Diggin' In The Dirt

[st_clare]

Andean Peru - 1978

The excavation was done. Now it was up to a more delicate touch to extract whatever treasures the earth held.

There had been two opportunities to go abroad on Council-related matters, one to South America and another to the countryside of France. Julianna's Spanish was better than her French, so she'd chosen Peru. And she'd really just been grateful to get out of England for a few months. Burying herself in work was a way to forget and to escape. That it was also rewarding made it even more worthwhile.

The day was mild, the slightest crisp breeze wafting over the campground. Julianna was watching the diggers congregating near the lip of the largest excavated pit. She didn't know what they'd find down there. Weapons, religious artifacts, scrolls. Even something as simple as a history of recorded births could be very enlightening. She knew others didn't find primitive cultures as fascinating as she did, but she had a particular field of interest.

The Watcher stepped out from beneath the sunshade when the chatter of the workmen picked up in volume. Had something already been found?

The rain in Spain falls mainly on the plane

[ghargreaves]

"Flight 473 to Madrid is now boarding through Gate 12. All passengers please have boarding passes ready and make your way to Gate 12, for flight 473 to Madrid."

Barcelona had been an interesting excursion, and Gerald carried a briefcase that was a good deal heavier now than it had been on his arrival. He handed his boarding pass to the young air hostess, giving her a slight nod in response to her greeting, and wishes for him to have a safe journey and enjoyable flight. He tucked the pass back into his breast pocket and started across the tarmac. The sun was beating down, despite the commencement of the cooler season, and he tugged lightly on the brim of his hat, ensuring it would remain in place for his excursion across the blacktop to the awaiting flight of stairs and the dubious air-conditioning of the small prop jet awaiting him and the other passengers.

He noted a large boiling of clouds on the horizon which indicated they might be in for a bumpy ride. In all his decades of travel he'd never managed to find a way to allay the onset of travel sickness, much to his disgust, and no number of artifacts or potions had ever been able to relieve him of the malady. There was only one thing he knew would work, and he spied the potential purveyor of assistance in this, standing at the top of the stairs.

"Yes, my dear, and I have a request, if you could be so kind, to ensure I have a gin and tonic, as soon as you are able," he told the stewardess after showing her his boarding pass. A potion of the juniper berry, distilled, was the one thing he had found that could help still the waves of nausea that would undoubtedly threaten to wash over him if the clouds in the distant sky were any indication of the type of flight they were going to have.

As the plane taxied into the terminal in Madrid Gerald lifted an eyelid, the sodden tarmac visible through the rain-speckled window. After disembarking he made his way through customs and was soon on his way to the private club, his 'home away from home' in this part of the world. His briefcase had not left his possession, and as he finally lowered himself into a large studded-leather armchair next to the open fireplace he placed it in his lap, unlocking the clasps and opening it. Inside, atop the papers, envelopes, and leather compendium, were three large black velvet bags. A smile creased into lines around Gerald's eyes and mouth and he touched each with an almost reverent touch. "Senor Vera should be very pleased," he murmured to himself.

A movement at the door to the lounge drew his eyes upwards. A man in uniform entered, the doorman acknowledging the man's rank with a small bow of his head and touch of his heels together, an arm extending, indicating the way as he started across the large room toward Gerald.

"Senor Hargreaves, your guest, Senor Rafael Vera."