2012: Timeline Apocalypse

by Bob Nailor

Chapter 1: The Theft

12:04 p.m. Wednesday, December 12, 2012.

The television blared on with impending disasters. A volcano was exploding on some distant island. The stock market was dropping. I couldn't get too involved since I remembered the drop back in 2008. It took a few months but it rallied back up and once again had stabilized in the mid 1300s. The volcano wasn't anything new, it had blown back in 2009. Why the panic?

I stood there mulling over my possibilities. The can of chicken rice soup looked like an easy fix but a bowl of chili with rice sounded a little tastier. I opened the frig: leftover fried chicken, some gamey tuna salad, a chunk of cheese, three boxes of unknown take-out, two beers and a partial bottle of cheap wine. I grabbed a beer and the top take-out box. Lunch surprise I thought while lifting the lid of the container. I stared at the contents; it was still a mystery. There was fried rice, broccoli, a dark sauce and chicken. I didn't see any seeds so that eliminated Sesame Chicken. Whatever it was, it appeared safe to eat although I wasn't sure how long it had been in the frig. I popped it into the microwave, pushed numbers, hit 'Start' and then twisted off the beer cap. A slug of beer gushed down my throat; it was crisp, cold and satisfying.

The tv caught my attention. I flopped onto the couch almost spilling the beer.

...and now here is Lisa LaRue, live from Mexico. Lisa?

Thank you, Charles. This is Lisa LaRue and I'm standing near the Temple of Inscriptions here in Palenque. We are watching the latest development of a new cult that has quickly grown to very large proportions. Near the top you can see the scuffle as the followers of this cult are trying to hold back the authorities. We've been informed that at the very top, a self proclaimed high priest of the new Mayan religion is preparing for the first of many supposed sacrifices to Tonatiuh. The camera pans up to the figure near the top. As you can see, it appears that he has what appears to be a goat that he will be sacrificing to the sun god. The man, dressed in bold blue, red, and yellow feathers holds a dark knife like blade in his hand. He raises it then plunges into the animal. His hand comes up, he is clasping a bloody mass. Oh my god, it looks like he has ripped the animal's heart out–

The screen reverts back to a caught off-guard Charles in the newsroom.

Uh, yes, folks, we'll have more information after this word from our sponsors. He politely smiles at the camera and straightens some papers. A commercial cuts in.

The phone rang startling me from the hypnotic view of the screen. I reached over and grabbed it.

"Hargrove," I snapped into the receiver before realizing that I wasn't at the office.

"Mr. Hargrove?" A timid voice asked. "I mean Detective Barry Hargrove?"

"Yes," I replied. "Can I help you?" In the kitchen I heard the microwave chirp that it had finished and was waiting for me to remove it.

"This is Dr. Martinez," he said. "Would you be willing to accept a case?"

He had definitely piqued my interest. I mean, it was work. Things had been a little slow at the office, so anything would be a start. Of course, I was curious as to why he was calling me at home then realized I'd put the phone on call-forwarding.

"Perhaps we could discuss this at my office," Martinez said. "Is there any particular time that would be convenient for you? Later today? Maybe tomorrow?"

"Any time after nine, tomorrow will work." I replied. "Of course, I could stop by this afternoon if that is better." I still had no idea what was happening or where I was going but it sure sounded like I'd taken the case.

"Nine thirty tomorrow would be fine," he said and proceeded to give me the address. "Oh, wait. I have a meeting at nine forty-five. Hmm?" There was a pause. "Could you be here by one thirty this afternoon?"

"See you then, Dr. Martinez," I replied.

I glanced at my watch. 12:20. I didn't have much time. The microwave chirped again, the mystery meal was calling. I yanked it from the machine, grabbed a fork, took a bite and immediately spit it out. Not only was it too damned hot, it tasted awful; either it had went bad in the frig or this is some crap that Sheila, I think that was her name, had ordered. I guzzled the beer hoping it would destroy any germs and kill the taste in my mouth.

* * * * *

1:37 p. m. Wednesday, December 12, 2012.

I followed Dr. Martinez through the museum into the Central American Arts Exhibit. He'd been somewhat informative yet quite cryptic up in his office. All I knew for sure was that there had been a theft of an item and that item was quite valuable. I quietly snickered trying to think of any item on display in a museum that was worthless. He had alluded to Mayan history, the Aztec calendar and something about an upcoming timeline or deadline. It was obvious that Dr. Martinez was either quite nervous or an extremely fidgety person while we were in his office. Here, in the hallways, his mannerisms had completely changed and he was very calm.

