Though it seemed desperate, Navarro felt compelled to do something. Anything was better than lying around waiting for Drummond’s schedule to free up.
At first, Navarro thought of trying without him. There was another map site in eastern Nicaragua. But, without the experienced diamond hunter, it would take a miracle to find a vault. Navarro knew of no ruins in the jungles of eastern Nicaragua. While that didn’t mean none were there, it did mean traversing thousands of square miles of uninhabited terrain similar to the Amazon. Not an appealing prospect, thought Navarro, especially without Margaret Corchran and her Stone.
As a second line of advance, Navarro put out discreet feelers through auction houses and his network of artifact traders for recent news of an artifact bearing similarities to the serpent’s tooth. If his reading of the empty Amazon vault was incorrect, it meant someone else beat him to the punch. Cully, perhaps? While the ruin’s wall showed no sign of recent entry, it was possible Navarro missed something in the rush to open the vault and clear out before the Cinta-Larga showed up. He never actually examined the wall in broad daylight.
Navarro also briefly considered bringing in another prospector, but the ones he knew who might do the job were far less trustworthy and discreet when measured against Drummond.
No, there was no choice. He must wait. Cursing the delay, Navarro squeezed the beacon to quell its mocking heartbeat.
Pézenas, France
August 28
“Allô, Christian. How is our patient today?” Foucault asked when the call connected.
“Doing much better, Monsieur. Much better. Her body responds well to enjyia,” answered Christian. “I confess, I am amazed at her recovery.”
Foucault paced the garden. “She is younger than you and I, mon vieil ami. The enjyia has greater potency in the young.”
“It would appear so.”
“When we are done speaking, I wish to speak with her, comprende?”
“Of course, sir.”
“Bon. Now, your message said you have news from Cully’s associate?”
“Yes, I spoke with her again this morning. As we suspected, Cully is seeking Tyls.”
“Tell me.” Foucault sat on a courtyard bench and lit a cigarette.
Christian briefly recapped the lead-up to the call. After their initial conversation the prior week, Christian contacted Jennifer again as Foucault had instructed. The second discussion was brief. Jennifer was once again preparing to board a flight. When Christian suggested an alternative time later in the day, Jennifer asked for his email address and promised to get back to him with a couple of appointment options.
From there, they had exchanged two rounds of emails before settling on a date to speak. In the first of the exchanges, Jennifer asked if he’d found any information about the artifact. Christian had replied a day later to say he could find no record of an artifact sold to Devlin Wilson in Foucault’s papers. However, Christian told Jennifer he had spoken with the count, and Foucault recalled the dialogue with Wilson. Regrettably the two men never reached an agreement, Christian relayed, but the item was still available if Dr. Cully was interested in rounding out Wilson’s collection. Alternatively, Christian’s message said, his employer might be interested in purchasing artifacts from the estate.
Two days later, Jennifer sent back a short reply to express her disappointment and to thank him for checking. She told him she didn’t think Dr. Cully was interested in purchasing or selling any pieces at this time, but said she would pass the offers along. She then asked if they might still speak by phone. There were some other artifacts in Wilson’s collection without purchase documentation, and she wondered if Count Foucault might know anything of their heritage.
“When we did finally speak,” Christian told Foucault, “she asked questions about Malinyah’s Sinethal, though she referred to it as a black tile with etched symbols. Apparently, Devlin purchased the Tyl from a private collector, but they can’t find the transaction receipt.”
Foucault withdrew the cigarette and waved it about. “Pah! Nonsense. Devlin didn’t buy the Sinethal! What else?”
“She said there were two statues as well.”
As smoke circled in the light breeze, Foucault recalled Margaret mentioning Navarro’s interest in two of Devlin’s statues. “Yes, what of them?”
“She thought they might be too hard to describe on the phone. She said she would email me pictures of them once they returned from their trip. She said she would have limited phone and email access while away.”
“Trip?”
“Yes, they are headed to Nicaragua.”
Foucault stood and began to pace. “You said ‘they.’ Is Cully going with her?”
“Yes, she said they’re going on an expedition…into the jungle.”
