It was late afternoon when Networld’s corporate jet touched down in Orlando, Florida. After settling into her hotel suite, Katherine Kane made her way to the conference room that had been reserved for her use. She expected to find her personal assistant, Jeffery, and her Chief of Security, Zack, waiting for her.

Jeffery and Zack had flown down the day before to iron out some last minute details. They had scheduled a quick briefing with their boss before she met the man with whom she had come to Florida to do business, one Senor Luis Alvarez.

Instead, however, a dark-eyed, black-haired woman wearing a long, white dress and an ornate, jeweled pendant waited for her at the head of the conference table. “Buenos noches, Senora,” she said. “Please sit down.”

“Good evening. I’m Miss Katherine Kane,” the software CEO said smoothly, sinking into a chair opposite the Latin beauty. “Is there something with which I can help you?”

Katherine Kane’s uninvited visitor bowed her head. “I apologize, Senorita. I assumed one in your position would be married.”

“No problem. What can I do for you?” The woman had been expecting Kathy, but her information about the beautiful brunette businesswoman was obviously incomplete.

Katherine Kane needed information of her own to cope with this unexpected development. Jeffery and Zack should have been there, but she did not want to show her concern about their whereabouts or what had happened to them — at least not yet.

“I am Consuella, the agent of another. I was sent to make contact with you the moment your plane was pointed out to me.” As Consuella spoke, she raised her eyes and looked directly at Kathy Kane.

“I am looking forward to meeting Senor Alvarez.”

“Soon, you shall. First, however, I must explain that the Senor and your associates are my master’s guests.”

“I’m not sure I understand,” Katherine Kane said. Her breath had caught in her throat and she could feel her lungs emptying rapidly. Inhaling, she felt herself becoming very still as she regarded the other woman. All the warmth left her eyes as she scrutinized the interloper, leaving them a pair of arctic chips. Kathy understood the euphemistic explanation of her peoples’ absence perfectly, but knew she would learn more by not giving away her level of understanding. She was also aware of her body language, but the transformation she had undergone could not be taken back. She hoped it had been subtle enough that Consuella would overlook it and remain off-guard.

“I was told these pictures would clarify your associates’ position,” Consuella said, handing a manilla folder to the corporate mogul. Kathy opened the folder to find snapshots of her personal assistant, her Chief of Security and a man whom she assumed to be her potential business partner bound and gagged on a sandy beach with the surf in the background!

“I’m sure the police will be interested in these,” Katherine Kane said. Her voice had become very quiet, yet she could be clearly heard. There was no way to mistake the heartfelt emotion behind her words. “Your ‘master’ will soon find himself in a lot of trouble.”

“Perhaps,” Consuella said, smiling. She either had very good nerves or was oblivious to the threat Katherine Kane had just made. “My master told me to tell you he will be forced to harm the men in these pictures if the authorities try to interfere with his affairs.”

“I see. Where are the captives now?”

“They are quite safe . . . for the moment.”

“Well, I sincerely hope they remain safe,” Katherine Kane said. She leaned forward and regarded the other woman intently as her quiet voice took on a diamond hard edge, “because I have you!”

“That is true,” Consualla agreed. She seemed totally immune to Katherine Kane’s attempt at intimidation. “You would be wise to release me. I have a time by which I must report to my master. He would be likely to damage his prisoners if I do not report promptly . . . and losing me would concern him little.” Before continuing, Consuella bowed her head. When she spoke again, her voice was barely audible. “You see, Senorita Kane, I am nothing.”

Katherine Kane had occasionally used her executive manner to transform high level managers, who themselves commanded small armies of unquestioningly obedient employees, into quivering globs of goo. Consuella, however, remained utterly unfazed. The woman had been calm as she explained the threat to the Networld employees. Perhaps she was merely a messenger, not having anything to do with their fate.

Kathy leaned back in her leather chair and inhaled, closing her eyes and letting the breath out slowly. “I don’t believe that, Consuella, but I understand the situation,” she said finally. “Is there anything else?”

Consuella slid a video tape towards the executive. “My master, Montezuma, has provided a tape for you to watch, which will make clear his expectations.”

Katherine Kane raised her eyebrows in surprise. ”You work for a man named . . . Montezuma?”

