by Ronil Caine
He turned the coin around a few more times but he did not get any closer to the solution. His conviction that it was just an ordinary piece of metal and had nothing to do with the weird events grew by the moment. He felt stupid, but also hopeless and devoid of ideas. He decided to take the coin to an expert.
4
He took the day off from work and went to the Numismatic Museum first thing in the morning. After a lengthy search and even more waiting, he found an expert willing to have a look at his coin. He told Luis he had never seen anything remotely similar and he thought it was a fake.
But Luis was not comforted by that. He thought it was just an everyday coin.
Do you really think so? A voice inside him asked. You are only seeing things! There were a few odd coincidences, and that’s that! Luck? Come on! What is luck, to begin with? A benevolent constellation of coincidences? And what is a coincidence?
A tall and lean man bumped into Luis as he was standing in the museum lobby, lost in one of the major series of questions human philosophy had yet to answer. Luis dropped the coin and it ricocheted away, merrily tinkling on the stone floor. The man leaned down and caught it, glanced down at it and handed it back to Luis.
“I’m sorry, sir,” he said. “I wasn’t paying attention. I apologise.”
“It was my fault, really. I was lost in thought,” Luis answered and took the coin. Later, he wondered if he had run away at this point, like a madman, could he have broken free? Could the ownership of the coin have passed to the man when he picked it up?
“This is a strange coin,” the man said.
“Indeed.”
“Are you an expert?”
“Me? No, I just brought it in to have someone look at it.”
“And how did it go?”
“Not too well,” Luis nodded towards the offices. “A man checked it and said it was not interesting.”
“If you want, I can have a look at it, too. I’m Óscar Hinojosa. I’m the museum’s research director.”
And I just happened to run into you, Luis thought. But of course!
“Would you really do that?” Luis asked.
“I always have time for unusual objects” Hinojosa said and shook hands with Luis.
“I am much obliged, sir. My name is Luis. Luis Moreno.”
“Glad to meet you, Señor Moreno. Please, come with me to the lab!”
The lab was a small room with barely enough space for three researchers. There was a low but wide bench along the wall with the necessary equipment, technical manuals, materials for chemical and physical probes and cleaning, and a staggering amount of coins. Some just lay heaped on the desk, others were carefully placed in small, velvet-lined boxes.
A heavyset woman sat in front of a bench and she was so engrossed by her microscope that she did not even look up when the two men entered.
“Good morning, Maria,” Hinojosa greeted her.
“Good morning, director!” Maria jumped up from her chair to show respect to her superior.
“Oh, do carry on, I’m only here for a moment!”
Maria sat back and was lost in her microscope again. Hinojosa sat down in front of another microscope and asked for the coin. Luis handed it over, wondering if he could pass it on to another, or if it was destined to stay with him until death?
Hinojosa calmly set the microscope and put the coin under the lens. He kept humming for a moment and then he looked up at Luis.
“Well, this is a strange coin indeed. I could feel it was not your average change when I first touched it. Its material, its weight, its surface—none of them resemble the more commonly used materials, such as iron, copper, gold, silver, bronze and who knows what.”
Luis nodded.
“One side depicts a four-winged hummingbird, something I’ve never seen before. It’s worn, but recognisable. Hummingbirds are totem animals in several cultures. There is writing on the other side but I cannot make it out, either. I’m not a linguist but I suspect it is an extinct language or something unknown, like the language of the Vojnich manuscript, for example. The letters remind me of oriental writing but still have a distinctly Indian character. The pattern along the edges reminds me of the folk motifs of Central and Southern American Indian tribes, but that’s not my area of expertise, either. Still, I know enough to say those Indians neither minted, nor used coins. Should this still be an Indian coin somehow, I’d say it was made by the Inca.
“I see.”
“If you want it, you can leave it here for my colleagues to check its composition and age. Maybe we could have a better look at the inscription and the bird motif, though I’m afraid it could be a custom-made fake coin. You know, the kind those wizard-mad kids like to play with.”
“When would you have the results?”
“Maybe this week.”
Luis considered the offer. There was nothing to lose. And with the coin removed, maybe his lucky streak would break as well. Though he was starting to doubt that it was a lucky charm and not a herald of misfortune. The more he thought about, the more it seemed the coin only attracted the trouble and protected him from it.
“That would be wonderful, Señor Hinojosa!”
“Perfect. Give me a number where I can reach you.”
Hinojosa slipped the coin into an envelope and put Luis’s name and phone number on it. They said goodbye and Luis left.
When he stepped out on the street, he felt like a great burden had been lifted. It felt like the coin had not just weighed a few grams, but several pounds. Luis walked away from the museum with a smile and he started rehearsing an excuse for never going back for the coin.
But he went back for it.
5
On Sunday, Luis took his family to church. It was a long time since their last visit and it was easy to convince Camila to attend mass. Afterwards, Luis said a silent prayer to thank God for his luck and providing enough money to secure his future. He could not quit his job, but Marcos could go to a good school and they could move to a nicer area.