“Where in Nicaragua?” Foucault dropped the cigarette on the cobblestone path and crushed it beneath his loafer.
“A little village called Greytown. It’s on the east coast, near the border with Costa Rica.”
Foucault lowered the phone and swore. When he returned to the line, he said, “There was no map site in Nicaragua, I am sure of it!”
“I was surprised as well. When she first mentioned Nicaragua, I thought Cully might be interested in Ometepe, but that’s nowhere near where they’re headed.”
“Ometepe is not on the map, either, Christian. I would have noticed that.”
“Sir, I think I should go to Greytown, even if it isn’t on the map. I know where they’ll be staying. She offered me the hotel fax number in case I found anything about the black stone.” Christian paused then added, “Margaret is strong enough to fend for herself.”
“Are the two of you still in Manaus?”
“Yes, we’ve moved around between hotels, but we’re still near the city. I’m sure if she stays hidden, she’ll be fine.”
“You said this town is near Costa Rica?” Foucault gripped the medallion bouncing on his chest.
“Yes, I can fly into San Jose and find my way there. Before I go, I will leave enjyia and some money for Margaret.”
Foucault stalked around the oleander altar while fidgeting with the medallion. “Non. I have a different idea. Take Margaret with you to Costa Rica. Find a hotel for her, and then go on to Nicaragua.”
“But, Monsieur, it will be difficult to get her out of Brazil.”
“Find a way, Christian. It must be done,” Foucault said. “When you reach San Jose, call me with the hotel information, comprende?”
“Yes, Monsieur.”
“Put Margaret on the phone. An opportunity has arisen; it is time we put her to use.”
Incline Village, Nevada
Anlon gazed at the book’s dust jacket and the pair of smiling men. There was Devlin, garbed like Indiana Jones sans whip. With a cigar clenched in his teeth, he clamped his bear paw of a hand atop the shoulder of Cesar Perez. In the picture, Cesar held a stone tablet in his hands, a prize from the expedition featured in the book — a pre-Mayan calendar the two discovered in a Mexican jungle.
Diminutive by comparison, Cesar was the antithesis of Anlon’s swashbuckling uncle. Garbed in a simple white dress shirt and blue jeans, Cesar had a humble, almost apologetic smile. The lines etched in his tanned face, weathered from many years in the field, formed deep furrows. Combined with his gray-streaked black hair, he looked older than he really was. In fact, the picture didn’t do the man justice at all, thought Anlon.
They’d spent a harried twenty-four hours together back in May, and Cesar seemed as vibrant as men half his age. And man, did he know his Mesoamerican mythology! It was the reason Anlon had reached out to him again after Jennifer’s discovery in Villahermosa. Who better to help them sort out the fish-man statue and its possible connection to Zapatera?
And the call had paid off. Not only did Cesar provide a quick education on the statues of Zapatera and Ometepe, but he volunteered to join them for their Nicaraguan expeditions. His archaeology experience would be invaluable given Anlon’s novice
status.
In that same call, Cesar had inquired if there’d been any progress tracking down Margaret Corchran, Devlin’s killer. Anlon shared the news of her sudden appearance and equally sudden disappearance in the Amazon. This had led to a brief unexpected discussion, one that shed possible light on Margaret’s purpose and one that hinted Navarro’s involvement: a discussion about the Rivers of Gold myth. Though Anlon found the story interesting, it seemed a stretch to connect the legend with Margaret’s presence in the Amazon. After all, he had told Cesar, there was nothing to indicate Navarro had been in Brazil with Margaret.
Anlon’s opinion changed, however, when Jennifer received an excited call from Dan Nickerson. Interpol had verified Klaus Navarro entered Brazil the same day as Margaret and departed five days later. Nickerson had also told her Interpol discovered Navarro passed through international customs on several other recent occasions, including two trips to Dominica.
So, it now seemed conclusive to Anlon that Navarro had a copy of the Waterland Map and that he was searching for the Munuorian caches. Further, the news seemed to imply Margaret had teamed up with him, which made sense given that Margaret escaped with a copy of the map. With those two things in mind, Anlon reconsidered Cesar’s story of the mythical stone-melter. Was it possible Navarro was after a Tuliskaera?
