"You will perhaps recognize the two people in the photograph. On the right is Edwina Rasmussen, my esteemed colleague, and I am, of course, on the left." Both were smiling, and Jasper was holding something in his hand.
"You are all probably wondering what I'm holding," he said.
"Tell us," several in the audience called out. Jasper paused for more effect. He had everyone in the room's attention.
"Next slide, please," he said, and a close-up of his hands holding what looked to be a piece of wood with something carved on it appeared. I had to cover my left eye again to make it out at all. I still didn't know what it was, but it resembled the Santiago tablet Robinson had just shown. In other words, this carving had to be rongorongo.
"In case you're wondering," Robinson said. "This was found near San Pedro de Atacama in Northern Chile as I have just said, in a grave that has been dated to 200 CE, almost fifteen hundred years before rongorongo is supposed to have been invented on Rapa Nui. It has survived because of the exceptionally dry climate."
He paused dramatically. "The inescapable conclusion is that rongorongo originated on the mainland and was carried to Rapa Nui. Not the other way around." The room burst into applause.
The lights came up, and shooting pains stabbed my eyes. Two members of the warmup act rolled a glass case on a trolley out on to the stage. Flashbulbs started popping immediately, and soon the audience was on its feet, clapping rhythmically. At that moment I would have preferred to hear howling hounds of hell over that noise. Rongorongo was going to have to wait. I stood up, crawled over everyone between me and the aisle, and then bolted out the door. I made it as far as a hibiscus bush before I threw up. I staggered back to the room, crawled into bed, and pulled the blanket over my head to make the lights stop strobing.
"Migraine," the Chilean doctor said, in English for Moira's benefit, an hour or so later. I suppose that was something of a relief. I was sure I was having a stroke and would die, which didn't seem such a bad idea. "Have you had one before?"
"No," I mumbled.
"I'm told they are very unpleasant," he said. I could have told him that, too. I'd never had a headache even remotely like it. I wanted them to turn out the light and go away so I could die in peace.
"Unfortunately, once you have one, the likelihood of more is rather high," he said. If I could have managed to sit up without vomiting, I would have scratched his eyes out. Alas, I couldn't move.
"Perhaps that is a detail she doesn't need right at this moment," Moira, bless her heart, said.
"I'm going to give her something for the pain," the doctor said, as if I wasn't there.
I've tried taking something for the pain, you idiot. I can't keep it down.
"I understand she had an unpleasant experience earlier today, and that may well have set this off," he said.
No kidding! The guy was a genius. I decided that before I joined Dave Maddox in the netherworld I had to ask Moira what Seth, Rory, and Gordon had said about Jasper's rongorongo revelation, if that's what it was, and to request that she tell Rob that I loved him, or something equally touching. Instead, a few seconds later I'd been jabbed in the posterior and was out cold again, dreaming of horses. This time it was I who was lying on the pile of dirt known as Tepano's tomb. Felipe Tepano was there, on the patio, telling anyone who would listen that someone else was going to die on the same spot. I knew I was that someone because I was certain I'd had been kicked in the head by a horse. I tried to cry out for help, but couldn't make a sound. The only person who noticed me was Cassandra, who not only came over, but pulled me up and started shaking me. "I have put a curse on you," she said. "You insulted me. I have put a curse on you just as I did on Dave. I have the power. My aku-aku is very strong."
But then, suddenly there were Rob and the Mounties to the rescue. I've had this dream before, I thought.
"It's just a migraine. You'll be fine," Rob said. "Remember what I told you about horses." I promised him that this time I would, no matter what. As he wheeled his horse to the left to leave, he said, over his shoulder, "There's something else you've missed, by the way."
When I came to, the room was dark, and Moira was snoring slightly. I glanced around. A tiny fringe of light showed under the curtain, but I could look at it without flinching. Furthermore, the pain in the head had stopped, and I could sit up—I tried this very gingerly—without throwing up. Apparently the worst was over. I lay there quietly grateful, feeling much more kindly toward the doctor, and thinking about my dream. This time I could recall it all very well. The trouble was, I couldn't remember what Rob had told me about horses. Then it came to me. Rob said that horses will always go around you. Even if you were lying unconscious on the ground, he said, they would not trample you. If Rob was right, and I had no reason to think he wasn't, then what exactly had happened to Dave Maddox? And what was it I'd missed?
So there I was once again, creeping out of the room in an effort not to wake Moira. This time I took my new camera. The sky was soft gray tinged with pink this time, and there were angry dark clouds off in the distance. It was possible this was going to be a stormy day, which made what I was going to do all the more urgent.
I went directly to Tepano's tomb, which had a pathetic piece of yellow plastic fluttering away in its general location. No one had made any effort to cover up the scene of death, to protect it from the wind and what looked to be an approaching downpour. There were lots of footprints in the dirt, but also hoof prints as well. I could see why the carabineros had reached the conclusion they had. I took a picture of the spot, and also the gate, the one I'd found unhinged. Then I walked the full length of the fence until it reached the sea in one direction and a rock face in the other.
When I had completed the circuit, I was startled to see the Chilean policeman Pablo Fuentes watching me from the vantage point of the terrace. "Sometimes it is not a good idea to revisit the site of an unpleasant experience, Senora," he said, walking down to me.
"And sometimes it is," I said.
"How so?" he said.
"He wasn't killed by a horse," I said.
"Why would you say that, Senora?"
"My spouse is a member of the Royal Canadian Mounted Police," I said.
"A Mountie," he exclaimed. "Most excellent."
"He told me that horses would go around you even if you were lying on the ground unconscious."
"I am not a Mountie and know nothing about horses, but if he says so, then it must be true." I couldn't tell whether he was being facetious or not. "Other than what the Mountie has told you, can you find any support for your point of view?" he asked. Now I knew he was humoring me.
"Do you see any horse poop on this side of the fence?" I said.
Fuentes looked amused, but at least he looked around for a minute before he pronounced, "No."
"There's lots of horse poop on this island, at Rano Raraku, on the road to Orongo, and even on the main street of Hanga Roa. And there is lots of horse poop out there," I said, pointing to the area beyond the fence. "But never in the three days I've been here have I ever seen horse poop on the hotel grounds."
"But there are horses just outside the fence, Sefiora," he said. He looked as if he was having great difficulty not laughing.
"There certainly are," I agreed. "So how did the horse get into the hotel grounds."
"It jumped the fence, I suppose," he said.
"Okay," I said. "Show me where. Show me one hoof print anywhere near the fence on either side of it." He was sufficiently interested in what I had to say to walk the length of the fence as I had.
"Where did you find Maddox's shoe?" I asked. "This side or the other side?"
"This side," he said.