For the most part, the museum was empty but as we entered this section, a small group of school children with their teacher walked through the exhibit. They were about as quiet as kids at that age can be. Dr. Martinez nodded to the young woman in charge.

"Good afternoon," he said to her then looked to the children. "Are you finding the exhibits interesting?" he asked.

They nodded excitedly and raised their voices in acknowledgment. The teacher immediately shushed them and thanked him.

"Enjoy today," he said and then turned to me. "Shall we continue?"

"Lead on," I said and politely nodded to the teacher.

I had taken note that she was approximately thirty years of age and single since she had no engagement or wedding ring on her finger. Being single and early thirties, I usually noted certain things of the opposite sex, especially whether they were single or not.

"Mr. Hargrove," Martinez said. "In just a few more steps, we'll enter into the antiquities section of the Meso American exhibits. You'll see what I've been talking about." He produced a key and opened a door into another dimly lighted section of the museum. "We've closed this section until we figure out how to handle the situation."

I frowned. "Please, call me Detective Hargrove," I said. "Mister just sounds so formal." Actually I hated when people referred to me as mister. I had worked hard to get my detective licence and I didn't want to be slighted on my title. He was a doctor and I was quite sure that if I called him mister he would be upset. "Situation?" I asked. Now I was confused, I'd thought it to be a theft.

"Here it is," he said stopping between three displays. "What do you think?"

I stared at the displays: a crystal skull, a small, finely beaded satchel and a baton with some colored stones on it. He had me at a disadvantage and I really didn't want to admit it. There had been a theft yet I saw nothing missing.

"Can you believe the audacity of some people?" He asked while waving his hands wildly in front of him which encompassed the three displays. Suddenly he was once again the nervous Nelly from the office. "Did they think we wouldn't realize it was a fake when we first saw it? Just look at it."

I continued to look at the three displays; so one of them was a fake. The crystal skull appeared quite authentic but I wasn't trained in ancient Mexican art. The beadwork was very detailed and almost perfect – maybe it was machine made. The baton was covered with colored stones and turquoise. It appeared very real. All three items were contained inside glass domes and it was quite obvious that they were sealed and electronically protected.

"Any idea of how it was stolen?" I asked stalling for time and a possible hint to which item Dr. Martinez was referring.

"We are guessing it was done during the monthly cleaning," he replied. He grabbed his phone and mumbled into it then flicked it closed. "Watch." He reached forward and pushed on the glass dome over the crystal skull. Nothing. He tapped. Nothing. He reached down and attempted to slide a pencil under the dome. Nothing. He pulled up on the pencil, as if to lift the glass covering. Alarms blasted in the room and a steel door dropped down over the door we'd come through.

I jumped.

He produced a small device, pushed a button on it and the alarms quit.

"As you can see, the security on these displays are of the utmost complexity. We knew that children would probably push and tap on the domes." He rolled his eyes. "I mean, have you ever watched a child at the aquarium? They are going to tap on the glass no matter how large of sign you put up telling them not to do that."

"Very ingenious," I replied and stared at the crystal skull. It was stunning as it sat there shining under the bright lights, glistening and gleaming. I bent over to get a closer view and see it head on. "How can you tell it is fake?"

"The skull is real, Detective Hargrove," he said snidely while wringing his hands. "It is the Scepter of Time that is the fake." He pointed to the baton. "The dullness of the rubies and sapphires were the first clues but anyone with the simplest knowledge of turquoise would see the flaws in that reproduction."

He reached over and removed the dome. No alarms went off. I gave him a questioning look as he placed the dome on the floor.

"We're not going to waste a lot of time and money on a piece of crap like this," he said and removed the scepter from its display pedestal. "Plus the room is secured now. See how the jewels are cloudy? Pure, cheap cut glass." He ran his finger over a piece of turquoise. "This is nothing more than shellacked clay mixed to appear like turquoise. A very poor imitation. In fact, a jewel" - he slurred the word - "fell off and the cleaner was very distraught at the thought of losing his job."

"Fell out?" I repeated.

"It's a cheap fake," Dr. Martinez said shaking his head. "We have no idea how long it has been on display." He shrugged his shoulders. "I closed the exhibit this morning when I was notified of what transpired last night."

"Don't you think having the alarm on it would throw off any possible questions as to the validity of the object? Do you want your patrons to know it is fake?"

I watched Dr. Martinez's eyebrows knit into a frown of thought and realization that they could possibly have notified the public that the scepter had been stolen. He quickly flipped open his phone and again mumbled to the person at the other end.

