In his room, Kit changed his shirt and put on a jacket, and was about to leave when he paused, thinking, then took out his phone. Listening at the door to make sure nobody was about to knock, he made a call. ‘This is Jindal.’
‘What is it?’ came the terse reply.
‘Dr Wilde thinks she has found the location of the last statue segment, in northern Peru. I’ll be accompanying her on the expedition.’
‘Good. Do whatever is necessary to ensure she recovers it. The future of the world depends on our obtaining all three statues. And, having spoken to her, I think she may be sympatahetic to the Group’s goals.’
‘I’ll see to it,’ said Kit, but the call had already ended.
He was taking a huge risk by not telling his paymasters what had happened at the Clubhouse: that Stikes had tortured information about his true mission out of him, despite his best efforts to resist. The mercenary leader now knew of the Group’s existence, even if he had no specific details of its plans, for the simple reason that his interrogation subject didn’t know them himself. But that alone would be reason enough for the Group to terminate his employment . . . or more. In return for the considerable rewards they promised, they expected – demanded - success.
Which, if Nina’s deductions were correct, would soon be forthcoming. Reassured, he left the room.
30
Peru
‘
S
o these are cloud forests, huh?’ said Macy, surveying the scenery. ‘I can see the forest part – but where are the clouds?’
‘Don’t worry,’ said Eddie, driving. ‘Once they come down, you won’t see anything
but
bloody clouds!’
The seven-seater Nissan Patrol was in the middle of a small convoy, heading north along a dirt road that had split off from a paved highway some thirty miles north of the provincial capital, Chachapoyas. In another off-roader behind them were two Peruvian archaeologists; the tall, thin-faced Professor Miguel Olmedo from the University of Lima, and his shorter, fatter associate Dr Julian Cruzado. A local archaeological presence was both expected and welcome, but Nina was less enthused about their also being accompanied by a senior official from the Peruvian Ministry of Culture, a rather full-of-himself man named Diego Zender who had attached himself lamprey-like to the expedition to claim a stake in the glory if the mythical El Dorado turned out actually to exist. Zender had an assistant, a young, long-haired woman called Juanita Alvarez whose function when not acting as a chauffeuse, as far as Nina could tell, was mostly to stand beside her boss looking pretty.
But freeloaders weren’t the issue. More worrying was the profession of the four men in the leading Jeep. Soldiers. Her request for security had been taken seriously, but she couldn’t help feeling that the armed group in their military vehicle might draw exactly the kind of curiosity she hoped to avoid. Zender’s claim that the troops were necessary to protect them from the terrorists known to operate in the province had not exactly been reassuring.
But for now, Nina was able to forget such concerns and simply enjoy the landscape. The three 4×4s were heading up a long, lush valley, vegetation clinging to practically every non-sheer surface. Unlike the trees in the rainforest around Paititi, those here were rather squat, clawing moisture out of the air when the clouds descended rather than waiting for rainfall, but they were every bit as dazzlingly green in the stark high-altitude sunlight. The river that had carved the passage out of the Andes was over fifty feet below at the bottom of a ravine, but the slope they were ascending was broad enough for them to stay well clear of the drop.
That wouldn’t be the case for long, however. In the distance, she picked out the road’s brown thread clinging precariously to the flanks of the mountains. Swathes of grey running down the hillside, as if someone had randomly scraped away a top layer of green paint, provided evidence of recent landslides. ‘So,’ she asked Eddie, ‘when you mentioned death roads the other day . . . is that actually what they’re called?’
‘’Fraid so,’ he replied. ‘Went along one in the Philippines once. Fucking terrifying! Combat’s bad, but idiot drivers are worse. The best bits of it, there was just enough room for two cars to get past each other.’
‘And the worst bits?’ Kit asked from the second row of seats, where he was sitting with Macy.
‘Just enough room for
one
car. Only problem is, people still try to pass, ’cause nobody wants to reverse for half a mile. And God help you if a bus or a truck comes the other way – they just go “We’re bigger than you, so we’ve got right of way” and come right at you without stopping.’
‘You know,’ said Mac from beside Osterhagen on the rear seats, ‘I think I’ll just sleep until we get there. If we go over the edge, try not to wake me with your screams, hmm?’
‘At least there is not much traffic,’ Osterhagen said. ‘We should not have any prob—’
At that exact moment, the convoy rounded a bend – and the Jeep skidded to an emergency stop. Eddie had prudently kept a safe distance behind it, and was able to bring the Nissan to a halt with ten feet to spare. Unfortunately, Juanita had not been so careful, and the Patrol’s occupants took a jolt as her off-roader nudged their bumper.
The driver of the bus lumbering the other way gave the stalled vehicles a baleful glare. ‘Everyone all right?’ Eddie asked, getting positive responses. He looked back at Osterhagen. ‘You were saying, Doc?’
Osterhagen recovered his composure. ‘I was about to say that once we get
past
the next village, which is the last settlement for over forty kilometres, we should not have any problems.’
‘Of course, Leonard,’ said Nina teasingly.
There was a walkie-talkie on the dashboard shelf, letting the three vehicles communicate; it squawked. ‘Hey, careful how you drive!’ Zender demanded. ‘That could have damaged my car.’
‘Damage his
face
,’ Eddie muttered, picking up the radio. ‘Here’s a tip – you might want to stay further back and not drive so fast.’
