The Copper Egg

by Catherine Friend

  “You seek a partner?”

  She inhaled deeply. “I do. Think of all the artifacts you could find. We would sell them to private collectors here in Peru.” When he hesitated, she motioned to the treasures surrounding them. “If Walter Alva hadn’t swooped in and controlled the Sipan excavation, all these treasures would have been smuggled out of the country. Peruvian schoolchildren wouldn’t be able to see for themselves the creations of their brilliant ancestors. Foreigners wouldn’t be able to appreciate the wisdom and strength of the pre-Columbian cultures, like learning of their irrigation skills, or their farming practices. Our people had a rich and industrious life before the Spanish descended on the natives as hard as a fist.”

  The man looked at her, inscrutable, then nodded. “Sounds good, jefe. When do we begin?”

  They said nothing more until they exited the museum and Rigo shook her hand again, excited now. “Viva La Bruja,” he said softly. “We will save this country from foreign exploitation and feed our families at the same time…”

  *

  That evening Sochi parked the car on the street behind a large truck, ducked below the dash, and pulled on the wig, tugging impatiently until it settled over her scalp. She inserted the brown contacts, blinking impatiently so they’d settle. She gave the wig one final tug then slid from her car.

  The bar’s entrance was dark but for a naked light bulb over the solid door and a flashing neon sign of a red martini glass. Smoke assaulted her inside, attaching itself to her drab clothing as she strode past the bar. Half the men swiveled and watched her pass, one man even leaning out far enough she’d either be forced to run into his face with her breasts, or step around him.

  She did neither. Instead she stopped right in front of him. Because of her brown contacts, her light blue eyes weren’t available to unnerve the man, but she could do a fair amount of damage with the brown ones. His leer began to fade as her gaze bore into him. Then he shrugged and bellied up to the bar again, flushing at the guffaws around him.

  She lasered each man until the chuckling stopped. She proceeded to the back booth, passing at least three tables of men drinking beer Peruvian style using only one glass, flinging the last bit of beer in the glass onto the floor, then passing the glass and bottle to the next man. She slid in across from Rigo, his eyes hidden behind sunglasses.

  “What a shit hole,” she muttered, then nodded her thanks for the beer in front of her. She took a long, long drink.

  Rigo shrugged. “True, but it is a safe place.” He looked down at his beer, revealing a dark bruise along one cheek.

  “Take your sunglasses off,” Sochi said.

  “No.”

  Increasingly, she’d begun to wonder who was in charge—La Bruja or Rigo. “Take off your fucking glasses.”

  Rigo scowled but did as she commanded. She inhaled sharply. Both eyes were bruised, the left one nearly swollen shut. “Not again.”

  He gulped his beer, unconcerned. “Ran into some resistance at the French dig site. Guards were resistant, like the Swedes, but we finally convinced them to leave.” He grinned, his teeth gleaming like white corn.

  “Gods, Rigo.”

  He picked up the square coaster for Cumbres beer and began tapping each side sharply against the table. “If the men—guards or looters—do not leave, we have no choice. We have had disappointing finds for months. Tomas thinks Julio needs to bless every site in order to appease the spirits.”

  “Tomas probably blames me for the bad luck, but we can’t afford Julio at every dig.”

  “You know I don’t believe women bring bad luck, but some of the men do. On top of that, now Marcos and some of the others have started bringing guns.” He leaned forward. “That Adams woman needs to come through, and soon. I have been following her for days and I don’t think she’s trying very hard to find the tomb.”

  She took another sip then wiped her mouth. “I don’t know if she is or not. But you’re right about the slow month. Between the competition from Higuchi and increased security at the registered digs, we’re losing ground.” She slid a thick envelope across the table to Rigo.

  “What’s this?”

  “I was given a certain amount of funding to start working as La Bruja. This is what’s left. I want you to take some and distribute the rest among the men.”

  His dark brows drew together. “I don’t understand.”

  This was proving to be harder than she’d expected. “Rigo, I’m done. La Bruja is retiring.”

  He shook his square head. “No. Not possible.”

