by Mills, Lisa
“I think I’d prefer to stick with the original agreement.”
His disgusted sigh seemed to confirm her suspicions. “Very well. Can we set up a work schedule? I have no further obligations during the holiday break. I can commit as much time as you’re able to give me.”
“My plans are minimal.” Raúl’s handsome face flashed through her mind, and she remembered her promise to spend some time on his yacht. Maybe we won’t be able to go sailing, but I’m sure we can find a few hours together here and there. He’d been fascinated when she’d recounted what she’d learned from the journal and Manuel thus far and had encouraged her pursuit. He’d understand. “All right. I have my day planner in front of me. How does tomorrow look to you?”
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
The man walked toward the front door of his apartment building, his thoughts far away from the darkened street. As he stood in the dim light fumbling with his keys, two men seized his arms from behind.
“Hey!” He thrashed against their iron grip.
The larger man pinned him against the wall, while the other addressed business. “You missed your last payment, mi amigo. The boss is short of cash because of you.”
He tried not to let fear show on his face or in his voice. “Look, I ran into some problems, but I swear I’ll have the money for you soon.”
“How soon?”
“I … I’m not sure.” He swallowed hard, knowing what would come next.
Wearing a sadistic smile, the smaller man delivered a crushing blow to his abdomen. “I suggest you make your payment very soon.”
The two thugs disappeared into the shadows of the night, leaving him sagging against the wall, gasping for air.
Four
Isabel paused outside the office door and prepared to deal with Manuel’s surly disposition. He’d acted grouchy as a bear awakened from hibernation during each of their work sessions. After three weeks of enduring his temperament, she wondered if she should consider looking for another archaeologist to partner with in the venture. Her conscience pricked her. I gave my word, and as a Christian, I need to keep my promise. But, Lord, please give me the opportunity to tell Manuel about You so suffering through his moods won’t be in vain. She thought it amusing that his last name, Santiago, translated into English meant Saint James. Him, a saint? Talk about irony.
After a quick rap on the door, she let herself in. When Manuel glanced up from his work, a giant smile spread across his face.
“Hey, Isabel, good to see you!”
“Professor Santiago?” Shock caused her greeting to sound more like a question. He looked like Manuel, but he didn’t sound or act like him.
He laughed, a deep, pleasant sound, and pulled a chair up to the table next to him. “Have a seat, Isabel. I want to show you what I’ve found.”
Recovering from her stupor, she sat beside him. “Sure, Professor, let’s see it.”
“You’re always so formal toward me. We’re partners now. Don’t you think it’s time you called me Manuel?”
“You don’t like ‘Professor’?”
“It’s just that I’m not your professor. We’re really more like colleagues. And, besides, every time you call me Professor I have the urge to look over my shoulder to see if there’s a gray-haired geezer in the room. Something about the title makes me feel like an old man, when in reality I’m only a few years older than you.”
“How do you know how old I am?”
“Just a guess. You’re studying for your master’s, right?”
She nodded.
“Judging by that information and your looks, I assume you’re twenty-three or twenty-four.”
“Twenty-four,” she conceded.
“And I’m twenty-eight. Only four years difference, so call me Manuel.”
Isabel didn’t know whether to feel glad or suspicious about his total change in behavior. Is this a plot to get me to let down my guard? She hadn’t forgotten his attempt to wheedle the journal away from her.
“Are you feeling all right, Professor?”
“Manuel,” he corrected. “And I’m feeling great. I finally got that tooth fixed, and I feel like a new man.”
“Tooth?”
“Oh, didn’t I mention it? I’ve had a molar that needed some work, but the dentist couldn’t see me until yesterday. It hurt pretty bad, but it’s better now.”
Toothache. Could that be why he’s been so unbearable?
“Look what I received in today’s mail.” He pushed a book toward her. “This was written by an early missionary to the Pachacamac tribe.”
Isabel picked up the book and turned to the first page. “It’s written in English.”
“Yes. He was an Englishman, commissioned by the Catholic church to set up a mission in the New World.”
“So how will this help us?”
He reached for the book and laid it on the table between them. Opening to the middle, he pointed out neat rows of handwriting. “Look here. He’s learned some of the native words, and he’s written them down with their definitions.”
She studied the crude list Manuel pointed out. “Do any of the words match the ones on our Indian word list?”
“Not exactly.” The corners of Manuel’s lips quirked upward.
“Then I don’t understand. How will this help us?”
“The words don’t match because the priest was an Englishman. He used a system of English phonetics to spell out the words he learned from the Indians.”
“And Rodrigo, my ancestor, used Spanish phonetics.”
Manuel smiled. “Now you’re thinking like an archaeologist. The vowels and some of the consonants are pronounced differently in the two languages.”
Isabel felt a surge of excitement. “So if we can take the words the priest recorded and convert them to a Spanish system of phonetics, we may be able to find some matches?”
“Exactly.”
Isabel flipped through the priest’s recordings and doubt crept in. “What are our chances? This list he made isn’t more than a few hundred words long. It couldn’t contain all the definitions we need.”
