Page 5

Chapter Four

T he taxi zipped through the traffic as if our driver was making up the driving rules as he went while simultaneously rattling nonstop in Spanish. Perhaps he prayed because he was scared of grazing cars, jumping into oncoming traffic lanes only to swerve back into our lane, nearly missing a collision, and making me squeak “ fuck! ” each time. Wind from his open window tore through my unsecured hair, thwacking it against my face and making me eat some of it, too. My hands grabbed the oh-shit handle with so much force that I was sure with the next turn it would rip off.

Someone’s phone rang.

Unfazed by this death-on-wheels situation, Andrew fished his phone out of his pocket and swiped to answer.

“Hi, care bear,” he answered with a smile in his voice. “Well, that’s exciting. Did you enjoy it?” He listened, his body hardly swaying with car movements as if he were riding in a Rolls-Royce, whereas I was inside a tumbling dryer. On a roller coaster. Sideways.

“We are on our way to a museum,” he said. “Yes, similar to the one we visited in London.” He was quiet for some time. “I love you, too. Send my love to your mum.”

My heart expanded with warmth at how sweet he was to his little girl, and then it shrunk back to its prune size. If my father had ever expressed any love for me, I’d been too young to remember it. Andrew hung up, looked out the window, and took a deep breath.

For another ten minutes, we flew down narrow streets until the taxi made the last turn onto a cobblestone street and stopped next to a prominent three-story building with massive columns. Andrew spoke to the driver for several seconds and then twisted in his seat to face us.

“We shouldn’t be long. The driver will wait for us,” he said, then threw the door open and exited the car.

Oh, for crying out loud. I would rather walk than have another ride with that crazy chauffeur. I ran my fingers through my hair a few times, trying to calm down the outer—and inner—craziness the previous twenty minutes had produced. On shaky legs, I plodded to where William and Andrew were waiting for me.

“Are you okay?” William asked me as I got closer. “You look a bit pale.”

“I think I need to see a surgeon to untangle my organs after that ride,” I mumbled.

His eyes went wide. “Wasn’t that fun?”

I shot him an are you out of your mind glare. “That was not fun at all.”

William gripped my forearm and leaned in. “Just kidding. I’m in serious need of new underpants. If only I’d been allowed to bring all my luggage…”

Leaving the taxi idling on the street, we went up the grand stairs and entered the Museo de Historia. The hallway we filed into had little conditioned air, if any. The time-worn parquet extended down a long corridor with various doors to the left and right and a staircase at the end. The building appeared to be empty, just like its ticketing counter, but then swift steps resonated, and a stubby, round, older man with dark eyebrows and a gray, neatly trimmed beard and hair marched in our direction, his right hand stretched out in front of him.

“Dr. Jones, great to see you again,” his voice echoed over to us. “So glad you could come on such short notice.”

Andrew clasped the man’s hand with his own. “Dr. Carlos Garcia, this is Adriana and her brother William. Adriana, William, this is Dr. Garcia, my father’s great friend and one of my best mentors. Carlos and I have been on many memorable journeys.”

Dr. Garcia laughed and tugged on his bow tie. “Yes, many wonderful adventures. Some of us thought we would never see our loved ones again. Good times.” He took off his glasses and wiped his eyes. “We can catch up over dinner tonight, and I’ll tell you about some of them. Now, Andrew, did you bring the bracelet?”

Andrew cleared his throat and turned to me. With his eyes, he indicated to me to show the bracelet to Dr. Garcia. “Yes, but…”

With a squeamish look on my face, I outstretched my arm.

The old man put his glasses back on, took my hand into his soft one, and examined the bracelet. “Marvelous work, just marvelous. I just have one question.” He straightened. “Why did you put it on?”

My cheeks turned hot with embarrassment, and my eyes jumped from him to Andrew, then back to him. “There was a bit of confusion with the delivery. I thought it was for me, and I was wrong, and then Andrew couldn’t figure out how to take it off and?—”

“I believe we can open the chest while it’s on her,” Andrew said. “According to all the information I was able to find, keepers wore it on a wrist, and just as the chest unlocks, the bracelet unlatches too.”

“For security reasons, wouldn’t they want it on their wrist all the time?” William asked.

“No, they needed to be able to pass it to the next keeper.” Dr. Garcia pursed his lips, his focus on the bracelet. He moved his head from side to side, humming as if thinking about what Andrew had just said, then smiled. “All we can do is try. Follow me.”

We shadowed him through a gallery with sculptures of many sizes, then we turned and proceeded through a huge room with collections of tapestries and textiles. He stopped by a massive door and fished a key ring out of his side pocket. Selecting one, he unlocked the door and ushered us down the stairs into a basement office overstuffed with stacks of paper, crates, and shelves that groaned under the weight of thick books and binders.