  “Yes, it is. I’m done.”

  “Why? Just because things are slow? Because I have a black eye? Because we ran up against Higuchi’s men?”

  She leaned forward. “The instant that wacko Nopa pointed the gun at you, I knew I was done. I like you, Rigo.”

  He blushed violently, making Sochi laugh. “No, not like that, you idiot. But when that gun was aimed at your chest, I realized that nothing is worth losing you as a friend. Nothing is worth getting caught, which is only a matter of time thanks to the CNTP drones.”

  “We will learn to deal with the drones. We can get someone on the inside of the CNTP to make sure the drones stay away.”

  “I’m still done. If you really must keep going, which I hope you don’t, find another woman to serve as La Bruja sin Corazon.”

  “You are La Bruja. You have led us successfully for nearly two years.” Rigo’s voice fell into a lower register, the sign he was deeply upset.

  “It’s time. We must stop.”

  His jaw worked as he struggled to understand. His black eyes narrowed. “If you retire, what will you do with your wig?”

  Sochi’s eyes widened.

  He smiled sadly. “Yes, I know you wear a wig, and that you wear contacts to cover your distinctive blue eyes. For two years I have called you jefe, but I know you are Xochiquetzal Castillo.”

  She pressed her lips together to cut off her gasp.

  Rigo’s eyes softened. “I did nothing with that information when I learned it, and I will do nothing now.”

  “How did you find out?”

  He shrugged. “I saw a photo of CNTP’s Sochi Castillo in the newspaper, and I knew it was you.”

  “Thank you for keeping my secret.”

  “I will continue to do so.”

  “What are you going to do? Will you keep looting?”

  Rigo pocketed the envelope of cash. “I do not know, jefe. I do not know.” With an anguished glance, he slid from the booth and was gone. Sochi waited a few minutes, then ran the gauntlet at the bar one more time. This time everyone behaved. When she reached her car, her phone rang.

  “Mima, are you okay?”

  “Yes, my dear, I am fine. But you said to tell you if I noticed any strange men hanging around. The two men who tied me up were across from my building this afternoon.”

  “Call the police, Mima, right away.”

  “I did that, but they left before the police arrived.”

  Damn it. Mima still wasn’t safe.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  Claire

  Monday, April 3

  Claire awoke from her dream with a shuddering gasp. She sat up, confused, then realized she was still in her hotel room, alone. She flung herself back onto the bed. Yowza. Hell of a wet dream. The damn thing re-created, almost perfectly, the day after she and Sochi had their first big fight, so big that Claire had slept in her own apartment that night.

  Sochi had shown up there the next day, letting herself in with her key.

  Claire had just gotten out of bed, naked. When she saw Sochi she grabbed for a towel, but since it was a hand towel, it didn’t do much good…

  …Sochi took a step forward, breathing heavily as if short of oxygen. “Jesus Cristo.” She began murmuring words that Claire recognized as a prayer for strength as she scanned her body.

  “You’re hyperventilating,” Claire said hoarsely. “Go away. I’m still mad at you.”

  Sochi took
another step as she continued to pray. Her eyes glistened, ice melting in the heat. Claire’s insides liquefied at the look on Sochi’s face. Why was it crazily erotic to know someone wanted you so badly they couldn’t control themselves? “Don’t come any closer,” Claire said with as much fury as she could muster despite her weak knees. “I’m not speaking to you.”

  Sochi’s eyes darkened. “I know. I’m sorry.”

  “For what? For starting the fight?”

  Sochi took a step closer. “No, you started that. I’m sorry for being inappropriate and out of control in the next two minutes.”

  “We can’t,” Claire managed to say even though her tongue was stuck to the roof of her mouth.

  “Can’t what? Do you know it’s been nearly twenty-four hours since we’ve spoken?”

  “I wasn’t counting. Stay where you are.”

  Another step forward. “It’s been twenty-four hours since we’ve touched.”

  “I need more time.”

  “I know. I should give you that. I should be respectful. I should let you decide what’s going to happen next. But here’s the thing, I can’t wait for that.”

