Fool's Gold

by PJ Skinner

‘It’s amazing. Not what I was expecting. It’s not nearly as different, well, superficially anyway, as I thought it would be. There are no parrots in the streets, for a start. I suppose I haven’t been here long enough to know.’

  ‘But are you enjoying it? Mike treating you okay?’

  ‘Oh yes, he’s very generous. We go out most days to eat somewhere in town. Mind you, it’s very cheap here.’

  ‘Have you met anyone nice?’

  ‘Yes, there’s Marta, Mike’s assistant and Gloria, she’s brilliant. You’d like her, Daddy. She drives like Fangio.’

  ‘Hmmm. I hope you’re wearing your seat belt.’

  ‘Of course. And I’m forcing Gloria to wear hers, too.’

  ‘Excellent. I can’t have a daughter of mine driving around without a seat belt.’

  ‘I know, Daddy. How’s Mummy?’

  ‘She’s here, hanging on every word.’

  ‘And Hannah?’

  ‘Oh, you know her, boyfriend trouble again.’

  ‘No surprise there. I won’t chat long. It’s very expensive and I don’t want to abuse Mike’s hospitality.’

  ‘That’s all right, sweetheart. We’re happy that you’re safe and having a good time. Call soon with news.’

  ‘I will. Bye.’

  ‘Bye, Sam.’

  ‘Should we have told her that Simon is looking for her?’ said Matilda Harris, when he had hung up the receiver.

  ‘No,’ said her husband. ‘Best not to. Water under the bridge and all that.’

  Chapter V

  Sam’s Spanish soon improved enough to communicate with Tati and Marta, to take a taxi and order food in a restaurant. The local accent was easy to understand and she was soon incorporating local idiom into her phrases. Fascinated by the huge wealth gap in Calderon society, she was desperate to be able to understand more of what people discussed. Her friendship with Gloria meant that she was always invited to all the social events, but she often felt left out by her inability to speak as well as she understood. She worked hard on picking up jargon and local usage. Gloria corrected her worst mistakes and encouraged her as she struggled to string a lucid sentence together. When Sam got particularly frustrated and refused to try any more, Gloria put her back on the horse.

  ‘Chica,’ Gloria said, ‘there are gringos who’ve been here ten years who can’t do more than ask for a beer in Spanish. It’ll be worth it. You’ll see when you go into the jungle and need a taxi.’

  Sam glanced up and saw that she was having her leg pulled and smiled ruefully. She liked Gloria and her down-to-earth manner. People from Sierramar had their own way of doing things but Gloria was proving to be kind and funny. And Sam needed a friend. She was very far from home and she hadn’t appreciated how isolated she would feel in Mike’s empty apartment. There wasn’t anything to do and they had no television.

  ‘What’s the point? All the programmes are in Spanish,’ said Mike when Sam asked.

  ‘It would be a good way for me to improve my Spanish and keep up with the news. I could tell you what’s happening in other countries,’ said Sam.

  ‘The way things are going, I’m quite happy to live in blissful ignorance,’ said Mike.

  ‘Actually, most of them are in English with Spanish subtitles,’ said Gloria, but Mike was unmoved.

  ‘Let’s wait until we have a sofa.’

  But no sofa appeared. Sam took to sitting alone in her bedroom at night listening to her Sony Walkman and trying to read the local newspaper to improve her vocabulary. She was not at all sure she had made the right decision coming to Sierramar. There was not much work to do. She did her best to be pro-active and stumbled through a document listing the mineral prospects of Sierramar with the help of a dictionary and the similarity between English and Spanish geological terminology.

  ‘Couldn’t we go and look for some prospective areas?’ she asked Mike. ‘There is lots of interesting geology in Sierramar.’

  ‘As an investor in a bear market, I don’t have to go looking for projects. I sit back and wait for them to come to me. Anyway, we don’t have the funds to go on wild goose chases. Be patient and one will walk in here all by itself.’

