The Eye of Heaven

10

The overnight trip back to San Diego was mercifully smooth, and when the G650 touched down with a puff of smoke from its tires, Remi turned to Sam and gave him a tired look.

“Home at last,” she said.

“Hopefully, for a while. Unless you’ve scheduled something in the dizzy whirlwind of our social calendar and not told me about it.”

“The only thing I’ve got scheduled is some serious spa time and an appointment with a masseuse to treat my frostbite.”

“That wasn’t frost that bit you.”

“Don’t get fresh with me. I still haven’t forgiven you for volunteering us.”

“Nor should you. I’m hoping some spoiling you rotten might alleviate the worst of the sting.”

“That and more notoriety when they break news of the longship.”

“Maybe you’ll get your own reality show.”

“What camera crew would be stupid enough to take that duty?”

“Good point.”

Kendra was waiting with the Cadillac, Zoltán occupying most of the backseat. He caught sight of Remi and let loose a delighted bark as his tail beat the seat back like a spirited metronome. Remi’s heart soared when she saw his chocolate eyes trailing her.

“Who’s my big, brave boy?” she called, arms outstretched. He vaulted out and ran to Remi and then waited, trembling, as she knelt and hugged him.

Sam waved him away. “No, no, spend the time with her, not me. I just buy your food. No need to make a fuss on my account.”

Remi rolled her eyes. “You’re jealous!”

“I am not. Okay, maybe a little bit. He’s got better hair than me. There. I said it.”

“He’s a Hungarian charmer. I’ve always been a pushover for those.”

“Serves me right for being born in California.”

“Don’t worry. Surfer boys are my other vice.”

Kendra filled them in on the research as they wove their way through the early-morning traffic to La Jolla. “We’ve compiled an entire dossier on possible items of interest that involve anything that hints at contact with Europeans, pre-Columbus,” she began, “but it’s a fuzzy target. So much of their history is oral traditions that were garbled, or changed by the Spanish. So there’s no telling what’s invention or what’s true. I’m afraid it’s going to be good old-fashioned midnight-oil burning to make sense out of any of it. And believe me, there’s a mountain of data.”

“We’ve got nothing planned except digging through it,” Remi said, “so that’s not a problem. How’s Selma?”

“She’s resting at the house. She really wanted to come greet you, but I told her that would make me too nervous.”

“So she’s up and around?”

“Sort of. I don’t think she’s going to be a hundred percent for a while.”

“That’s not unexpected,” Remi said. “I know they tell you to figure on at least six months to be fully recovered.”

“It’s got to be frustrating,” Sam said. “I know how much she enjoys being in the thick of it.”

Kendra nodded. “Let’s just say that she’s a difficult patient. That’s what the doctors said. ‘Feisty’ was actually the word they used most often.”

Remi smiled. “No doubt.”

Kendra led the way into the house, followed by Zoltán and Remi, Sam bringing up the rear. Inside, Selma was sitting and sipping tea, her walker next to her. Zoltán let out a greeting woof.

“Welcome home,” Selma said, smiling.

“Selma. How are you?”

“Oh, you know, always in the fight. I’ve got my trusty walker. But I do have to give in to the wheelchair every once in a while,” she admitted.

“The important thing is that you’re recovering.”

“I wish it wouldn’t take so long. I’m really tired of being so dependent.”

“Kendra has helped out wonderfully,” Sam said, “and we’re between adventures, so you aren’t missing anything.”

Remi nodded. “That’s right. We’re here for the duration. You just need to focus on your physical therapy and getting better. Don’t worry about playing mother hen with us. We’re in good hands,” Remi assured her, glancing at Kendra.

“I’ll try, but it’s become something of a habit …”

Sam carried the bags up to their bedroom, and Remi joined him shortly after.

Remi paced in front of the glass wall that faced the blue Pacific beyond the terrace. “I just want Selma to take her time and not try to rush her recovery.”

“We’re all different. We should respect her wishes,” Sam said gently.

Remi stopped and stared out at the ocean, the pristine beauty calming her as it usually did. “You’re right, of course. I just don’t want her to overdo things, to injure herself and get into big trouble. That would make her recuperation time even longer.”

“You know what you need? Let’s head over to the Valencia Hotel and get you a full spa treatment. The whole deal. That always makes you happy. And then lunch on the restaurant veranda, maybe a Kistler Chardonnay, some blue point crab …”

“Why, Sam Fargo. Now I remember why I hang out with you.”

“I thought it was my piano playing.”

“And your lovely singing voice.”

He gave her a skeptical frown. “Maybe that’s pushing it.”

“‘To each his own,’ said the man as he kissed the cow …”

They spent the morning and much of the afternoon at the hotel, and when they returned home, Remi was in considerably improved spirits. Sam suggested they begin poring through the archive of pre-Columbian lore Pete and Wendy had amassed.

The whole research team was working harmoniously downstairs, Pete leaning over Kendra’s station and pointing at something on her monitor.

When evening came and twilight faded into night, they’d only dented the reams of accounts, many of them conflicting. Sam and Remi agreed that the Toltec society around A.D. 1000 would be where they’d focus their energy, scouring the accounts for anything that hinted at European influence around that time. When they said good night to Selma and Kendra, they were both exhausted but heartened that they’d made at least a small amount of progress in their research.

“Did you see the way Pete was looking at Kendra?” Remi asked as she plumped the pillows in readiness for some well-earned rest.

“Not really. What did I miss?”

“I think he might be taken with her.”

“Pete? Really?”

“That’s what I got. I wonder what Wendy thinks?”

“I’ll defer to your feminine intuition in these matters. Everyone knows men are the last to know these things.”

“It’s one of the endearing qualities of your gender.”

Zoltán watched them from his position at the foot of the bed, his eyes alert, ears pointing straight up.

“At least I’ve got that going for me,” Sam said.

Remi moved behind him and slipped her arms around his chest. “I’m willing to forgive you for putting me on ice recently — at least a little, big boy.”

“Don’t scare the dog.”

“He’s braver than he looks.”

Zoltán, as if following the discussion, closed his eyes with a faint snort.