The Eye of Heaven

28

Over the next two days, they learned their permit had stalled with Carlos’s kidnapping. Without his pushing to get it done, it had been sucked into the great black hole of Mexico City’s bureaucracy. Antonio visited the Ministry to see what progress had been made, but after a half day there, he returned with a dour expression.

“Nobody knows anything about it. So I made a new request. But we’ve lost almost a week.”

“That’s frustrating. It doesn’t sound like there’s much we can do about it,” Sam said.

“No, unfortunately, this is the system. It’s a bad one, but it’s the one we must work with.”

“How long do you think this application will take?”

“Could be as much as a month. Although I highlighted that we have a commitment for funding, which I told them was time-sensitive, so I’m hoping that hastens it along.”

“A month is too long. Carlos felt he could get it done in a week.”

“Which he probably could. The problem is that Carlos isn’t here, so we don’t have his contact base to draw upon. He could pick up a phone and take the right person to lunch. I’m afraid I don’t even know who the right person is. I’ve spent my time in academia and in the field.”

Remi shifted in her seat. “Is there anything we can do to help speed things up?”

Antonio frowned. “I sincerely wish there was. But I can’t think of anything.”

Antonio left them and returned to the new find. Sam continued studying the images from the tunnel discovered under the Temple of the Feathered Serpent while Remi pored over the pictographs from the tombs north of town, unearthed during the earthquake. At one o’clock they took a break for lunch and Sam called the clinic to see how Lazlo was faring. The administrator, Isabella Benito, came on the line, and, after exchanging pleasantries, Sam cut to the questions that he and Remi had discussed the prior night.

“How is he?” Sam asked.

“Physically, he’s getting stronger, and has made a nearly complete recovery. He’s put on three kilos, and is taking part in the clinic’s exercise program every day.”

“And mentally?”

“Ah, that is always a more difficult process. The psychological dependence on alcohol is insidious, and it has been a major part of his lifestyle for many years.”

“I understand.”

“His self-image must be revised so he can imagine a future without alcohol. That, as they say, is the hard part. Unfortunately, many patients don’t make that important transition and instead fall prey to old habits.”

Sam sighed. “In your opinion, is he stable enough to work on a project with us?”

“That depends on what you require of him. If you are asking whether he can work here while he’s recovering, the answer is a cautious yes. It could well prove therapeutic.”

“What about going into the field with us?”

“Into the field? You mean leaving the clinic before his course here is done?”

“Only temporarily. Perhaps a day here, two there. What’s your assessment?”

Benito hesitated as she considered the question. “We’re nearing the point where we would slowly reintroduce him into the outside world. Small steps to acclimate him to a noninstitutional setting. But that would be under carefully controlled circumstances and supervised at every turn.”

“Then he’s ready to reassimilate?”

“Yes, but I’m describing going to a restaurant with several of the other patients, accompanied by a counselor. Taking a shopping trip. It sounds like you’re proposing something more … demanding.”

“Señora Benito, Lazlo is foremost an academic. It’s what he lives for. Intellectual stimulation is like oxygen for him. What I’m proposing is to involve him in a project that will fully engage his attention. That will give him a purpose.”

“If you wish to do so, I have no objection, but you’ll have to take full responsibility for him.”

“Yes, I appreciate that. If I’m understanding you correctly, you’re saying that he’s probably up to it, but you can’t guarantee that he won’t … backslide.”

Her tone was cautious. “I can’t see anything negative, but honestly, Señor Fargo, none of us can predict a patient’s outcome with complete accuracy, especially at this stage. It’s still very early.”

“I respect that. Thank you for your candor.”

“You’re welcome.”

“We’ll be coming by this afternoon to look in on him.”

Sam hung up and filled Remi in on the discussion. She shut down her computer, a look of concern on her face as she gathered her things.

“I don’t know, Sam. I mean, he’s delivered a small miracle with the manuscript, but it sounds like he’s still on thin ice.”

“No question. But I think it would be good for him to work with us, and it certainly won’t hurt to have another set of eyes on the data. What’s the worst that could happen?”

“There you go again.”

“Sorry.”

Remi sighed. “Let’s grab something to eat and go see how he’s doing. If he seems fine, we’ll make the call then, okay?”

Sam nodded. “You bet. But just in case, you might want to put together a care package for Lazlo.”

She held up a flash drive. “I’m way ahead of you.”

Aware of being followed but now resigned to it, they made their way across town to the clinic. Lazlo was sitting up in bed, reading a book, when they arrived.

“How’s the life of leisure?” Sam asked, rounding the bed as Lazlo stood and shook his hand.

“I’m about bloody ready to crawl the walls with all this clean living. Who knew that virtue could be so boring?”

Remi smiled. “You look good.”