“No, but your ancestor gave us something almost as valuable as a dictionary. We can ascertain the meaning of some of Rodrigo’s Pachacamac words by the context of his sentences. And I haven’t given up hope that we’ll find some other resources. I’ve sent out inquiries to any number of libraries, museums, and historians, asking for Pachacamac information, but the holidays have slowed their response time.”
“Of course. People haven’t worked much this last week. Did you contact any of the potential sponsors?”
Discouragement descended over Manuel’s features. “I did.”
“Not good news, I guess?”
“No. They all turned me down. Some stated I need more experience before they’ll fund me. The rest claimed to have recently committed to other projects. I think it’ll be easier to secure a sponsor if we find evidence in the journal about where he hid the pearls.”
“And if we don’t find evidence?”
He remained silent for a moment. “Don’t worry about it, Isabel. I’ll think of something. I want this as much as you do.” His attention returned to the missionary’s book, and he scribbled notes on a blank notepad. Frown lines creased his brow.
His smile was gone, suppressed by the sobering weight of the problems they faced. He took the project so seriously, a fact that Isabel was grateful for. She felt compelled to try to cheer him, bring back some of the good humor she’d seen earlier. She rather liked the smiling, amiable Manuel. “Don’t you worry either, Manuel. I’ll pray about it, and something will turn up.”
“Good, you do that.”
Because of the way he spoke the phrase, Isabel couldn’t be certain whether he’d said it to be polite, or if he sincerely wanted her to pray. Lord, if You want us to work together during the next few months, please provide a sponsor. And more importantly, give me the opportunity to talk to him about You.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Jun
e 24, 1505
I spent the entire day with Karwa, enjoying the sweet sound of her voice, the curve of her full lips, the peacefulness that emanates from deep within her. This afternoon, as we walked hand in hand along the shore, we encountered an old boat hidden by the sea oats and tall grasses. After a quick examination I realized, with a little work, I could make the boat seaworthy again. Karwa and I dragged it back to her hut and began repairing it. A day may come when we will wish to leave Cubagua, and we will need a vessel to carry us over the sea.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
June 30, 1505
Karwa has become my addiction. The smile she reserves for me alone lends purpose to my days and brings sweet dreams to my nights. My chest is heavy with the need to see her daily, though my visits to her hut grow more perilous, bringing danger to us both.
My departures from the naval camp have aroused suspicions. The men ask what activity draws me from their midst and causes me to spend hours in solitude. I have thus far concealed my activities with tales of a fishing hole that I visit, but they grow insistent in their requests to accompany me on my treks. I must exercise caution when I journey to see her now. At times, the men follow me, and I am forced to abandon my plans in order to lead them astray.
When I am able to visit her, I do not walk the same path twice for fear my daily treks will wear a path into the ground and lead the enemy to my love. Strange, I have come to think of my own people as the enemy. I feel less and less a part of their ranks as I see the torture inflicted upon Karwa’s people. I no longer desire to harvest the treasure from the coastal waters. I have found a treasure infinitely more valuable.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Manuel rubbed his sweaty palms on his pant legs as he followed Isabel into the classy restaurant. After three weeks of translating the journal, the location of the pearls remained a mystery. His final paycheck from the university had been spent, and he’d moved out of his campus office and set up work in his apartment. Bill collectors called daily, and he’d not made a payment on his larger debt, the one he didn’t like to think about, in months.
He knew he needed to find a sponsor immediately, but all his contacts had turned him away. He’d resigned himself to taking work as a dishwasher or menial laborer when Isabel surprised him with the invitation to lunch. “I think I found a sponsor, but he wants to talk with you,” she’d told him. “Wear something nice. The restaurant is fancy.”
His stomach knotted as he followed Isabel and the maitre d’ to a table in a private room. She looked stunning in a vivid blue dress that matched her eyes. The cut was flattering without being revealing. Classy and conservative—like her. The more time he spent with her, the more he realized she was a quality woman, the kind with some depth and integrity. When their professional relationship came to an end, he would consider extending it into something more personal if she gave any indication she’d be interested in him.
As they entered the private dining area, a well-dressed man rose to greet them, his tailored suit and snakeskin shoes announcing his wealth as assuredly as a statement from his bank. The man smiled at Isabel and bent to kiss her cheek. “Mi amor, how lovely you look today.”
Isabel blushed under his praise.
A boyfriend? The intimate glances passing between them caught Manuel off guard. In all the hours we’ve worked together, she never mentioned another man.
“Manuel, I’d like you to meet Raúl Guerrero. Raúl, this is Professor of Archaeology, Manuel Santiago.”
Manuel accepted Raúl’s hand and gave it a perfunctory shake. “Mr. Guerrero, good to meet you.”
He endured Raúl’s scrutiny for a moment, willing himself not to shrink from the man’s intimidating gaze. He couldn’t decide whether he’d passed or failed the examination when Raúl turned his back to him and fawned over Isabel.
“Let me seat you, mi amor.” With a hand on her back, Raúl guided her to the circular table and pulled out a chair. He then took the seat next to her, making no invitation to Manuel.
