Fiendish. What kind of person thought that way? The trap had required that Fargo figure out in advance that somebody was going to take his briefcase. Russell was sure he hadn’t been spotted. Had Ruiz made some stupid mistake? Or did Fargo always walk around in foreign cities carrying a booby trap?
Russell rubbed some cold cream all over his face and neck, desperate to soothe his burning skin. He dialed his satellite phone.
“Hello,” said Sarah Allersby.
“It’s me,” he said. “We went to San Diego and then followed them to the airport. They flew to Spain. That’s where I’m calling from — Valladolid.”
“What are they doing there?”
“We’ve been watching them for a few days. At first, all they did was go sightseeing in the daytime and out to expensive restaurants every night.”
“By now, they must have hit nearly all of them,” Sarah Allersby said.
“Pretty near. For eight days, they’ve been going to the University of Valladolid every day. They seem to be really interested in all the old buildings in town. But they’ve been doing some sort of research.”
“I’m starting to feel uncomfortable. Reassure me. What are they researching?”
“They go to the History Library and look at old books. Everywhere she goes, she has a big leather purse. After a couple of days, he started carrying a briefcase. They had to leave them with the librarian when they got there and pick them up when they left.”
“What was in the cases?”
“I figured they might be pulling a scam. The people who go to these old libraries to steal things like valuable prints or maps or illuminated pages all do it pretty much the same way. They go into a rare book room and read the books. They bring in a razor blade, hide it in one hand, and, when nobody’s looking, run it down a page to cut it loose. Then they slip the page under their clothes. I couldn’t watch them much, so I never saw them do anything.”
“You’re getting me very nervous about this. Did you find out what books they looked at?”
“Ruiz went in once right after they left and took a look. The binding on the book said Las Casas.That means ‘the Houses,’ right?”
She sighed deeply, trying to use up a few seconds to avoid calling him an imbecile. She said calmly, “It’s the name of the Dominican friar who colonized the Alta Verapaz area of Guatemala. He was active around the time when the Mayan codex was buried by the landslide. I’m not sure what they could have thought they were accomplishing by reading about him.”
“I decided today that I was going to find out exactly what they’d been up to. Ruiz and I got on a motorcycle, and while they were walking in the plaza, we went by them fast. I snatched the briefcase out of Fargo’s hand. It’s a kind of robbery that happens all the time in Spain and Italy. Before the mark knows what happened, the bike is gone.”
“Were there pages inside the briefcase?”
“No.”
“What do the notes say? I’m sure you read his notes.”
“There were none. The briefcase was a booby trap. As soon as I clicked the clasp, a spring mechanism popped the case wide open, and another spring pushed a piston up a cylinder full of blue ink. It’s all over my face.”
“Oh, my gosh!” she said. “So he saw you watching them.”
“I don’t think that’s a fair assumption,” Russell said. “The briefcase might have been only a precaution.”
“Then he knows about you now, doesn’t he?”
“He only knows that he got robbed. He can’t know why. They’ve been walking around here at night for over a week, wearing expensive clothes, staying in a fancy hotel, eating in exclusive restaurants. That attracts thieves.”
“I can’t believe this,” Sarah muttered. It sounded to Russell as though she was talking to herself. “These people will not go away and leave me alone. They keep pushing and pushing me. Did I tell you they denounced me to the Guatemala federal police? Well, they did. They’re absolutely relentless, like ants. If you block one way in, they’ll find another. They’re persecuting me. I offered them a fair price. They’re the ones who turned me down.”
“I’m sorry we didn’t stop them in San Diego. Or here, at least.”
Sarah was feeling more and more sorry for herself. “Have you gotten cleaned up from the ink yet?”
“Not yet,” he said. “We’ve tried several solvents, but, so far, no luck. I just sent Ruiz out for more.”
“Russell, I need somebody to rid me of these people. They’ve become vicious now, and dangerous — not only to my reputation and my business, but even to you. That ink trap could just as easily have been acid, or an explosive.”
“I’m sure he meant me to understand that. Any nonfatal attack is a warning.”
“We can’t go on this way,” she said. “If someone threatens your life, you’re justified in using any force to save yourself.”
“I’m not sure the authorities here would see it that way,” he said. She was assuming he’d just kill the Fargos for free. He had been planning to offer that option for a high price.
She said, “It doesn’t matter what the authorities want. There’s such a thing as natural rights.”
“I’m afraid that if you decided on an aggressive defense, I would have to charge an additional fee,” he said. “I have to pay Ruiz, and so on.” He waited for an answer.
When it came, she sounded distracted, distant. “Oh. Yes. I was thinking of you as an equal. But, of course, I had no right to do that. You’re someone who works for me and has to think about money. How does an extra five thousand sound?”
“I was thinking it would have to be ten,” he said.
“Oh, Russell. I’d hate to think you called to get me all upset about what they’d done to you so you could take advantage of my sympathy to raise your prices.”
“No, Miss Allersby,” he said. “I’d never do that. The figure is the minimum I’d actually need. I’ll have to get my color back so I don’t stand out, buy weapons for one-time use in a European country where they’re heavily controlled, pay to dispose of the bodies, find a quiet way out of Spain and back to the U.S., and compensate Ruiz.”
“All right, then. Ten.”
“Thank you,” he said.
“But you have to do it, not just promise it and take the money in advance.”
“We’re getting ahead of ourselves. I haven’t gotten rid of my blue face yet.”
“You may not know this, but cosmetic companies sell opaque makeup that’s designed to cover scars, birthmarks, and discolorations. If the blue doesn’t wash off, you can cover it up until your skin recovers on its own.”
“Thanks. I’ll keep that in mind.”
“Do. When those horrible Fargo people disappear from my life, I’ll make you glad they did.” He heard the click as she hung up.
Sarah sat in the big office in the old quarter of Guatemala City. Why was her patience being so sorely tested? These little people, these nothings, were making her life unbearable. Since they had left Guatemala, Diego San Martin had come to her home to tell her that the Fargos had killed several members of one of his security patrols before they had slipped away into the jungle.
An enraged drug lord was not a pleasant guest. He had labor issues too. If men who worked for him were killed, he had to send big payments to their wives. If he didn’t, the others would become timid and reluctant to do their jobs. If Diego San Martin couldn’t keep people off the small corner of her land where he was raising and shipping marijuana, he couldn’t make a profit and he would stop the commission he was paying her. In the current international economy, having a large stream of passive income was what kept her business profitable.
Sarah opened her computer and tapped in the name Bartolomé de Las Casas. She read the entry quickly, and then came to the end. Las Casas had left his whole personal library to the Colegio de San Gregorio in Valladolid. What could a monk’s personal library have been in 1566? The man had been the first colonizer of the north of Guatemala, a friend and teacher of Mayan kings. Could he have left a set of directions to find an abandoned Mayan city? A tomb with a fabulous treasure? All this time, Sarah had been thinking that the way to the next big discovery was going to be a Mayan codex, but it could just as easily be a Spanish priest’s journal. She had never before considered such a thing, but if the Mayans were going to tell anyone a secret, it would have been Las Casas. He was their confessor, their protector.