  Also referred to as the ‘Fisher from Outside’, this deity has been reported to pluck the souls of the living as he accepts them into his bosom.

This book seems contradictory to the previous book as one references to Golxumal as a place, the other a deity.

The third book I read by Francisco De La Belalcazar, a strange text that predates the others, Belalcazar was a conquistador sent to scout the peninsular in 1518, when Cortez passed through the Yukatan in 1519, Belalcazar remained behind to consolidate the estates of Cortez.  By 1522, he had become fascinated with the legents of Chichen Xoxul, like the city of gold, he determined that it must have been a place of great wealth and knowledge.  His efforts to locate it however were troubled, no guide would assist, simply stating “I am no Xoxul and I will not go to their place”.  In 1523 however Belalcazar arranged and expedition and disappeared into the jungle never to be seen or heard from again.

A strange series of events based around the Spanish incursions into the Yukatan, it did not put my mind any more at ease.

The day of reading was not making my head feel any clearer on what was to come, the only thing for it was to begin our expedition.  Sloane and I returned to the Penthouse, it was empty, a simple note left on the table, it was in Janet’s writing, a dinner reservation for a high class restaurant down the road.  Both Sloane and I were expected at 8pm, this made Sloane panic as his usual attire was not what you would call, suitable.

The hour between our return and the dinner reservation at 8pm was spend tidying ourselves up.  Showers and modest clothing was the best we could manage.  We arrived at the restaurant on time to find Janet sitting at a table with a slick looking gentleman.  They rose at our approach and the man introduced himself as Rick Luke, our guide to the Yukatan.

We spoke at length to Rick, his ambitions that of a city man on a wild goose chase for fame.  His intentions were to find Chechen Xuxul and put it on the map rather than keep it as a place of potential danger and fear.  His exploits ranged from hunting in the jungle to what seemed to be nature walks in the outskirts of Merida, our port for the expedition.  The only tangible information we could get out of him was that Chichen Xuxul was going to be a 35-50 mile trek on foot through dense jungle, something that made Sloane itch.  His mention of roaming bandits left over from the Mayan revolts against the westernisation of the area also gave me cause for concern, I had already killed Mexicans, how much more killing would be required of me.  Luke also explained that he would allow for 15-16 people based on our expectations of a company of 6-7 men including Sloane and myself to be doing the work at the site.  Luke also told us of his connections in the area for things like extra men for bad situations and guides to navigate the trickier parts of the jungle.

At the conclusion of our meal together, both Sloane and I were somewhat impressed at the stories Luke had told us, however we were both not expecting too much as our experience of men who make claims of grand achievements rarely measure up.

Upon our return to the Penthouse, the desk clerk alerted me to a strange man sitting in the lobby waiting for us.  To my great relief, Rigel had finally arrived.

I embraced him as my brother, one of the few I had left who I knew I could trust.  We headed to the Penthouse whee I noticed Rigel take offence to Sloane’s immediate use of the bar.  A series of notes that he gave me, his lack of speech evident, firstly requiring to know what it was we were hunting.  It was clear the ‘Witch Hunter’ still put his work first.  The second batch of notes explained on his impressions of Sloane, that he was a liability, and a man with such little faith should not be part of this hunt.

I explained the on goings of the previous weeks to him, he understood Sloane’s involvement, yet was still less than impressed, vowing to keep an eye on him as men with such little fear of God were always the most easily tainted by the unnatural evils of the world.

Rigel requested to know details of the enemy, I pointed him to the library Janet had compiled based on our recovery of literature on our investigation.  It was late, I retired for the evening, waking only to find Rigel, still sitting in the sitting room, several books tossed over his shoulder, something I had seen him do years ago to texts he found useless.  Another pile resided on the table, clearly the ones he had been reading all night, another pile of books a little further along, books he still had yet to read.  For a man who could not talk, his ability to devour text and comprehend its meaning was astounding.

We all headed to the plane at 10am, the time we had told Rick Luke we would be ready to leave at the dinner the previous evening.  Arriving at the airport, Sloane was happy to see a large crate with his name on it being loaded onto the plane, the weapons he had ordered from his less than reputable source.

