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It is 1933. Cristina and her family live on a farm, in the southernmost state of Brazil—the land of the proud Gaúchos. Early in 1929, they sell their property in New York, convert the money to gold, and move to Brazil, thus avoiding the Wall Street Crash. Their bucolic farm life is suddenly disturbed by inexplicable accidents befalling Cristina and her loved ones. These events become more dangerous over time, threatening their lives. Furthermore, some connections from their past return to cause even more trouble. When Cristina takes a last-minute airplane trip to Rio de Janeiro, she disappears, and Robert goes in search of her. Meanwhile, on the farm, her son and his cousin, Annie, don’t return from their secret excursion in search of a Templar treasure.

Tercer libro de la serie.

Es el año 1933. Cristina y su familia viven en una hacienca, en el estado más al sur de Brasil, la tierra de los orgullosos Gaúchos. A principios de 1929 vendieron su propiedad en Nueva York, convirtieron el dinero en oro y se trasladaron a Brasil, evitando así el Crack de Wall Street. Su bucólica vida en la hacienda se ve repentinamente perturbada por accidentes inexplicables que ocurren con Cristina y sus seres queridos; se vuelven más peligrosos con el tiempo, amenazando sus vidas. Además, algunas conexiones del pasado regresan y causan aún más problemas. Cuando Cristina toma un vuelo de última hora a Río de Janeiro, ella desaparece y Robert sale en su busca. Mientras tanto, en la hacienda, su hijo y su prima, Annie, no regresan de su excursión secreta en busca de un tesoro templario.

Sample

“Rio de Janeiro in summer was sweltering and the sharp noon sun imposed its tanning light through the hats worn by the unlucky Cariocas who had to be out and about on daily chores. It shone mercilessly and, coupled with the humidity and lack of a breeze from the glasslike sea, made it feel as if you stood in front of the open door of a hot oven. These poor, afflicted souls found temporary shelter under marquees that, sprinkled throughout the street, became like oases in the desert. And on they plodded, sweat gathering at their temples, dampening the hair to a steamy clump under the protection of the hat—oh, the deceptiveness of a brim!—clothes showing wet spots, eyes squinting, dazed by the light, suffocated by the hot air radiating from sidewalks and cobblestoned streets.”

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