by John Wilson
“Okay,” I agreed. “Let’s take a quick look. I do want to know what the fifth location is.”
We left the path and worked our way around the hillside, Laia consulting the GPS. After about ten minutes, we came to a flatter area. “We’re here,” Laia announced.
“You were right,” I said, sitting on a large, flat rock. “There’s nothing here. The ground looks the same as everywhere else in these hills—rocks, sand, cactus and a few scrub bushes. We could be on the set for a cowboy movie in New Mexico or Arizona. If anything happened here in 1966, there’s no sign of it now.”
“Maybe,” Laia said. She was staring past me at the gently sloping hillside above us. “Some of the hillside has slumped down.”
I stood up and turned around. If I looked hard, I could just make out a shallow, V-shaped groove on the hillside that led down to a jumble of rocks and dirt where the ground leveled out. The scar on the hillside, and even the rocks at its base, were barely visible. Bushes and cacti grew all over. “I see it,” I said, “but this happened hundreds of years ago, maybe even when the Carthaginians or Romans were here. In any case, way before 1966.”
“It did,” Laia agreed, “but what do you call what’s at the bottom of the slump?”
Suddenly it became clear. “A rockfall!”
“Was your grandfather telling whoever decoded the notebook that something dangerous was hidden behind the rockfall here?”
“Maybe,” I said as I moved toward the rocks, “but if the slump happened long before 1966, it couldn’t be the fifth bomb. This is a dead end.” I was suddenly very tired and thirsty, and every time I let my mind wander, Scarface, Tattoo Head and Blue Eyes leaped into it. I sat down. “These rocks haven’t moved in ages.” I looked out over Palomares and the new buildings lining the coast. All owned by Blue Eyes. I had much more urgent issues than figuring out what Grandfather’s cryptic notes meant. The image of the black barrel of Scarface’s gun hovered before me. It made my stomach lurch, and a wave of nausea passed over me. I suddenly felt cold.
“There are marks on the rock here,” Laia said from behind me. She was crouched beside it, peering at something. “There’s a cross and a line and something that looks like an arrowhead.”
“So what?” I asked miserably. “We’re not going to find anything here. There’s no magic door that will open and give us the answer to everything.” I was speaking more harshly than I intended, but I was feeling sick and scared. “Can we go? I’m not feeling very well.”
Immediately, Laia was beside me, the rocks forgotten. “Are you all right?” she asked.
“I don’t know. My stomach doesn’t feel right, and I can’t get the image of Scarface holding the gun to my head out of my mind. It’s probably just the tension, but can we go and see Felip? I’ll feel much better if he tells us that Chad doesn’t want the land and is on his way back to Madrid. Maybe we can come back and look around here later.”
Laia put her hand on my forehead. “You feel clammy,” she said. “Are you okay to walk down?”
“Yeah,” I said. “I’ll be doing something. That will help take my mind off Blue Eyes and his threats.”
“Okay,” Laia said, offering me her arm as I stood up shakily, “let’s head down. You’re probably getting dehydrated as well. Something to drink and a snack will help.”
“Don’t you feel scared?” I asked as we headed back to the path and down toward the town.
“Of course I do,” Laia said. “I’ll probably wake up in the middle of the night worrying. But while there’s something that needs to be done, I can focus on that, and right now what needs to be done is getting you down the hill.”
I smiled to myself, thinking, despite everything, how incredibly lucky I was to have met Laia. I began to feel better as we walked. Laia told me stories about Carthage and Rome and the wars they had fought. Her enthusiasm for her country’s rich history helped lift my spirits. All I needed was something to drink and good news from Felip.
TWELVE
Any hopes I had of Chad losing interest in Palomares real estate and going home were dashed the instant Laia and I walked through the door of Pedro’s. Not only had Chad not gone home, but there he was, sitting at a table with Felip, laughing and drinking wine. Laia and I exchanged glances, ordered a lemon Kas each and joined them.
“Hey, kids,” Chad said cheerfully. “You have a good afternoon?”
