Pearls (5 page)

They glared at one another, locked in a contest of wills.

It didn’t take long for Manuel to realize, she wasn’t going to concede defeat, and then he had to admit that she had the upper hand.
Dang.
If he wanted access to the journal, he’d have to be accommodating to the owner. The prospect was already promising to be a huge pain. If he had any sense, he’d let her walk, pursue a less troublesome lead. Problem was, he didn’t have any other leads and desperation could force a man to do idiotic things.

“Very well.” He sighed, running his fingers through his hair.

“I want the deal in writing so you can’t finagle your way out of it.”

He nodded. “Okay, but don’t say I didn’t warn you. Fieldwork isn’t going to be a picnic for someone like you.”

“Someone like me?” she asked, challenge in her voice.

“You don’t look like the outdoorsy type.”

Despite his mildly insulting tone, she flashed him a brilliant smile. “I might surprise you.”

He resisted the urge to roll his eyes. The only surprise he wanted was the kind he experienced when he pulled some amazing treasure out of the ground. It seemed for the moment that going through her was the only way to achieve that goal.

Two days after Christmas, Isabel entered the coffee shop and spotted Raúl in the corner booth. He waved when he saw her, his expression grim.

“Isabel, how good to see you,” he said as she slid into the bench across from him. “I was beginning to wonder if you’d moved back to the United States. I could not reach you by telephone. Have you been avoiding me?”

Isabel felt a pang of guilt at his last question. Right after her final exams, she’d tossed her suitcase in a rental car and drove to the hacienda. She treasured the warm, homey days with her
abuela
, yet she couldn’t get her mind off the journal. After their Christmas celebration, she returned to the city and delved into research at the university library. In her enthusiasm, time and the world beyond the journal had ceased to exist.

“I’m sorry, honey. I’ve been translating the journal I told you about. Manuel seems incredibly capable, and I’m looking forward to his help.”

Raúl’s dark eyes narrowed. “Who is Manuel? Are you seeing another man,
mi amor
?”

Isabel laughed. Of course he would think that. Why else would she neglect him? She reached across the table and laced her fingers through his. “No, silly. Manuel Santiago is a professor at Central University. He’s going to help me translate the more difficult parts of the journal after he returns from his holiday.”

Raúl seemed to relax at her explanation. “This professor, he is an old man with gray hair and a sagging belly, no?”

Isabel shook her head.
He’s jealous. How sweet.
“Actually, he’s around our age. Middle to late twenties I’d guess. But you don’t have anything to worry about, Raúl. He’s as grumpy as an old troll and not nearly as handsome as you.”

Raúl smiled, revealing straight white teeth and deep dimples. Her heart fluttered as he leaned across the table to kiss her. “Mmm, I missed you, Isabel.”

After four months of dating, his kiss hadn’t lost its effect. She decided to sit beside him rather than across the table. When she moved to his bench, he draped his arm around her as she knew he would. Snuggled against him, a wonderful sense of acceptance and belonging pervaded her soul.

“This is nice.” He caressed her cheek with his free hand. “Tell me what has kept you from me,
mi amor
.”

Isabel sighed contentedly. “So much has happened since we last spoke. I’m not sure where to begin.”

“My entire afternoon is free, Isabel. I had hoped to spend it with you.”

She smiled. “That sounds promising.”

“Good. Now, tell me about this translating.”

“Okay. You’re never going to believe the story I’ve discovered in the journal. I told you it was written in the early 1500s, right?”

He nodded.

“Well, it turns out that my ancestor, Rodrigo Velasquez, stole a chest of pearls right out from under the admiral’s nose and hid them somewhere. Manuel thinks the journal will tell us where to find them, and I made him promise to take me with him when he goes to search for them.”

Raúl stared at her, his face void of expression.

“Sorry. Did I tell you too much too fast? I know it’s a lot to absorb. I didn’t fully comprehend the importance of this information for a week after I found out.”

Raúl pulled her hand to his lips and brushed a feather-light kiss across her fingers. “You certainly know how to get a man’s attention, Isabel. I’d like to hear more about this project. Start at the beginning, and tell me everything.”

Isabel dropped her purse on her dining table and hurried to answer the phone. “Hello?”

“Isabel?”

The voice was familiar, one she’d been expecting to hear. “Oh hi, Professor Santiago. Did you have a nice holiday?”

“Yes, but I’m back and ready to work. I’d like to arrange to pick up the journal and begin working on the project.”

Isabel stiffened. “I thought I made it clear this would be a joint venture. We work together or not at all.”

“Yes, yes. I understood that, but I thought the translating might progress faster if I had the journal at my disposal. I’m a single man, and I often work sixteen to eighteen hours a day. Now that the semester has ended, I can devote all my time to your interests.”

Right, buddy! Try and make it sound like you’re doing me a favor. I’m still not going to trust you.

“I think I’d prefer to stick with the original agreement.”

His disgusted sigh seemed to confirm her suspicions. “Very well. Can we set up a work schedule? I have no further obligations during the holiday break. I can commit as much time as you’re able to give me.”

“My plans are minimal.” Raúl’s handsome face flashed through her mind, and she remembered her promise to spend some time on his yacht.
Maybe we won’t be able to go sailing, but I’m sure we can find a few hours together here and there.
He’d been fascinated when she’d recounted what she’d learned from the journal and Manuel thus far and had encouraged her pursuit. He’d understand. “All right. I have my day planner in front of me. How does tomorrow look to you?”

The man walked toward the front door of his apartment building, his thoughts far away from the darkened street. As he stood in the dim light fumbling with his keys, two men seized his arms from behind.