“Yes.”

“A man named after the Aztec ruler Montezuma?”

“No, Senorita Kane, not at all--”

“I’m sorry, Consuella. I really don’t understand.”

“Please permit me to explain. I work for that very same Montezuma himself.”

The Man from History

“Okay,” Kathy began, clearly exasperated, “are we talking about the same Aztec ruler, Montezuma, who was in charge when Hernando Cortes, the conquistador, came to Mexico in 1519?”

“He said he was reincarnated,” Consuella explained. “It is not my place to argue with a living god, back from the beyond after nearly five centuries.” An edge had crept into her voice. “Be warned, Katherine Kane! He is not one with whom to trifle. He is my master and I serve Him.”

Kathy worried her voice might have sounded dubious. If the kidnapper really believed he was Montezuma, it would probably be wise to humor him, at least at this stage. She had heard about Batman’s many run-ins with King Tut and Batwoman herself had first-hand experience with Britannia. Assuming the man was insane, there was no telling of what he was capable, particularly if his servant, who obviously believed in him, reported he was being taken less than seriously.

Consuella went back to calmly delivering her message. “My master will be obeyed, Senorita Kane. Watch the tape and you will understand.” The strange, dark-eyed woman stood and left the room without seeming to move overly slowly or hurriedly. Katherine Kane did not try to stop her. The tycoon picked up the tape and slid it into a VCR the hotel kept in the conference room along with a monitor.

Once she activated the machine, a good-looking, bare-chested man wearing an ornate, golden headdress and a feathered cape became visible. A quartet of large, muscular men with golden breastplates flanked him, while Consuella lay decoratively on her side at his feet. She was wearing nothing but strategically placed gold and jewels and stared up at her master with what might have been adoration. Katherine Kane frowned at the picture while the man with the funny-looking headpiece looked into the camera and spoke.

“Katherine Kane,” the strangely dressed man began, “I am Montezuma, Ruler of Tenochtitlan. I send this tape to invite you to enjoy my hospitality during your upcoming negotiations. I know I can persuade you to deal with me instead of Mister Alvarez. I have discussed my proposal with your associates and they have been enthusiastically supportive.” He stopped and smiled. “I warn you, Katherine Kane, I will not take ‘no’ for an answer. Tomorrow, you will receive the means to join us, and all of the necessary papers for our transaction. Once you arrive, my extensive staff will be at your disposal, to make sure your stay is a most pleasant one. Please, sleep well, Katherine Kane. I am Montezuma, Ruler of Tenochtitlan. I have spoken!” The monitor went black as the recording ended.

“You’re a fruitcake,” she muttered as she rewound the tape. ‘You made an offer my people couldn’t refuse. Wait until you see who turns up to “negotiate” in Katherine Kane’s place!’

Kathy began to examine the pictures Consuella had given her more closely. As she flipped through the snapshots, she considered the message Montezuma had sent. He had been pleasant — too pleasant. A casual viewer might overlook the threat the oddly dressed man and his entourage represented. ‘I can’t afford to!’

Suddenly, she noticed something on one of the pictures. She set the picture aside and began to search the next. A moment later, the second picture lay beside the first, as she examined the third. “There is something in the background on all these pictures,” Katherine Kane muttered, as she lay one after another on the table. “Okay.”

She put the photos back into the folder and hurried to the hotel’s business center, where she hoped she would be alone. Luck was with her and she was able to scan each of the pictures into a computer. Kathy quickly cropped everything except the spot in the background she had discerned. She then began to enlarge each of the images, making the thing she had seen in the background recognizable in the process.

“Yes!” she enthused. “It’s a lighthouse!” She printed the best picture of the lighthouse and made her way to the lobby, unable to completely mask the hope welling up inside her.

“Excuse me,” she said to the concierge. “Do you recognize this lighthouse?”

“Of course,” the woman behind the desk said. “It’s at Rocky Point. That angle is a little unusual. Your picture must have been taken from that private island you can see from shore.”

“That’s interesting,” the tycoon remarked. “Who owns the island?”

“I think the owner is one of those multinational corporations that makes movies. There is supposed to be some kind of exotic palace on the island.”

“Really? Well, thank you very much.”

