By Richard W. Baker PRELUDE LATE IN THE SUNSHINE-DRENCHED AFTERNOON they found Jack's dehydrated corpse sprawled across an altar atop the ancient pyramid. Decimating his chest was a deep incision smeared with dried blood. His heart was gone. Jack had been a rangey six-foot-two, and his arms and legs protruded awkwardly from the pint-sized altar. His expression was one of perplexed disbelief. Juan, a highly decorated colonel in the Guatemalan army, felt his stomach turn. He had seen his share of broken men, but never anything like this. "Who could have done such a thing?" he asked Carlos, the young lieutenant who had climbed the pyramid with him. Carlos shook his head. This atrocity was far outside their realm of shared experiences. Both men knew the Mayans had once practiced human sacrifice. Ceremonial protocal had involved extracting the hearts of vanquished foes. Modern-day Mayans weren't proud of this. Almost to a man Mayans felt this part of their heritage was best forgotten. Better to celebrate ancient artwork and the feats of extraordinary astronomers. Even when the Mayans were doing human sacrifice, a thousand years ago, they were pikers compared to the Aztecs. These bloodthirsty people had been known to sacrifice thousands in a single ceremony. Compared to the Aztecs, the Mayans had always been a gentle, peaceul people. Juan had heard young Mayan men speak disparangingly of gringos plundering ancient artifacts, shipping them back to Boston and New York for the entertainment of ignorant gawkers. He wondered if some young Mayans might be dreaming of reclaiming lost glory through retribution. "Could this be the beginning of a rebellion?" he asked. "I have heard no rumors of agitation," Carlos said. "Sure, in the north there have been reports of the Zapatista Army of National Liberation taking up arms against global capitalism. But not here. Our young men want none of this." "I pray you're right," Carlos said." I pray to the holy virgin mother you're right." PROCEED TO CHAPTER ONE