He felt like it was over. The coin, even if it did have magic powers—and that sounded ridiculous in retrospect—was far away from him. It was no longer his problem.
Luis found a house in the Zona Rosa district. It was one of the best areas of Mexico City. When they met the owner, he told them he had just posted the advertisement in the morning and that they were the first to call. He wanted to sell the house as soon as possible, otherwise, he could not pay the deposit on another house. The house was on sale for a very reasonable price, but Luis could ask for even more discount because he paid the entire sum immediately. He told Camila he got an employee credit from his company. But even so, he had to acknowledge that he was amazingly lucky with the flat. Luis started to worry again. What sort of sacrifice would the coin demand in exchange for the house?
A few days later they were already boxing up their own home, when a woman called Luis from the Numismatic Museum to say that he could pick up the coin and the test results.
Luis decided not to go and continued packing. He was trying to get one of their old wardrobes out of the corner when its bottom fell off. It was an antique which they inherited from Camila’s parents and Luis always hated it because it creaked loudly and took up too much space. On top of that, it was impossibly heavy, because in the old days furniture was made from real wood rather than flimsy chipboard covered with a film of pathetic woodgrain imitation. But now that the wardrobe started to fall apart, Luis immediately wondered if he could convince Camila to leave it behind. As he stared at the broken piece his eyes widened. There was a whole heap of US dollars on the floor. It must have been hidden at the bottom of the wardrobe. The edges of a few banknotes crumbled into dust as he touched them, which meant the money was really old. Perhaps so old even Camila’s parents had no idea it was there. At least, they never told them anything about it. Luis shovelled the money from under the wardrobe while Camila and Marcos gathered around him. Camila made the sign of the cross.
; “Look what I found!” Luis said and pretended to be pleasantly surprised, when in fact he was more than a little scared by this unexpected fortune. “It was in your mother’s wardrobe. This is at least...” Luis ran his gaze across the heap a few times. “At least fifty thousand dollars. If not more.”
“We have to tell the police,” Camila said. “Maybe it belongs to the drug cartels!”
“Oh, come on! Look at how old these banknotes are! They must have been here for decades! Nobody’s looking for this any longer.”
“You think so?”
“This wardrobe’s been with us for four or five years, and as far as I remember, it was in your parents’ home for at least twenty years before that.”
Camila needed a bit more convincing, but in the end she agreed to keep the money… and the wardrobe as well. Luis would have gladly gotten rid of the heap of dollars, but not by handing it to the police.
When the removal van arrived, Marcos helped to carry the boxes. He could hardly wait to move into their new house where he would have his own room. But as he was climbing down the stairs, his foot slipped and he dropped the box on his leg. It was not particularly heavy, but it was enough to break his shin.
The ambulance took them to the hospital and as soon as Marcos was attended to, Luis left him with Camila and hurried off to the museum.
He had to find a way to get rid of the coin. It was still his, he was certain of that. He could not just give it to someone. Maybe it could not even be taken away from him. If it really came to that, he was ready to melt it down or kill himself, but he had to find a way to protect his family. He was not certain that the fortune of buying a house for three quarters of its market value was fully balanced by one broken leg. He started to feel everyone around him was in danger.
In the museum, he was received by a portly moustached man called Manuel Tovar. He kept fiddling with his thick, black-rimmed spectacles as they spoke. He said Professor Hinojosa was away, but had asked him to give Luis this report on the coin.
He handed Luis a sheet with the museum’s logo, Hinojosa’s name and position, and a short, written assessment. It read more like a sketch than an official report. It stated that 98% of the coin’s material was identified as an alloy of bronze, silver and gold, with the remaining 2% containing some sort of organic matter and unknown material which needs further processing and more time to fully identify. It contained no iron, which supported its theoretical Inca origins, as the Inca had no knowledge of iron.
The designs were most similar to those found in Inca culture, but the hummingbird remained a mystery, despite Hinojosa having consulted an Inca expert in the Numismatic Museum of Toluca. All they could say was that the hummingbird was a totem animal for the Inca, but just one of the several totems and that it had no special significance.
An expert of Tawantinsuyu, the language of the Inca Empire, said that the inscription was a coded, written version of Quechua, used by shamans to pass on their knowledge without granting outsiders access. Hinojosa added a note saying that this is just a legend and the Inca did not use writing but recorded information with the help of knots.
All in all, the coin seemed to perform some sort of religious purpose in the Inca Empire, sometime in the 1400s. Tovar told Luis that the museum was willing to pay him 10,000 pesos for it. Luis declined this offer without thinking. Tovar gave him the coin and the written reports and shook his hand. Luis thanked him and left.
It suddenly occurred to him to call his old friend, Daniel Cazares, and ask if he was free for lunch. Cazares was a lawyer and a really busy man whose company mostly handled private investigations. Cazares was a well-respected man with many friends, including politicians and important people in high positions. He and Luis attended the same school for eight years and their friendship was one of those rare, honest acquaintances which were not built around profit or interest. They usually met for lunch or dinner every two or three months and it took them weeks to find a suitable date.