Katherine Kane returned to her suite with grim determination as she considered the logistics of her next move. ‘It looks like Batwoman is in for a swim tonight,” she thought. She opened her suitcase and opened the hidden compartments that cleverly hid her Batwoman ensemble from everyone, including airport security, with the help of technology from Networld.

She slid into her yellow leotard and centered the black bat across her upper chest. Her black boots and matching belt followed. Over these, she slid a pair of black, athletic pants and a matching jacket. Black, elbow length gloves went into the jacket pockets, while her yellow cape; Bat-kit; and wide, black domino mask went into a backpack she slipped on before making her way to the parking deck where a rented motorcycle awaited her. She slipped the gloves on and put on her helmet before speeding into the night.

As she drove, Batwoman felt better. Montezuma, the Ruler of Tenochtitlan, or whoever he was, felt he could intimidate Katherine Kane with velvet-lined threats. She was to just hand high-technology over to him. It was not going to happen!

Had Katherine Kane not secretly been Batwoman, she would have had to face a terrible choice. She could refuse to honor the criminal’s demands and risk her employees’ lives in the process, or accept and invite others to engage in similar blackmail in their dealings with her. With some people, Montezuma’s extortion might have succeeded.

As Batwoman turned off the highway, she felt her lips curl into a tight smile that did not reach her eyes. She was pleased to be doing something about Montezuma and fervently hoped he had not yet harmed his prisoners. Because if he had . . . .

She did not know the situation intimately, but she would soon . . . very soon.

The lighthouse was deserted. Batwoman shed the athletic pants and jacket she had been using as a disguise and carefully concealed the motorcycle. She pulled a pair of binoculars with night-vision lenses from her Bat-kit. With these, she examined her objective closely before adding her gloves and boots to her backpack and slipping on her mask, as well as a pair of night-vision goggles. Once, the backpack was in place, she waded into the water and began to pull herself silently toward the island.

Thankfully, the water was calm. Although these waters were not known for sharks, barracudas or jellyfish, Batwoman knew swimming after dark . . . and especially alone . . . was never advisable. She was relieved when a gentle wave deposited her on the sandy beach.

On the island’s shore, she pulled on her boots and gloves; positioned her Bat-kit, which now contained the backpack that had carried it to the island, in its familiar place at her hip; and clipped her cape to her shoulders. Then, she began to creep into the lush, shadowy forest that concealed the island’s interior from prying eyes. She began exploring, searching for the exotic palace rumored to be hidden there.

She found canoes and a single powerboat cached along the shore opposite the Florida coast as she made her first circuit of the island. Working inward, she quickly became aware of guard patrols moving among the trees. She avoided them, melting into shadows until they had passed. ‘He’s here,” Batwoman thought. ‘Since I’m not expected, the guards must be to keep away tourists . . . and to keep the prisoners from escaping!’

She considered confronting a guard patrol and demanding answers, but rejected that idea because it would make her presence known immediately. ‘Better to learn what I can before they realize I’m here,’ she reasoned. Creeping forward, her senses alert for the slightest sign of a patrol, she continued searching for Montezuma and his prisoners.

After about an hour, Batwoman was astonished as she emerged from behind thick vegetation to find, less than a hundred yards away, a step pyramid! ‘Could this be the palace?’ she wondered. 'Montezuma has spared no expense to bring his fantasy to life on this island!'

The structure’s vine-draped exterior was also covered with a rich carpet of moss and lichen. A guard stood at either side of the single visible entrance. Batwoman took off her goggles and exchanged them for a handful of capsules. She waited impatiently, letting her eyes adjust to the darkness as she watched the guards. When she was ready, the capsules burst into a plume of colored smoke rising from the points of impact at the guards’ feet. Batwoman watched them collapse and hurried into the pyramid seconds later.

She moved silently, like a ghost, as she discovered a lounge; various storage rooms; and sleeping quarters. These she passed. When she discovered a locked door with a barred window, she would have lingered, investigating further, if the sound of running, booted feet had not prompted Batwoman’s retreat. She emerged from a conveniently nearby niche to follow the runner to the end of a corridor, where he spoke to a guard outside an ornate set of double doors. The guard knocked, waited for a command, opened the doors, and went inside while the runner waited outside. Minutes later, the guard re-emerged.