Dr. Garcia pushed his way between us and stopped at a large desk. “Here is the chest,” he said, puffing.

In the center of the desk sat a massive black metal box decorated with an intricate network of carvings. Four serpent-like creatures coiled their bodies around it, their heads coming to the top and resting at an indentation in the center. It was nothing like what I was expecting. In my mind, it should have been a wooden trunk with a dome top like I often saw in museums or pirate movies. This box was intimidating, with an aura of menace. I wouldn’t touch it with a ten-foot pole.

“Now, Adriana, come closer, if you don’t mind.” Dr. Garcia motioned to me. “This should be simple. You need to turn your arm and press this part”—with his index finger, he touched the crown on the bracelet—“inside this indentation here.” He pointed to a spot on the chest.

Simple enough.

I gave my purse to William and walked over to examine the mysterious box.

“It seems so unfriendly.” I circled it, checking out the wondrous artwork. Fifty thousand dollars might not be worth me losing my arm. The snakes’ heads could snap at my wrist, breaking it, or their venom dissolve my skin and bones. Or worse, suck the life out of me and turn me into a shriveled body like Imhotep in The Mummy . “These things look like they can come alive at any moment.”

“Nothing will come alive,” Andrew said.

He was right. I knew I shouldn’t let my imagination get the best of me, but I had a very real fear it would explode if I did something wrong.

“What if it’s booby trapped?” I glanced over my shoulder at Andrew.

“It’s not,” Andrew and Dr. Garcia said in unison.

With my heart rate up a notch, I glanced at each man in the room. They all waited on my next move with an air of expectancy. Even William seemed to hold his breath.

“Okay.” I exhaled, leaned forward, reached my arm over the box, and then lowered it with the center stone pointing down. The bracelet snugly fit into the cold crater. One second passed. Two seconds passed. Nothing happened. And nothing sprang to life.

“Now what?” I asked.

“Now press on it.” Andrew moved towards the table and pressed his hands on the edge of it as he took a closer look.

I did what he said. There was a faint click. My breath caught in my throat. William took in a sharp, loud gasp.

And nothing.

No sound of turning metal wheels. No clicking of unlocking locks. No movement of scaly bodies.

Andrew bent his knees until his eyes were on the same level as the top of the metal box. William brought my purse to his chest and hugged it, biting his bottom lip. For real? Was this that exciting to him?

“William?” I said. “Remember to breathe.”

“I just can’t wait to see what’s inside,” he squealed with the thrill. I rolled my eyes.

“Aren’t you a tad curious?” Andrew asked.

It took me a second to realize he was talking to me. I met his gaze, and my stomach fluttered. His stare held an emotion, but I couldn’t identify it. Was he hoping I cared about what was inside this darn box? Would I hurt his feelings if I said no?

At this precise moment, I should have been on a beach holding a coconut cocktail. Instead, I was in an air-condition-less building, with my wrist pressed against a threatening-looking box—that might or might not be booby-trapped.

I smiled my liar smile and said, “Of course, I’m curious.”

“Why is it not doing anything?” Dr. Garcia pulled a handkerchief from the inner pocket of his jacket and wiped his forehead. “Dr. Jones, do something.” He sounded more frustrated than the situation called for.

“Keep your arm in place,” Andrew said. While still squatting, he moved sideways and bumped my thigh with his shoulder. I shimmied aside, giving him some space. His left hand came over my wrist, and he applied pressure to the bracelet. The warmth of his touch radiated through my skin, traveling up my arm and spreading over my body. I closed my eyes for a moment, relishing this forgotten sensation.

There was a metallic click and then another. My eyes went wide, and I stared at the box. My pulse racing with… did I dare to say with excitement?

Another click.

And then one more.

And then nothing else happened.

“It didn’t open,” I said.

“Thank you for pointing out the obvious,” Andrew mumbled, with a deep crease between his eyebrows.

“I don’t understand.” Dr. Garcia scurried to the table and peered at the box. “Something should have happened.”

“Are you sure you have the right bracelet?” William said.

“Yes,” Dr. Garcia said. “Augustine Pérez had several chests like these, and the only way to open them was with the bracelet he made as a key for his wife, Maria.” He sunk into a reclining chair, dropping his arms on his lap. “I don’t understand.”

Andrew’s hand was atop my wrist, and he shuffled more, pressing his shoulder against my thigh. I would have moved away, but my arm wasn’t long enough to reach the stupid box.

“How long do I need to stand like this?” I asked.

“Just a few more seconds.” Applying pressure to my wrist, Andrew rose to his full height, and with his right hand, he pulled a desk lamp closer and turned it on. He scanned different parts of the chest, his eyebrows drawn together. While he was studying the mysterious trunk, I studied him.

