The Argentina Rhodochrosite (35 page)

EPILOGUE

In the next seat, the heavy woman
in the floral t-shirt was staring at Ainsley. She had been staring for almost nine hours already, practically since the plane had lifted off. It was actually a relief when she broke the ice.

“You’re that girl from the airport,” the woman said. She had an American accent.

“I am,” said Ainsley.

“You were the one in front of all those cameras and reporters.”

Ainsley nodded. “Mm-hm.”

The woman felt emboldened to speak even further. “You speak Spanish pretty good.”

“Thank you.”

“I only understood some of it. But hey.” She grew interested. “Did you really get drugged and deported? The first time you came here?”

“Yes. I don’t recommend it.”

“Heavens, no.” The woman clucked. “But I wouldn’t mind a bit of unconsciousness right now.” She fanned her face. “I feel just
terrible
.”

The flight from Buenos Aires was headed towards Miami, at which point Ainsley would book a different flight to her home city. She wasn’t relishing the thought. She had a nice stack of money, true, but the idea of decomposing on the sad couch in her sad apartment, unemployed again, held no attraction whatsoever.

Ainsley was going back to square one, but she was now looking at life in a much more circular way.

“So you’re a gemstone detective? Was that what you said up there on the stage?”

“Yes.”

“How did you get
that
job?” The woman was staring at her in amazement. Her face was extremely flushed.

“It doesn’t matter,” said Ainsley, “since it seems to be finished anyways.”

“No more work?” She looked sad. Ainsley sensed that the heavy woman had latched onto her. “Well,” she said, “I lost an earring last week in my hotel room. Want me to hire you?”

Ainsley’s seatmate bellowed with laughter. Soon it had transformed into a deep coughing fit. Her lungs were convulsing. Ainsley shifted as far away as she could move in her seat.

“Oh my God, I feel just horrible,” the woman complained.

“Do you want me to get a flight attendant?” Ainsley asked.

“No, no, I can get over it… just let me be for a minute…” The heavy woman laid her head against the window shade.

Ainsley returned to her e-reader, but her thoughts flitted back to the news conference. She had done extremely well. Ovidio had announced that he would not be seeking the presidency. Then he’d explained the theft of the necklace. Finally, he and Nadia had introduced Ainsley. They’d stood by her side while she explained into the microphone, in her mediocre Spanish, everything she’d discovered. They didn’t allow any questions afterwards.

Then, just as promised, she’d stepped off the stage, and Ovidio had escorted her through immigration, an arm around her shoulders. No problems.

Now her name and accomplishment were circulating through the Latin news media. And she was here, forty thousand feet over the Atlantic. Or possibly the Caribbean. She wasn’t sure exactly which route the pilot had chosen.

Ainsley glanced down at her seatmate’s left hand. It had stiffened into a weird birdlike claw. That was odd. Then Ainsley looked at the fat woman’s face. Her mouth was open, her eyes had rolled backwards into her skull, and her breath was coming in short rasps. Her skin had turned a sickly yellowish-gray.

This wasn’t any ordinary airsickness. It looked like a stroke.

Ainsley quickly punched the flight attendant button. Then she unbuckled her seatbelt and stood up. She didn’t know what to do. She knew almost nothing about any health procedure more complicated than swallowing an ibuprofen.

The flight attendant arrived. “What’s the problem?”

Ainsley pointed to the heavy woman.

“Oh my God,” said the attendant. She motioned to another member of the crew. Soon two other flight attendants had arrived and were tending to the heavy woman.

Five minutes later, one flight attendant went running to the galley. She grabbed the intercom and tried to mask the urgency in her voice: “Ladies and gentlemen, if there are any health professionals on board, the crew is requesting that you please come to the rear of the aircraft immediately.”

Ainsley stood in the aisle, feeling useless. “Ma’am, would you mind choosing another seat?” one flight attendant asked. “There’s a few available in first class.”

“No problem,” said Ainsley. “Let me know if I can help.”

“We will,” she said.

At that moment, the woman’s body jerked. A bizarre moan issued from her lips. Unnerved, Ainsley collected her items and walked to the front of the plane, into the first-class section. She sank into an empty leather seat.

A beautiful woman with dark lustrous hair was reading a magazine next to her. They looked to be about the same age.

“I’m sorry,” said Ainsley, “but my seatmate is very sick. They told me to come up here.”

The woman looked up. “It’s no problem. I’m sorry for her.” She spoke with a sexy Latin accent. It sounded musical, like a lovebird cooing. It was very different from the Rioplatense that Ainsley’s ear had become accustomed to recently.

“I hope she makes it to Miami.”

“Oh, me too.”

Ainsley twisted her fingers together. A few minutes later, the intercom snapped on.

“Ladies and gentlemen, this is your pilot speaking. Due to a passenger medical emergency, we are unfortunately going to have to make a quick unscheduled stop.”

The dark-haired woman perked up. “Where do you think it will be?”

Ainsley shrugged. “I don’t know.”

“I think we’re close to my home,” she said. “Maybe we will land there.”

The pilot continued: “According to our charts, the nearest airport is San Juan International. Problem is, a little weather system called Hurricane Hannah is about one hour from making landfall, but we’re gonna scoot in just before they lock it down. Please note that the fasten-your-seatbelt sign has been lit. Flight attendants, cross check the doors for landing.”

Ainsley’s seatmate was almost glistening with happiness. “My home! Have you been to my island before?”

“No,” said Ainsley.

“Then welcome to Puerto Rico.”

Follow Ainsley Walker on her fourth gemstone travel mystery…

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