Turned to Stone Read Free

he had decided that the journey of life was more important than the destination, and ever since, he had felt fulfilled, free, and happy. His work at Arcadia made it possible for him to enjoy his independence while simultaneously making use of his training as an art historian and realizing his vocation as a journalist. Still, for reasons he didn’t understand, he’d been feeling a void for almost a month, which was why he had decided to take things easy and get away from his usual surroundings for a few days.
    The waiter brought out the salad, and Jaime dressed it in oil and a splash of vinegar. He’d just pierced an asparagus spear and was lifting the fork to his mouth when he heard a timid cough off to his side.
    Jaime turned and saw the man who a few moments earlier had been eating and working at the back table. Now, he was standing as stiff as the asparagus still quivering on Jaime’s fork. The man smiled with perfect teeth, and his bronzed skin was covered in tiny scars, like furrows on a sown field. The graying roots of his blond hair suggested he was in his fifties, and the body under the brown suit appeared strong and fit. His computer tablet was now tucked under his arm, and he wore an expensive-looking pair of leather gloves despite the warm temperature in the restaurant.
    “I’m sorry to bother you,” the man said, “but are you Jaime Azcárate?”
    Jaime did not know what to say. If he said no, he’d be lying, but if he said yes, he would be forced to talk to the man. The last thing he wanted right now was someone pestering him.
    Curiosity won out. “Yes. And you are?”
    “My name’s Amatriaín. Vicente Amatriaín. I’m with the EHU. Do you mind if I sit down? You can eat while we talk.”
    Jaime did not need to be told he could eat while another person sat at his table, but out of politeness he merely gestured at the empty chair in front of him.
    “Thank you,” said Amatriaín.
    “Who did you say you’re with?”
    “The EHU—the Europol Heritage Unit. Europol is the European Police Office. I’m sure you’ve seen us in the news.”
    “I filled the TV with water and turned it into a fish tank long ago. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
    “Excuse me?”
    “Okay, not really. But I wouldn’t mind, given the crap they put on TV nowadays . . .”
    “Allow me to explain. The Europol Heritage Unit was set up six months ago. It’s like the Narcotics or Homicide Department—but more sophisticated, shall we say, and operates throughout Europe.” Amatriaín showed his perfect teeth again. “It’s comprised of investigators and officers from all the security forces in the European Union. As you well know, a fanatical artifact thief can be as dangerous as any drug trafficker. Could you bring me a café solo , please?”
    This request was directed at the waiter, who had used so much gel and hairspray, his head appeared shellacked. He had positioned himself near the table, making it impossible for them to speak privately. At this request, however, he nodded and withdrew, leaving Jaime and Amatriaín alone.
    “I hope you’ll forgive me for disturbing you,” Amatriaín said, with a concern that seemed genuine to Jaime. “But I need to speak to you about a case we’re investigating.”
    “How did you find me?”
    “Your boss told me you were here on a trip.”
    “Really? How discreet of her. I must remember to post my naked photos of her on Facebook.”
    “I had to lean on her a little,” Amatriaín confessed. “She’s a tough woman.”
    “Tell me about it.”
    “Are you here alone?”
    “People say a joy shared is a joy doubled, and a problem shared is a problem halved—but if you ask me, having the freedom to travel without considering anyone else is a problem joyfully solved.”
    Amatriaín looked down at Jaime’s salad as if meditating on what he’d just heard.
    “You said Graciela told you I was here,” Jaime prompted him.
    “Yes. When I contacted the Center for