“Bring the intruder to our master,” the guard said.

The runner bowed; turned around; and raced toward Batwoman, who flattened herself against the wall to keep him from noticing her. Once he had gone, she peered around the corner and assessed the guard at the other end of the corridor. He was big and strong, but appeared to be unarmed.

She now faced the choice of advancing beyond the double doors or going back to the locked door with the barred window. Time was against her now because her presence had been reported. Batwoman assumed the man who called himself Montezuma would be behind the closed doors before her and that she could force him to answer her questions and order his prisoners’ release. In addition, she couldn’t be sure her friends were even behind that locked door. She elected to go forward and confront the criminal.

Batwoman took in some air. A moment later, she began slowly exhaling as she stepped into the corridor.

“Halt!” the guard commanded. “Who goes there?”

“Your master, Montezuma, Ruler of Tenochtitlan, just sent for me,” Batwoman affably announced. She approached the guard at a deceptively easy pace as he stared.

She was close by the time he realized she might represent a threat and the hand he raised to bar her way brought a smile to Batwoman’s lips. The man’s eyes widened with surprise as Batwoman gripped his wrist and pulled him forward. She stepped closer and turned to drive both fists into the side of the man’s ribs. As the guard doubled over, gasping, Batwoman took his elbow and the shoulder of his outstretched arm and spun him to the stone floor with a smack. As the guard began to recover, a hiss sounded just before he inhaled a mist and collapsed to remain motionless. “I know you’d like to announce me, but I want to surprise the man of the pyramid,” Batwoman murmured, putting away her Bat-sleep and dragging the guard to an alcove where he would be out of sight.

She returned to the double doors and slipped through quietly. The chamber beyond was carpeted and furnished richly. At the far end, a golden throne sat atop a dais in front of two silk tapestries upon which winged serpents faced on another. The man from the video Katherine Kane had watched was seated on the throne and Consualla, wearing the white dress and her jeweled pendant, lay at his feet on a comfortable cushion.

“How dare you–!” Montezuma began, beginning to rise. He stopped, sinking back onto his seat cushion, when he took in the vision of the beautiful bat who entered his audience chamber and stood before him with hands on well-proportioned hips and legs spread to shoulder width. The malevolent monarch inhaled. “Who are you?” he demanded.

“I am Batwoman. While you may not have heard of me, I am aware you have kidnaped Katherine Kane’s entourage from Networld and Senor Luis Alvarez. I’ve come to put a stop to your outrageous villainy!”

“She is from Gotham City, master,” Consuella said, rising to her knees.

“Silence, slave!” Montezuma boomed. He watched Consuella cringe for a long moment as she sank back into her subservient position. Once his attention had returned to Batwoman, he began to chuckle and was soon laughing uproariously with his head thrown back. “The Batwoman,” he repeated. “Your reputation has preceded you and the fact you made it this far alone is most impressive. Compliments should follow introductions, however. I am Montezuma, Ruler of Tenochtitlan, and your host for the moment. Welcome to my island headquarters.” The man seated atop the dais had been pleasant as he introduced himself. When he leaned forward, however, his voice filled with menace. “You were very foolish to come here.”

“I’m not the only one who has traveled, Montezuma. You’re a long way from Mexico City, the historical sight of Tenochtitlan.” Batwoman lectured. “Also, the days of slave ownership on this continent ended over a century ago.”

“When my plans are complete, an army of conscripts; volunteers; and mercenaries will march on Mexico City and leave it in flaming ruins, from which my empire will rise like a phoenix. Mister Alvarez and Miss Kane will provide the money I need for modern weapons– superior weapons. With these I can advance my empire and crush my enemies under heel.”

“We’ll see about that!” Batwoman snapped. She was proud of that outburst, because many other concise and vulgar replies were moving through her mind with the rapidity of machine gun fire. “You are an aspiring terrorist. I imagine instead of rising from a flaming city, your plans would go down in flames because the world will not stand for you after your uprising!”