“Yeah,” I said noncommittally. “Did you find any hot properties?” I hadn’t meant it as a joke, but Laia almost choked on her drink with laughter, and Felip flashed me a warning look.
Chad seemed oblivious to any double meaning. “Sure did. I know that land doesn’t look like much now, but after it’s cleaned up, it’ll have a lot of potential. Not too far from the beach or the town, and there’ll be some spectacular views from the fourteenth or fifteenth floors. You got to remember the basic rule of real estate around here: as the population ages, more and more people are going to search for the good life hereabouts, and boy, the good Lord ain’t makin’ any more land fer us all.” Chad chuckled at his little comment and fake southern drawl.
I cringed. Chad was annoying in all his guises: cheerful joker, dull investment counselor and sleazy real-estate investor. It was difficult to tell which was the real Chad.
“So you think American businessmen will be interested in building here?” I asked.
“Sure will. Me and Felip were just thrashing out some details on how we are going to present it to them. The folks I’ve been talking with want to build a theme resort, and I’ve been thinking Roman—plenty of pillars, statues and courtyards. There’d be mosaics on the floors, and the floor numbers would be in Roman numerals. That way thirteen would be XIII and no one would get superstitious about it.” Chad chuckled again.
“Is it easy for American interests to buy land in Spain and develop it?” Laia asked. “Aren’t there local interests who might not be happy?”
For a moment, a serious look flashed across Chad’s face, but then it was replaced by his usual toothy grin. “Oh, I reckon some folks’ noses will be put out of joint, but we live in a global economy. Money’s got to move where the opportunities are. That way everyone benefits. Right, Felip?”
Felip looked distinctly uncomfortable, but he just nodded.
Chad kept going. “Anyway, I was just saying to Felip that I’ve got a generous expense account for this trip, and I’d hate to waste it. Must be some good restaurants in those hotels by the beach. Would you kids care to join Felip and me for some dinner?”
I looked at Laia and could tell immediately that she wasn’t any more keen on an evening with Chad than I was. “Thank you,” I said, “but I’m not feeling so good. Probably something I ate. It’d be a shame to waste a good meal.”
“And I’m sure you have more business to talk to Felip about,” Laia added. “We’ll just relax and maybe catch something to eat if Steve feels better later.”
“Good idea,” Felip said, in a tone that suggested he was happy we were not taking Chad up on his offer. “Chad has booked us into the Puesta del Sol Hotel just south of town. We checked in and dropped the bags off earlier. All you have to do is pick up keys at the desk whenever you want.”
“Thanks,” Laia said. “I think, if Steve feels up to it, we’ll wander up and check out where bomb number two landed.”
“A walk in the fresh air might do me good,” I said as we stood up.
“That reminds me,” Felip said. “Can I have my GPS back? I’ve loaded the land designations on it, and it’ll help our discussions.”
Laia hesitated. “You won’t need it to find bomb site two,” Felip said. “Just follow the main street through town. When you come out the other side, keep going until you come to the cemetery and a couple of small reservoirs. The fenced-off area is where the bomb landed.”
Laia produced the GPS and handed it over.
“Kind of funny, a bomb landing by a cemetery,” Chad said. No one laughed. “Anyway,” he went on, “
from the cemetery, go down to the main road along the coast and head south. The Puesta del Sol’s signposted on the left. There’s even a sign in English. Puesta del sol means sunset. You can’t miss it.” Chad laughed again, but no one else had any idea what was funny.
“It’s only a couple of kilometers,” Felip said, “but catch a cab if you get tired. And take some water.”
“Okay,” Laia said. “See you later.”
“You didn’t mention what happened on the hill,” I said as soon as we were out on the street.
“I need to think about how best to tell Felip,” Laia explained as we walked through town. “If I start off talking about gangsters, Felip will overreact, and the last thing we want right now is the police involved. It’s only our word against Blue Eyes’s, and he’s obviously an influential person around here. Besides, I really didn’t want to say anything in front of Chad.”
