I said, 'But why? It can't be worth one-tenth of that on the market.'
'Actually, you're wrong, Dr. Ford. Auction it at Sotheby's or Christies, or-what's the famous auction house in New Mexico? — auction it at any of those places and it would sell for close to six figures. I just read that pre- Columbian arrowheads in fine condition sell for more than $1,000 each. In a global economy with the population booming, rare collectibles are far more valuable worldwide than gold. That totem'-he looked frankly at the black briefcase I continued to carry-'is worth a bundle. But see, that's not the reason my father wants it. It's not the monetary value.'
'Then what?'
'This is the part that needs to remain confidential. If you repeat it to anyone, I'll swear you're lying.'
Once I'd nodded, he continued.
'I know a side of my father that the public will never see or even suspect. He's obsessive to the point of-how did a psychiatrist once put it to me? — he's prone to manic fixation, that's the phrase. The same psychiatrist told me that his obsessions were also key to his success. It's true of many great men. Most people let up, back off or come to an ethical crossroads their conscience won't allow them to cross. Not men like my father. Ever. That's how they get so rich.
'Something else about him, he's just as obsessive about his ideology. Let's face it, nearly all of us are superstitious to a degree, but some of his beliefs have become fixated. We used to have this Colombian maid, Bella, who called herself a bruha, meaning a Santeria witch. She'd laugh like it was a joke, but she meant it. Bella raised me until father sent me away to boarding school. Bella was very beautiful. She was his mistress for years.'
I noticed that Bauerstock stuttered momentarily as he said mistress; an emotional stumble that made me think of Jeth Nicholes back at Dinkin's Bay.
'Bella had a powerful hold on Dad. I think it was through Bella that he began to believe that certain objects made him stronger. If he wore them or touched them or placed them under his bed. Our estate is on the Indian mounds at Marco. We've got more mounds at our ranch east of there in the Everglades. Dad and Bella, most of their… well, let's just say private encounters occurred on those mounds.' Bauerstock smiled an uneasy, reflective smile that bordered on embarrassment. 'I was a kid, but I wasn't dumb. And I sure as hell wasn't deaf. The point being, Dad's manic fixation is with the Indians who lived on those mounds. They controlled Florida for thousands of years. He wanted to one day control Florida. He was a poor orphan kid who had to fight for everything, and he wanted to end up on top.
'My dad worked his ass off, but he was also fantastically lucky. Unbelievably lucky. Always made just the right connections, always bought and sold at the perfect time. With Bella's help, he came to believe that certain artifacts taken from those mounds were the source of his good fortune. That much of his power came from them. When I was younger, it was just kind of a hobby. He'd even joke about it, like, Well, I've got a new artifact so I should make an extra hundred grand in the negotiation.' And he would. Year after year those things worked for him, until it became an absolute fixation. Tomlinson's eulogy so exactly described how he feels about the mounds that dad was actually spooked. That's why we left in such a hurry. As badly as he wanted to see that totem, we couldn't stay.'
'He doesn't seem like a man easily spooked.'
'He's not. Not normally. But wait-I'm not finished. My father's delusion has gotten to the point where he genuinely believes that he has a spiritual connection with a certain Calusa war chief. I won't bore you with the specifics, but their most powerful chief carried that totem. That's why Dad wants it.'
'A man named Tocayo carried the totem and wore the gold medallion.'
Bauerstock's expression changed slightly; a look of evaluation. 'Yes, I think that's the name. Tocayo. Look at photographs of my father. You will never see him wear an open-collared shirt. It's because he always had the gold medallion around his neck.'
'He got it from Frank Rossi?'
'Delia told you the story, I guess. The medallion played a role in Rossi and dad's business relationship, that's all I know. Another example of dad's fixation? At the ranch, we have what the Spanish call a cenote. A cenote is a-'
'I know what a cenote is, Ted.'