“You have a very sharp tongue!” Montezuma exclaimed, clenching his fist and holding it quivering before him. “You have no understanding!--NONE! The people you say would not stand for me after Mexico City falls are weak—INFERIOR! I offer them order and discipline and they will spit in my face! I caution you, Batwoman, men such as myself dare take what they want. The world will be better when one man rules! Think of what we can accomplish. Technical advancement occurs naturally through war, but the species evolves so very slowly.”

“You cannot possibly hope to improve the species all on your own,” Batwoman retorted.

“So much more than hope is attainable. I selected Consuella to serve me because she is a superior woman. This dream of mine is worth chasing round the moons of Nabir, round the Antares Maelstrom, and round Perdition’s Flame before giving it up. You see? It is better to rule in hell than to serve in heaven.” Montezuma’s voice had fallen to little more than an intense whisper, but it was still quite audible. “You have decided to task me.” The monarch nodded. “Very well. You have come and I am here, waiting. Now, we will indeed see which of us will prevail in our conflict, who's plans will ultimately be realized,” Montezuma agreed. “My compliments, Batwoman. You are quite alone, and there you stand--facing a god! I, however, am far from alone and my followers have pledged their lives to my service.” His voice rose to a commanding bellow. “Guards! Get her!”

The double doors burst open and six enormous goons swarmed toward Batwoman. She did not hesitate. Her foot snapped into the lead man’s groin and she spun, firing her other foot backward into his chest, flattening him as he pitched forward in pain. Unfortunately, Batwoman was surrounded at that point and felt something impact the back of her head. She pitched forward as the room began to swim before her eyes.

Her shoulder slammed into a soft mass of flesh and Batwoman’s fists shot forward desperately. The effort was rewarded by a gasp and a groan as a massive weight collapsed beside her. She tumbled instinctively, returned to her feet, and shook her head to clear it.

A man seemed to fill her vision and she lunged toward him to bury a shoulder in his breadbasket and drive him backward. The wind was knocked from him as they collided with the wall and Batwoman bounced his head off of it twice before turning away as he collapsed. His head impacted the floor with even greater force and he remained unconscious thereafter.

Batwoman felt a hand wind around the back of her neck and fingers curl over her chin to pull her backwards, off-balance. A knee impacted her head and again the room swam. The next thing she realized was that her body was wracked by pain as she was flung to the ground like a rag doll. She raised her head slightly and spotted a pair of legs. She bent a knee to move her own legs on either side of the pair of legs she had spotted. Once positioned, she swept the man’s ankles forward as her other leg pulled his thighs backward. He collapsed and Batwoman was above him seconds later driving his head into the floor.

The sudden shock of her employees’ kidnaping, her nocturnal swim, and the fight had all taken a lot out of Batwoman. She was palpably aware of her condition as she returned to her feet shakily, searching for her next opponent. She never saw him, but was aware of him when she felt herself shoved from behind. An uppercut caught her chin and sent her literally flying. She landed on her back again and felt the back of her head hit a wall. Blackness claimed her before she was aware of the pain.

“Very impressive,” Consuella remarked, standing to look down at the unconscious super- heroine.

“She will indeed be a worthy sacrifice,” Montezuma agreed. He surveyed the bodies of his four fallen guards and pointed at one of the men who had dispatched his unconscious captive. “I am pleased with you, but others have failed me. With them I am very angry. Go! See to their punishment!” He smiled when his minion had gone and addressed the other standing goon. “Now, you, take Batwoman to the Sun Stone. It has been centuries since our altar has tasted blood.” The self-styled Aztec monarch rose and drew his consort back, holding her in his arms.

“What of the others, master?" she curiously asked, casting a sweeping glance at the fallen men.

“They will recover. Come.” The burly, bare-chested guard carried Batwoman from the chamber, as the rogue ruler and his succulent slave followed.

Much later, Batwoman moaned. She opened her eyes and began to assess her surroundings. She was not surprised to be lying on her back with her arms and legs splayed so that she resembled a starfish. Stout ropes bound her. These had been wound tightly and repeatedly around her limbs before they had been drawn taut, stretched to their maximum. Pain rewarded the slightest movement, thus utterly immobilizing the attractive adventuress.

