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Antonio and Maribela were already at the tomb site when Sam and Remi got there, supervising what seemed like a phalanx of archaeologists and techs from the Institute, all outfitted in newly issued white lab coats, while a cadre of armed soldiers looked on. Antonio waved when he saw them and the guards let them through.
“Good morning. Where’s your partner in crime?” Maribela asked with a sunny smile.
“He should be along anytime,” Sam said. “What have you got planned for today?”
“We’re going to begin mapping the area and go over the lower tomb with the sonar before we send it back—just in case,” Antonio explained. “And I’ve just briefed everyone on the protocols for documenting the find with video and photographs.”
“Sounds like you’ve got everything under control,” Remi affirmed.
“As much as anything of this scale can be managed. But make no mistake—this will be a multiyear endeavor. It dwarfs any of the other excavations we have going.”
“Do you have a team working on the casket inscription?” Sam asked.
“That will be processed in due time.”
“We can help with that, if you like,” Remi offered
.
“We appreciate it, but, honestly, you two have done more than enough,” Maribela said, her tone cordial but her glance dismissive. “Which reminds me. We’ll be doing a press release and a conference later and would love to have you there.”
They were interrupted by a harried-looking scientist carrying a clipboard and a radio, and Sam and Remi used the disruption to move away from the command center. Sam held one hand over his eyes, shielding them from the morning sun, and watched the activity near the mouth of the tomb.
“You have any interest whatsoever in doing a press conference?” he asked Remi.
“Not unless someone’s holding a gun to my head.”
“So we’ll beg off?”
“Absolutely. We can claim one of us got food poisoning.”
“Works every time. Want to flip a coin?”
Remi shook her head. “No, I’ll be the fall guy this time.”
Half an hour later, Lazlo arrived and, after running the security gauntlet, headed directly for them, barely contained excitement playing across his face. Maribela watched him march toward the Fargos, and Sam moved to meet him before he gave anything away.
“I say, I think I’ve—” Lazlo started, but Sam cut him off.
“We have a lot of folks paying attention to us today. Maybe we should take a nice, slow stroll around the pyramid while you tell me what the rune stone says?”
“Ah, quite. I see. Well, lead the way. Sorry. Didn’t mean to give away the game.”
“No problem. Remi, will you join us?”
“You couldn’t stop me.”
Once they were out of earshot, Lazlo quickly gave them a rundown of what he’d discovered.
“The rune seems to have fairly specific instructions on locating the Eye of Heaven. It doesn’t refer to it as such, but it does say the pride of the New World resides beneath a temple. And then it goes on to describe landmarks. A jutting peak just south of it. A nearby lagoon. Cliffs. A small nearby island. I think that there’s enough to go on. With a detailed examination of the coastline along the Gulf of Mexico, we should be able to narrow it down—assuming that the landmarks are still roughly the same.”
Remi’s eyes lit up. “Why, Lazlo, that’s wonderful. Do you have a written translation for us?”
“Of course.” He slipped her a folded piece of paper. She slid it into her rear pocket and exchanged a conspiratorial look with Sam.
“Lazlo, we’re going to bow out, claiming stomach problems. You’re welcome to stay or you can join us back in Mexico City while we research this.”
“Much as I enjoy standing in the sun turning into a lobster, I think I’ll err on the side of caution and accompany you. Do you mind?”
