Confrontation Ch. 06: Mercedes Ride

Then she loses it too, her painted fingers flying across her swollen clit to skillfully coax out what she so desperately needs tonight. Her orgasm is absolutely intense! Mercedes falls forward against me, our hearts pounding hard, our mouths gasping for breath.

First, there's a brief sense of absolute bliss. Then, a few seconds later a wall of guilt comes crashing down on me. What the Hell have I just done! Another minute later she whispers to me.

"I want to stay the night, Jag."

"I can't do that, Mercedes. I'm married now," I beg off.

"I know that. You wear a gold ring, but I want to sleep with you tonight anyway."

"Mercedes, these guys know my wife. I can't risk it."

She gives me a withering stare, then without saying another word she quickly dresses and leaves. And she takes the rest of the Pisco with her.

It occurs to me to pray to the Jaguar spirit that Marina never finds out about this indiscretion, but I've already called upon it once today. There are only so many times the jaguar will hear me.

The next morning, I meet Alphonse and Arturo for breakfast. Thankfully, Mercedes is nowhere in sight.

"How did you two sleep last night?" I ask.

"Great hotel, Jaguar. Needed that. Thanks. And you?"

"Went to bed early," I say truthfully. "And fell asleep right away," I lie.

I've been experiencing a bad case of remorse ever since I woke up, and I want to avoid any thoughts about what really went on last night. But they aren't going away so easily.

"Who was that babe on the front desk last night, Jag? She seemed to know you."

"Just somebody I used to see here when I had my tour business."

"Man, I'd like some business with her- dirty business!"

I force a grin and say to myself, "If you guys only knew." But I hope they never will because the less they say anything about Mercedes, the better.

Back in my room, I phone to make an appointment with the director of the local museum in Cuzco, Dr. Santo Arusa. I've dealt with him before when Elena and I were transferring valuable Inca drinking cups to the National Museum in Lima. We've been friendly ever since I nabbed his assistant for stealing them from a display case. [Background: Andean Experience Ch. 06: Crime in Cuzco in Non-Erotic category.]

He has a meeting this morning, so I decide to take Elena's cousins for a history tour around old Cuzco. I can't leave her thinking that all I did was take them to bars and whorehouses on this trip. First, we walk over to the cathedral and I point out the unique foundations along the side where the land slopes. They see the large, perfectly fitted stone under the building.

"Inca," I tell them. "When the Spanish crushed them nearly 600 years ago, the conquerors built their cathedral right on the ruins of the most sacred Inca place, the Coricancha. We can go under there."

"Is there a test after this, Jaguar?" one of them jokes, as we go downstairs.

"These open rooms are nothing like they were before Pizarro came with guns. They were filled with priceless silver and gold statues to the ancient gods. The walls of that one were hammered sheets of solid gold!"

"The Spaniards took it all, right?"

"Yes. They captured the emperor and held him ransom in exchange for a room full of precious metal. The Inca stripped places like this bare and turned it over because Atahualpa was considered a god on earth. The captors beheaded him anyway."

"Bastards!"

"They were. The legend is that the Inca planted his head in the ground, hoping it would grow again and he'd return."

"Crazy!"

"Every year on the first day of spring, a festival celebrates the last age of the Inca, the return of the Emperor to bring back the old ways."

"Where is it held?"

"Right up there on that bluff overlooking the city. Thousands attend now. More every year."

I'm in full tour guide mode, back to the days of my Andean Experience business. But I can see my bodyguards are losing interest and want a beer. Enough of education, so I leave them for my appointment with the museum director. He greets me warmly and we remember old times before we get down to business.

"But Jaguar, I know you didn't come today just to reminisce. What's on your mind, more of our artifacts to move to Lima?"

"No, I'm investigating pieces smuggled out of Peru and sold to rich collectors overseas."

"I've heard about bits and pieces turning up at European auctions. But that's been happening for years.

"It's becoming a flood now, Santo. Maybe the work of some syndicate, perhaps global in extent. We've seen Nazca drinking vessels and Paracas burial shrouds exchanged in Manaus and shipped downriver."

"Really! How are they getting to Manaus?"

"I've just come from Imapari and Porto Velho. I think the pieces cross the border by truck and in bags carried across by girls working in Brazilian bars and whorehouses. It could even go to in small charter planes like the one I used to get here yesterday."

"And you want me to tell you where it all originates, right? Unfortunately, I have no idea!"

"Exactly. Neither do I. Any wild guesses?"

"Hmm.... Maybe sources we don't know anything about, like illegal digs or thefts from collections here in Peru?"

"I wish there was some place to start," I remark.

"Jaguar, I do have one suggestion. A few blocks from here there's a little shop where an old couple sells tourists copies of small Inca artifacts. But in the back room they offer bits and pieces of the real thing. I don't know if its legal trade or not. But, I've never bothered to find out because the stuff is far from museum quality."

"Hey, that's a good lead! I'll go there tight now!" I'm excited and he gives me directions.

It only takes a few minutes to find the place, which looks like a rundown postcard shop. There are dusty copies of Peruvian heritage in the windows, but nothing else to tell of the real pieces available. Inside, an old man dozes behind a glass counter. He's awake when I close the door.

There isn't anything authentic for sale in the little room, so I ask if he has anything else. He sizes me up, not saying much before he calls over his shoulder to his wife. Then a dark curtain opens and a stooped lady comes out. She says something quietly to the man, then motions for me to follow. Its all very mysterious. Back there, she steps behind a cabinet.

"What do you want to buy here?" she croaks.

"Something Inca. Something authentic, not a copy."

"You collect?"

"Yes a bit, especially from the later period, just before the Spanish came."

"I have some of that. A few pieces. How much will you spend?"

"Show me the cheapest piece to see if I can afford it."

She nods, then pulls out a drawer. She sets a small item on a countertop, an old tool used for working stone. I can see that it's the real thing but that there are some obvious imperfections. I motion for her to turn it around so I can look more closely, then I ask the price.

It's rather high for the moderate quality, and no museum would buy it. But, a novice collector might be content.

"Maybe," I nod, non-committed. "Show me a better piece, something different and more expensive."

The old woman smiles and pulls out a second drawer. To my surprise she has a silver and enameled brooch, a beautiful item. As she slowly turns it for me to examine, I notice some imperfections, though it is a nice piece for a more serious collector.

"Your price?"

"Twice as much as the other."

"More than I can pay."

Then I make her an offer on the tool, and we haggle over the price. When she calls the man in to confer with him, I know its mine. A few minutes later, it is carefully packaged in a sturdy cardboard box and I peel off some bills. I want this piece, and perhaps more of these reasonably priced authentic items.

Why?

A bright light has come on in my head, revealing a new way forward. We seem to have reached the end of the line as far as direct surveillance is concerned. Now, I've suddenly realized that our investigation can use technology to follow the movement of old items out of Peru.

With satellite-based tracking technology- like the RTag in my luggage- the global transfer of this little piece of Peru's cultural past can be tracked from place to place.

Artifacts can be followed right from source to sale.

And I'm sure that they will move right through Antonio's bar in Manaus.

Brilliant! Absolutely brilliant!