Sam whispered to Amy, “The first three are the team who came to our house to make the offer for the codex.” The Mexican, American, and Guatemalan attorneys who had been at that meeting were joined by three others.

“The other three are partners in a respected local law firm,” Amy said.

Sarah Allersby and the lawyers all remained standing. After a moment, the bailiff called the court to order, and the judge came in, climbed the steps to the bench, and sat. He hammered the gavel a couple of times and called for order. Everyone sat down.

Just as the cloth of the judge’s robe touched his chair, attorneys from both the defense and the prosecution hurried to the bench. They conferred with the judge for several minutes. Sam whispered, “I don’t see any arguing.”

“Neither do I,” Amy whispered. “I think the case has been settled.”

“How could it be?” asked Sam.

“And if it is, what are all the important men doing here?” asked Remi.

“I’m guessing they’re lending the weight of their support to the winning side, so even if justice is blind, it won’t be foolish enough to cause trouble.”

The judge made an impatient gesture at the attorneys, who all scurried away like a flock of chickens and dispersed to their places behind the tables.

“The court has received the following settlement proposed by Miss Allersby’s counsel and seconded by the people of Guatemala.”

“Why would the prosecution settle?” said Sam. Several people nearby turned to look at him with disapproval.

The judge consulted his notes, then began again. Amy translated. “The charge of possession of a Mayan codex should be dismissed for lack of evidence. No such book was found. The charge of threatening people with violence should be dismissed. The two supposed suspects were never found.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Sam said. “Don’t the police get to produce evidence?” There was a murmuring, and people turned to stare a second time.

The judge rapped his gavel and glared at Sam. Amy Costa whispered, “He’s considering clearing the courtroom. Please stay calm or he’ll throw everyone out, and we might have to wait weeks for transcripts.”

The judge set aside the paper he had been reading and picked up another. He began to read again in Spanish.

“I’m not catching that,” said Sam. “What’s he saying?”

“Miss Allersby is claiming to be the uncontested discoverer of the ruined city. She’s asked for a ninety-nine-year lease on the land in exchange for a sum of money to be used by the Interior Ministry to protect wildlife in the Alta Verapaz district.”

“Unbelievable.”

Amy Costa whispered, “He’s describing the negotiated settlement. That doesn’t mean he’ll accept it. Nothing you say will change the terms.”

Sam sat still, watching in silence.

Amy whispered, “Now it’s Commander Rueda. She has asked that he be reassigned so he can’t retaliate against her.”

Sam winced and looked down at his shoes but said nothing.

Amy Costa listened for a moment while the judge said something in a loud, stern voice. Amy translated. “I approve the terms of the settlement and declare this case closed.” He rapped his gavel.

Amy Costa stood up, as a number of other spectators were doing, so they could clear out before the next case began. “Come on,” she whispered to Sam and Remi.

Sam said, “What? It’s over? We can’t testify or present any evidence?” He stood.

Remi watched while half the courtroom turned to stare at Sam again. One of the people who turned to look at Sam was Sarah Allersby. A barely detectable smile of delighted amusement played on her lips for a second, and she turned to face forward again.

“No,” said Amy Costa. “It was settled out of court ahead of time. It happens everywhere.”

“This time, it’s a fraud. The richest person doesn’t just win, she never even gets charged.”

Sam didn’t need any translation when the judge pounded his gavel and ordered, “Remove that man from the court.” He stood and stepped to the aisle. “Don’t bother. I’ll remove myself.”

It was too late — the order had been given. Two large police officers seized him. One twisted his arm behind his back and the other placed him in a headlock, as they hustled him down the aisle, pushed the double doors open with his head, and kept going down the hall. When they reached the larger doors at the entrance to the building, they pushed them open with their free hands and then released Sam with a little push toward the steps.

When Sam found himself outside the imposing building, where the rush of people and traffic surrounded him, he was relieved. He had already been mentally preparing himself for a booking session and a night in the Guatemala City jail. He stopped and waited for Remi and Amy, who appeared a moment later.

As they walked down the steps, Remi said, “I know he’s a friend of yours. I’m so sorry that we got him in trouble. The evidence against Sarah Allersby really was conclusive. You can’t take a picture of something that isn’t in your possession.”

“Don’t worry,” Amy said. “Commander Rueda knew what he was doing and he’ll be fine. He has allies too, and in a week, after this is forgotten, they’ll go to work on his behalf. This is how countries go from corrupt little backwaters to modern nations. People have to push them every step of the way — people like Commander Rueda and people like you.” She gave Sam and Remi a sharp look. “Don’t let up on Sarah.” She turned and walked off toward the American Embassy, leaving Sam and Remi standing in front of the courthouse.

“Come on, let’s go,” said Remi. “I don’t want to be standing here when Sarah Allersby comes out, gloating over her great victory.”

Remi and Sam walked along the street in the direction of their hotel. “So, what do you want to do?” she asked.

Sam shrugged. “I don’t think we can let her go on doing this kind of thing, do you?”

“No, but what can we do about it?”

“We use the Las Casas copy of the Mayan codex to figure out where she’s going and beat her to it.” He smiled. “Then we do it again. And again. And again.”

Sam and Remi sat in the passenger seats of the Bell 206B3 Jet Ranger helicopter with their earphones on to cut the noise while Tim Carmichael, president and chief pilot of Cormorant 1 Air Charter, guided the craft above the endless miles of green treetops. Carmichael spoke over the radio in his Australian accent. “We should be at your next set of coordinates in a few minutes.”

“Great,” said Sam. “We spend one day at each site. At the end of each day, we climb aboard the helicopter and get out of the jungle for the night. The following morning, we fly to a new site.”

“It’s the perfect job for a charter,” said Carmichael. “Fly in, take a nap, fly out.”

“The sites have all been pretty remote,” said Remi. “And all of them are in heavily forested parts of the highlands.”

Carmichael smiled. “No worries. We’ve been in this business since the 1960s and we haven’t lost anyone this week.”

“Good enough for me,” said Sam. “Here’s the aerial shot.” He handed Carmichael an enlarged photograph with the coordinates marked on it in the white border.

Carmichael stared at it, checked the coordinates on his GPS, and handed the photograph back. “We should be there in under five minutes.”

They looked out at the treetops. There were ranges of low bluish mountains in the distance, a deep blue sky, and puffs of unthreatening white clouds. Earlier, they had seen a few roads and small towns, but it had been a long time since they had seen any signs of human inhabitants. Carmichael looked at the GPS.

“There.” Remi pointed at a place in the jungle canopy where gray stone protruded between trees. “It’s right over there.”

Carmichael brought the Jet Ranger around, tipped at an angle so they could look at the site as he circled it. “I definitely see something the color of limestone,” he said. “It comes right up through the trees.”