Clive Cussler - The Eye of Heaven

“If the treasure-hunting thing bottoms out, I could always do that,” Sam commented.

“I’d pay extra to see you in that outfit, regardless of the circumstances.”

“I don’t know. It might lower property values in La Jolla.”

“Coward.”

“I am not.”

“Chicken.” She put her hands under her armpits and flapped her elbows. “Pwuk-pwuk-pwuk …”

He eyed her with good humor. “Are you trying to tell me something? Because you’re getting this rooster’s attention.”

“It’s either the chicken suit or nothing.”

“If I didn’t know you were kidding, I’d be seriously worried.”

“Kidding?” Remi asked with raised eyebrows.

“Never mind.”

They checked into the hotel. After unpacking their bags, they called Carlos Ramirez, who spoke in heavily accented English. He told them that they could come by at any point that afternoon and he’d be happy to introduce them to the others researching the new find. Sam and Remi grabbed lunch in the hotel restaurant and then had a taxi take them to INAH — the National Institute of Anthropology and History — located next to the Cuicuilco Ecological Park in the city’s southernmost reaches.

Carlos Ramirez met them at the security desk in a stylish, immaculately cut dark gray suit. He wore his salt-and-pepper hair longish, and a dapper mustache framed his upper lip, which was perpetually curved in a smile.

“Ah, Señor and Señora Fargo. Welcome, welcome. I’m glad you didn’t let the weather scare you off,” he said, shaking hands with them.

“Compared to some of the places we’ve been recently, this is paradise,” Sam said.

“A little rain never kept us away from anything important,” Remi assured him.

Carlos led them upstairs to his office. “I have a suite here, in addition to one at our headquarters in the historic district. But truthfully, I spend most of my time here. I prefer academia to bureaucracy. Of course, fieldwork is my first love. But there is less opportunity for that now that I’m in a position of responsibility.”

The office was expansive, with a conference table at one end surrounded by burgundy leather-upholstered chairs, and a large oval desk near a bank of windows overlooking the park. “Please, have a seat, and I’ll call the others and make introductions. But before we do that, tell me all about what I can help you with.”

“As Selma might have told you, we’re researching the Toltecs,” Sam explained, “specifically around the A.D. 1000 era. We figured since this is where they were located, we should come to Mexico and do some in-person nosing around.”

“Your accomplishments precede you. We as a nation are in your debt for saving the Mayan Codex on our behalf. Anything I can offer you in the way of assistance is yours for the asking.”

“Well, I shouldn’t think that this will be nearly as dramatic,” Remi said. “I’m afraid much of what we’re doing is going over old ground. But it’s all part of the job, and we prefer to be thorough.”

“Yes, of course. Where would you like to start?”

“We’d like to look at the existing collection of artifacts and any documents you have that pertain to the Toltecs … or their most famous ruler, Quetzalcoatl.”

“Absolutely. Unfortunately, there isn’t nearly as much as we’d like. The Aztec priests destroyed most of the records of his accomplishments. To complicate matters, the Spanish, whether deliberately or accidentally, further distorted the records until what we know about him is likely wrong.”

Remi nodded. “Then you understand the problem we’ve been having. We’re hoping you have material that’s not online, which might shine some additional light on Toltec civilization, as well as their leader.”

“Actually,” Carlos said, “you couldn’t have arrived at a better time. From what we can gather, the newly discovered crypts that surfaced after the earthquake promise to provide exciting new information about their civilization. Of course, it’s far too early to tell, but we’re hopeful. This looks like it was hidden underground deliberately, which the Toltecs only did with their most valued sites — and it’s well south of Tula, so completely unexpected.”

“We’d be honored to see it as soon as possible,” Remi said.

“Let me call in the archaeologists who are heading up that dig. You’ll be working closely with them. They’re two of our best.” Carlos dialed his phone and spoke a rapid-fire stream of Spanish. “They’ll be here shortly. Maribela and Antonio Casuela. Brother and sister. Remarkable intellects and experts on the Toltecs.”

A soft courtesy knock sounded through the door a couple of minutes later. A tall woman in her early thirties entered, followed by a man around the same age. That they were siblings was obvious from their facial features. What neither Remi nor Sam was prepared for was how physically arresting they were. The woman’s long ebony hair seemed to gleam from its own light source, highlighting her smooth caramel-colored skin, high cheekbones, pearl-white teeth, and flashing chocolate eyes. The man was equally stunning, his strong jawline and rugged profile resembling that of a model or a cinema star rather than an academic.

The woman spoke first, extending her hand to Remi. “Señora Fargo. How nice to meet you. I’ve followed your exploits with delighted surprise for years.”

Carlos beamed at them. “Remi Fargo, this is Maribela Casuela.”

“The pleasure’s all mine,” Remi said, her eyes roving quickly over the woman’s flawless form, her sensible black slacks and red blouse hugging her curves in a way that most women only dreamed of.

“And you must be Sam Fargo,” Maribela said, offering her hand to Sam, her palm cool to the touch, her voice musical.

Sam could have sworn that a small electric current passed between them when their skin touched and quickly turned to the brother. “Antonio, right?”

“It’s a thrill. A real thrill,” Antonio said as they shook hands.

“But, please. Use our first names. I hate formality,” Remi said as the newcomers took the offered seats next to Sam.

Carlos filled them in on what the Fargos were interested in, and their eyes lit up at the mention of the recently unearthed crypts.

“It’s remarkable,” Antonio said. “We’ve both been inside, and the carvings alone will make for years of study. It seems as though there’s an interconnected series of tunnels to at least four burial chambers. We’ve already removed the mummies. The insight that this undisturbed find should offer is unique. I’m sure you’ll find touring it an amazing experience.”

“And, of course, you’re welcome to review everything we have on the Toltecs and Quetzalcoatl,” Maribela added, “although most of it is well covered in the academic journals, so there won’t be many surprises.”

“How is the area around the new discovery?” Sam asked.

Carlos frowned. “It’s controlled chaos. We’ve cleared the entry point and there are police guarding it, but the neighborhood is still a disaster area. Over a hundred people lost their lives in that colonia alone. Rudimentary services have yet to be restored, and there’s been some looting. Rescue teams are working through the buildings, but it’s not a good situation.”

“Is there any danger of pilfering of the tombs?” Remi asked.

“The hope is, no,” Antonio replied, “but the police are very poorly paid, so anything is possible. We’ve cataloged all of the precious items, and have an effort under way to move them here, but it’s slow going because we want to adequately document the state of the find. There’s a fine line, as you know …”

Remi nodded. “First, do no harm.”