Clive Cussler: The Eye of Heaven

“In spite of it all … she was my sister.”

Sam nodded as Remi swallowed hard.

“I know, Antonio. I know.”

Four days later, and one good night’s sleep, Sam and Remi sat in the kitchen, gazing at the cobalt blue of the Pacific stretching to Japan. Selma brought a pot of coffee and set it next to her tea. She cleared her throat as she sat down opposite and studied them. “You two look tan and fit.”

“Yes, lounging around Mexico seems to agree with us,” Sam said.

“I’d say you had a healthy dose of Fargo excitement,” Selma commented.

“Oh, you know, the usual,” Remi said. “Gunfire, cartel killers, hidden treasure. All in a day’s work …”

Sam sipped his coffee as Selma filled them in on the news since they’d been gone. Kendra had finally been offered her dream job at the University of California at San Diego and would be starting the following week.

“That’s wonderful, Selma. Thanks again for bringing her aboard to help.”

“I know she really enjoyed her time here. And she made a big point about how we could always call on her if needed.”

“That’s very sweet.”

“She’ll be stopping by tomorrow to get the rest of her things and say good-bye.”

“Good. I want to thank her personally,” Sam said.

“Oh, and did you hear? Antonio was named the new head of INAH. The youngest ever,” Selma said.

“He deserves it. He’s a dedicated archaeologist and he’s paid his dues,” Remi said. “We’ll have to send him a note congratulating him, Sam.”

“Of course.” Sam paused. “And, Selma, may I say that you’re looking great?”

“Well, thank you. I’m actually feeling pretty close to a hundred percent. The doctors gave me two thumbs-up. They said I’ll still need to be monitored, but the procedure and physical therapy have been a success. In fact, I’m taking up tap dancing. Doctor’s orders. Something about it helping with the hip joints.”

Remi looked at her with a look of disbelief. “That’s wonderful. But tap dancing?”

“Tell me about it. But the bad news is that I’m fit for duty, so you’re stuck with me.”

“The best researcher in the whole world,” Sam countered. “Hardly ‘stuck.’”

Color rose to Selma’s face and she turned to look out at the ocean.

“What about Benedict and his brother?”

Sam frowned. “Reginald’s being held, pending trial. We’ll probably have to fly back at some point and testify, but between our account and Antonio’s he’s going to be put in jail for the rest of his life.”

“There’s no way for him to slip out of it?”

Sam shook his head. “None. A major Los Zetas cartel boss was with him, along with a host of cartel killers. Ballistics and prints matched Reginald’s gun to the bullet that killed Maribela. No, he’s history, although there’s some concern that he’ll never make it to sentencing. Apparently, the Los Zetas are holding him responsible for Guerrero’s death, so he’s in solitary confinement for his own safety.”

“And Janus? Did he ever surface?”

“We’ve sworn out a complaint, but there’s some question how that will play out — he’s disappeared. The case against him is trickier because they can’t show him actually pulling the trigger and the only eyewitness who could have confirmed his involvement was Guerrero — and he’s not talking to anyone but the Devil.”

“But Janus was there. You can put him at the scene,” Selma said.

“I know. But it’s complicated. If he was still in Mexico, it might not be, but since he isn’t—”

“Then he might get away with it,” Remi finished.

“Antonio has taken a very personal interest in ensuring that neither of them walk. My money’s on him doing everything possible to make the wheels of justice grind forward,” Sam said.

Selma sat back. “Well, then. Another page in the Fargo book turns. What’s next? You mentioned something about Lazlo?”

“To be determined. He told us he’s going to stay in Mexico and help Antonio for a while, but I suspect we’ll see more of him around here,” Sam said.

“Assuming he’s changed his ways, that could be interesting,” Selma said.

“A bullet tends to be a big attitude adjuster. I think he’s on the right path.”

Selma’s eyes narrowed and then she smiled.

“Well, as with everything, time will tell.”

The National Museum of Anthropology was festooned with colorful banners announcing a new exhibition dedicated to the Toltec legacy, featuring the fabled Eye of Heaven — a jewel that had been the feature of countless magazine articles and television specials since its discovery. The undeniable presence of Vikings during the Toltec heyday was now established as historical fact and the jewel served to commemorate the intersection of the cultures.

Dignitaries from the government mingled with the upper crust of Mexico City society at what was being described as “the event of the season.” A sixteen-piece mariachi band played favorites in the exterior courtyard as servers circulated through the crowd, offering appetizers and liquid refreshments.

Sam and Remi stood with Antonio, sipping champagne, near the entry to the hall, where two stern armed guards framed the doorway. Lazlo, also there, shifted from foot to foot, eyeing the crowd, a soda in hand.

“You clean up pretty well, I’ll give you that,” Remi teased. Lazlo hadn’t stopped fidgeting with his tuxedo’s bow tie since they’d arrived.

“All part of my evil plan to take over the country, you know,” Lazlo said with a wink. “But you, my dear, are the envy of every man here.” Remi’s beaded chiffon evening dress by Carolina Herrera danced under the glow of the outdoor lighting. Sam’s smile was worth a thousand words.

“Your friend here has been invaluable on the dig. I even think he’s starting to pick up a few words of Spanish,” Antonio shared with a smile.

“I’m glad to see that you’ve fully recovered — not that I believed that a bullet would slow you down much,” Sam said.

“Mad dogs and suchlike. And, yes, I feel tip-top. Although I wouldn’t recommend the whole getting shot part of the experience.”

“All’s well that ends well, as they say,” Remi said, and held her champagne flute up in a toast.

Antonio’s face grew serious. “I presume you heard about Reginald?”

“No. Don’t tell me that he escaped,” Sam said.

“He was killed yesterday during a disturbance at the prison. It’s still under investigation, but my sources tell me they believe it was a mini-riot that was staged to create a diversion so that several Los Zetas cartel enforcers could exact retribution. Apparently, it was brutal.”

Remi shook her head. “Live by the sword …”

“Can’t say the world’s the poorer for it,” Lazlo said, at which Antonio nodded.

“And has there been any word on Janus?” Sam asked.

Antonio shook his head. “No. It’s like he disappeared into thin air. There’s a warrant out for his arrest in Mexico, but it’s difficult to enforce outside of our borders. He hasn’t been convicted of any wrongdoing, so cooperation, especially against a man with considerable money and power, is … grudging, to say the least.”

The band stopped playing and an elegantly dressed matron approached the microphone and made an announcement in Spanish. Antonio offered a hushed summary when she was done speaking.

“They’re going to open the doors in two minutes, and, for the first time in history, the Eye of Heaven will be on display for all of Mexico to see. It’s an exciting moment. I hope you don’t mind saying a few words inside and having a brief photo session with the jewel,” Antonio said. “The papers have been clamoring for it.”