“Let me think more about how to unlock it. I’ll be back.” Andrew started to leave, but then he ducked back inside, a warning on his face. “No matter what,do notcut or damage that bracelet.”
* * *
By dinner time, the bracelet was still an embarrassing weight on my wrist. The television was on but muted, showing an overly dramatic soap opera. I sat on the couch and flipped through a resort magazine full of advertisements, my foot tapping to the distant sound of Latin music coming from the direction of the pool. On the balcony, William Facetimed with someone. Multiple notes in Andrew’s handwriting were scattered over the coffee table and Andrew himself was slumped in a chair, his head clutched between his hands, his elbows pressing into his knees.
When Andrew had returned to our suite, he’d asked for a quiet moment so he could concentrate. That moment had stretched into sixty long, boring minutes as he held my hand while turning the bracelet repeatedly, pressing four stones in different sequences. Other than his name and profession—and the knowledge that he must have an abundance of money, to offer so much to me for this bracelet—I knew nothing about this stranger. At some point, he had rolled his sleeves up to his elbows, exposing cords of taut forearm muscles. On his left wrist, he wore a banged-up Swiss Army watch with an age-softened espresso leather strap, its metal bezel and crystal glass showcasing numerous scratches. It wasn’t enough to know someone, but somehow it made me like him. I found myself wondering if he was a sentimental man as a fancier wristwatch would have suited Dr. Jones better.
With a groan, Andrew leaned back, tipping his head over the back of his chair and extending his long legs under the coffee table. The fabric of his pants hugged his thighs, outlining firm muscles. Was I ogling? I wasn’t. I was just observing.
“Christ.” He rubbed his face with his hands. “You’ll have to come with me to Colombia.”
WTF? Did he just say Colombia?
One look at his face told me he wasn’t kidding. I bit back nervous laughter. “Excuse me?”
“Please hear me out.” Wide-eyed, Andrew sat up. “It shouldn’t take long. One day there, and one day back. I’ll reserve the best hotel.” His hair was disheveled, making him look boyish. It was cute, and I couldn’t help but smile. “Good, you’re smiling, so you agree.”
“No,” I said, pulling on a serious face. “I don’t care how many days it takes. I’m not going to Colombia. William and I are on vacation, and there are twelve days left to enjoy it before I need to…”—beg for my old job back, fix the burning hole in my savings account, avoid a potential foreclosure and ruined credit, all because I purchased a building and couldn’t afford to make the payments—“face reality.”
“I’ll pay,” Andrew said with a solemn expression.
I snorted. “It would take much more than an extra few thousand dollars for you to convince me to?—”
“Twenty thousand,” Andrew said, dead serious.
William stepped into the room. “Twenty thousand what?”
Paralyzed with shock, I didn’t move or breathe.
“Adriana, what’s he talking about?” William’s gaze ping-ponged between Andrew and me.
“I need her to go with me to Colombia, and I’m willing to pay for the trouble thatshecreated.” He threw me a dirty look. I rolled my eyes.
“Why Colombia?” William rested his butt on the couch’s armrest.
“In Santa Marta, we’ll meet with the director of the Museum of History, Dr. Carlos Garcia, and then, if my assessment is correct, we’ll use the bracelet as a key to unlock a trunk.”
Getting a buttload of money just to go somewhere with a stranger to unlock a chest sounded too easy. And I’d learned nothing came easy in life.
I shook my head. “This is a stupid idea.”
“Shh. Let the man explain,” William said to me. “What’s in the trunk?”
“Don’t shush me.” I glared at my brother. He motioned with his hand for me to shut up.
“A group of archeologists believe the trunk might contain a map to the location where pirate Augustine Pérez hid the Asiento de Padua treasure.”
I swore William’s ears perked up like a cat’s at the sound of a tuna can opening.
“Oh good god.” My head dropped backward as I groaned.
I already knew what the evening ahead held for me—William being a total child, ignoring the stranger-danger red flag and begging to go to Colombia. He would go for free too. When I was at the University of Georgia and he was doing a rotational internship at a hospital, he dragged me on a three-day road trip to Key West so he could visit the Mel Fisher Maritime Museum, home of a sunken Spanish treasure. Nobody else wanted to ride thirteen hours one way in his crappy car with a broken air conditioner, so he trapped me with a guarantee of endless seafood and the Hemingway house tour. It worked.
“In 1757, a ship named the Asiento de Padua set sail from Lisbon to Rome carrying gold, silver, tapestries, and jewels,” Andrew explained. “Two pirate ships attacked the Asiento de Padua near Cartagena, Spain. The first pirate ship, captained by Augustine Pérez, made a clean getaway with most of the treasure. But the second ship was captured and the crew was hanged except for two officers, who were sent to prison. Two years ago, a group of French archaeologists discovered a diary written by one of the officers. In it, he mentioned Pérez had most likely sailed to Santa Marta, Colombia. As a fundraiser for the museum, Dr. Garcia collaborates with several Latin American private antique collectors, and this past weekend, he held an auction at the museum. At the last-minute, a chest that had allegedly belonged to Pérez—who was notorious for hiding his stolen valuables in the most secure places, in large chests with elaborate locking systems—was added to the list of items being auctioned.”
“Whoareyou?” William asked with awe.
An ATM and Wikipedia page.