“Hey!” He thrashed against their iron grip.

The larger man pinned him against the wall, while the other addressed business. “You missed your last payment,
mi amigo
. The boss is short of cash because of you.”

He tried not to let fear show on his face or in his voice. “Look, I ran into some problems, but I swear I’ll have the money for you soon.”

“How soon?”

“I … I’m not sure.” He swallowed hard, knowing what would come next.

Wearing a sadistic smile, the smaller man delivered a crushing blow to his abdomen. “I suggest you make your payment very soon.”

The two thugs disappeared into the shadows of the night, leaving him sagging against the wall, gasping for air.

Isabel paused outside the office door and prepared to deal with Manuel’s surly disposition. He’d acted grouchy as a bear awakened from hibernation during each of their work sessions. After three weeks of enduring his temperament, she wondered if she should consider looking for another archaeologist to partner with in the venture. Her conscience pricked her.
I gave my word, and as a Christian, I need to keep my promise. But, Lord, please give me the opportunity to tell Manuel about You so suffering through his moods won’t be in vain.
She thought it amusing that his last name, Santiago, translated into English meant Saint James. Him, a saint? Talk about irony.

After a quick rap on the door, she let herself in. When Manuel glanced up from his work, a giant smile spread across his face.

“Hey, Isabel, good to see you!”

“Professor Santiago?” Shock caused her greeting to sound more like a question. He looked like Manuel, but he didn’t sound or act like him.

He laughed, a deep, pleasant sound, and pulled a chair up to the table next to him. “Have a seat, Isabel. I want to show you what I’ve found.”

Recovering from her stupor, she sat beside him. “Sure, Professor, let’s see it.”

“You’re always so formal toward me. We’re partners now. Don’t you think it’s time you called me Manuel?”

“You don’t like ‘Professor’?”

“It’s just that I’m not
your
professor. We’re really more like colleagues. And, besides, every time you call me Professor I have the urge to look over my shoulder to see if there’s a gray-haired geezer in the room. Something about the title makes me feel like an old man, when in reality I’m only a few years older than you.”

“How do you know how old I am?”

“Just a guess. You’re studying for your master’s, right?”

She nodded.

“Judging by that information and your looks, I assume you’re twenty-three or twenty-four.”

“Twenty-four,” she conceded.

“And I’m twenty-eight. Only four years difference, so call me Manuel.”

Isabel didn’t know whether to feel glad or suspicious about his total change in behavior.
Is this a plot to get me to let down my guard?
She hadn’t forgotten his attempt to wheedle the journal away from her.

“Are you feeling all right, Professor?”

“Manuel,” he corrected. “And I’m feeling great. I finally got that tooth fixed, and I feel like a new man.”

“Tooth?”

“Oh, didn’t I mention it? I’ve had a molar that needed some work, but the dentist couldn’t see me until yesterday. It hurt pretty bad, but it’s better now.”

Toothache. Could that be why he’s been so unbearable?

“Look what I received in today’s mail.” He pushed a book toward her. “This was written by an early missionary to the Pachacamac tribe.”

Isabel picked up the book and turned to the first page. “It’s written in English.”

“Yes. He was an Englishman, commissioned by the Catholic church to set up a mission in the New World.”

“So how will this help us?”

He reached for the book and laid it on the table between them. Opening to the middle, he pointed out neat rows of handwriting. “Look here. He’s learned some of the native words, and he’s written them down with their definitions.”

She studied the crude list Manuel pointed out. “Do any of the words match the ones on our Indian word list?”

“Not exactly.” The corners of Manuel’s lips quirked upward.

“Then I don’t understand. How will this help us?”

“The words don’t match because the priest was an Englishman. He used a system of English phonetics to spell out the words he learned from the Indians.”

“And Rodrigo, my ancestor, used Spanish phonetics.”

Manuel smiled. “Now you’re thinking like an archaeologist. The vowels and some of the consonants are pronounced differently in the two languages.”

Isabel felt a surge of excitement. “So if we can take the words the priest recorded and convert them to a Spanish system of phonetics, we may be able to find some matches?”

“Exactly.”

Isabel flipped through the priest’s recordings and doubt crept in. “What are our chances? This list he made isn’t more than a few hundred words long. It couldn’t contain all the definitions we need.”

“No, but your ancestor gave us something almost as valuable as a dictionary. We can ascertain the meaning of some of Rodrigo’s Pachacamac words by the context of his sentences. And I haven’t given up hope that we’ll find some other resources. I’ve sent out inquiries to any number of libraries, museums, and historians, asking for Pachacamac information, but the holidays have slowed their response time.”

“Of course. People haven’t worked much this last week. Did you contact any of the potential sponsors?”

Discouragement descended over Manuel’s features. “I did.”

“Not good news, I guess?”

“No. They all turned me down. Some stated I need more experience before they’ll fund me. The rest claimed to have recently committed to other projects. I think it’ll be easier to secure a sponsor if we find evidence in the journal about where he hid the pearls.”

“And if we don’t find evidence?”

He remained silent for a moment. “Don’t worry about it, Isabel. I’ll think of something. I want this as much as you do.” His attention returned to the missionary’s book, and he scribbled notes on a blank notepad. Frown lines creased his brow.

His smile was gone, suppressed by the sobering weight of the problems they faced. He took the project so seriously, a fact that Isabel was grateful for. She felt compelled to try to cheer him, bring back some of the good humor she’d seen earlier. She rather liked the smiling, amiable Manuel. “Don’t you worry either, Manuel. I’ll pray about it, and something will turn up.”