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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.”