Florida has many cenotes, though they are known by the more popular name of springs: Crystal River, Weekie Wachee, Silver Springs. All are deep water holes formed when the limestone surface collapses over an underground river. Fresh water floats atop a saltwater passageway to the sea. They are very clear and deep, often with sides as sheer as the inside of a volcano. Gemote is a Maya word. I'd swam and dived dozens of them in Florida and Central America.
Bauerstock said, 'He's come to believe that our cenote has restorative powers. He swims there every single day he can. When he travels, he takes bottles of the water with him. Maybe you already know this, but it's not legend, it's fact that Ponce de Leon came to Florida looking for what he called El Rio de Jordan in his ship's log, the River of Life. That was an Indian prophecy he'd heard in Cuba. See the connection?'
Of course I could understand it. I had an uncle who'd once believed in the same thing.
'I can see why someone would convince themselves it's true,' I said.
'He has. But what I'm getting at is, more than three months ago-the twenty-first of June, I'll never forget the day-Dad went for his swim, and he lost the medallion. Jesus Christ, to him it was like the end of the world. He hasn't been the same man since. His world hasn't been the same since, either.'
I said, 'The chain broke?'
'No, he was fanatical about the chain. You can imagine. Somehow the medallion broke. He doesn't know how. It went fluttering down into deep water with my dad swimming like crazy after it.' Bauerstock laughed softly. 'It's actually kind of pathetic if you try and picture it. No one knows how deep that lake is. He hired a professional cave diver to search. It went on for months, but the diver gave up at three hundred feet.
He found some interesting bones from mastodons and giant sloths, but no medallion. Unfortunately, Dad pushed him a little too hard and the diver was killed. Went down and never came back.'
'One diver? He was diving alone in a spring? No diver, particularly an experienced cave diver, dives alone.'
'I'm not sure why, but that's exactly what happened. Maybe the poor guy wanted to keep the reward all to himself. Not that it was much of a bonus. It wasn't. Dad offered the guy five thousand dollars plus his regular pay if he found it. The medallion was worth at least twenty times that. The diver's body never surfaced.'
'Was it on the news?'
'No. But it will be. It's only a matter of time. My dad paid off the family, but it'll get out. Since he lost the medallion, Dad's had a surprising number of business failures. In the last twelve weeks, in fact, it's not an exaggeration to say he's lost at least thirty percent of his wealth-many millions of dollars. You beating a confession out of Tony Rossi was the latest of many setbacks. Frankly, I've had some setbacks myself in my race for the state senate.' 'Oh?'
'You can look it up, so I might as well tell you. I've been falling in the polls. Turns out, my newest opponent is the son of one of dad's oldest enemies. One's as unscrupulous as the other. This guy hired two prostitutes to claim I tried to force myself on them. Sexually. Complete bullshit, but that's what politics has come to. To Dad, I'm just an extension of his business interests. He's lost the medallion and now my Senate race is going to hell along with everything else. That's the way he sees it. He wants to reverse the momentum. He believes the totem might do that.'
'What if Delia doesn't want to sell it?'
'Oh, he'll get the totem, count on it. That's why I've called you aside, Dr. Ford. He'll buy it from Delia or use Dorothy's scholarship fund to leverage it out of her. Or he'll have someone steal it. That's why I'm talking to you now. It's not for you or for Delia, even though I'm fond of her. It's for Dorothy. She really was something special. I didn't know her well, but she had a quality about her that was… well, I guess angelic is the only word that fits. She seemed too good for this world. I don't want to see her mother get hurt.'
I ignored the strange urge to ask him more questions about Dorothy. What did her voice sound like? Did she have a favorite expression? An interest in natural history? It was irksome that he'd actually spent time with her, but I hadn't. Instead, I said, 'You're an unwilling pawn, just trying to help.'
He stiffened slightly. 'I don't care for your tone and I don't need your sarcasm. This may come as a big shock, Ford, but I really am going into politics to try and do some good. My father has spent his life hurting people and
