I looked at Andrew. “Horse?” He shrugged. “That’s not very helpful.”
Andrew passed me the next letter. “This is a drawing of a security system Augustine designed.” The page had ground plans and elevations of some apparatus, with pulleys and cog-wheel mechanisms, with accompanying notes. “Here he talks about the great device, which came to him in a dream. Also, something about him wanting to bring a skillful carpenter from Portugal.”
“Where was he planning to build it?”
“He doesn’t say.”
“William.” I glanced at my brother. “Do you want to look at these?”
His eyes flicked to the letter I held, then to his phone. “Not really.”
Smitten with today’s events, I had forgotten about the strange mood William had fallen into this afternoon. Guilt squeezed my heart. I should’ve spoken to him earlier in the room and figured out what was wrong. We were on a treasure hunt. He should be happy. I could ask now, but he wouldn’t be honest in front of Andrew.
The server stopped by our table to take our order. William and I ordered corn flourarepasstuffed with beef and vegetables, and Andrew asked forajiaco, a chicken soup made with four different kinds of potatoes andguascas. When the dinner arrived quickly—thank goodness—Andrew hid the book and letters in his backpack. At first, we wordlessly dug into the food, then with our hunger sated, Andrew told us more about Augustine Pérez’s life.
“During his first successful robbery of a Portuguese ship,” Andrew said, pushing the empty plate aside, “Augustine spared one officer’s life. Francisco Ferreira was a cryptographer for the Portuguese military. He and Augustine became friends, and he taught Augustine code writing and helped him develop new codes, which Augustine used in his letters. Unfortunately, seven years later, his friend died.”
“What happened to him?” William gulped the remains of his rum and coughed, then lifted a hand, signaling to the server for another round. I was glad he was finally getting his curiosity back. Over dinner, while Andrew talked, I had watched emotions shifting across William’s face, from indifference to sadness to finally interest.
“He drowned in a shallow puddle of water.”
My hand went to my chest. “Did he pass out drunk?”
The server collected dirty dishes and cleaned our table with a wet rag.
“No. He was drugged withdaturasby a thief.” Andrew wiped the table dry with the paper towels the server had dropped off earlier, and I couldn’t help admiring his sculpted forearms as they moved. He unrolled the protective canvas and placed his journal and the letters on it. “The drug comprises all the parts of the flower Datura. It stuns and disorients its victims. In high dosages, it induces a state of psychotic delirium, amnesia, and a burning thirst. Many drown as they try desperately to kill their thirst.”
A chill ran over my body, and I shivered despite the warm room. “That’s awful.”
“Yes,” Andrew said, dropping his notebook, the letters, and the book back in front of us. “Shall we continue?” He arched an eyebrow, his lips pulling into an inviting smile.
Even though I was tired, I wanted to stay for a while. I hadn’t contributed anything helpful, but nevertheless, I was having fun. “I was afraid you wouldn’t ask.”
* * *
Apart from the three of us, there was hardly anyone else left in the restaurant, the servers having cleaned all the tables but ours. From time to time my knee would knock Andrew’s, and eventually, it stayed pressed against his. Andrew’s shoulder flattened into mine as we sat close, looking over the sheets we’d found. Or maybe I ended up leaning against him? At some point, we huddled so close Andrew wrapped his arm around my back but quickly corrected his mistake and rested his hand on the back of my chair instead. Working with him as if I was his true partner and feeling the warmth of his body next to mine made me realize how lonely I had been for a while now. My entire adult life, really.
“Have you noticed how Augustine’s handwriting is different in some of the correspondence?” I reached over to take a letter from Augustine to Simón, leaning into Andrew and stealing as much of his touch as I could. My hair was in his face and he inhaled deeply, and I had a sudden urge for him to move my hair aside and trace his lips slowly over the back of my neck.
I returned to my seat and opened the letter. “You see how some words starting with M or S have more swirls.” I pointed at the sheet in front of me with a much-rigged capital M. Every spot of my body tingled where our knees, thighs, arms, and fingers were touching. I sure as hell knew half of my brushing against him was on purpose, and I couldn’t shake off the feeling that his was too. “And compare these Ds and Ls. His handwriting is the same in all of these except for some initial letters. And only,” I said with a triumphal grin, “to his sons.”
Andrew hummed, his gaze tracing words, then his mouth parted, and his eyes locked on mine. “You’re a diamond, my dear.”
Time slowed as we looked into each other’s eyes, and even though we came from different backgrounds and our lives would never fit together, the soft breeze in my chest turned into a gale as we shared an unmistakable connection. I wasn’t sure what to do with the longing that flared inside me. I didn’t want it, but it was there. I resisted the need to run my fingers across his stubbled cheek, to feel the fullness of his lower lip. There was a glint of challenge, an unspoken question in his eyes, which made me wish he would kiss me, made me want to mouthplease.
Andrew blinked and leaned away to root around in his backpack. He must have realized that acting on our attraction would only lead to complications. He pulled out a gilt brass ring with letters and handed it to me.
“This is…” Andrew cleared his throat. “This is a broken cipher, but it’s likely useless to us. The top dial is missing.”
My pulse seemed to echo in my throat. Swallowing my relief and regret, I asked, “Where did you find it?”
“The cipher arrived with the rest of the items my trustedfriendssent to me in Costa Rica. It belonged to Simón, and it was most likely used for these letters.”
I turned the heavy brass, examining it, then passed it back to Andrew. “Well, then we focus on these numbers and their meanings.” I gestured at the sheets in front of us.
“It’s probably like the Arnold cipher used in the War of Independence,” William slurred. His elbow was propped on the table, his cheek leaning heavily on his palm, eyes half closed.
“What?” I said, twisting in my seat. William was so quiet all this time, I nearly forgot he was with us. No, I actually did forget.
