"And what's your specialty, Dave?" Moira said.
"I'm in construction," Dave replied. "Condos, mainly. But I've developed an interesting theory on how the moai were moved down from the quarry and then stood upright on the ahu. I'm going to be presenting a paper here at the congress. I'm trying to get my hands on the agenda so I'll know exactly when. Hey, Jeff!" he said suddenly, waving at a tall, thin, graying man in a baseball cap, lugging an enormous bag. "Come and meet Moira and Lynda."
"Lara," I muttered. "And what's an ahu?" The man in the baseball cap looked over his shoulder for a second, as if he wondered to whom Dave was shouting, but then, seeing no one else, came over to our little group.
"Jeff's a history teacher from Albuquerque," Dave said. "Knows everything there is to know about rongorongo."
Rongorongo? I thought.
"Fascinating," Moira said.
"Nice to meet you both," Jeff said. "And it's Seth, by the way. Seth Connelly."
"Right. Sorry, Seth. Care for a drink, girls?" Dave said.
"We haven't checked in yet," I said, finding my voice at last. "We'd better do that first. But thanks."
"Back at ya," he said, turning to Moira. "When I've had a chance to talk to the organizers."
"Thanks, Dave," Moira said, giving him her nicest smile. "I hope we can get in, at least to your session. Your work sounds fascinating." I swear she batted her eyelashes.
"Hey, Bob," I heard Dave say as we made our way to the desk.
"So how do you like the new me?" Moira said, as we completed the formalities. "Even if I've used the word fascinating way too often since I got off the plane."
"I'm thinking you'll be asked to turn in your Feminists-R-Us membership card," I said.
"It's only a cunning subterfuge," she laughed. "I'm going to get us into this congress. Just you wait and see. Are you hungry? I'm not sure whether I am or not. Jet lag, I guess."
"You didn't eat much on the plane, or planes, that is."
"Could that be because the food was dreadful? Let's get unpacked and cleaned up quickly and then go see if we can persuade somebody to feed us," she said.
The hotel had only about forty rooms, all of them in two annex buildings, designed motel-style with doors that opened to the outside, but with rather pleasant sliding doors at the back, which opened, in our case, onto a stretch of lawn and a view of the coast.
The dining room was what I would call basic, as was the food. The walls were painted utilitarian white, with blue plastic tablecloths over which had been placed white mats, also plastic. To one side was a wall of windows, though, that exhibited the extraordinarily vast blue sea.
A portion of the dining room had been marked off with bamboo screens, and a few minutes after we sat down and ordered, our newfound pal Dave appeared from the other side.
"Here's the drill, girls," Dave said, coming over to our table. "I'm still working on getting you into the sessions, but there's a field trip first thing tomorrow morning—the quarry—and there's two empty seats on our bus. The field trips are extra, and I've said you'll each pay ten bucks. That okay?"
"Okay," we both said.
"Front door, eight AM," he said. I stifled a groan. After two days of flying, I had thought a little sleep-in might be in order.
"I'll get you into my session no matter what," Dave said. "I got a good time on the agenda. Not too early, not too late, not over the cocktail hour. I'm a happy guy. You two girls just wear something pretty, and I'll give you some charts to hand out to everybody at the session. You'll be my little helpers, like. You can do that, right?"
"We'll do our very best, Dave," Moira said.
"My teeth are hurting from clenching them so hard," I said when he was out of earshot.
"Maybe a Dramamine would help," she said. "I took one before we came down."
"Is there a plan?" I said. "Wait! Just a minute! Of course there is. We suck it up until he gets us registered, and then we kill him, right?"
"Right," Moira said.
"I suppose you noticed we're getting up early to go to a quarry," I said.
"I think we should just go with the flow here, Lara," she said. "Savor whatever comes along. It's bound to be fascinating… oops, that word again. Let's say compelling. Obviously I should have brought a thesaurus."
"You should have if you're going to chat up every guy on the island," I said. "They can't all be fascinating."
We were just finishing our meal when Dave showed up at our table again, this time with a very slight woman with tightly curled gray hair and a tightly clenched jaw to match, in tow.
"This is Babs, the registrar for the conference. Be nice to her, and she'll get you into the conference. Babs, this is Marilyn and Lynda."
"Really, I don't know if I can," Babs said. "I've got it all organized just so, and the count for the meals has been given to the hotel. I mean, if I tried to change it, they might not be happy. And rooms? What will you do for a room?"
"We're staying here," Moira said. "So rooms are not a problem."
"Come on, Babs," Dave said. "You told me earlier there were a couple of cancellations, and I'm sure Maddie and Lesley won't mind if they have to go out for the odd meal. Gotta go, though. I'll leave you girls to work this out. Bye, girls."
"It's Lara," I said, as Dave rushed off to punch someone else's shoulder. "Not Lesley, not Lynda, not Girl. Lara! And this," I said, pointing to my friend, "is Moira."
Babs, who'd up until this moment been looking rather flustered, if not stern, actually cracked a smile. "And I'm Brenda, not Babs. Brenda Butters. Are you sure you really want to come to this conference?"
"No," I said.
"Absolutely," Moira replied.
"A slight difference of opinion, I see."
"I'll do whatever Moira wants to do," I said. "But maybe you should tell us something about the congress first."
"Not much to tell," she said, handing us a registration form and pens. "Everybody here is interested in Rapa Nui. We have some great speakers lined up, real experts, you know, as well as some presentations by what I'd refer to as talented amateurs. Like Dave, for example, even if he can't remember anybody's name to save his life."
"So who is putting this on? Is it a heritage organization of some sort? The Easter Island Foundation or something?"
"No," she replied. "I'm afraid I can't offer you a tax receipt or anything. It's just a group of interested individuals. Some of us are volunteer organizers, and we got some financial support from a film company. They put in some money to help with the advertising and such. Kent Clarke Films, it's called."
"Cute," Moira said. "A reference to Superman, is it?"
"Not exactly, no," Brenda said. "Kent Clarke's the name of the owner. They are filming a documentary about the conference and featuring our keynote speaker, Jasper Robinson."
"Who's he?" I said.
"Jasper Robinson?" Brenda looked aghast. "I'm surprised you haven't heard of him if you're interested in archaeology. He's the fellow who found a very ancient fortress in the Atacama Desert of northern Chile a year or so ago. They did a special on it for television. He confounded all the experts, too, who had already looked where he did, but completely missed the fortress. He does all kinds of things—diving under the polar ice cap, traveling the Silk Road all alone. He's made some amazing discoveries."
"I know the fellow you mean," Moira said. "Didn't he swim across the Straits of Magellan or something?"
"That's him," Brenda said. "Crazy idea if you ask me. Around here he's considered a modern day Thor Heyerdahl, though. Everybody is looking forward to whatever it is he's going to spring on us in his keynote address on the last evening. His presentation is going to be filmed by the Kent Clarke people."