began.
I sat back against the seat, listening. This could provide plenty of flavor in my next article, I figured. I’d have to make sure I quoted lots of the other trekkers in the stories, too. People love to see their name in print.
“Yes, but — ” the professor grabbed hold of the conversational ball, wrestling it away from Elaine with an effort.
I fished around in my tote bag for my notebook. Flipping through the rapidly filling pages for an empty one, I happened upon the piece of hotel notepaper containing the message I’d read on Clark’s phone the other night.
Bending the corner of the paper back and forth, I felt momentarily detached. Half my mind was tuned to the talk going on around me. The other half was pondering Clark’s cryptic text. The words tumbled over and over in my mind’s eye and, like a difficult crossword clue, refused to go away.
Thursday’s shipment — twenty five airborne, thirteen grounded. Delay arrival. Uncle visiting.
In light of what I’d heard from Mart about suspected drug smuggling, the secretive, coded language sort of made sense. At least the part about shipment. Had Clark already made contact with Tommy Mendoza’s associates? Was he communicating with them regularly, as the note implied?
A tiny shiver of fear tingled in the small of my back at the thought of the potential danger. Following on its heels came another unsettling idea. Was Sylvia aware of her husband’s plans? Did she know what Mart suspected — Clark’s search for Mendoza’s killer?
It was difficult to imagine her condoning her husband’s adventurous scheme. I had a feeling she’d think dirty work was best left to professionals like policemen. “They are paid to put their lives on the line, after all,” I could hear her say.
Was that why she was along on this trip? To keep an eye on Clark?
I made another note, scribbling “S?” in the margin of my paper and slipping the note back among the pages. There was more than one mystery to be solved here, it seemed, and I was determined to get some answers. I didn’t stop to question my motivation, choosing to lump it under “Research for My Articles,” even though I knew that wasn’t true.
I wouldn’t be getting any answers now, though. Altun Ha was much closer to our hotel, and was located in Belize, not Guatemala. Already our SUV, in the middle of the procession, was slowing to a crawl. Elaine, looking eagerly out of her window, broke off in mid-sentence, and leaned forward, bouncing in her seat with excitement.
“Will you be climbing any of the temples today, Elaine?” I asked, sliding my notebook into my tote.
“Count on it,” Dan drawled, sounding less than pleased and Elaine gave him a poke with one pointy elbow.
“You old frump!” she scolded affectionately. “It isn’t as if I make you go with me, you know. But I don’t know why you even came if all you’re going to do is sit in the shade somewhere. You could do that at home.”
“I’m not the only one who doesn’t feel a need to put my head in the clouds,” Dan retorted, looking at me. “Allison won’t climb either, right?”
I shrugged, recalling my last horrendous attempt to scale the steps of a temple. The thought of a repeat performance was terrifying. But I would have been all right if I hadn’t been pushed. Could I screw up my courage and make the climb? My glance darted over to Elaine. Easily in her late sixties, she didn’t have a moment’s hesitation.
“Maybe I will and maybe I won’t,” I hedged.
Dan’s eyes sparkled with mischief. “That’s what I like. Sure and swift decision-making.”
“Excuse me,” the professor broke in as our vehicle came to a halt. “Would you mind if I squeezed past you?” Even as he spoke, he was sliding by me and, in a blink, had thrust open the SUV’s door. He leapt to the ground and strode off.
I wondered if he’d share our vehicle on the ride home or make good his escape and avoid further verbal sparring with
I sat back against the seat, listening. This could provide plenty of flavor in my next article, I figured. I’d have to make sure I quoted lots of the other trekkers in the stories, too. People love to see their name in print.
“Yes, but — ” the professor grabbed hold of the conversational ball, wrestling it away from Elaine with an effort.
I fished around in my tote bag for my notebook. Flipping through the rapidly filling pages for an empty one, I happened upon the piece of hotel notepaper containing the message I’d read on Clark’s phone the other night.
Bending the corner of the paper back and forth, I felt momentarily detached. Half my mind was tuned to the talk going on around me. The other half was pondering Clark’s cryptic text. The words tumbled over and over in my mind’s eye and, like a difficult crossword clue, refused to go away.
Thursday’s shipment — twenty five airborne, thirteen grounded. Delay arrival. Uncle visiting.
In light of what I’d heard from Mart about suspected drug smuggling, the secretive, coded language sort of made sense. At least the part about shipment. Had Clark already made contact with Tommy Mendoza’s associates? Was he communicating with them regularly, as the note implied?
A tiny shiver of fear tingled in the small of my back at the thought of the potential danger. Following on its heels came another unsettling idea. Was Sylvia aware of her husband’s plans? Did she know what Mart suspected — Clark’s search for Mendoza’s killer?
It was difficult to imagine her condoning her husband’s adventurous scheme. I had a feeling she’d think dirty work was best left to professionals like policemen. “They are paid to put their lives on the line, after all,” I could hear her say.
Was that why she was along on this trip? To keep an eye on Clark?
I made another note, scribbling “S?” in the margin of my paper and slipping the note back among the pages. There was more than one mystery to be solved here, it seemed, and I was determined to get some answers. I didn’t stop to question my motivation, choosing to lump it under “Research for My Articles,” even though I knew that wasn’t true.
I wouldn’t be getting any answers now, though. Altun Ha was much closer to our hotel, and was located in Belize, not Guatemala. Already our SUV, in the middle of the procession, was slowing to a crawl. Elaine, looking eagerly out of her window, broke off in mid-sentence, and leaned forward, bouncing in her seat with excitement.
“Will you be climbing any of the temples today, Elaine?” I asked, sliding my notebook into my tote.
“Count on it,” Dan drawled, sounding less than pleased and Elaine gave him a poke with one pointy elbow.
“You old frump!” she scolded affectionately. “It isn’t as if I make you go with me, you know. But I don’t know why you even came if all you’re going to do is sit in the shade somewhere. You could do that at home.”
“I’m not the only one who doesn’t feel a need to put my head in the clouds,” Dan retorted, looking at me. “Allison won’t climb either, right?”
I shrugged, recalling my last horrendous attempt to scale the steps of a temple. The thought of a repeat performance was terrifying. But I would have been all right if I hadn’t been pushed. Could I screw up my courage and make the climb? My glance darted over to Elaine. Easily in her late sixties, she didn’t have a moment’s hesitation.
“Maybe I will and maybe I won’t,” I hedged.
Dan’s eyes sparkled with mischief. “That’s what I like. Sure and swift decision-making.”
“Excuse me,” the professor broke in as our vehicle came to a halt. “Would you mind if I squeezed past you?” Even as he spoke, he was sliding by me and, in a blink, had thrust open the SUV’s door. He leapt to the ground and strode off.
I wondered if he’d share our vehicle on the ride home or make good his escape and avoid further verbal sparring with
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