After Devlin’s death, there had never been any mention of Navarro’s interest in the Tuliskaera. Margaret’s brother, Kyle, told Jennifer that Navarro had hired them to nip the Sinethal, Devlin’s map, the gold Dobson had found and the two statues he stole.
But, now, Anlon wasn’t so sure. With Jennifer positioned on the other side of the desk, Anlon handed her the book and said, “You didn’t get to meet Cesar in Stockbridge, did you?”
“Nope,” she said.
“He’s a good dude, you’ll like him.”
Jennifer casually flipped through the book’s pages. “Pebbles said the same.”
“I thought you should hear the story directly from him.”
“Absolutely. I doubt Interpol’s aware of the possible connection. It might help them locate Margaret’s crime scene if Cesar’s right.” Jennifer put Devlin’s book aside and opened a new notepad.
When the call arrived, Anlon put his cell phone on speaker and introduced Jennifer. Once the two had exchanged pleasantries, Anlon said, “So, here’s the deal. We just found out Navarro was in Brazil at the same time as Margaret. It caused me to think of your Rivers of Gold story and I thought Jen should hear it. She’s in touch with the police keeping tabs on Navarro; they might find the story of interest.”
“Certainly, I’m happy to help,” Cesar said. In fine detail, he shared the Olmec legend. When he finished the tale, he told Jennifer he’d also learned of Navarro’s recent inquiries in the art community. To Cesar, the inquiries confirmed his suspicion of a connection between Margaret’s appearance in the Amazon and the Rivers of Gold story.
Jennifer finished scribbling a note and then leaned toward the cell phone. “Thank you, that’s helpful. I’ve got a couple questions if you don’t mind.”
“By all means.”
“You said the legend is Olmec. Weren’t they mostly centered in Mexico, not Brazil?”
“That is correct,” Cesar said. “You know your cultures well.”
“No, not really,” she said lightly. “I just got back from La Venta. I toured the museum.”
“Ah. Impressive, isn’t it? The Olmecs were artisans with stone.”
“Agreed. I wish now that I had made it out to the actual dig site, but I didn’t have time.” Jennifer sighed. “Anyway, getting back to my question. What makes you think the legend might relate to the Cinta-Larga?”
“Good question. There is no explicit link. Just a suspicion. It’s important to understand that many Mesoamerican legends build upon one another. A piece of an Olmec tale shows up in a later Mayan or Aztec story. An artifact from a Zapotec site might share a strong resemblance to a later Toltec or Incan statue discovered hundreds or thousands of miles away.
“Mesoamerican nations and outlying tribes migrated throughout Central and South America. Sometimes the migrations were friendly, other times not. There were exchanges of culture along the way.
“In this case, there is a known ruin in the area where Ms. Corchran resurfaced. It’s never been excavated to my knowledge because it sits deep inside the domain of the Cinta-Larga. Most archaeologists are unwilling to take the risk to dip a toe in their lands. Too many have been kidnapped, held for ransom or killed by the tribe.
“The ruin is near a fabled trove of gems called ‘the waterfall of jewels’ — a place where legends say, ‘diamonds flowed like water.’ When Anlon told me where Ms. Corchran was found, it reminded me of the myth. Especially after learning of Navarro’s ‘serpent-tooth’ inquiries.”
“Okay, got it,” said Jennifer. “So, tell me about the serpent-tooth Stone. How did Navarro describe it?”
“Well, I don’t know for sure. I’ve learned of his interest thirdhand. From what I was told, he was seeking a stone artifact with a pointed tip. Navarro said it was an Olmec artifact, one they called the tooth of the serpent.”
Thinking back to Malinyah’s demonstration, Anlon said, “Sure sounds like the Flash Stone, er, Tuliskaera, to me. Especially the connection with snakes.”
Manaus, Brazil
Christian took the phone from Margaret. “I am back on the line, Monsieur.”
“Bon. Did Margaret give you the highlights?”
“She did.” Christian left the motel room.