Once on board, we found Luke making himself at home, much to Sloane’s offense, he seemed to have made his home in the seat Sloane had grown fond of.  Frank was back in the cockpit, able to fly, but clearly still in pain from his injuries.  We both expressed our admiration of the man, he was truly a dedicated marvel.

During the flight, Rigel sat silently, as usual, reading the texts he had taken from the penthouse, for some reason it seemed the last few years had robbed him of his need for sleep.  Sloane and I began inspecting the arms Sloane had secured.

Opening the crate, it seemed to be a one stop shop for military use.  Rifles, pistols and shotguns, belts of ammunition and holsters for everything along with survival style packs and canteens, it was clear Sloane had expressed that we were going to war, his only disappointment, the absence of dynamite.

I was relieved to find a replacement for the Colt 1911 pistol I had been relieved of by John Smith and his Bangkok thugs in the crate along with a nice waste holster.  Looking at the riffles within, I found a very nice Lee Enfield Speed rifle, similar to the army issue model I had carried during the war, except with less wood and much easier to carry, a full ammunition belt also accompanied the rifle, taking them both, I began cleaning and familiarising myself with the arms.

Sloane on the other hand, disappointed with the lack of dynamite, pulled from the crate a second Smith and Wesson Revolver, a much longer barrel than the one he already carried with him.  His eyes did however light up at the cut down double barrelled shotgun he found buried at the bottom of the crate, fastening some leather straps to it, he slung it over his shoulder so that it hung under his arm before strapping a belt of shotgun shells around his waist.  He then returned to the crate,  pulling a short, lever action rifle and ammunition belt from the box, something I though came straight out of the wild west, Sloane inspected the rifle and swung it over his free shoulder, I couldn’t help but mention that he did look like he was going to war.  His only response was the lack of dynamite.  He seemed to have the notion in his head that he intended to feed it to the next mouth he saw.

We arrived in Merida, a truly beautiful city.  It was clear that this was a place of wealth.  Luke informed us that the city was formed on the Henequen trade, a natural product used to make rope, some of the finest rope found in the world, due to its vast demand, in the early 1900’s more millionaires resided here than anywhere else in the world.  The city itself was built on old Mayan ruins, built by the Spaniards around the same era as the books I had been reading.  It was complete with a Municipal Palace, Government house, a museum of anthropology and library combined, many buildings of old Corporate design all surrounded by thick jungle on all sides.  Merida was truly a manmade Oasis amongst the vast green.

We were to spend the first few days based in Merida, organising our expedition, supplies and provisions were all to be arranged through Luke and his contacts.  I spent the first day looking about the city, my main interest was the Library building with the museum of anthropology attached, Sloane accompanied men as he clearly had no interest in being around Rigel.  In the library I could find nothing referencing Xoxul at all, my lack on understanding of Spanish letting me down when asking for assistance.  Sloane on the other hand, somehow bluffed his way through finding out a few basics before locating Luke and dragging him to the library to act as an interpreter.  The library assistant informed us of another group from Mexico City that had gone into the jungle recently and were yet to return, we enquired to try and find out if the assistant knew of a Sancho Dominguez, the man in contact with Brooks via telegram and letters that we had found in his house.  The assistant vaguely remembered the name, he was part of the expedition that had recently entered the jungle, they had taken the best guide, a man by the name of Yakinto Esposito, a man of much respect within those circles.

We asked if there were any other recommendations for guides as when we mentioned that Luke was ours, the assistant only smiled and let out a slight chuckle under his breath.  The assistant informed us that Pablo Garza and Guillermo Castillo were the next best two and they were contactable through the hardware store.

We requested Luke accompany us to the hardware shop and set up a meeting with the guides for the evening, in the meantime, our confidence rocked as to Luke’s reputation, I began looking about the hardware shop, finding a pair of boots and machete’s far superior to anything I had seen in New York, obviously here expeditions required something a little sturdier than regular outdoor shoes for hiking in the American outdoors.  I grabbed boots for myself and Sloane, along with a machete each, something Luke told us were not needed, however with this less than reputable man as our source of comfort, I thought it best to make sure a few things were done right.

Sloane then took Luke to the post office, the letters from Dominguez to brooks spoke of runners if there was any news at the location they were headed to.  At the post office, not a single runner had come back.