  While Sam was waiting for a decent project to amble into the office, she sorted out all the project files already received. She reviewed their contents and made sure that nothing had been missed, but it was a vain hope. Marta took delivery of several new project files which she gave to Sam to review but they were not good enough either. They were owned by speculators who claimed the exploration concession from the ministry and then held onto it by paying the ground rent, but never did any exploration. Their owners had got wind of the fact that an investor with lots of easy money wanted to invest in mining and the rumour caused them to crawl out of the woodwork. They claimed that their explorations concessions contained rich deposits of metals but on revision they turned out to be moose pasture without any results from exploration work. One owner asserted that he had at least a million ounces of gold in his deposit, a statement based on the analysis of three rock samples found on surface. This is like claiming to know that a cake contains six ounces of sugar because there are a few grains sprinkled on the top. Sam was not impressed. She used the maps that they had bought at the institute to plot the positions of the concession areas and coloured them all in green for grass.

  ‘Are you sure there’s nothing worth looking at?’ said Mike, examining them with dismay.

  ‘One hundred percent,’ said Sam. ‘If nothing better comes in we could go and look but it would be very expensive to start from scratch on a hard rock mining project.’

  ‘What are we looking for?’

  ‘I recommend we wait for some properties containing alluvial deposits which are on surface and easy to mine. We can’t afford hard rock on our budget.’

  ‘I lost money on an alluvial project. Edward was furious.’

  ‘That was before you had a geologist. Trust me, I’ll choose us a better one.’

  Sam didn’t bring up the fact that only one exploration project in one thousand becomes a mine. There wasn’t much point in discouraging Mike if she wanted to keep her job.

  ‘Have you ever heard of the Lost Treasure of the Incas?’ she said.

  ‘Sure, who hasn’t? I read about it when I was researching Sierramar.’

  ‘Do you think it’s still out there?’

  ‘Honestly, I thought you were a scientist. It’s a myth. Or if it isn’t, it’s long gone. Let’s try and stay focused here. Edward will have my guts for garters if we don’t find something worthwhile.’

  ‘Of course. Trust me. I’ll find you something good.’

  ***

  Outside the office, her only entertainment was driving around town with Gloria who seemed to act as chauffeur and agony aunt to half the population of Calderon. Her driving scared the pants off Sam. One day they drove straight through a red light in front of a police car. Sam was shocked.

  ‘There was a police car at the crossing,’ she said.

  ‘Uh oh, that’s not good.’

  ‘You’re lucky they didn’t follow us.’

  ‘They did. I can see them in the mirror. Hold on.’

  To her horror, Sam realised that Gloria intended to out run the police car. This could only end badly.

  ‘Shouldn’t we stop?’ she said.

  ‘Oh no, I’ve done this before. Watch and learn, gringa.’

  They turned into a side road at full speed, the jeep seeming to teeter on two wheels. Sam reached for the hand grip above the door and hung on grimly. Gloria laughed like a mad woman.

  ‘Vamos,’ she shouted as they barrelled down the road at top speed. ‘Hold on tight, Sam.’

  She slowed down and executed a perfect hand-brake turn into an empty driveway.

  ‘Get your head down,’ she said to Sam. ‘Do you want them to see you?’

  They both bent over their knees and listened. The siren came nearer and nearer. Sam tried to imagine calling her parents and explaining why
she would be staying in Calderon for longer than expected. About five years probably. She screwed up her face in anticipation but the police car flew past and kept driving.

  ‘Wow, they didn’t see us,’ said Sam.

  ‘Ha! The chapas are not masterminds, you know,’ said Gloria. ‘They’ve never caught me.’

  Her face glowed with excitement and pride. Sam laughed out loud. ‘Evil Knievel has nothing on you. You are completely bonkers.’

  ‘What is that word, bonkers? Is bonkers good?’

  ‘Oh yes, it’s brilliant.’

  ***

  ‘Get your glad rags on. We’re going to take you out to experience the local idea of a good time,’ said Mike.

  ‘Where are we going?’ said Sam.

  ‘The Discoteca. You’ll love it. The décor screams seventies and it has a dance floor that has flashing squares like something out of Saturday Night Fever.’

  The Discoteca was packed with Gloria’s friends and everyone knew everyone else. Once people discovered that Sam was English, she was surrounded by enthusiastic questioners, many of whom spoke English with American accents. The revellers operated with a reduced personal space. They came so close to her when they spoke that she felt uncomfortable. This was especially true of the women, who reached out and touched her clothes and hair. She flinched when someone she didn’t know put their arm around her waist.

