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The trap had sprung when he had unlatched the briefcase. One spring mechanism had snapped the briefcase open, and the other had pushed the circular bottom of an ink-filled cylinder upward like a piston. It had been sealed at the top with only a layer of wax paper. Ink had shot out onto his face and chest.
Fiendish. What kind of person thought that way? The trap had required that Fargo figure out in advance that somebody was going to take his briefcase. Russell was sure he hadn’t been spotted. Had Ruiz made some stupid mistake? Or did Fargo always walk around in foreign cities carrying a booby trap?
Russell rubbed some cold cream all over his face and neck, desperate to soothe his burning skin. He dialed his satellite phone.
“Hello,” said Sarah Allersby.
“It’s me,” he said. “We went to San Diego and then followed them to the airport. They flew to Spain. That’s
where I’m calling from—Valladolid.”
“What are they doing there?”
“We’ve been watching them for a few days. At first, all they did was go sightseeing in the daytime and out to expensive restaurants every night.”
“By now, they must have hit nearly all of them,” Sarah Allersby said.
“Pretty near. For eight days, they’ve been going to the University of Valladolid every day. They seem to be really interested in all the old buildings in town. But they’ve been doing some sort of research.”
“I’m starting to feel uncomfortable. Reassure me. What are they researching?”
“They go to the History Library and look at old books. Everywhere she goes, she has a big leather purse. After a couple of days, he started carrying a briefcase. They had to leave them with the librarian when they got there and pick them up when they left.”
“What was in the cases?”
“I figured they might be pulling a scam. The people who go to these old libraries to steal things like valuable prints or maps or illuminated pages all do it pretty much the same way. They go into a rare book room and read the books. They bring in a razor blade, hide it in one hand, and, when nobody’s looking, run it down a page to cut it loose. Then they slip the page under their clothes. I couldn’t watch them much, so I never saw them do anything.”
“You’re getting me very nervous about this. Did you find out what books they looked at?”
“Ruiz went in once right after they left and took a look. The binding on the book said Las Casas. That means ‘the Houses,’ right?”
She sighed deeply, trying to use up a few seconds to avoid calling him an imbecile. She said calmly, “It’s the name of the Dominican friar who colonized the Alta Verapaz area of Guatemala. He was active around the time when the Mayan codex was buried by the landslide. I’m not sure what they could have thought they were accomplishing by reading about him.”
“I decided today that I was going to find out exactly what they’d been up to. Ruiz and I got on a motorcycle, and while they were walking in the plaza, we went by them fast. I snatched the briefcase out of Fargo’s hand. It’s a kind of robbery that happens all the time in Spain and Italy. Before the mark knows what happened, the bike is gone.”
“Were there pages inside the briefcase?”
“No.”
“What do the notes say? I’m sure you read his notes.”
“There were none. The briefcase was a booby trap. As soon as I clicked the clasp, a spring mechanism popped the case wide open, and another spring pushed a piston up a cylinder full of blue ink. It’s all over my face.”
“Oh, my gosh!” she said. “So he saw you watching them.”
“I don’t think that’s a fair assumption,” Russell said. “The briefcase might have been only a precaution.”
“Then he knows about you now, doesn’t he?”
“He only knows that he got robbed. He can’t know why. They’ve been walking around here at night for over a week, wearing expensive clothes, staying in a fancy hotel, eating in exclusive restaurants. That attracts thieves.”
“I can’t believe this,” Sarah muttered. It sounded to Russell as though she was talking to herself. “These people will not go away and leave me alone. They keep pushing and pushing me. Did I tell you they denounced me to the Guatemala federal police? Well, they did. They’re absolutely relentless, like ants. If you block one way in, they’ll find another. They’re persecuting me. I offered them a fair price. They’re the ones who turned me down.”
“I’m sorry we didn’t stop them in San Diego. Or here, at least.”
Sarah was feeling more and more sorry for herself. “Have you gotten cleaned up from the ink yet?”
“Not yet,” he said. “We’ve tried several solvents, but, so far, no luck. I just sent Ruiz out for more.”