“Your guest awakens, master,” Consuella excitedly said. She lay in the crook of her master’s arm with her head pillowed on his muscular shoulder and her long, suntanned legs visible through the long slit along one side of the dress. Montezuma reclined on a cushioned wooden chair beside the chamber door, absently kneading her muscular thighs with strong fingers.

“Do you show all of your guests this kind of hospitality?” Batwoman asked, focusing on the malevolent monarch.

“Most of my guests stay considerably longer than you will, Batwoman. You see, they are invited to my island.”

“I’m here because your recent invitations seem reminiscent of kidnaping! Let’s take the employees of Networld and Senor Alvarez, for example. I trust they’re behind the locked door with the barred window I passed on the way to your audience chamber?”

“You are far too clever, Batwoman. The failure of my guards is complete. I am sorry their screams have stopped. I had hoped they would be stronger—much stronger.”

“I suspect your leadership has brought you to this disappointment.”

Montezuma laughed. “You are such a sharp-tongued wit. It is well that you have come to help us honor the god Xiuhtecuhtli. The name of one of his more significant festivals, Xocotlhuetzin, translates to mean the ‘fall of fruit’. When my plans are complete, I’ll have an exceptional harvest to enjoy. I can already taste its sweetness.” Consuella’s mouth had been near his ear as he spoke. Perhaps his words inspired her to shift so that her lips caressed his neck.

“The weed of crime bears bitter fruit, Montezuma,” Batwoman defiantly quoted.

“I am far beyond the mortal concepts of good and evil. You are beginning to annoy me! Let us return to the present. Tell me, Batwoman. Have you examined my Eagle Bowl, the Cuauhxicalli, which most would call ‘Sun Stone?’”

Batwoman took a moment to examine the carved circle to which she was so tightly bound. Its central depiction of the sun was ringed by other symbols. These denoted the thirteen twenty-day periods into which the 260 day Tonalpohualliwas or 'counting of days' was divided and the 'counting of the years' or Xiuhpohualli, which was broken into eighteen twenty-day months.

“It’s a copy of the ancient Sun Stone, the Aztec calendar,” Batwoman said. “They found it buried in the Zocalo, modern Mexico City’s central market in 1760.”

“Very good, Batwoman. Of course, the Zocalo was located in my capital, Tenochtitlan. Your oversight is of no moment, however, for shortly, you will honor Tonatiuh, the Lord of Heaven, and Xiuhtecuhtli, the fire god I mentioned earlier. You see, another of Xiuhtecuhtli’s ceremonies is Hueymiccaihuitl, the Great Feast of the Dead. Here sacrifices to fire gods are roasted alive.

Batwoman shuddered, inducing pain and a gasp before she answered. “I’m going to be the victim in this religious revival?”

“It is a great honor,” Montezuma said solemnly.

“Forgive me if I don’t agree,” Batwoman said, looking around. “Killing me is a mistake, Montezuma. I’ve never encountered you before, so your much vaunted revenge is misdirected against me.”

The stately man ignored the insult. “Your death will serve to confirm my status among my Aztec followers and I’m sure the prisoners in the cells you very nearly located will find your agonized screams quite instructive.”

“You’re a depraved sicko and an insane fiend!” Batwoman accused.

“I am well aware of the two college professors who plagued Gotham City. One imagined himself to be the reincarnation of an Egyptian king, while the other thought she was the rightful ruler of Great Britain. Don’t be misled by the facts I can speak English and am familiar with the modern world.” His voice filled with confidence, his eyes belied an almost divine detachment. “Before you die, you should know, unlike those pretenders, I am indeed who I claim to be! I AM MONTEZUMA!”

Listening to and watching him, Batwoman could almost believe it. In contrast, her voice was filled with sarcasm as she said, “Sure you are.”

“Insulting me will do nothing to make your death faster or more comfortable. Those of Judea-Christian or Islamic beliefs delude themselves. The Eastern philosophies are closer to the truth. The Aztec gods represent the true religion and I, Montezuma reincarnate, am the living proof!”

Batwoman saw no point in engaging in a religious debate. She decided to change the subject. “You’ve been remarkably thorough in planning my murder,” Batwoman observed. Many criminals she had encountered had deprived her of her famous Bat-kit to separate her from the vast array of miraculous gadgets she could use to free herself from deadly perils. Montezuma had removed her belt as well as the Bat-kit. Not only that, he had stripped her of her boots and gloves. The rest of her costume was, however, quite intact.