So that’s how this is going to work. I’ll play el peón to his rey. Servant and king. Well, I’ll let him feel important if it gives me access to his bank account. Manuel easily recognized the type of man he was dealing with. Raúl needed to feel in control, to make the decisions, to be superior. If he couldn’t coerce a person with his charm and wit, he’d resort to using money and power for leverage. Manuel took the chair on the other side of Isabel and asked for a menu.
“I have already ordered for you both,” Raúl informed them.
Of course you have, Your Majesty. Manuel forced himself to smile and nod.
Raúl’s penetrating stare drilled into Manuel. “Isabel has told me of this journal and the translating you two have done. I am interested in this project and would be willing to fund a search for the pearls if you can find evidence of their location. Has the journal provided you with this information?”
“Not yet. But we’re less than half done with the translation.”
“Do you expect to find proof of the pearls’ whereabouts?”
Manuel paused to choose his words carefully. He could not afford to damage his chances of securing Raúl’s sponsorship with a dismal report, but he didn’t want to lie either. “If not the exact location, then definitely some solid clues about where to look.”
Isabel cleared her throat. “As Manuel mentioned, we’re only half done with the translating. We’re just coming to the part where he steals the pearls and leaves the island. If he’s written the pearls’ hiding place in the journal, it would be in the second half.”
“How long will it take you to finish the translating?” Raúl asked, glancing between Manuel and Isabel.
“A couple of weeks,” Isabel answered.
“Longer than that,” Manuel disagreed. “The new semester is starting. With classes you won’t be able to spend as much time.”
Isabel shook her head. “I’ve already canceled my classes for the semester. I’m not going to miss out on this opportunity. Besides, we’re entering the dry season. If we find the information we need, we’ll want to launch the expedition while the weather is good.”
Manuel stared at the tablecloth and tried to decide how to explain his lack of funds without sounding desperate. “Then you will have to work on the translation alone during the days, Isabel. I’ll be taking a job.”
Isabel’s eyes narrowed, and a crease appeared on her brow. “Why, Manuel? You promised to help me through this, and now you’re abandoning me?”
He felt his face warm as he tried to make her understand. The elegant setting of the restaurant and the arrogance of the rich man sitting across from him made his admission of poverty seem even more embarrassing. “I’m not wealthy. I need income to pay my bills. Without a teaching job or work supervising a dig, I’ll have to take whatever work I can get.”
Isabel pursed her lips. “That won’t do. I need your help.” She glanced at Raúl as if to ask for assistance, but he offered no suggestions. He wore a look of indifference, as if he found the financial struggles of the common man tedious and boring.
Shrugging her shoulders, she sighed. “Do what you have to, Manuel, and maybe we’ll think of something along the way.”
The waiter arrived and set plates of steaming lobster in front of them.
Manuel placed his napkin over his lap and plucked a succulent piece of white meat from the shell. If nothing else, I’ve gained a decent meal from this meeting. As they ate, a heavy silence surrounded them, and Manuel felt certain his chances were sinking by the moment.
The waiter refilled Raúl’s wineglass. Holding the stem of the glass, he swirled the pale golden liquid in hypnotic circles. “Though your evidence is sketchy and the project is obviously a risk, I can afford the gamble. I will fund your project.”
Isabel squealed and smiled ear-to-ear. “Wonderful!” She leaned to offer Raúl a kiss.
“Yes, wonderful,” Manuel echoed with less enthusiasm. I need the job and the money, but do I need it this badly? An Amer
ican woman and a self-important stuffed shirt for partners. This just keeps getting more ridiculous.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
He dialed the number with apprehension, hoping his gamble would pay off. A click on the other end of the line interrupted his reverie.
“Yes?”
“It’s me.”
“You have my money?”
He willed his heartbeat to slow down. “Not yet. I’m calling to make you a deal.”
“I don’t deal. You know that.”
“Please, hear me out. This could work in your favor.”
Silence. He gripped the telephone, cold sweat trickling down the side of his face. “I just made a business connection that could bring in millions. If you’ll extend my loan for a few more months, I’ll pay you double what I owe.”
“Triple.”
“That’s criminal!” he shouted, then reined in his temper. They would not hesitate to take his life for his failure to pay the debt he owed them now. He needed to buy some time. “Fine. Triple.”
“Good. You know where to find me.”
The click in his ear signaled the close of a deal with el Diablo.
Five
Weary from a long day, Isabel climbed the stairs leading from the subway to the street. Though el metro was well maintained and convenient, she missed the luxury of owning a car. But the streets of Caracas suffered overcrowding, and driving meant long and frustrating delays in traffic. Riding the subway allowed her time to study or daydream. Her favorite fantasy involved a flowing white dress and a dimpled groom waiting at the end of the aisle. She smiled. Raúl would look so handsome in a black tuxedo.
The wail of a fire engine interrupted her pleasant musings. She turned and watched a large truck scream past, sending up a gust of wind that lifted her hair from her shoulders and sent it whirling in disarray. I wonder what that’s all about? Following the path of the truck, she rounded the next corner and headed toward her apartment building. Police barricades and flashing lights filled the street. Squinting, she peered through the haze and saw the flames and smoke pouring from the windows of her building.
“No!” Adrenaline coursing through her, she broke into a run.