My mouth went dry.

“Adriana,” he whispered without looking at me.

“Yes?” I whispered back.

“You’re staring at me.”

My nose twitched.

Dang it.

My nervous tic was back. Growing up, I twitched so much that kids teased me on a daily basis and gave me the nickname “twitchy”. As I got older I got better at controlling it, so today was the first time it had twitched like this in many years. I turned away, pretending I had to wipe my nose.

“Don’t move.” Andrew’s right hand came over my wrist before he removed his other one. “We need to keep a steady pressure on the bracelet as I go to the other side.”

His words were so close to my face, they caressed my cheek and released an army of goosebumps. Keeping the weight on my wrist, Andrew brought his left arm above and around me, enveloping me in a partial hug. He shifted behind me, brushing his chest against my back, his?—

Holy Mary, sweet mother of God. I couldn’t breathe as my brain focused only on the spot where my largest body part—my butt—and Andrew’s… most likely large body part, came in contact.

Time slowed, then halted, tipping the earth on its axis. This was so inappropriate. This was wrong on so many levels. And I enjoyed it.

This lovely, married man was just doing his job, trying to find the priceless treasure to share with the world, and here I was, mapping out where his body touched mine. I was sooo going to hell for this. When did the room become so freakishly hot? Heat rose from the tip of my toes to the top of my head; a couple more degrees and my skin would fuse to the bracelet. I should have stopped any unnecessary touching, but since my brain ceased to function, I stood statue still.

“Quite a dance you’re doing there,” William commented, and I could hear suppressed laughter in his tone.

I sucked my stomach in and pushed my hips forward. Andrew cleared his throat and finally passed by me. He reached with his left hand and rested it on the bracelet before removing his right hand.

“As we apply pressure, we also need to press these stones,” Andrew said, pointing at smaller gems on the bracelet, “in a certain order, like pressing buttons on a security panel.”

“Okay, so start pressing them,” I said when my brain rebooted, and my vocal system worked again.

Andrew’s fingers pushed on the gems in various ways before they stilled, and he stepped back from the table, his hand leaving my wrist, cold instantly replacing his touch. “I don’t know the pattern,” he said. “Or this is the wrong bracelet.”

“But it can’t be.” Dr. Garcia got to his feet. “All the research papers, along with the interpretation of Augustine’s diaries we have, point to this chest and this bracelet.”

Andrew faced a wall with a narrow window opening to a sidewalk.

“Let me get the papers.” Dr. Garcia hurried to a cabinet and threw a drawer open. “The pattern should be mentioned somewhere. We can figure it out. We just need more time.”

“Which we don’t have,” William said with a voice of authority as if he was part of this conversation. My hand was pressing into the chest since I wasn’t sure if I could move or not.

“Can someone please tell me what you think is inside?” I said.

“A map, my dear,” Dr. Garcia said while rummaging through the filing cabinet. “Directions to the location of a great treasure.”

Apparently, Carlos was at liberty to share this information, unlike another professor in this room.

“We’ll read through these again. The answer has to be here.” Dr. Garcia lifted a hefty plastic bin onto the desk and pulled out folders. “You and I can go over everything,” he said to Andrew. “Stay up all night if we must. We have until tomorrow at one in the afternoon before they collect the chest.”

Andrew returned to the desk, picked up a manila folder, and opened it. He paused when he glanced at me. “You can remove your hand.”

Relieved and disappointed at the same time, I stepped back and took my purse from William. “So, what do we do now?”

“Wander for a few in the museum,” Andrew said, scrutinizing the papers in his hand. “I’ll find you soon.”

* * *

For an hour, William and I meandered in and out of halls, enjoying different Colombian historical artifacts and artwork, eventually making our way into a gallery dedicated to Augustine Pérez. It displayed a collection of jewelry, locks and keys, parts of shipwrecks, old notebooks, letters, and much more. Several beautiful pencil sketches along one wall drew my attention. These sketches held so much detail that, at first, I thought they were photos. One atmospheric drawing with lifelike intensity illustrated a town square with a church in the middle and rolling hills in the background; another depicted a ranch with a large house in the Spanish style with horses running before it; the third portrayed a palace at the base of a towering mountain, and the fourth displayed a tall waterfall surging into a small lake. Details of the waterfall were so vivid its roaring sound almost reverberated in my ears, but the rest of the sketch was incomplete with faint lines of what appeared to be the beginning of tree branches. I fished my iPhone out of my purse and snapped a photo of each artwork.

“This is fascinating,” William said, staring up at a carved wooden figurehead from the bow of a ship. “But all the information is in Spanish, and I don’t understand what it says.”

“The gift shop has a book in English about Augustine Pérez,” Andrew said, his voice startling me.

