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“It comes out and says that?”
“Well, not in so many words. More amid ramblings about winged snakes and suchlike. Haven’t got the foggiest whether you’ll be able to make anything out of it, but I made a copy of my rough transcript and saved it to the flash drive you gave me. It’s all yours, and I hope it points you in the right direction. Although you’ll just give the treasure to the natives rather than pocketing it like any sensible fellow would.”
“That’s right. It’s not about the money. Any percentage that Mexico offers us, assuming we find anything, will go into our charitable foundation,” Remi said.
“I don’t suppose you’d adapt your charitable model to include broken-down, disgraced ex-academics, would you?”
Sam smiled. “Why don’t we take it a day at a time?”
“Can you take us through this line by line?” Remi asked. Lazlo nodded.
Thirty minutes later, they all sat back, a look of puzzled consternation on Sam’s face, Remi’s expression neutral, Lazlo positively beaming with accomplishment.
“It doesn’t really tell us where the tomb is, does it?” Sam said.
Lazlo smiled. “You mean something like ‘Walk fifty paces from the old oak tree, west by northwest, and when you see the split rock, dig’? Not as such . . .”
“There can’t be that many temples dedicated to Quetzalcoatl,” Remi mused.
Sam shook his head. “Actually, there are. The Toltecs, the Aztecs, the Mayans . . . they all worshipped him. So, depending on when the tomb was constructed, the body could have been placed in an existing tomb or a tomb being built at the time of the burial. The manuscript doesn’t clarify the timing, does it?”
“No. It just says ‘a chamber beneath a pyramid,’” Lazlo said, pointing to a passage in the translation.
Sam shook his head again. “There are dozens . . . hundreds, assuming that it’s not one that has yet to be discovered. Seems like every year, they’re finding more Mayan ruins in the Yucatán.”
“Or that it wasn’t one that was destroyed. Like Chulula,” Remi added.
“Not that I wish to dishearten you,” Lazlo said, “but there could also be some confusion in the translation from the original language to Spanish. It could well be that it wasn’t a temple dedicated to this Quetzalcoatl but rather a holy site where he was worshipped alongside others.”
“So what does that leave us?” Remi asked.
“Looking for a chamber beneath one of hundreds of pyramids,” Lazlo said. “At least it was clear that the chamber was beneath the pyramid and not incorporated into the walls.”
“Which assumes that was accurate. It sounds like the Aztec priest wasn’t sure about the exact location, either.”
Lazlo nodded. “True. The manuscript states pretty clearly that it’s founded on hearsay. As are most of these accounts, really.”
Sam groaned and stood. “Nobody said this would be easy, did they? Lazlo, you’re a prince among men. Seriously.”
“Good show, old chap. If only my sanctuary here afforded the odd gin and tonic for toasting purposes . . . but I suppose Nurse wouldn’t allow that.”
“It’s for the best, Lazlo,” Sam said softly.
“I expect that even if I don’t live any longer, it’ll seem like an eternity—and an arid one at that,” Lazlo teased, and then gave them both a look of resigned acceptance. “Seriously, though, I appreciate your help in all of this.”
“We have an ulterior motive. We’re hoping we can convince you to look over our shoulders and help us find the tomb
. Maybe peruse the photos from the earthquake site, see whether you concur with our interpretation of the pictographs?”
“I’d be delighted, of course. You have but to ask.”
“That’s the spirit.”
As their taxi drew near the Institute, Remi took Sam’s hand in hers and exhaled quietly. “Don’t worry. We’ll figure it out.”
“We usually do, don’t we?”
“Kind of our thing, right?”