  ‘Was it because I touched you? I’ve heard that the English are very cold people.’

  ‘Oh? I wouldn’t say that. Reserved is a better word.’

  ‘How do you cope with all that fog?’

  ‘I don’t think I’ve ever seen fog in London. Perhaps I don’t get up early enough.’

  ‘Do you get football hooligans on the streets? Is it dangerous?’

  ‘Margaret Thatcher has controlled that problem. It doesn’t exist anymore. Well, not much anyway.’

  ‘We need Margaret Thatcher over here. She would control the corruption.’

  ‘Um, she’s not Prime Minister any more. It’s John Major now, so maybe you could ask her to come over since she’s free?’

  ‘Yes, but she stole the Malvinas. What right have English people to the Malvinas?’

  Sam shifted on her feet, uncomfortable with all the attention. Her shoes stuck to the residue of spilt drinks on the floor and her eyes watered from the thick cigarette smoke. She looked around for an escape and Gloria noticed that she was being corralled. She stepped in, placing herself between a relieved Sam, and her interrogators.

  ‘She’s a woman,’ said Gloria. ‘Why are you asking her about the Malvinas? She doesn’t know anything.’

  Sam was grateful for her intervention and went off to dance with the owner of the disco. Soon out of breath in the thin air, she retreated to an empty table carrying a glass of water. She saw Mike sitting in the far corner chatting up a pretty woman with long hair, and Gloria propping up the bar and drinking shots with her friends. She was panting due to the high altitude. Gulping down the water, she leaned back against the wall. A man in a tweed jacket weaved through the crowd in an uncertain manner and flopped down beside her. He had shoulder-length, coarse grey hair worn in a ponytail, and big, black eyebrows over sad, brown eyes in a rugged face. He looked at her with drunken interest.

  ‘You’re not from here, are you?’ he said in perfect public-school English. ‘Don’t worry. You’ll get used to the altitude.’

  Sam turned to look at him.

  ‘Green eyes,’ he said. ‘Beautiful green eyes.’ He took her hand and started to croon a song in Spanish called ‘Ojos Verdes,’ which was about a man in love with a woman with green eyes. Sam got the gist of it and removed her hand from his grasp.

  ‘Ah, typical cold gringa bitch, are you?’ he asked.

  Sam was taken aback.

  ‘Who the hell are you anyway?’ she said, her eyes flashing with anger.

  ‘Ah, the gringa has spirit. Permit me to introduce myself,’ he said, again grasping her unwilling hand. ‘I’m Alfredo Vargas, the treasure hunter, at your service.’

  Sam could tell he wasn’t joking, as he was in no fit state to make anything up, and she was left with her mouth open in surprise.

  ‘You’re a treasure hunter? Which treasure are you hunting?’ She felt a frisson of excitement. Could it still be hidden?

  ‘The lost treasure of the Incas, linda.’

  ‘I thought they had already found it. What makes you think it still exists?’

  Alfredo looked disappointed, as if this was not the reaction he expected. ‘Please excuse me,’ he said. ‘The toilet is calling,’ and he stumbled off into the darkness.

  Sam waited for him to come back but to her disappointment, he didn’t reappear. Why couldn’t she keep her mouth shut? She had found someone who might share her interest in the treasure and her natural cynicism had curtailed an interesting chat. She could be a bit abrasive at times and now she was bored instead.

  As the night wore on, Gloria got more and more drunk. Sam wanted to go home, so she found Mike, who was also ready to leave. Predictably, Gloria did not agree. She draped her arms around Mike and slurred in his face.

  ‘Let’s go to another party, Mike. I want to find Diego.’

  ‘I’m not sure that’s the best idea. Why don’t we take you home?’

  ‘You can go home. I want to go and find Diego.’

  ‘We can all go together in the car and find him,’ said Sam winking at him over the top of Gloria’s head.

  ‘Okay, that’s what we’ll do. Come on, Gloria. Let’s go and find Diego.’

