Page 34 of The Lost Guardian

“Tourism,” he answered.

The man regarded him for a long moment, long enough to make Santi fidgety. He resisted the urge to squirm, trying to look as innocent as possible.

Finally, the man stamped his passport and waved him through.

“Welcome to Lima,” he said dismissively as he passed.

…

Ali was able to call and confirm Professor Fernandez would be in his office today. Minutes later, Santiago and Ali found their way into a faded yellow cab with no air-conditioning.

The open windows did nothing to dispel the sticky humidity that clung in the air. By the time they arrived at the University of Lima, Santiago’s shirt was plastered to his back. Outside of the vehicle wasn’t much better, but at least he was no longer squashed between the car door and his and Ali’s packs, which she refused to put in the trunk.

“This place is bigger than I expected,” Santiago said, the delicious Peruvian coffee they grabbed at the airport having done much to improve his mood. “How are we going to find this guy?”

The university was spread across a broad swath of land and divided into several buildings and wings. The names of the ones close enough to read boasted Biblioteca and Centro Estudiantil—Library and Student Center.

He smiled at clusters of young people chatting on sun-drenched lawns, students weighed down with books racing to class. There wasn’t an administrative building in sight. Wherever the driver had dropped them off wasn’t the main entrance; it was the heart of the school.

Santi felt his whole body relax.

“Perdón,” Ali called out to an older student with curly reddish hair and an overflowing backpack. The girl turned to look at them, her brown eyes wide and frenzied with a look Santiago knew well. Grad school.

“I’m sorry,” the girl said to them in Spanish. “But I am very late to my class!”

“This will only take a moment,” Ali promised her, answering in Spanish as well. “Do you know where we can find Professor José Fernandez?”

In an instant, the worry on the young girl’s face was replaced by the fiercest blush Santiago had ever seen. A smile fluttered over her lips.

Damn, he thought. I’m not the only one affected by Ali.

“Professor Fernandez?” she repeated, sounding breathless. “Of course! He has an office in the history building.” She motioned to a squat, wide rectangle behind her. “I would be happy to take you there if you like!”

“I thought you were late?” Ali reminded her.

The girl waved her hands dismissively. “Oh, it’s all right, I’d be happy to help you!”

Santiago felt a stirring of amusement, then wondered if he acted like that in front of Ali. His humor immediately evaporated.

Ali assured the student that her assistance was no longer needed, and the girl continued on, albeit slower.

Together, he and Ali made their way to the history department. Santiago stepped up his pace to heave open the heavy doors of the building so Ali could pass through. The humidity instantly lessened in the cool air-conditioning.

“Try to find an office directory or a map or something,” Santiago said, scanning the room. “Something that would have his name on it.”

“Something like that?” Ali asked, pointing just above the entrance to a long hallway. On the wall hung a heavy-looking metal plaque that read:

The José Fernandez Pre-Columbian Historical Wing

Elation swirled in Santiago’s chest. That sign confirmed it. He was about to meet someone he’d looked up to since his earliest days in the field.

“I remember where I’ve heard that name!” Ali exclaimed. “You said he was a professor.”

“He is.” Santi nodded. “Professor José Fernandez.”

Ali shook her head before he finished speaking, her glossy black hair swinging back and forth.

“You said professor, but that’s not what I know him for,” she said. “He’s one of the most famous archeologists in all of South America.”