While Sloane and Luke were at the post office, I took a walk around the city, firstly stopping back at the hotel to find Rigel, I informed him of my worries about Luke and requested he keep a close eye on him, continuing my sightseeing I found myself stopping at Casa Asul, what was the homestead of Francisco De La Vega, the owner of the land we were heading to, it was clear that this house was still rich.  According to Luke, Francisco De La Vega ran Merida, he had his fingers in everything from trade to water supply.  His name was also clear on many interactions with Brooks.

I rang the bell at the front gate, I then drew a black as a groundskeeper approached me.  He enquired as to my business and without thinking, I told him I was Kornovalov, here to see De La Vega, the man returned inside and told me that I should call again in the morning for an appointment.

Slightly shocked, containing my insecurity as to the lie I had just told, I returned to the hotel to find Sloane and Luke, we were to interview guides at 8pm.  I told Sloane of my folly at the house of De La Vega, he immediately shook his head, yet understood my actions as we needed authorisation to be on his land.

8pm came quickly, the two guides arrived, one clearly a peasant, his clothing and general smell gave it away.  The other, dressed in a suit, looking more like a business man than a guide.

The peasant was first, we decided to make the suit wait, just to see if he was the real deal.  The Peasant, Pablo Garza, insisted he knew the jungle but was tentative to venture in the direction of Chichen Xoxul as there were apparently beings there that cause fear beyond that of any animal, offering him more money than I think he had seen before, he agreed to come with us as a guide, little help is better than none, Sloane and I agreed.

The Suit, Guillermo Castillo, spoke English and was very blunt, explaining his position as the best guide around and the only reason he had not gone on the previous expedition with Dominguez was that he could not afford him.  After a long and tedious debate with Castillo, we agreed to pay his rate plus a bonus when we return to Merida.  If he was as good as he says, it should be a smooth trip, also allocating him the responsibility of being in charge of all staff and supplies needed, his clear dislike for Luke at the fact that he was an ill-conceived treasure hunter rather than an actual guide gave us more cause for concern, thus making him the new official expedition leader.  Once the guides had left, Sloane and I agreed that Rigel, clearly the most alert and stealthy of us was to shadow Castillo, something about him seemed menacing, something we both couldn’t put our finger on.

We hired both guides, under the assumption that if things went terribly wrong, at least one of them would know how to get us back to Merida.

The night was filled with nightmares for both Sloane and I, however Sloane’s were more based around Rigel than the wilds of the Jungles.  Castillo had peaked my interest in his knowledge of what was out there, some things beyond words or explanation.  The morning yielded strange things, telephoning the estate of De La Vega alerted us that he had extended an invitation to Kornovalov and guest to join him for dinner.  Strange as this man had clearly heard of Kornovalov and extended the invitation as an apology for not meeting the previous day.

It was decided that I would play Kornovalov and Sloane would play Brooks.

As evening fell again on this beautiful city, Sloane and I made our way to the gate of the large blue house that was the residence of De La Vega.  It was decided that as I was playing a Russian, Sloane would do most of the talking.  We were greeted at the gate by one of the servants of the house and ushered to a large dining area on the balcony of the large house, overlooking the city.

De La Vega, a large Mexican man announced himself and shook our hands promptly before sitting at the head of the table.  The correspondence we had read between De La Vega and Brooks through the words of Dominguez were that of a man not worth entertaining.  However after talking at length to De La Vega, his main concern was that he did not wish for westerners to go missing in the jungle, let alone another expedition to not return as he clearly thought that the expedition Dominguez had taken part in was lost or perished.  It was clear De La Vega had never met Brooks and Kornovalov, considering his hospitality and free flow of information.

After an hour or so of talking, he reluctantly gave his permission for us to be on his land.  He advised us severely of the dangers that lay beyond the veil of the jungle, indigenous bandits, regular mercenaries and tribes long forgotten and not read about in any book, that’s without mentioning the varieties of deadly wildlife concealed within.

Both Sloane and I left the house puzzled, he didn’t seem to be the pest that Dominguez had warned of, more just a man not wanting to see his reputation tarnished in the eyes of the western world.  A businessman of sorts, only trying to keep his work and fortune alive.  Missing Americans means investigation and concerns on an international level.

We returned to our hotel, the news of the permission giving us more cause and haste in our desire to enter the vast green of the surrounding Jungle.