“This way,” Arizona said with the confidence of someone who could see in the dark.
They’d taken about two steps when a voice stopped them. “You can’t come in here,” a man said. “The exhibit isn’t open yet.” Seconds later a bright light shone in her eyes, blinding her.
“It’s okay, Martin,” Arizona said. “This is Chloe Wright. She’s a journalist. I brought her by to show her the exhibit.”
The light clicked off and a security guard stepped out of the shadows. “Oh, sorry, Dr. Smith. I didn’t know it was you.” The fiftysomething man smiled. “Let me know if you need anything.”
“I will, Martin, thanks.”
When they were alone again, Arizona motioned to the dark draperies on either side of the lit path. “The entrance is going to have blown-up photographs showing some of the ruins, that sort of thing. Robert Burton, a friend of mine, is composing appropriate music. Whatever the hell that means.”
Chloe chuckled with him. “Probably something with a South American flavor.”
“Probably.”
They continued down the walkway toward bright lights. Dark drapes gave way to glass cases exhibiting tools, bowls and animal hides fashioned into primitive clothing. Arizona briefly explained the significance of the items.
“I constantly offend my colleagues,” he admitted, not looking the least bit concerned by the fact. “I know I should be interested in this kind of thing.” He motioned to a row of cutting knives. “They are the basis for understanding how a people lived day by day. But I’m a true romantic. I find the living more interesting than the dead, even the long-dead, and I prefer magic to reality. I don’t care what they used to skin their kill. I want to know how they prepared for the hunt. I want to learn the rituals and hear the songs.” He shrugged. “As I’m frequently reminded, religion and magic have their place, but a good knife in the hands of a skilled hunter can keep a family alive for the winter.”
Chloe studied the honed cutting edges. “But religion feeds them as well—their souls rather than their bodies. That has to count for something.”
“Exactly.”
Arizona beamed at her as if she were a rather dull student who had finally come up with the right answer. She barely noticed, being too busy wondering where on earth that thought had come from. She was way too pragmatic to be concerned about the state of anyone’s soul.
“I’m glad you see my point,” he told her. “However, there are a few people I can’t seem to convince. They’re much more into the physical than the spiritual. We need to go through here.”
He led the way into a brightly lit alcove. There was a closed door at the far end. He knocked once. Another security guard stepped out. “Yes, Dr. Smith?”
“Jimmy, I made arrangements to show Ms. Wright the gem collection. You ready to unlock the cases for me?”
The guard, a young man of Chloe’s age, nodded seriously. “Yes, sir. Let me get the keys and disable the alarm.”
When he disappeared back into the room, Arizona winked at her. “Jimmy is in charge of the gems. He’s very proud of that. He’ll be accompanying us. With him around, we can unlock the cases and you can actually touch the stones.”
“I’d like that.” She stared at him. “How long have you been in town?”
“A couple of days. Why?”
“You seem to know everyone’s name. Or is that just a habit with security guards?”
“I told you. I’m interested in the living.”
Jimmy joined them, cutting off any further chance for conversation. He led the way to the last room. The walls were plain black. Tall glass cases formed a staggered line down the center. Spotlights illuminated their precious cargo.
Arizona nodded at the first case. “We’ll start at this end and work our way down.” As Jimmy unlocked the case, Arizona sighed heavily. “I found them, but do they trust me with them now?”
“Sorry, sir,” Jimmy said without cracking a smile. “I’m following the rules.”
Chloe moved close to the display. The door opened and Arizona reached inside to pick up a huge pink stone. It was the size of an orange, with an irregular shape. He held it with a reverence that made her nervous about taking it from him when he offered it to her.
“This will heal you,” he said. “Arthritis, stomach trouble, anything internal. I don’t think it would work on a broken bone, although I could be wrong. Some of the incantations were written down. We’ve found pieces on tablets and animal hides. The tribe is obscure. The language is tough. Not related to other Indian tribes in the area. I don’t have any of the incantations with me, so just think good thoughts while you hold it and hope for the best.”