dozen of your employees.”
“Yes,” San Martin said. “Their visit was an expensive one for me.”
“They also visited the Estancia itself and saw your marijuana crop and the coca trees. They came to this house to complain about them to me.”
“Interesting.”
“They have also gone to some trouble to get me arrested on the charge of stealing a Mayan codex from them and for attempting to have them killed by Mr. Russell. I had the charges dropped, but only after days of humiliation and a public court appearance.”
San Martin sipped his wine. “That must have been unpleasant.”
“Yes. They’re a potential threat to me, so I’m afraid to let them go on this way. But they’re even more of a threat to you. They’ve already found your operation on the Estancia. I know you feel people should solve their own problems instead of bringing them to you, but I think these people are a problem we share.”
He laughed. “You’ve learned to know me so well,” he said. “You’re a perceptive woman. You may actually be the perfect woman.”
She laughed too. “Of course I am. Being a woman is all I do.” She refilled the glasses.
“All right. Tell me how I can be a good friend to you. And then we’ll have lunch. I promise to give you my answer when we’ve finished.”
“Mr. Russell? Can you help me explain?”
Russell was filled with appreciation of her cunning. She knew that San Martin would be most comfortable with her as the ultra-feminine woman who appeared not to know the violent details. He also knew that San Martin had no interest in knowing him, so he had to be brief. “Miss Allersby has a list of Mayan sites that she planned to visit. At one of these sites we had a group of five men clear and guard a helicopter landing area so Miss Allersby could bring journalists with her to see the ruins. The men were heavily armed. Yet they had disappeared by the time Miss Allersby arrived. And we now know that the Fargos visted the site before she did.”
“Thank you,” said San Martin. He turned to Sarah. “And now let’s do justice to your beautiful table and have the lunch you’ve planned.”
Sarah rang the little silver bell by her, and the lunch was served. There was poached salmon with a caper sauce and asparagus. The wine that was poured with it was a 1998 Veuve Clicquot La Grande Dame. There was sorbet to cleanse the palate before the salad was served, in the French manner, after the entree, and then small, delicate pastries with strong espresso.
As Senor San Martin finished his coffee, he sat back in his chair. Sarah Allersby looked at the servants, gave a little flip of her hand, and they dissolved into the doorways along the side of the house that led to the kitchen and pantry. Then she poured another cup of espresso for San Martin.
San Martin looked at Russell with eyes so cold and devoid of feeling that they looked dead. “I’ll try to find out what happened to your five men. The forest is a dangerous place, and not everybody with a gun works for me. If the Fargos are responsible, the five might be in jail somewhere.” He handed Russell his calling card. “Here, Mr. Russell. Come and see me tomorrow afternoon. I’ll supply you with a small army of professionals who won’t be troubled by a couple of American tourists.”
Chapter 26
Sam and Remi loaded their backpacks into a Jeep. This time, it was a rental car and a few years newer. They drove the narrow, winding road toward Santa Maria de los Montanas, the town where they had jumped off the marijuana truck and been helped by the priest and the doctor.
As they drove, Remi said, “Do you think we’re having an effect on her?”
“Sarah Allersby?” Sam said. “I’m sure we are. We’ve visited the six biggest, and probably most important, undiscovered sites mentioned in the codex and registered them. That burns them for her. She can’t claim to discover them if we did.” Sam drove on for a minute. “The police in Belize say the five men who attacked Tim’s helicopter haven’t talked yet, but I wouldn’t be surprised if she hired them to control access to that Mayan site.”
Remi said, “I know she’s angry. In fact, if nothing else had happened, seeing herself ridiculed in the European magazines would have been plenty. People envy the rich bad-girl celebrities who are always in the tabloids, but envy isn’t the same as admiration. There’s a complicated mixture of feelings involved. Whenever one of these women gets embarrassed or hurt, a lot of the people who were busy fawning on them are delighted to see it happen.”
“She’s pretty sophisticated. The fickleness of crowds can’t be a surprise to someone like her.”
“I know,” said Remi. “I’ve just been thinking about her and feel this isn’t going right. We’re locked in a competition with her, and I’d like to be able to foresee a happy ending, but I don’t.”
Sam said, “The ideal end would be if she would stop pretending to be an archaeologist and send the codex she stole to the Mexican government.”
“Of course. But do you honestly think we’ll wear her down enough for that?”
“Not likely,” he said.
“So maybe what we ought to be doing is thinking of ways to steal the codex back and return it ourselves,” said Remi.
“I have been.”
“Really? What have you thought of?”
“I’m stuck on phase one — finding out where she keeps it.”
In the afternoon, Sam and Remi approached Santa Maria de los Montanas in the only way possible, from the road that rose drastically upward from the valley below. The Jeep climbed back and forth up the hairpin curves, unprotected by guardrails, followed by a long, straight rise through thick forest to the crest. The trees on the forested upper altitudes kept drivers from seeing much of the road ahead.
When they were nearly to the last stretch of road before the rise, Remi pointed at a spot that was bare except for bushes and brush. “I think that was the place where you landed when we jumped off the marijuana truck. Want to do it again in daylight so I can get a picture for my scrapbook?”
“Thanks for offering, but I think I won’t have trouble remembering.”
“Suit yourself,” said Remi. “Can we stop at the church and see Father Gomez?”
“I think we have to,” Sam said. “We said we’d let him know how our meeting with Sarah Allersby went.”
When they reached the top of the hill, they parked on the plaza near the old church, then walked to the small house behind it that served as the priest’s home and office and knocked.
In a moment, Father Gomez appeared at the door. He smiled. “Senor and Senora Fargo. I’m delighted to see you again.”
“Thank you, Father,” said Sam. “We thought we’d stop by for a talk.”
Father Gomez said, “I can tell from your serious expression that the news will not bring me joy. But we must talk. Do you have time to have tea with me?”
“Of course,” said Remi. “We’d be delighted.”
“Come in, come in,” he said, and ushered them into his simple office with its dark wooden furniture. If it weren’t for the open laptop computer, the room could have been from the sixteenth century. He led them into a small, old-fashioned dining room, with a long table in the same dark, heavy wood. An elderly lady, with brown skin, pronounced Mayan features, and her gray hair tied in a tight bun, entered the room.
Father Gomez said, “Senora Velasquez, this is Senor Fargo and Senora Fargo. They’ll be joining us for tea.”
Senora Velasquez brought out plain white china and utensils, which Father Gomez and the Fargos arranged on the table. After Senora Velasquez brought the tea and cookies, she returned to the kitchen.
“Won’t Senora Velasquez join us?” asked Remi.
“It’s not her custom,” Father Gomez said. “In a small town parish, when people meet with the priest, they