“Flattery will get you whatever you desire, young lady. Please. Have a seat. Tell me all about how the hunt for your tomb is going,” Lazlo said, motioning to the sofa. “Can I offer you some water? I’m afraid that’s all I’ve got, unless you want me to ring for some coffee. I’ve given up on a proper cup of tea.”

They explained their theory. Lazlo followed along, seemingly without effort, asking direct, probing questions that were as precise as they were relevant. After half an hour of back-and-forth, Sam and Remi exchanged a glance, and she leaned forward, hands folded in front of her.

“Lazlo, we could use some help. How would you like to look over what we’ve gathered and give us your expert opinion?”

“Well, I’m not sure how expert it is compared to all of you, but if there’s anything I can add to the party, why not? It’s not as though I’m figuring out cold fusion at the moment.”

Remi reached into her purse and extracted the flash drive. “These are photos of all the material we’ve collected. Pictographs from the newly discovered Toltec tombs, everything that’s relevant from the Institute archives, URLs for anything in the public domain, maps — the whole shooting match.”

Lazlo took the small device. “Well, this should keep me busy for a time, I’d imagine. When are you planning to do your dig?”

“We’re still waiting for the permit. There was a complication,” Sam said.

“Oh?”

He told Lazlo about the kidnapping and the effect it had on their project. Lazlo frowned and shook his head. “Bloody bad luck, that. So you’re stalled?”

“I wish I could say otherwise, but that’s what we are.”

“Only ray of light is that it will give me time to get up to speed. Doors closing and windows opening, and all that.”

“Yes. Well, hopefully, we’ll get the go-ahead soon. When we do, we want you with us,” Remi said.

Lazlo raised one eyebrow. “You think my jailers will allow that?”

“If you swear to be on your best behavior, I think they might.”

“My best behavior is usually everyone else’s worst …”

Sam smiled. “But this is the new you, my friend. And helping us with this find would be a big step in establishing your credentials as a field expert rather than an academic.”

“Well, if you can convince the dragon lady to let me loose on the world, how can I say no?”

“That’s what I was hoping you’d say. For now, give everything a look, and get in touch if anything occurs to you. We’ll start with that.”

“Will do.” Lazlo paused, and when he spoke again, his voice was soft. “I appreciate everything you’re doing.”

Remi smiled. “You’re helping us. It’s a two-way street.”

Lazlo looked toward the window, where motes of dust drifted lazily in the afternoon sun. “I won’t let you down.”

The ride back to the hotel was a quick one, the plaintive lament of a distraught tenor on the taxi radio battling with a mariachi horn section that sounded like it had started happy hour early. Remi gazed at the side mirror as she edged nearer to Sam.

“They’re still following us.”

“At least they’re consistent.”

She furrowed her brow. “What did you think of Lazlo? He seemed lucid to me.”

“You heard the administrator, it could go either way. But for now, my money’s on Lazlo. I think he wants a new lease on life … This is it. Lord knows it beats a hut in some mudhole.”

“I hope you’re right.”

Selma called as they were preparing to go out to dinner, her tone excited. “I spoke with an old friend at the State Department who knows someone who knows someone. They’re going to contact the relevant Mexican ministry tomorrow and see what can be done to put your permit on the fast track.”

“That’s great news, Selma. Didn’t take you long.”

“I had to promise a case of good champagne. She’s a connoisseur, so none of the cheap stuff.”

“If she can make this happen, she’ll get Dom Pérignon.”

“Oh, she’ll make it happen. She’s got a lot of influence with foreign aid programs, including those that are directed at Mexico. Everyone there wants to do her favors. I wouldn’t say it’s a lock, but it’s as close as you can get to one.”

“Then it’s Dom on the menu for her as soon as I can order it.”

“I’ll take care of it. Feels good to actually be doing something useful.”

“Then spare no expense, Selma.”

“Will do. Have a good night.”

“And you as well,” he said quietly and smiled for the first time in what felt like forever.

After a somber dinner Sam and Remi went to sleep early. Several hours later the jarring ring of Sam’s phone shattered the silence of the room. He groped for the lamp switch, groggy, and, after switching it on, stabbed the little cell to life.

“Hello?” His voice was hoarse.

“Sam, old boy. I’ve reviewed the translation of the manuscript and looked over your snaps of the pictographs and I have to say I’m not convinced at the reasoning that puts the tomb where you think it is.”

“Lazlo, do you have any idea what time it is?”

“None whatsoever. Sorry if it’s late. I thought you’d want the bad news.”

“Can we discuss this in the morning?” Sam squinted at the LED display of the bedside clock. “Or later this morning?”

“Absolutely. I just wanted you to know. And I’d very much like to go to the recently discovered tomb to see the pictographs in person. Photos aren’t all they’re chocked up to be.”

“Noted. I’ll call you when it’s light out.”

“Good show. I’ll be waiting.”

Sam switched the light off as Remi shifted beside him. He exhaled softly and she moved closer.

“Still think this was a good idea?” she murmured.

Sam was already asleep.