“Hey.” I turned, hiding my phone back in my purse because I had no clue if we were allowed to take pictures in this museum or not. In my defense, I didn’t use the flash. “How did it go with the Pandora’s box?”

But I knew the answer by the way he stood in the doorway with his shoulders slumped forward and a disappointed expression on his face.

“Not well,” Andrew said, shaking his head. “We need more time to go over Augustine’s journal to identify the pattern.”

“How many more hours?” I checked my watch. It was past two in the afternoon, and hunger and boredom had replaced my earlier excitement.

“You should go to the hotel and enjoy the rest of the day.”

“And you? Are you coming with us?”

“We only have until tomorrow afternoon, so every minute counts. I might stay here all night.” He ran his hand through his hair. “If something surfaces, I’ll come and get you.”

Andrew walked us to the taxi, briefly stopping at the shop where he purchased the book about Augustine Pérez for William. Outside, he explained to the driver to take us to the Complejo Del Gran Castillo Blanco resort.

* * *

I never thought I would offer a quick thank you prayer for traffic, but because of jammed roads, our driver drove slower and calmer this time around. Well, the word “calmer” was a stretch. The frequent bursts of Spanish words accompanied by enthusiastic hand gestures meant he wasn’t happy about the line of cars in front of him.

As we traveled farther from the museum, down streets rich with history and the finest example of Spanish colonial architecture, my eyes fed on the beauty of the variegated buildings, bougainvillea draped over their balconies.

A few minutes later, we passed through a set of gates, the driver raising his hand to greet a security guard, and continued meandering through sanctuary-like, lush grounds. After a crapshoot plane, I feared Andrew’s promised “nice” hotel would be the Colombian version of Motel 6. And god, I was glad to be wrong. The resort was superlative with a state-of-the-art hotel with spellbinding white-sand beaches flanked by palm trees.

Once we checked in, William and I stored our luggage in separate rooms, ordered the most popular Colombian cocktail with Aguardiente—it turned out not my favorite because it tasted like licorice (gag)—and explored the property.

Later that evening, waves calmly rolled onto the sand below a restaurant deck where William and I enjoyed chilled Chardonnay and mouth-watering seafood paella with saffron rice cooked in lobster broth.

“This adventure has turned out to be a delightful addition to our Costa Rica vacation.” William stretched his legs under the table, the retiring sun casting a warm glow on his face. “The resort is amazing, the food is out of this world, and OMG, look at that view.”

“Please don’t call it an adventure. This is strictly an opportunity to make easy money.”

“I get no money out of this deal, so I can call it whatever I want.” He gave me a cheeky grin.

While he was pleased with the breathtaking sunset and local cuisine, my brain was an Instant Pot on the verge of a blowout. Earlier in the hotel room, I’d connected to the free Wi-Fi, and my inbox had exploded in front of my eyes with emails from Roswell Planning & Zoning Department, an interview request from a local newspaper, and bills from the interior design agency, marketing group, and engineering firm totaling nine thousand dollars. I finished my wine in two gulps. What if Andrew wasn’t able to unlock the chest because he couldn’t figure out the code? Or what if it was the wrong bracelet altogether? Was the deal off? I needed the promised fifty thousand dollars. Without it, as soon as I returned to Atlanta, my building—gosh, that sounded so good, my building —would have to be placed back on the market. And who knew when it would sell? I had some savings, but barely enough to cover one month’s mortgage payment. An involuntary shiver ran over my body. I’d have to return to Salzburg Distributing and beg for my old job back. My previous salary—presuming I got it—was enough to not default on the loan and get me a small rental, so William could get his condo all to himself.

“Do you think…” I bit off a cuticle. “Even if they can’t open the chest… do you think Andrew will still pay me?”

William sent me an unsure look, then his expression changed, and he smiled. “I’m sure he will. You did your part. It’s not your fault he can’t unlock it.”

“What if it’s because I put the bracelet on?”

“Think about Pérez, the pirate, who, by the way, according to the book Andrew bought me, was quite a romantic and madly in love with his wife, Maria. Because of severe motion sickness, Maria could not travel far, so, on some trips, Augustine returned with an extra ship packed with gifts around the world just for her: Greek statues, French furniture, ivory carvings from West Africa, and even an ancient Roman mosaic floor. What a murderous sweetheart.” He waved his hand in the direction of the ocean. “Sorry, I got sidetracked. Back to your worry about the bracelet. Maria wore it on her wrist, and it’s not in a grave, so it came off somehow.”

Yes. That made sense.

“But,” I said, “she also knew the correct pattern. What if she unlocked the bracelet, took it off, and only then used it to open the chest?”

William linked his hands behind his neck and stared out at the sunset. “Possible. But Andrew strikes me as a person who would honor his word no matter what.”

“I hope you’re right.”