“I told you your reputation preceded you. I know your crime-fighting colleagues in Gotham City use their belts to keep equipment on their person. I also discovered you carry an amazing amount of hardware in your boots and gloves.”

“So, you’ve trapped me, deprived me of every conceivable means of escape, and are about to have your goons roast me alive–”

“Indeed. I have deprived you of your equipment and I am about to deprive you of your life. I think you’ll find my approach a bit more modern than the fate you imagine. Tell me. Did you notice the mirrors?”

Batwoman had, in fact, noticed several mirrors reflecting the symbols carved on the Sun Stone. “I was about to ask how they honored Tonatiuh and Xiuhtecuhtli.”

“Their purpose will become clear in just a moment.” He regarded his slave with a smile and a nod. “Consuella,” he said.

The dark-eyed woman stood and seemed a little disappointed when her master’s hands fell away from her hips. She slowly walked to the side of the Sun Stone; removed the pendant from her throat; and reached upward, holding the pendant and her pretty pose, until a fiery sunbeam passed through the pendant’s central jewel. She moved the pendant so that the beam of light focused on one of the mirrors. The reflected beam hit another mirror and then another until it shone on the Sun Stone between Batwoman’s feet.

Batwoman inhaled as Consuella secured her pendant in place, thus keeping the sunbeam focused. She stepped back and regarded Batwoman, who stared with wide eyes at the auroral dot between her toes.

“Well done, my slave,” Montezuma complimented. He stood and drew her against him, kissing her neck. “You have noted how well she fights, how impressively she penetrated my defenses. How bravely she stood alone insulting me. Now, as she slowly realizes she is about to die, it must all seem so . . . useless.” Montezuma bowed his head as Consuella turned her face toward his, relaxing and leaning against his chest.

“I trust that dot will move as the day wears on?” Batwoman said, making her remark a question.

“Precisely, Batwoman,” Montezuma confirmed, returning his attention to his comely captive. He favored her with a benevolent smile and explained, “You are as quick as your tongue is sharp. I almost regret my decision to eliminate you.” He shrugged. ”Oh, well. It’s too late to change my mind now. We’ve involved the other gods."

“They would be so disappointed if you were to change your mind now,” the captive chided her captor.

“Even facing death, you task me,” Montezuma muttered, shaking his head. “It is of no moment. Right now, it’s still early. At noon, this primitive laser will be well on its way to cutting your hot body in half. At dusk, the insidious incision will be complete, and you will be beside yourself, lying in a shallow pool of your own blood.”

“Fiend!” Batwoman whispered, glaring at him.

“No, I am simply paying my respects to my fellow gods. It’s too bad your partner, Flamebird, isn’t here to join you. She would have made an apt sacrifice. Ah, well. Maybe next time.

“Now, I have the lovely Katherine Kane with whom to deal. If you’ll excuse us, we’ll take our leave. Come, Consuella.” Montezuma stepped from the chamber.

“Yes, master,” the sensual slave answered, turning to follow him. She faced Batwoman for a brief moment in the open door. “Buenos dias, Mujer Murcielago,” she said, her dark eyes dancing impishly as she closed the door on Batwoman’s death chamber, locking it.

Batwoman stared at the deadly dot that would slowly slice her like a stick of butter. Her chest heaved as she expelled her first fearful breath.

Unbidden, the image of what would happen to her if she failed to escape came to mind. First, the beam would attack the synthetic fibers of her costume. Being flame-retardant, they would not catch on fire, but, stretched tight as they were, would soon give way. Seconds afterwards, the heat ray would impact her most sensitive spot.

Then a horrible realization struck Batwoman. A victim subjected to the traditional, “Perils of Pauline” buzz saw would suffer terribly, but the death-experience would at least be over quickly. Blood loss brought about as flesh severed would, before long, induce shock in a person, causing unconsciousness.

She feared she would not be so “lucky.” The intense heat of the beam might cauterize her wounds, limiting the loss of blood. It was even possible she would remain aware until the beam reached her heart . . . or perhaps longer!!

Such a fate did not bear contemplation.

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