11 The Plan to Machu Picchu (2/2)
”In Layman's term,” Berthold Wagner exclaims. ”They were forbidden to enter the archeological site.”
”Correct.” Ephraim answers. ”In the public eye, it was nothing but normal. They were just protecting the ruins.”
Esmeralda and the others nod.
”But WHAT IF,” Ephraim says, ”the object the UHE archeologists cannot find just lies underneath the ruins?”
Berthold leaned to the back of his seat, ”Ah . . . it's good speculation.”
”But still. . .” Esmeralda starts. ”It's too risky.”
”Yeah,” Samuel agrees. ”AND above all, illegal. I like it,”
”Sam . . .” Berthold says.
Samuel grins. ”I like it, what's the plan?”
”The plan is—” Ephraim flashes his usual smile, as he explains to the team their plan for tomorrow. Hiroaki Mochizuki closes his eyes as he listens to the team leader laid out the procedures, processes, and the trails which they'll follow.
**
”What do you think about Ephraim, Sam?” Berthold asks after he and Sam headed to bed. This was their usual—Berthold was the one who became Samuel's guardian (supposedly) when the Albrechts got involved in an unfortunate accident that took their lives. Samuel's family including his father, mother, died. His older sister was in a coma for several years, sending Samuel to live with his distant relatives.
It is (widely believed) that the accident had had an enormous influence on Samuel's exceptional memory. It had (as said by Berthold's coworkers) hit his frontal lobe and delivered an impact to his hippocampus, associated with declarative and episodic memory as well as recognition memory.
”Hmm, the lame leader, huh . . .” Samuel exclaims. He was sitting on a chair that faced a study-desk. He was browsing through his laptop, looking over a journal. It was NASA's doi file. Samuel was storing information with his exceptional photographic memory; he only scanned the journal once and he already had memorized its contents.
”Am I interrupting you?” Berthold asks. He was reading an anatomy book. Even as a surgeon, he had to study every day to retain critical information. He wasn't Samuel, after all.
”Not really, I'm good at multitasking.”
It was a routine for both Berthold and Samuel to meet and simply do their jobs. It was something done out of comfort. They were very much at ease with each other—and it was done out of their subconscious. For the course of many years, both of them had spent each time with each other in both idle times and busy times. They were less than family, but a lot more than acquaintances.
”Hmm, NASA, huh . . .” says Samuel. ”Well, huh . . . Team-Leader-Who's-Lame, huh . . .”
”Yes,” Berthold exclaims. ”What do you think about him?”
”Well,” Samuel starts. ”For starters, he's lame.”
”And. . .?”
Samuel paused, and remained silent for a few seconds.
”And,” Samuel says. ”. . . I can't read him.”
Berthold smiles, and then the two of them met each other's eye briefly.
”Me too.”
**
Esmeralda lied in her bed, staring at the ceiling unable to sleep. When Ephraim finished on assigning each of them their tasks and had told them the plans, they had returned to their corresponding quarters. About thirty minutes had passed ever since Esmeralda Sanders closed her eyes, yet she still wasn't able to drift onto a deep slumber.
”Ephraim . . .” She mutters, and then browsed her phone. She opened her Facebook and then scanned through Raim Hughes' timeline. She blushed when she sees his smile.
”Leader. . .”