“Dios mio. Treasure, Ratoncita. You found treasure.”
With great effort, Evan controlled her excitement. “It appears that way, yes. And please stop calling me mouse.”
“Never. Just like a little mouse, you dug your hole in the dirt and found a treat.”
“Everything needs to be separated and cataloged. We should have been recording this. Here.” She dug into her bag and removed a GoPro. “Be my cameraman.”
“With pleasure.” He took the device and peered through the eyehole.
“Record the dig, Miguel. I don’t want to watch that later and see footage of my ass or my bra strap.”
“Ah, but the ass and the bra are much more fun to watch.” He pointed the camera to her face.
“Just focus on the find.” She shook her head, exasperated.
Cam obliged and began documenting her work. Where had this camaraderie come from? This ease of exchange? He had maintained his Miguel Ramirez legend without fail, and yet she treated him…
She treated him like Cam.
Miguel Ramirez had beaten and killed men. He fucked and discarded women. He got high, and he drank to excess. Cam had had many sleepless nights early on coming to terms with the fact that, on paper, Miguel Ramirez and Camilo Canto were not that different. Cam had done most of those things too. Ultimately, he resolved his angst with the knowledge that what Cam did, he did for the right reasons. He did it to make the world safer. Miguel was a means to an end, a price he was willing to pay.
Somehow, someway, Evan seemed to see beneath his heretofore impenetrable facade.
Her sharp intake of breath jarred him from his thoughts, and he looked down to see Evan had revealed the corner of a metal box.
“What is it?” He peered closer.
“I’m not sure yet. Hook the camera on my helmet and come help me,” she replied.
Slowly, Evan brushed away the earth surrounding the box.
“It's not rusted,” he observed.
“It's gold,” Evan explained. Gold is one of the least reactive metals. It's not affected by oxygen or even saltwater. That's why treasure hunters are always searching for shipwrecks. Gold can survive on the bottom of the ocean indefinitely.”
Cam grunted his understanding while Evan extracted the box from the mound. It was indeed a hinged gold box, lighter than she expected and about half the size of a shoebox. Caked with dirt and mud, the detail was difficult to make out, but it was clear the case was filigreed and ornately decorated.
“Let's take it over there.” Cam gestured with his head to an empty corner. When Evan nodded her assent, he helped her up and guided her to the spot.
“Clean it off first or open it?” Cam asked.
“I may be a scientist, but come on.” She elbowed him in the ribs as he sat down beside her.
She worked her way around the edge of the box with a small tool, dislodging silt and debris. Then she slid the lock mechanism to the side and released the latch. Slowly, slowly she opened the box. When the lid was open about an inch, she stopped, turned her head, and looked at Cam with the excitement of a child.
“Well?” Cam urged.
Evan lifted the lid, her eyes cataloging the contents. In the center was a sizable nondescript rock about the size of a baseball. A nest of coins surrounded it, and on one side sat a large necklace. A section of the chain was missing, and the links matched those on the markers they had found. She carefully lifted the item and held it before them. A large medallion in the shape of an animal head, a cougar or a lioness perhaps, hung from the end.
“Fijate. That's amazing.”
“It is. It's amazing.” She stared at her find.
Cam reached into the box and withdrew the big rock. “This must be to weigh it down. These people…”
“Moors. These items are Moorish, late Fourteenth Century.”
“Perdón. The Moors must have known the tide washed into this cave when they hid this stuff.” He tossed the rock over his shoulder, and it vanished into the darkness. A plop of water signaled it had rolled into a puddle.