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Lund raised an eyebrow, as if saying:When do I not?
The doors to the hallway opened and Miss Pacheo appeared in her wheelchair, Elena behind and pushing the chair into the room. The old woman, frail and wrinkled but with eyes full of life, lit up at the sight of Azaki. Miss Pacheo was a long-term multiple sclerosis sufferer, and she spoke next to no English. Elena, as well as being her assistant, was her translator. Once Elena had parked the old woman she took a position on the end of the couch and started to translate as Miss Pacheo spoke.
“Mr. Ko, Mr. Jones,” she said, using the fake names Azaki had given. “Miss Pacheo is keen to hear how your search has gone.”
Azaki bowed politely, affecting the Japanese academic that he was pretending to be. Azaki was Japanese by ancestry, but he had been born in California. He was a neat, short man, always well presented, with jet-black hair and a handsome, symmetrical face. “Please tell Miss Pacheo that we are incredibly grateful for her hospitality, and for access to her family’s private library.”
Elena translated as Azaki spoke. Lund glanced at Miss Pacheo and saw her grow attentive as the message was relayed.
“Please tell Miss Pacheo,” Azaki continued, “that we are very sorry to say that we found no books of particular academic interest or historical significance.”
They had spent two days meticulously searching the Pacheo library for special books, but they had found nothing. Lund glanced toward the old woman again and saw her face fall with disappointment.
“I am very sorry for the trouble we have caused,” Azaki said. “I know Miss Pacheo was keen that her family’s library might be of some interest.”
Azaki had found out about the Pacheo library a month or two earlier, during a week in Santiago when he’d gone drinking with a local academic. He had researched the family history, learning about a library that had originated with books brought over from Spain a century or more earlier, but which had been added to over the years by the Pacheo family as they had grown wealthy from their shipping business. He had sent a letter, claiming that he and Lund were academics touring South America in search of historically significant books. It had been enoughto get them through the door, and after that Azaki’s charm had won over the old woman sufficiently that she had granted them access to the library.
“She’s dying,” Azaki had explained to Lund, on the drive out to the house on the first day, even though Lund hadn’t asked. “She has no children and she’s never been married. She wants a legacy. So that’s what I am offering her the possibility of.”
Now Miss Pacheo accepted the news with a slow nod of the head. After a moment of silence she spoke a few more words to Elena.
“Miss Pacheo thanks you for your time,” Elena said. “She is disappointed. But she appreciates the effort you have gone to.”
Azaki nodded. Lund could tell he wanted to leave now. There were no special books here. Only sadness and a life ending.
“Thank you,” Azaki said, nodding again.
The room was silent then, Miss Pacheo’s eyes fixed on the floor, Azaki standing politely with his hands clasped in front of him like a servant awaiting an instruction. Elena was watching Miss Pacheo and Lund was watching her.
“Oh, Miss Pacheo,” Elena said, standing up suddenly.
The old woman was crying, a quiet, dignified sort of weeping, individual tears rolling down the lines of her face.
“Again, I am very sorry,” Azaki tried.
Elena smiled politely, but Lund could see that in that moment Azaki was an irritant for her.
Miss Pacheo smiled through her tears and said a few words that needed no translation.
“No need to apologize,” Azaki said, dropping his eyes slightly.
As Elena tended to the old woman Azaki pointedly looked away, turning his eyes around the living area. They had been in the room for only a few minutes on the previous day, before they had been led to the library in the east wing of the house. Lund saw Azaki frown at a series of large photographs on the back wall, black-and-white images of a building that Lund didn’t recognize. It looked almost like a building from some fantasy film, with towers and arched windows.
“That’s the Sagrada Familia,” Azaki said, pointing. “In Barcelona.”
Elena glanced up. “That’s right,” she said.
Azaki walked over to the wall and studied the photographs. “So many pictures of the same building,” he said.
Elena handed a tissue to Miss Pacheo, and the old woman dabbed weakly at her cheeks as she watched Azaki.
Elena smiled a sad smile. “Miss Pacheo always wanted to travel to Spain one day,” she said. “Back to where her family came from. Her father always told her about the Sagrada Familia and she wanted very much to see it. Sadly, her illness and her age mean it is now not possible.”
Azaki studied the photographs in silence for a moment or two. “I have seen it,” he said finally. “I have been to Barcelona, I have seen the Sagrada Familia.”
Elena smiled politely, all but saying:That’s very nice for you;now will you please leave?
Azaki looked at Miss Pacheo in her wheelchair for a moment. Lund could see him wrestling with a decision, his kindness arguing with his fears.