“Any questions?”
Christian walked along the open-air corridor. “A few, sir.”
“Very well.”
“Why now?”
“Quite simple. We know Navarro did not find what he sought in Brazil. He is sure to try again. With Cully now on the move as well, we have two chess pieces to contend with at one time. If we add in The Betrayer, there are three. We should eliminate one as quickly as possible.
“We know Navarro has the map. We know he’s used it. We know he’s willing to kill to find the Stones, a la Margaret. And yesterday, I learned he’s specifically seeking the Tuliskaera.”
“He is?” Christian paused at a stairwell leading to the parking lot.
“Yes, the imbécile is asking around for ‘the serpent’s tooth.’ I heard from two dealers within an hour of each other. If The Betrayer has connections, then Navarro is in danger already. I would rather see him dead than have his copy of the map end up in Muran’s hands.”
“Understood. Do you think he will fall for your trap?”
“I believe he will. If Margaret is right about him, he is impatient.”
Standing in the parking lot, Christian looked up and spied Margaret staring at him through the motel room window. “Monsieur, are you sure we can trust her?”
Foucault laughed. “Mon ami, she has more motivation than anyone to see Klaus Navarro dead.”
Pézenas, France
After the call ended, Foucault milled about in the garden with head bowed and hands clasped behind his back. Strolling through the rows of oleander, he tried to make sense of Cully’s trip to eastern Nicaragua. Was it possible Navarro and Cully had decoded the Waterland Map? What had they deduced that Foucault had not?
Frustrated by his failure, he returned inside the chateau to orient the map with the Nicaraguan site. Staring at the computer monitor with cigarette in hand, Foucault first maneuvered Devlin’s draft over the interactive world map to line up the Dominica site. As expected, none of the other Maerlif sites appeared in Brazil or Nicaragua. He performed the same exercise using the Brazilian and Nicaraguan sites as his central orientation points and achieved the same result.
Yet, there was something that popped out to him. On the world map, he toggled pins to mark Morne Trois Pitons, Greytown and the Rio Teodoro area searched by Navarro. The three sites formed a scalene triangle. He measured the dimensions, saved the world map and then closed it so that only Devlin’s m
ap appeared on the screen. Eyeballing the map, he searched for a triangle pattern of similar dimensions among the dozen marked sites.
As soon as he spotted it, Foucault snuffed out the cigarette, pulled his chair closer to the desk and quickly reloaded the world map. His hand trembled as he shifted Devlin’s overlapping map to align the sites making up the triangle pattern with the pins saved on the world map. When they lined up, Foucault stared at the rightward shift of Devlin’s map and frowned. Leaning forward, he examined the displaced longitude grid while tapping a finger on the computer mouse.
Thirty seconds later, his hand gripped the mouse and slammed it down. “Mon Dieu! Je suis un idiot!”
San Carlos de Bariloche, Argentina
August 31
Klaus Navarro hung up the phone and stepped onto the parlor balcony to clear his mind. Immediately, the frigid air cloaked his body. Shivering, he paced the span of the mountain overlook. Was it possible? he wondered. Could it be that easy?
The call from Julian Van der Berg had arrived while Navarro dined with a Brazilian model. The young woman stood nearly a foot taller than Navarro and possibly outweighed him, but that hadn’t dissuaded Navarro from trying to woo her. In fact, it had proved an easy task, for early in their conversation he had learned she loved diamonds.
After Navarro discovered her taste for the shiny gems, he had disappeared into his vault and returned with a necklace fit for a queen. He layered it around her neck and invited her to wear it the rest of the evening. The teenager had giggled and pretended she was a princess of a foreign land. She tapped a spoon against her champagne glass and barked orders to Navarro’s servants.
The liveried attendants rushed in and out of the room, rolling their eyes at the end of every round-trip. But, Navarro had found the theatrics amusing. He stoked her portrayal, calling her ‘milady’ and ‘your highness’ and plied her with questions about her imaginary kingdom. The more she drank, the more hilarious her performance.
Race for the Flash Stone (The Anlon Cully Chronicles Book 2) Page 26