  “Try.” Her heart pounded as she watched Sochi’s cat-like advance.

  “But I can’t. I cannot stop myself, Claire Adams.” Sochi now stood inches from her.

  The kiss was shy at first, as if they were each as fragile as mist, but Sochi’s confidence returned and her arms tightened around Claire.

  Without a word they pressed themselves together, sliding thighs between legs. Claire gasped as Sochi pressed her up against the wall, her hands now in possession of her body. The ineffective towel fell to the floor. Claire arched back when Sochi’s thumbs grazed roughly over her nipples. She ran a nail up the inside of Sochi’s thigh. When she touched her, Sochi let out such an anguished moan that Claire fumbled madly for the hem of her skirt.

  “Oh, gods, please,” Sochi moaned.

  Claire’s pulse quickened. Sochi never talked during sex. For her to beg sent lightning bolts straight between Claire’s legs.

  Then they were on the rug, her clothing moved aside. Then Sochi was moving her mouth lower, wet and hungry and urgent.

  Claire’s orgasm was fast and red-hot. She cried out, muffling the sound with her hand, feeling as if she’d exploded. Then she pulled Sochi back up and their lips melted together again as Claire’s fingers disappeared into Sochi’s heat. In less than a minute, Sochi arched, her gasps breaking almost into a sob.

  They lay on the rug in a tangle. Claire’s toes had gone numb and her legs felt like noodles. Her backbone had melted into the floor, but they weren’t done. They rocked their hips together, Sochi gasping almost immediately, Claire following seconds later.

  She finally caught her breath. “I think I’m going to like fighting with you.”

  Sochi’s smile sent Claire’s chest fluttering. “We’re not very good at it,” Sochi said. “Personally, I had planned to freeze you with my indifference the next time we met.”

  Claire chuckled. “What happened to your indifference?”

  “It melted.” Sochi nuzzled her ear. They kissed again, laughing soft puffs into each other’s mouths…

  Claire was still trying to shake off the dream when her phone started ringing. It was Sochi. She blew out a huge breath.

  “Hey,” Claire said, cool and casual. Sochi could not know that in her mind she’d just been stark naked.

  “I have a problem. No, I have two problems. I was hoping you might have some ideas of what I could do.”

  “I’m happy to help. What’s up?”

  She told her about the CNTP’s mad plan to mark some artifacts with a high-tech tracking device as a way to catch Higuchi in the act, or at least find his smuggling route.

  “Wait. Are you talking about NanoTrax? My contact told me it didn’t work.”

  “I pushed Hudson harder and he acquired some for me.”

  “Wow. I didn’t know he had those kinds of connections. And he still isn’t returning my messages. He knows I’m furious. Still, I like your plan. Higuchi’s an asshole. He put Mima’s life in danger, so I hope you nail him.”

  “That’s the thing. My boss is sure this will work, and so he’s willing to let four artifacts walk out the door, including Hudson’s backflap.”

  Claire whistled.

  “But it seems too easy. Higuchi’s smart enough to figure out some way to beat this. When he does, we will have lost irreplaceable items.”

  “How much time do you have?”

  “Maybe four or five days.”

  “Could you make some changes to the list of artifacts?”

  “Other than Hudson’s backflap, yes. Why?”

  Claire thought for a moment. “I know someone who might be able to help. What’s the other problem?” She loved that they were talking, but the urge to do more than talk was beginning to overpower her good sense.

  “Mima. She won’t stay with my aunt. She insists on coming back to her apartment, and she’s started seeing Higuchi’s men outside.”

  “That’s scary. Okay, I think Denis can help us with both problems. I’ll call him. If he’s home I’ll let you know and we can meet there. However, I also have a problem.” She told Sochi about the threatening email. It was gratifying to see that something like this, even if it was threatening her, could rouse such anger in Sochi.

  “You need to call the police.”

  “I’m thinking it’s just a prank,” Claire said.

  “I’m thinking it’s not.”