This time Cazares immediately said yes. He was free that day and Luis was not surprised to hear it, even though he found it odd that the coin apparently did not care that he was making an effort to get rid of it: he was still lucky.
Having first discussed the usual topics—friends and family—Luis summed up the situation for Cazares. He told him he had found a coin and would like to learn as much as possible about it. He gave him the museum’s report but omitted certain details, such as the amount of money he won, the new house he bought or how many people suffered for it and in what ways. He did not talk about luck, magic or superstition either, because he knew how ridiculous it would all sound, even though it was frighteningly real in his head.
Cazares promised his help and asked for a week. Luis tried to make it look more urgent—he was afraid of what a week would cost him—and Cazares said he would try to get results in a few days.
6
Luis was scared and even Camila noticed it. He was afraid that something would happen again. Something even more portentous. He would win a huge sum or survive a catastrophe and it would cost Camila’s or Marco’s health. Or their lives. Anything could happen at any moment. Maybe if he stayed at home, Luis thought, it would avert disaster. He would not take risks and thus avoid luck. Right?
He could still not figure out the exact price each lucky turn required, or even pair up each misfortune with each fortunate event. He was not even sure they were evenly balanced or came in separate pairs. It just seemed things happened. Good followed by bad, bad followed by good. The weighing seemed to be accidental, but in the long run, it was evenly balanced.
For three days, Luis moved around the flat as if he had Lobstein-syndrome and his bones were as fragile as butterfly wings. Camila kept asking him what was wrong, but Luis only said he had something bad to eat. Of course, Camila suspected he was not telling the truth and that made her think of the worst. Her husband, the man she had shared her life with for fifteen years, was keeping something from her. What? What could it be that he could not tell her, what could be so bad that he could not tell his wife, his partner, his friend?
Then Cazares phoned and Luis rushed away from home. They met in a quiet little café. There was no one else but them. They sat on the terrace in a deserted side street.
“Where did you get this coin?” Cazares asked twirling it between his fingers. He was good at it but his eyes were grim.
“I found it on the street,” Luis said. Cazares put the coin on the table and pushed it towards Luis.
“Well. I hope you’re not superstitious.”
“Not really,” Luis said, but his lips quivered. Luckily, Cazares was not looking at him. “I’m not even particularly religious.”
“It took some work but we learned that these kinds of coins were made by the Inca magicians for the emperor to grant them good fortune.” Luis could feel the cold running down his spine. He almost started to shiver with fear. Grant him good fortune? Magicians?
“The hummingbird,” the lawyer went on, “is a symbol of good fortune. At least it was according to a small cabal of magicians. The bird is rare and seeing one was considered to be a good omen. Giving it four wings was just a way of showing its supernatural powers, the same way Hindu gods have multiple arms. This certain sect was persecuted by many, mostly through fear. Very little is known about them, and I've already told you almost all of it.”
“And the inscription?”
“We couldn’t solve that. It is a coded message. The symbols, however, are not characteristic of the Inca culture. They look more like oriental signs, but they don’t match anything found there, either.” Cazares showed him his empty hands with a guilty look. “I’m sorry, but we don’t have the resources for that now.”
“Of course, I understand. No problem. Even this has been great help.”
“And did it bring you good luck?” Cazares asked and pointed carelessly at the coin. Luis forced a smile and hoped it looked heartfelt enough.
“Oh no! After all, it is just
a coin!” he said but he had to clasp his hands together because they were shaking so badly. Cazares nodded.
“I flunked a very important case this week,” he said and shook his head. “A great loss of reputation, too.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” Luis said and tried to look nonchalant.
“And one more thing,” Cazares said. “We have discovered a man in Lima who might have more information. His name is Guayasamin. He has some Inca blood. Here’s his number!”
“Thank you, Danny. Really!”
“It’s nothing. And now I have to go, I’m sorry.”
“Okay. I owe you one.”
“Talk to you later!”
7
Luis called Guayasamin in the afternoon. A raspy male voice answered the phone.
“Sí.”
“Senñr Guayasamin?”
“Yes.”
“My name is Luis Moreno, from Mexico City. My friend Daniel Cazares gave me your number. It is about...”
“The coin.”
“Yes.”
“You have an Inca coin of good fortune?”
“Yes, I do.”
“You found it?”
“Yes, on the street, but...”
“And does it bring you good luck alone or good luck and bad luck?”
“Unfortunately, both.”
“Come to Lima.”
“Lima? Peru?”
“I know a few Incas who can probably help you. But I cannot promise anything.”
“Have you met such a coin before?”
“No, but I’ve heard about them. Of course, these are just legends.”
Luis kept silent. Guayasamin’s rasping breath through the phone measured the time.
“Okay,” Luis said in the end. “I’ll go there.”
“Find me in the port. I’ll be at the shipping cranes,” Guayasamin hung up. Luis kept the mute phone on his ears for a few more seconds and then he sat down and started to think about how he could get to Lima. If there was hope, no matter how infinitely small, that he could get rid of the coin, he had to grab it.
