CHAPTER 10
ZANZIBAR
SAM SAW ITZLI RIVERA APPEAR AT THE NORTHERN SIDE OF THE cricket grounds, walking through the trees bordering the parking lot. Behind him, another man was walking east through the lot, but Sam could not make out his face. The purposefulness of his stride made him stand out. This would be Nochtli, Sam thought.
In the middle of the field, a pickup cricket match of teenagers was under way. Their laughter and shouts echoed across the park. Rivera strolled down the sidewalk on the west side of the grounds and stopped before the bench on which Sam sat.
“You came alone,” Rivera said.
Seeing Rivera up close and in daylight immediately altered Sam’s measure of the man. While Sam had never doubted Rivera’s prowess, his chiseled face and sinewy build suggested a rawhide-like toughness. His black eyes regarded Sam impassively—an expression Sam suspected rarely changed, whether Rivera was eating a sandwich or murdering another human being.
“Have a seat,” Sam said amiably despite the flutter of fear in his belly. He felt like he was hand-feeding a great white shark.
Rivera did so. “This is your meeting,” he said.
Sam didn’t reply. He watched the cricket match. A minute passed. Rivera broke the silence. “Your prank with the crate—amusing.”
“Something tells me you didn’t laugh, though.”
“No. Where is your wife, Mr. Fargo?”
“Running an errand. You can signal your friend to stop circling the grounds. He won’t find her.”
Rivera considered this for a few moments, then lifted his hand off the back of the bench and made a fist. Across the park, Nochtli stopped walking.
“Let’s talk about our problem,” Sam said.
“And what do you imagine that problem is?”
“You think we have something you want.”
“Tell me exactly: What do you think you have?”
Abruptly, Sam stood up. “I enjoy the occasional verbal joust as much as the next man, but not today.”
“All right, all right. Sit down, please.”
Sam did so. Rivera said, “The people I work for have been looking for a shipwreck. We believe it was lost in this area.”
“Which ship?”
“The Ophelia.”
“Tell me about it.”
“A steam-sail passenger ship. It was believed to be sunk in these waters in the 1870s.”
“That’s all you know about her?”
“More or less.”
“How long have you been looking for her?”
“Seven years.”
“Actively?”
“Yes, actively.”