  *

  The meeting with Denis went quickly. He was willing to help Sochi with her artifact problem, and said he’d be charmed if Mima would be his guest until it was safe. As they waited outside in his garden while he made a few phone calls, the blooming flowers made Claire feel thickheaded and a little high. She stared at Sochi’s hand as they sat side-by-side on a padded swing.

  Clearly uncomfortable, Sochi began sharing photos of her nephews and Mima. Photos were safer than conversation. “Wait, go back,” Claire said. “There.” She pulled the phone closer. Damn. It was the woman from the orange Volvo. Should Claire tell Sochi this woman was following her? Did Sochi already know?

  “Who’s this?” Claire asked.

  Sochi pressed her lips together, flushing brightly. “My date. We went surfing at Huanchaco.”

  If the reference to their own first date meant to hurt, it did. Claire tapped her foot against the flagstones and felt doors slamming all around her. If Sochi had a girlfriend, it might be too late for Claire. Suddenly, she didn’t want to talk about Orange Volvo woman. She had nothing to do with what Claire needed to say.

  “Sochi, I can’t stop thinking about you. I think my mind might be letting go of the pain, just as Mima said. Is that happening to you?”

  Sochi’s eyebrows raised in alarm. “I don’t know.”

  “Could I hold your hand?”

  She stared at Claire’s open hand. “No.”

  Ouch. That hurt. But Claire didn’t blame her. She was moving way too fast because she couldn’t help it. Claire could finally admit that she missed Sochi terribly. “Why not?”

  Sochi stood. “Look, I don’t know what you’re feeling, but you need to know that whatever it is, I’m not feeling it. I’m terrified of you.”

  “Why?”

  “Because you have the power to destroy me. Thank you for finding Mima a safe place to stay. I’ll get her now.”

  “Shit,” Claire muttered under her breath. She couldn’t blame Sochi for leaving so suddenly, since she’d broken her heart once before. For all either of them knew, she might be capable of breaking it again.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  Claire

  Monday, April 3

  Bad news gathered around Claire like iron filings on a magnet. Just as Sochi’s problems seemed under control, Nancho called Claire, nearly in tears. “It is my cousin, little Mardonio. He went over the mountains as mochilero and was killed.”

  “Nancho, I
am so sorry.” He continued to struggle so Claire murmured the sorts of things one did in this situation.

  “Thank you,” he finally choked out. “The vuelario is tonight. Would you come?”

  “Me? But I didn’t know him.”

  “That is fine. My family would be honored to have you.”

  Claire doubted that, but agreed because Nancho wanted her there so badly. She found wakes hard anyway, but one for a person killed violently, a person she didn’t know? She was going to be uncomfortable the second she walked in. “Thank you, Nancho. I would be honored to be included.”

  Early evening Claire rode in the front seat with Nancho—he’d insisted—while his wife Carmen and their two children rode in the back. Other than some squirming by the kids, the car was silent for the entire drive up to Chepen.

  Mardonio’s family lived on the outskirts of town in a one-story blue stucco home. Claire had never attended a vuelario before, but had heard about them. Many of the indigenous people practiced a unique religion—part Catholic, part native. Sochi had once explained that instead of abandoning their religion for Catholicism, the native Peruvians had simply braided Catholicism into their traditions and practices.

  Claire followed Nancho and his family inside the cool home, breezes blowing through every window. All the large furniture had been removed from the modest living room, which was now packed with folding chairs and people in black. She was relieved she’d packed a pair of black cargo pants and a black shirt. At times it was stressful being so unfashionable. Sochi would have totally rocked a little black dress and some simple silver jewelry. Claire wore the corded amazonite from Mima around her neck.

  At the far end of the room, the open casket was surrounded by tall, burning candles. Flowers were piled on the casket and on the floor. The room smelled like a garden. A ceramic statue of Jesus hung on the wall behind the casket, as well as an oversized rosary made of malachite beads.

  The buzzing—in both Spanish and Quechua—began the instant Nancho introduced Claire to Mardonio’s father. The poor man gripped her hand and shook it vigorously. Women in the room began to whisper behind their hands. Nancho continued introducing her to others with pride. Finally, she leaned in close. “Why is everyone looking at me?”