Morton,” Remi said, “Winston Lloyd Blaylock was the Indiana Jones of the nineteenth century.”
Sam smiled. “Hunter, explorer, hero, mystic, Casanova, and indestructible savior all rolled into one. But this is all from Morton’s biography, right?”
“Right.” “By the way, we’re assuming Morton was named after the Morton-as in Henry Morton Stanley?”
“Right again. In fact, according to the family tree in the back of the book, all of Blaylock’s direct descendants were named after Africa in some fashion-the places, the history, the larger-than-life characters . . .”“If you got all this from the biography, what about the journal you mentioned?” asked Sam.
“I used the word ‘journal’ for lack of a better term. In fact, it’s a potpourri: diary, field sketchbook . . .”
“Can we see it?”
“If you’d like. It’s in the vault.” Off the workspace, Selma had a temperature- and humidity-controlled archive area. “It’s in bad shape-insect-eaten, soiled, water-damaged pages stuck together. Pete and Wendy are working on the restoration. We’re photographing and digitizing what pages we can before we start work on the damaged portions. There’s one more thing: It appears the journal also served as Blaylock’s captain’s log.”“Pardon me?” Remi said.
“While he never mentions the Shenandoah or the El Majidi, many of his entries clearly indicate he was at sea, on and off, for long periods. Blaylock does, however, mention Ophelia quite often.”“In what context?”
“She was his wife.”
“THAT WOULD EXPLAIN his obsession, I suppose,” Sam said. “Not only did he mentally rename the Shenandoah, he also carved Ophelia’s name into the bell.”“Ophelia is a distinctly un-African name,” Remi said. “It had to be the name of his wife back in the U.S.”
Selma nodded. “There’s no mention of her in the biography. And he never speaks in detail about her in the journal-just little snippets everywhere. Whether he was simply yearning for her or it’s something more, I don’t know, but she was never far from his mind.”“Are there dates in the journal?” asked Sam. “Anything we can cross- reference with Morton’s biography?”
“In both books, only months and years are used; in the journal, those are far and few between. We’re trying to do some matching, but it’s turning up discrepancies. For example, we found a time where in the biography he’s trekking in the Congo, while according to the journal he’s at sea. It’s slow going so far.”“Something doesn’t add up,” said Sam.
“Just one thing?” Remi replied. “My list is longer than that.”
“Mine too. But on the captain’s log angle: If we’re thinking Blaylock might have been at sea aboard the Shenandoah-El Majidi, I mean-then we’ve got a contradiction. By all accounts, after the Sultan of Zanzibar bought the Shenandoah in 1866 he all but abandoned her at anchor until she was destroyed either in 1872 or 1879. I think someone would have noticed her missing.”
“Good point,” Selma said, jotting down a note. “Another point of curiosity: Sultan Majid died in October 1870 and was succeeded by his brother and bitter rival, Sayyid Barghash bin Said. By default, he became the owner of El Majidi. Some historians find it curious that Sayyid didn’t change the ship’s name, let alone keep it around.”Sam added, “Can we put together a time line of the Shenandoah/ El Majidi ? Be easier to visualize the events.”
Selma picked up the phone and dialed the archive room. “Wendy, can you throw together a rough time line of the Shenandoah /El Majidi? Thanks.”“We also need to find out more about Blaylock’s life before Africa,” Remi said.
“I’m working on that as well,” said Selma. “I reached out to an old friend who might be able to help.”
Wendy stepped out of the archive room, smiled at them, held up a Just one second finger, then sat down at one of the workstations. She tapped away at the keys for five minutes and said, “On your screen.”Selma used the remote control to find the new graphic:
• March 1866: Shenandoah sold to Sultan of Zanzibar.
• November 1866: Shenandoah arrives Zanzibar, renamed El Majidi
.• November 1866-October 1870: El Majidi spends most time sitting at anchor or on occasional merchant voyages.
• October 1870: First Sultan dies. Brother’s reign begins.
• October 1870-April 1872: El Majidi presumed at anchor.
• April 1872: Hurricane damages El Majidi . Sent to Bombay for repair.
• July 1872: El Majidi
reportedly sinks en route to Zanzibar.
• July 1872-November 1879: Six years’ lost time. Disposition unknown.
• November 1879: En route to Bombay, El Majidi reportedly sinks near island of Socotra.
Sam said, “We’ve got two seemingly reliable accounts of her sinking that contradict each other, and over six years where the El Majidi is unaccounted for.“Selma, what’s the earliest date in Blaylock’s journal?”
“As best we can tell, August 1872, about five months after he arrived in Africa. On our time line, that’s a month after the El Majidi’s first reported sinking and at the beginning of her lost years.”“Six years,” Remi echoed. “Where was she all that time?”
MEXICO CITY, MEXICO
FIFTEEN HUNDRED MILES to the south, Itzli Rivera sat in President Garza’s anteroom waiting to be summoned, as he had been for the past hour.
Garza’s executive assistant, a doe-eyed girl in her early twenties with glossy black hair and an hourglass figure, sat at her desk typing, her index fingers wandering over the keyboard and occasionally punching a key. Her expression was one of puzzlement. As though she’s trying to finish a master-level Sudoku puzzle, Rivera thought. Clearly, the woman’s administrative skills had not been a priority during the hiring process.
Hoping to kill some time, Rivera wondered if Garza had ordered the woman to take a Mexica name. If so, what would it be? As if on cue, President Garza’s voice came over the intercom on the woman’s desk, answering Rivera’s question.“Chalchiuitl, you may send Mr. Rivera in.”
“Yes, sir.”
She smiled at Rivera and gestured toward the door with one of her ridiculously long fingernails. “You may-”
“I heard him, thank you.”
Rivera walked across the carpet, pushed through the double doors, and closed them behind him. He strode to Garza’s desk and stopped at semiattention.
“Sit down,” Garza ordered.
Rivera did.
“I was reading your report,” Garza said. “Do you have anything to add?”
“No, sir.”
“Let me summarize, if you don’t mind . . .”
“Go ahead, sir.”
“That was rhetorical, Itzli. You and your men, after being outwitted for days by these treasure hunters . . . these Fargos . . . You finally manage to take possession of the bell and transport it to Okafor’s island, only to have it stolen out from under your noses.” Rivera nodded.“Not only did they steal back the bell, but they also stole Okafor’s four-million-dollar helicopter.”
“And I lost a man. Nochtli fell from the helicopter and broke his neck.”
President Garza waved his hand dismissively. “You were vague about how the Fargos managed to get aboard the helicopter at all. Can you elaborate? Where were you when all this was happening?”Rivera cleared his mouth and shifted nervously in his seat. “I was . . . unconscious.”
“Pardon me?”
“The man, Sam Fargo, attacked me aboard Okafor’s yacht. He surprised me. He clearly has some martial arts training.”
“Clearly.” Garza rotated his chair and gazed out the window. He drummed his fingers on his desk blotter for a minute, then said, “We have to assume they’re not going to give up. That could work in our favor. If they’re as clever as they seem, we know they’ll be visiting at least one of the areas we’ve already searched.”“Agreed.”
“Start reaching out to your contacts-immigration officers, airport employees, anyone who will alert us when the Fargos appear.”
“Yes, sir. I’ll start with Antananarivo. Anything else?”
