A Matter of Trust

6 - Mexico

Gretta looked up and smiled as Arnold came into the lounge. He was dressed in a pair of denim trousers and a short-sleeved jacket shirt adorned with epaulets and a series of buttoned pockets.

His own clothes were being washed in the airplane's on board laundry. Arnold had discovered two other people working in the rear; a chef and a chief cook and bottle washer who smiled politely, completely unfazed by his presence.

"They fit well," she commented. He grunted, and flopped into a seat across from her, noticing that she had also changed. Her dazzling legs were now covered in long khaki pants and she sported a sleeveless white shirt with two buttons undone at the neck. On her feet she wore heavy looking hiking boots with leather laces.

"Are you okay, Arny?" She put down the magazine she had been reading and leaned toward him. He pulled a face, about to begin his complaint anew but his eyes dropped to the open neck of her shirt and his tongue inflated to the size of a small pillow. "I understand if you're angry. Really. But there wasn't a choice back there. Vincent is a killer and he knows you are with me."

He dragged his eyes north and fell into the pool of her eyes. God help me! "You realize you've cost me my job, my career . . ." He searched for more words but her expression was so intensely sympathetic he just sighed aloud and gazed out at the passing clouds.

"So where do we fly to from here?" He asked resignedly.

"To Guadalajara and from there we take a small plane to Minatitlan."

"Minatit-what?" He blushed as soon as he said the word and quickly turned back to the window.

"Minatitlan," she grinned. "It's a city on the gulf coast in the Isthmus of Tehuantepec."

"Of course it is," he scoffed.

"It's true. It's not that far from San Lorenzo or the ruins of La Venta." She lifted the mug and her eyes drifted from Arnold's face to a place over his left shoulder. "They are spectacular."

"What are?"

"The La Venta ruins."

He sensed some overpowering attraction in her answer, something that transcended the possible danger they'd hopefully left behind. "What are these ruins?"

She pulled her thoughts back and looked at him. "Is this true interest or are you just refueling for another round of complaints?"

"You know, Gretta, if I wanted to complain some more I think I have every damn right," he paused, picking at the arm of the seat. "But the facts are the facts. I'm here and there's nothing I can do about it, so yes I am interested."

She nodded, satisfied that the rest of the trip might be more relaxed. "The La Venta ruins are marked by the one hundred foot high Clay pyramid in the state of Tobasco, near the border of Vera Cruz. They date from around one thousand BC. Those stone heads I told you about, remember? Well four huge ones were found at La Venta."

"Who built it? The pyramid."

"Likely the Olmecs."

This stuff was over his head and he nodded his lack of true interest in the details. "So what happens when we get to this, Minititland?"

"Minatitlan. We gear up and head off into the rain forest."

"The rain forest? Why there?"

"That's what the isthmus mainly consists of. The land is all forest and marsh."

"Charming. How did they erect pyramids on a marsh?"

Gretta smiled, "Well obviously there are some dry parts. Wait until you see all these things, Arny. There is nothing in the world like it." Her enthusiasm both intrigued and scared him, and so did the fact that the professor seemed to be spending all his time with the pilot.