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“I don’t suppose I dare ask how you know about it.”
“Defector. Floated over along with fifty others on a makeshift boat forty years ago.”
“So the information’s that old?”
“That’s not your biggest problem.”
“Why do I suspect that you saved the best for last?”
“Am I really that transparent?”
“Just give it to me straight.”
“It’s located in the subbasement of Morro Castle, which has a contingent of military guarding it round the clock.”
“Do you have any details on the layout?”
“Check your e-mail. But Sam? Just a little advice. The Cubans play hardball, and they don’t like Americans. So if you’re thinking of doing anything stupid, my advice is don’t.”
“That’s not very encouraging.”
Rube exhaled noisily. “When I hang up the phone, you’re on your own, my friend. I won’t be able to help you if you pursue this and run into trouble, and I’d advise strongly against doing anything rash.”
“Noted. Thanks again. I owe you one.”
“Be careful, Sam. You have to be alive for me to collect.”
After spending the afternoon analyzing the material at the Institute and comparing it to the photos from that morning, Sam and Remi called it a day at six and returned to the hotel. Sam logged on to his in-box and spent several minutes studying Rube’s e-mail, which consisted of a set of crude blueprints of Morro Castle, obviously hand-drawn, and a description of the military contingent guarding the fort. Built in 1589 to protect Havana Harbor, Morro was a national landmark, now relegated to a tourist attraction.
Remi sat on the bed while Sam finished up and then raised an eyebrow when she saw the drawing.
“Sam Fargo, I hope you haven’t dreamed up some crazy scheme.”
“Of course not. I was just thinking what a nice time of year it would be to visit Cancún.”
“Which is only an hour flight from Cuba, is it not?”
“What? Really? That’s all?”
“You have a lousy poker face.”
He nodded. “Then it’s just as well I don’t play cards.”
“I knew when you heard about an encrypted manuscript, you wouldn’t be able to resist.”
“Well, now that you mention it, it does seem an awful shame that something as potentially important to the Mexican people is being hoarded by a foreign power.”
“We don’t know that it has any importance. For all we know, it’s a recipe.”
“With a bunch of pre-Columbian illustrations?”
“Don’t forget the letters from seamen. Not exactly promising. Besides which, the Spanish conquest of Mexico went on for, what, a hundred eighty years? So it could refer to basically anything, not necessarily the Toltecs.”
“Fair enough, but do we have anything better to go on?”
“Not yet, but we’re just getting started analyzing the reliefs. Maybe there’s something in the new find that will point us in the right direction—”
“Which will still be here when we get back.”