“He’s not exactly the caring, sensitive type,” I said. “Let’s go and look at where bomb two landed and then we can head down to the hotel. I’ll probably feel like eating something by then.”
“Are you okay for walking all that way?”
“Sure. I’m feeling better. Something to drink really helped. I played it up in there to get us out of dinner with Chad.”
“Yeah. That wouldn’t have been fun.” Laia glanced at her watch. “We’ll probably get back to the hotel about half past six. It’ll be getting dark by then, and it’ll be a good time to have a shower and grab something to eat.”
“Aaaahhh,” I said, taking a deep breath. “Don’t you just love the energizing smell of plutonium in the evening air?” We were standing by a high chain-link fence that encircled a large area of hilly ground where bomb number two had landed and exploded. Behind us, the narrow dirt road wound back to town between two reservoirs and the local cemetery.
Laia laughed and punched me on the shoulder. “You’re an idiot.”
“Yes,” I agreed, “but I’m a happy, harmless idiot.”
“Are you happy?” Laia was suddenly serious.
“You mean despite being forced to hang out with Chad, having a mystery that seems unsolvable and being threatened by armed mobsters?” Laia smiled, but I could see she was still serious. “Yes. I’m very happy,” I said, putting my arm around her shoulder. “I’m so glad you invited me here for Christmas.”
“And I am glad you came,” Laia said. She moved in and hugged me. “I’m very happy too,” she whispered in my ear.
I could have stood there forever, on a dirt road on a warm Spanish evening with Laia’s arms around me, but the peace was broken by the distant rumble of a scooter. We pulled apart.
“Do you have scooters in Canada?” Laia asked.
“Not many,” I said. “I think it’s mostly a European thing.”
“Then perhaps I will come to Canada. It sounds like a peaceful place. Nothing ever happens there.”
“That’s not fair,” I said with mock indignity. “Lots of stuff happens in Canada. We had the War of 1812 and the Mackenzie-Papineau Rebellion in 1837…”
“I’m sorry,” Laia said. “Since 1812, we in Spain have only had a war against Napoleon, two civil wars, a lost Empire, forty years of a Fascist dictatorship, Basque terrorism, and countless rebellions.”
I laughed. “One of our prime ministers said that Europe’s problem was too much history.”
“He was right.”
“He also said that Canada suffered from too much geography.”
Laia laughed. “Then I will come over in the summer and you can show me some of Canada’s geography.”
“I would love that,” I said as a bright red scooter appeared around the corner between the reservoirs. The rider was young and helmetless, with a green scarf wrapped around the lower half of his face. He slowed as he drew level with us. I raised my hand in greeting. He ignored it and continued past, staring hard at us as he did. Once he was past, he accelerated down the hill.
“Friendly,” I commented as his dust cloud drifted over us. Then a thought struck me. “Do you think Blue Eyes sent him to keep an eye on us?”
Laia shook her head and brushed the dust off her clothes. “There are many kids on scooters, especially along the coast. He probably slowed down to see if we had a bag he could easily snatch. It happens a lot, although mostly in the summer. But we should be moving on. It’ll be dark soon, and I need a shower now more than ever.”
As we set off down the road, Laia said, “Now, except for where bomb number four fell out to sea, we have visited all of the locations in your grandfather’s notebook. What have they told us?”
“Nothing,” I said. “Apart from some fences and warning signs, there’s nothing to see where the bombs fell, and location five was a bust.”
“There was the rockfall,” Laia pointed out.
“A really old rockfall,” I said.
“And the scratch marks I found.”
“I bet they were really old as well. Probably some bored Roman miner writing something rude about his boss.”
Laia laughed. Then she stopped so suddenly that I’d taken a couple of steps before I realized she wasn’t beside me anymore. I turned to see her staring at me. “That’s it!” she said.
“What?”
“Chad gave us the answer.”
“Chad?” I had trouble imagining Chad having the answer to anything.
“The marks I saw on the rockfall were a cross, a line and what I thought was an arrowhead.”
“Okay,” I said. “What does Chad have to do with that?”
