Al Sanchez

You are Madame Catalina, gypsy seer, psychic, and soothsayer. Also, diviner, tarot reader, and part-time mechanic. (The mechanic part is because the market for soothsaying has dried up ever since the dot-com bubble burst.)

Or, at least, you would be if what you told everyone was remotely close to the truth, which it isn't. For one thing, you're not really a mechanic. For another, you're totally faking the divining bit.

For another, you're not really a gypsy, or a woman. In fact, your name is Al Sanchez, and you're from Brooklyn.

But for business purposes, you put on your stuffed bra, wig, and shawl, and go forth into the world, telling fortunes to those who would cross your palms with silver, or with information leading to old junk you can fence. Some people may think that stuff is priceless artifacts, but to you, it's just someone's trash they were too lazy to take out 5,000 years ago. For some reason, people pay a fortune for that kind of stuff. Well, there's one born every minute.

Your usual schtick is to waltz into some archaeological camp, have a few "prophetic visions," get everyone all excited about your "mystical abilities" (secretly, archaeologists all wish this crap was true), and then make off with some artifacts. Usually, they blame the locally-hired assistants. You can then board the next ship (planes are too tight with security) for New York and sell it all to your contact, Big Harry.

Of course, in this business it pays to make friends. One of your best friends is Eileen Cash (her last name alone makes you see dollar signs!). She's one of the best people you know in the field, and she's taught you a few neat tricks, like wearing flesh-toned gloves so you don't leave fingerprints.

In fact, you've recently gotten to know Eileen a little bit better, on several occasions. However, work has kept the two of you from seeing each other as often as you might like, or having any serious relationship conversations.

But that's all irrelevant to why you're here. You've come to this tiny village because you've heard about an upcoming dig by Aiden and Colleen Fisher. They'll be investigating a cave just outside town. According to Big Harry, the last expedition there disappeared under mysterious circumstances, which means that the cave is virtually untouched!

Since arriving here six days ago, you've met a variety of strange characters. There's Horacio Salvador, a local kid who seems okay, if a bit gullible. Apparently the Fishers hired him on as an assistant. There's an elderly tourist couple, Barton and Edith Beck. Having grown up in Brooklyn, you're used to annoying old Jewish couples. Staying out of their way shouldn't be too much trouble, though, and so far they haven't seemed particularly inclined to poke into your business. In addition, there's Krysti Nuyen, who apparently is some kind of author. Seems more like some kind of streetwalker to you, but hey, whatever works.

There's one more person you've met here: Father Gabriel Fitzwilliams. He runs the local school, which, given the recent scandals involving Catholic priests, makes you slightly suspicious. Even more suspicious is that you see Horacio hanging out with him quite a lot. But that's not really what makes you think that Fitzwilliams isn't all he's cracked up to be.

See, you've found that on this type of job, it's always good to bring some insurance along, just in case the treasure hunting angle doesn't pan out. In this case, you managed to track down some old compromising photos of Colleen Fisher and another man. The photos seem old - probably at least 10 years old - but you're pretty sure Aiden doesn't know about them... yet. For the right price - perhaps a price paid in treasure - you're willing to ensure that he won't find out.

However, meeting Father Gabriel threw you for a loop. See, you hadn't known who the man in the pictures was, but you instantly recognized the "good" Father. You're not sure whether or not you can pull the same trick with Fitzwilliams, and you're not sure what you have to gain from it anyway. It's something to keep in mind, though.

Anyway, as long as you stick to the same old routine, everything ought to be fine. Unless, of course, you have those hallucinations again.

You're honestly afraid your mind may be starting to go a bit. It doesn't happen often, but sometimes you get a flash, and you're somewhere else for a little while. The creepy part is, some of the times you later found out your hallucinations were true. But that's probably just a coincidence, after all, you're just faking being a psychic, and everyone knows all that voodoo mumbo jumbo isn't real anyhow.

Easy now. Can't let all this stuff freak you out. Remember, you're Madame Catalina, and you're just here to read people's fortunes. For the right price, of course.