"Thank you, Det. Hargrove," Dr. Martinez said. "Keeping a proper front would be most prudent. Now as to how it was stolen." He placed item back on the pedestal, spending quite a bit of time adjusting the position. I realized he was purposely hiding the missing jewel. He then carefully put the dome back down. Again, the small, black device was pulled from his pocket and he pushed the button. "There," he said. "All armed again."

"So you think the cleaning crew did the heist?" I asked. "An inside job?"

"Actually, no," Martinez said. "When we realized it was a fake we immediately reviewed the security tapes."

"Security tapes?" I repeated.

"Even with alarms, we still have motion monitors and video tapes," he replied. "The minute we walked into this room we've been under surveillance. Watch." He held up four fingers, then the index, then the pinky followed by just the first two fingers. He waited a couple of seconds then lifted the dome from the scepter. "Now I can clean it," he said and when I replace the dome it will automatically re-arm the alarm. Security has been watching us since we walked in."

"So how is it crooks, your cleaning crew, made off with the real one?"

"We figure they swapped it when dusting. Security has to keep watch on all the displays for the cleaning crew to display the proper hand signal to allow them to pick up the dome and have the alarms re-set for arming. It was supposedly a failsafe system."

"It failed," I said. "So why call me? Why not call in your cleaning crew and arrest the culprit?"

"As I stated, we reviewed the tapes. We have a cleaning crew of seven; that night we had eight and not one of them know who the new person was. He showed up, gave the proper signal, took out the scepter, dusted it, put it back and replaced the dome. He never showed his face and our crew can't remember how he looked."

"Could I see the tape, Dr. Martinez?" I asked. "Perhaps I could see something that might have been missed."

"I'll have a copy made for you but let me assure you, there will be nothing of any use on it," he replied. "Our security personnel have gone over that tape with the proverbial microscope and found absolutely nothing of use. I mean, the man gave the correct hand signal."

"Well, I saw the hand signal and could probably pull it off," I said and lifted my hand into the air to start the signal.

"Don't waste your time, detective," Martinez sasid. "Since you were here when I did it, the code has already been changed."

"Oh, I see. How often do you change the code?"

I watched Martinez. He shifted his weight back and forth on his feet, all the while frowning and looking into a dark corner of the room.

"I believe we change it approximately every three months. Now, tonight, when the cleaning crew comes in, they will be notified of the new code for this room."

"This room?" I asked. "You mean the same code is used for all the items?"

"Why of course," he replied with an indignant voice. "Do you have any idea how complicated it would be for each item to have its own code?"

"Do you realize how easy it would be for a person to happen by and see the code being displayed?" I retorted.

"The cleaning crew only works after the museum has been closed. I might add, at least one hour after the museum has closed, so for a patron to chance by is practically impossible."

I looked around the room at the different items on display. Then I glanced up at the cameras overhead and watched them as they slowly moved back and forth in sync to keep the whole room completely in view at all times.

"Dr. Martinez," I started. "Can you tell me how many cameras are lost in the museum each day?"

"Excuse me? Lost cameras? I'm afraid that is out of my jurisdiction," he said with disdain. "If it is something critical, I am sure I can get the young lady at the information booth to help you with that."

"What if the suspect had placed a camera in this room to watch the cleaning crew then picked up the camera the next day?"

Martinez scanned the room looking at the possibilities. "Why would anyone do that? A camera?"

"If you wanted to learn how the cleaning crew or anyone, for that matter, was able to get into the domes to clean..." I glanced over at the scepter. "A camera would record everything. In fact, I'd place at least two, if not more, to get as many possible angles." I waved my hand, encompassing the room. "Yeah, if I wanted to learn any secrets in this room, a lot of cameras would be the answer."

Martinez frowned. "I don't remember seeing anything on the tapes that showed somebody leaving any cameras. It would have been pretty obvious."

I thought for a few seconds. "It wouldn't be on that tape. Think. When was the last time the cleaning crew did this room? It would be on that tape. How often do they clean? Weekly?"

"They do this room once a month, on the second Tuesday," he replied.

"Fine," I said. "So let me speak to the information person and see if any camera was found in that time period." I hesitated. "Would it be possible to get a copy of the tape of last month's cleaning of this room also?"

"I'll check," Martinez said. "If you want to speak with the information person, follow me."

Martinez turned and left the room. I followed and closed the door to the antiquities room, there was a soft click as the latch fell into place.

"Excuse me," Martinez said softly and padded behind me. He placed the key in the slot and locked the door. "There," he said. "Secure."