“But really, if not for Philip’s example of how
But neither of them said it aloud.
“Philip is the best technical archaeologist I’ve ever known,” Mercurio continued. “Sites he’s named are referred to constantly. Yet he, himself, is almost never cited directly. It is excellent that he enjoys his digs. He will be working them until he dies, and then all he will have to show for his life is dirty fingernails.”
Part of Lina wanted to disagree. The adult part told her to shut up and listen. Mercurio was her best sounding board for what was happening in the Maya artifact community outside the Reyes Balam family.
“But I’m sure that you didn’t call to hear what I think of your father,” Mercurio said smoothly. “We’re adults, and that is behind us. So tell me the reason for this delightful break in my boring day.”
Lina reminded herself that Mercurio was only being polite in the Mexican way, not actually flirting with her.
Too bad she knew better.
“I have a favor to ask, I’m afraid,” she said.
“For you? Everything. Tell me.”
“Could you check your incoming acquisitions for some pieces? I believe that they came out of Tulum, but Belize is a possibility.”
“Why are you calling me? You should be talking to your mother.”
“Because you know about every single legitimate dig that’s going on in Q Roo. And you’d be lying if you said that you didn’t know about some of the shady ones, too.”
“Ah, another sticking point with your dear father. Yes, I can tell you what has been dug on an unsanctioned basis. But that’s also common knowledge for anyone who has an ear to the ground.”
“Not for my mother. Not this time. I’ve seen pictures of these artifacts, but she hasn’t.”
Sounds of the sea wind, an undertone of traffic, the sharp call of birds. Then Mercurio’s toneless whistle.
He was thinking.
“You interest me, as always,” he said after a minute. “How would Cecilia let something truly splendid escape her delicate claws? What were the artifacts?”
Lina paused, rethinking her jump off the brink. There were only two known site groups of origin for Kawa’il cult artifacts. One of them was near Tulum, on Reyes Balam family land, and was investigated solely by Philip Taylor. The other was a smaller and much less significant site in Belize, which had been explored by de la Poole himself. Of course, ask Philip and he’d say that the Belize site was at best a misinterpretation of other worship practices, and at worst a fabrication that was meant to ride on Philip’s own coattails of discovery.
Lina had never known whether Philip’s opinion was based on Mercurio having discovered the Belize site or something less emotional, more scholarly.
“Where is the cat with your pink little tongue?” he asked.
She edged closer to the brink of trusting through necessity rather than true choice. “There was at least one sacrificial knife, a scepter with sharp inserts, a Chacmool, an incense burner and…” Her mouth dried.
“You need to be more specific,” Mercurio said. “We have hundreds of artifacts in the museum here that might fit such description.”
Lina went over the edge and hoped that something would break her fall. Hunter would be her first choice.
“They were all finely made. Obsidian, jade, intricate pottery. They might have been pieces from the Kawa’il cult,” she said. “The photo quality was too poor for me to be certain.”
Only the sea breeze whispered across the open line.
“Now where is that cat with the missing tongue?” Lina asked.
“Send me the photos,” Mercurio said, his tone businesslike.
“I don’t have them. The source is far from reputable and very wary.” It was only half a lie.
“Are you sure about this?”
“The photos or the lack of provenance?” she shot back.
“A moment.”
The sounds of a door shutting and windows being closed came over the phone. Mercurio was sealing up his office against possible eavesdroppers.
“I’ve heard rumors,” he said, coming back to the phone. “No photos, though. I’m swamped with departmental needs and directives that will keep me busy for the next month, but I will do what I can for my oldest friend.”
Lina winced. She really didn’t want to be in the position of owing Mercurio a handsome favor.
“Nothing elaborate, please,” she said. “I just hoped you could check your incoming storage or computer records. Despite the sharing agreement between our two museums, I can’t access what I need from here by computer.”
“Perhaps you should come down here. It is your winter break, no? I could go through the storage area with you.”
“Don’t you have a student or two you could throw at this? Just a quick search?”
“You know what it is like in the Yucatan leading up to Christmas,” Mercurio said. “Everybody is home or partying or both. I don’t have the resources to handle my own needs, much less outside requests. Perhaps you could find a way for Celia or Carlos to fund a position for—”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Lina cut in. “Your funding comes from the state. I know that your eyes are bigger than your funding when it comes to acquisition—whose aren’t?—but I was hoping for a little help with this.”
“If you should make your way down here for the festivities, you’re welcome to look at whatever you like. Otherwise, I can’t help you. No matter how much I would like to. And
Lina wondered what Mercurio wasn’t saying. “I’ll see what I can do about wedging in a visit during my family’s Christmas celebrations. And Abuelita’s birthday.”
“Sooner rather than later, yes?”
She made one last try. “If these artifacts are what I think they are, they should be in a museum. Your museum. This is the sort of thing that you and Philip both worked on.”
“Not anymore. I have my own sites to work and my own problems to deal with. If these artifacts are Kawa’il cult objects, then they’re not mine. I doubt they’re Philip’s either. His salvage dig in Belize is just that. Salvage. The permits run out very soon, after which the Brits are turning the area into a bombing range.”
Lina knew how desperately Philip would be working to save what he could before the destruction began. It infuriated her that history could be so casually thrown away, but it was something that happened with “unusable” land more often than she wanted to think about. Yucatan and Belize—much of Mexico, in truth—was a mound of history waiting to be dug and understood. But the modern world needed space and modern people needed crops to eat, and various militaries needed training ranges.
Damn it.
“Have you talked to Philip about this?” Mercurio asked. “It would be like him to hide a significant find of Kawa’il artifacts.”
“You’re being a bit of a bastard,” Lina pointed out graciously.
“I learned from the very best. King Philip. My offer and my storeroom are still open to you, should you find yourself in Tulum Pueblo at any time.”
“Thanks,” she said through her teeth. “I’m sorry to cut this short, but my other line is blinking.” A lie.
“But of course.” Mercurio’s rich laughter came over the line. “I look forward to seeing you,
Lina disconnected and stared at the paperwork on her desk. Silently she cursed her father’s inability to yield even the smallest inch of possible prestige or scholarly credits when it came to his work. It was his and his alone. No sharing.
Mercurio had recognized that and moved on to a place where the work could be just as much his. To Philip that was unforgivable.