  Gloria looked sceptical of this change of plans but she wasn’t capable of going anywhere by herself. She hung on to Mike’s arm and after much procrastination, Mike and Sam managed to manoeuvre her into the car. They set off down the narrow streets of Calderon, driving through red lights and up the hill to Gloria’s house. It didn’t take her long to realise that they were heading for her house, instead of looking for Diego, and she got cross.

  ‘Hey, we’re going the wrong way,’ she said and wound down the window and shouted, ‘Help, I’ve been kidnapped.’ No one took any notice and she didn’t have the energy to protest much, sinking back into her seat and lighting up a fat joint, which she sucked on with a blissful expression.

  When they got to her building, Gloria flung open the door of the car and slid out of the back seat onto the pavement where she sat for several minutes, still griping.

  ‘I don’t know why we can’t go and find Diego. I’m sure he’s missing me.’

  ‘Gloria, it’s four o’clock in the morning and he’s probably tucked up in bed by now. You should be, too. Come on, let’s go.’

  After lighting and smoking a cigarette, she hauled herself up and tried to open the front door, but she was so drunk that she kept dropping her keys. Mike sighed loudly. He left Sam in the car and walked to the front door. Taking the keys from Gloria, he opened it. He then disappeared into the building with her in a practiced manner that suggested this was not the first time he had helped her get home. When he got back to the car, he had an obvious smear of lipstick all over his lips and chin. Sam raised an eyebrow at him.

  ‘Gloria’s a hell of a girl but she’s not having a great time,’ said Mike. ‘That boyfriend of hers is a dead loss.’

  ‘How come?’

  ‘Diego Mena belongs to one of Calderon’s richest and most powerful families and that makes him the most eligible bachelor in town. All the girls are fighting over him but he prefers to hang out with Gloria.’

  ‘Do you think they’ll get married?’

  ‘Absolutely not. I think he loves her, in his own way, but his mother is a Class-A bitch. She’ll never let him marry Gloria.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘Gloria comes from new money. Her father is not from one of the old families in Calderon. They are nouveau riche. Barely tolerated.’

  ‘And Diego? He sounds horrible.’

  ‘On the contrary. He’s charming and educated and is popula
r with everyone, but he’s totally unreliable and unfaithful. I doubt he has any real intention of marrying Gloria. He’s having fun.’

  ‘Does she know?’

  ‘I’m sure she does, but she won’t admit it to herself. It’s tough being an outsider in your own class. Despite all evidence to the contrary, money does not buy you love.’

  Sam knew only too well how it felt to be used by someone who didn’t care about her. Horrible memories of the humiliation surrounding the revelations about Simon’s adventures assailed her and she felt kinship with Gloria. No wonder she drank too much.

  The next day, Sam, Marta and Gloria went to lunch at the Banana Verde.

  ‘Have either of you ever heard of Alfredo Vargas?’ Sam asked. ‘I met him last night at the disco. He told me he’s a treasure hunter. Mind you, he was very drunk.’

  ‘It’s true,’ said Gloria. ‘He’s spent many years looking for the lost treasure of the Incas. He may be a drunk, but he has periods of sobriety when he researches the treasure. I heard that he hadn’t touched a drink for months.’

  ‘I don’t think he’s still sober,’ said Sam. ‘Where did he learn to speak English?’

  ‘He went to school in England, although he claims he can’t remember anything due to the drinking. He’s not in my circle of friends so I don’t know him that well, but he is handsome.’

  Sam had not noticed. Since Gloria was in an expansive mood she decided to ask some more questions.

  ‘Last night the barmen were Indians but none of the clients were. It’s the same in this restaurant. Why is that?’

  ‘It’s the class system here,’ said Gloria. ‘The white people are richer than the mestizos who are richer than the Indians and everyone is richer than the black people. A white person wouldn’t dream of working in a bar or as a waiter, and you don’t get too many mestizos in a disco unless they’re serving the drinks.’

  ‘Money talks though,’ said Marta. ‘The disadvantage of belonging to the wrong race can be neutralised by the possession of a large amount of money. One of my friends is a mestizo whose mother runs Toyota in Sierramar. That qualifies her as white.’

  ‘The men at the disco assumed that if they wanted a woman, they could have her. Don’t women get to choose their man here?’ said Sam.