“Of course. We’ll limit it to just me and my sister. And Carlos. As the director, his approval is needed to invest man-hours in researching it.”
“That’s fine. Is he still here?” Sam asked.
“No, but I’ll be in early and will tell him all about it.” Antonio glanced at his Panerai. “When would you like to meet tomorrow? Nine?”
“That would be perfect,” Remi said with a smile directed at Antonio.
Sam extended his hand to Antonio for the flash drive. “I’ll go make a copy.”
Their taxi arrived fifteen minutes later. On the way back to the hotel, Sam turned to Remi with a smile.
“Do you want to eat at the hotel or seek out some local fare? I don’t care as long as it’s soon. I could eat a horse.”
“Which you might be doing if we don’t dine at the hotel. Breakfast didn’t sit well with me.”
“It was probably the pig snout.”
“Right. Maybe it wasn’t fresh.”
“That’s the worst. Snout past its prime,” Sam agreed, and they both laughed. “Still having regrets about letting them in on it?”
“No, I’m over that. As much as I hate to admit it, you were right. I was being a big baby.”
“Not really. Like I said, I could see myself doing the same thing.”
“But I expect you to behave like a toddler.”
“It’s part of my naïve charm.”
“You bet it is.”
Dinner was quiet, with Remi agreeing that one margarita never hurt anyone. After enjoying their huge entrées, they returned to their room, both wondering silently whether they’d really done the right thing by handing over the result of so much hard work and if, in the end, any of it would even matter.
The next morning they awoke to their windows rattling from sheets of wind-driven rain lashing the hotel.
“I thought Mexico was all about warm weather and blue skies,” Sam said.
“Well, it’s been warmer than back home.”
“And rained enough to give Seattle a run for its money.”
“Probably the time of year. Hey, do we have time to grab coffee and a roll?”
Sam looked at his watch as he edged by her into the bathroom. “If I don’t shave my legs.”
“I’m willing to overlook it this once.”
The drive to the Institute was slow and miserable, the streets awash with floating trash and overflowing manholes. By the time they made it to the office, it was half past nine. Maribela was waiting for them with an excited expression. It was all she could do to restrain herself when they walked through the door.
“Good morning, Maribela,” Sam said, running his fingers through his wet hair, the result of the run from the cab to the front entrance.
“Good morning.”
“How did your night go?” Remi asked.
“I didn’t get much sleep. Neither did Antonio. But I have good news. Antonio thinks he knows which pyramid it is,” Maribela blurted.
“Really?” Sam said. “That’s great! How did he figure it out?”