“The resort his investors are planning will have a Roman theme. Roman numerals for the floors in the hotel. XIII for thirteen.” Laia crouched and scratched marks in the dust—XIV.
“It wasn’t a cross, a line and an arrowhead,” I said. “It was the Roman numerals for fourteen. Grandfather’s code—rockfall fourteen—wasn’t for rockfall number fourteen, it was number fourteen on a rockfall at location number five. Did you try to move the rock?”
“No. It was big, and it looked like it had been there forever. Do you think whatever is hidden from Gorky is behind that rock?”
“I’m certain of it. We need to go back there.”
“It’s too late now.” Laia looked up to where the sun was almost touching the tops of the western hills. “It’ll be pitch-dark long before we get there. We’ll go tomorrow.”
“Okay,” I agreed. Could we be this close to solving the mystery? I was thrilled by the possibility. We had made incredible progress since this morning, even if we weren’t any closer to discovering who the saboteur at Morón Air Base was. On the other hand, this morning I had never met Blue Eyes, Scarface or Tattoo Head, and my life had been much simpler. I glanced at Laia walking beside me, deep in thought. At least I wasn’t alone. I decided there was nothing I could do about Grandfather’s mystery or Blue Eyes’s threats before tomorrow anyway, so I would try my hardest to enjoy the evening with Laia in what I was certain would be a very expensive hotel. I was right about it being expensive, but the Puesta del Sol Hotel turned out to be surprising in a completely different way.
THIRTEEN
Appropriately, it was sunset when we arrived at the Puesta del Sol. There was a couple registering in front of us, so while Laia waited, I crossed the lobby to check out the pool. At the door marked PISCINA, a uniformed porter stepped in front of me and said, “Usted no puede entrar en la piscina vestida de esa manera.”
“Perdon?” I said.
“Su ropa,” the man said, indicating my clothes. “Usted no puede entrar en la piscine.
” “Okay,” I said, turning away. I knew I was dusty and could use a shower, and my clothes weren’t from Chad’s tailor, but I was a little annoyed that the hotel was so pompous that I wouldn’t be allowed into the pool area. I looked around the echoing lobby. It was certainly upscale—not at all like the motels Mom, DJ and I stayed in when we went on holidays. The floor was of gleaming marble, the walls either glass or polished wood, and there were crysta
l chandeliers and plush seats all around. Even the row of elevator doors was polished to a mirror finish.
As I watched, one set of elevator doors opened and a dumpy, middle-aged couple came out. They were chatting happily, and both had white towels over their shoulders. There was nothing remarkable about them—a couple going for a swim before dinner and the evening’s entertainment—except that both were completely naked.
I watched in shocked confusion as they crossed the lobby, smiling and nodding at me on the way, exchanged a couple of friendly words with the porter and disappeared through the doors to the pool. My clothes weren’t the best or the cleanest, but at least they were clothes.
I spun around toward the registration desk and collided with another naked person. “Watch where you’re going,” he said in English. I mumbled some kind of apology and kept going. Laia was at the desk, talking to the receptionist. “There are naked people here,” I blurted out.
Laia looked startled, but the receptionist simply said, “Of course there are, sir. The Puesta del Sol Hotel is a naturist resort. Clothing is optional in most areas, although clothes are not allowed in the pool area and are essential at all times in the restaurant and after eight in the evening everywhere.” I could think of nothing to say. “I’m sorry,” the receptionist went on. “You were not aware of this fact?”
“A simple misunderstanding,” Laia said. She seemed remarkably calm. “My friend Steve is from Canada. I don’t think they have many naturist resorts there. Perhaps it is too cold.”
The receptionist smiled. “I think you will be more comfortable after eight o’clock,” she said to me. “I hope you enjoy your stay with us.” I glanced at the clock on the wall behind her. An hour and a half until people put their clothes on.
“I’ve got our room keys,” Laia said. “You are in four twelve and I am in four thirteen; our bags are already there. Perhaps we should go up, shower and relax. I’ll meet you back here at five minutes past eight.” She exchanged a smile with the receptionist.