‘Juanita knows how to drive,’ came the peevish reply. ‘Now come on, get going!’
‘Think anyone’d mind if
he
went over the edge?’ Eddie asked as the bus finally squeezed past. Nobody raised any objections. The Jeep set off, the Englishman pulling out after it. With a lurch, Zender’s vehicle followed.
About five minutes later a village came into view, ramshackle buildings clumped haphazardly on each side of the road. The Jeep’s driver sounded his horn to encourage a skinny goat to clear out of their path, the blare attracting curious looks from the locals. Once the animal had ambled aside the Jeep moved off again, and Eddie had started to follow when Osterhagen suddenly jumped in his seat. ‘Eddie, stop the car!’ he cried, pointing. ‘Over there, look!’
An elongated, moss-covered rock poked out of the ground like a giant raised finger. ‘What is it?’ Nina asked.
The German was out of the Nissan before Eddie had brought it to a complete stop. ‘It’s a
huaca
! On the map, one of the last markings before the Incas reached El Dorado was of a particular type of
huaca
. And this,’ he pointed excitedly at the stone, ‘is almost identical to one on the Inca Trail – and the marking is the same!’
Nina joined him as the third 4×4 pulled up. ‘So you think we’re nearly there?’
‘Yes, absolutely!’ He gazed at the valley ahead. ‘Only a matter of kilometres. I am certain!’
Zender’s window whirred down. ‘Why have we stopped?’
‘Navigation check,’ said Nina. ‘Dr Osterhagen thinks we’re getting close.’
The official’s impatient expression was replaced by approval. ‘Ah! Good, good. Well, lead us there, doctor!’
It was now Eddie’s turn to show impatience. ‘Are we done?’
‘Yeah, we’re done,’ Nina said. She and Osterhagen re-entered the Patrol, and it continued on its way, Zender’s 4×4 behind it.
A scruffy man, the smouldering stub of a cigarette between his lips, emerged from a house to watch the convoy pass. He paid special attention to the Nissan – and the red-haired woman in the passenger seat. Once the convoy had left the little settlement, he stubbed out the cigarette, then took out a cellphone.
Beyond the village, the road steepened – and the ground it traversed narrowed enormously. The ravine carved by the river was now over a hundred feet deep, the drop growing steadily higher as they drove along. The route ahead was not so much running through the mountains as clinging to them by its fingernails.
The convoy slowed as it approached a bend. Poking up from the cliff’s edge were several crude wooden crosses. ‘Ah . . . what are those?’ Macy asked nervously.
‘Where people have gone over the edge,’ Eddie said, navigating the turn. ‘Narrow roads, bad drivers and old cars with knackered brakes aren’t a good mix.’
‘Yeah, I wish I hadn’t asked,’ she said, shuffling across the seat away from the edge. ‘Couldn’t we have gone by helicopter?’
‘I don’t think the Peruvians’ budget would have stretched to that,’ said Nina.
‘
I
would have paid! I’ve got money!’
The Patrol’s other occupants laughed as it rounded the bend, revealing more of the twisting route. As Eddie had promised, clouds were starting to obscure the valley below, in places the ever-deepening ravine vanishing into a blank grey haze. Somehow, that made the prospect of going over the edge even more frightening: no way of knowing how long it would take to reach the fall’s inevitable conclusion.
Other features were still clearly visible, though. ‘Is that the waterfall?’ Kit asked, pointing.
Ahead, a great scar ran down the hillside, vegetation and even soil scoured away to reveal the bare rock beneath. It started at the top of a rise a few hundred feet above the road, and descended into the clouds below. A thin waterfall flowed down the centre of the exposed swathe, splashing on to the road. Nina checked her map and satellite photos, puzzled. ‘No, this isn’t marked.’
Eddie reduced speed. ‘Must’ve been a landslide. Probably a river up there somewhere that overflowed.’ The road itself was covered in debris, rocks and thick reddish-brown soil dumped on the already rough surface. Even though the locals had made the obstruction passable by simply shovelling much of the stuff over the cliff, the way forward was still worryingly narrow.
The soldiers in the Jeep also had misgivings, three of them hopping out and leaving the driver to traverse it alone. Nina drew in a sharp breath when the Jeep reached the waterfall and slipped sideways – the constant flow from above had turned the soil to a soft, muddy slush – but a quick burst of power pulled it free, muck spraying from its wheels. Once it cleared the landslip, the soldiers hurried after it.
‘Well, us next,’ said Eddie cheerily. ‘Everyone out. Except you, Nina.’
‘What?’ she protested as the others exited. ‘Why do I have to stay in the car of terror?’
‘’Cause of that whole “till death us do part” business – it might not be too far off. Nah, I’m just kidding,’ he added, at her unamused expression. ‘I need you to look out of your side and tell me how close we are to the edge.’
‘Too close,’ she said, even before he started moving. ‘Way too close!’
‘Ha fuckin’ ha. Okay, here we go . . .’
The Patrol was considerably wider than the Jeep, the wheels on Nina’s side coming within inches of the edge – which sagged alarmingly as the truck’s weight was put on it, clods of earth falling down the steep slope. Somehow, a stunted tree had managed to cling to a rock outcrop below while everything around it had been washed away, the lone sign of life a silhouette against the clouded abyss. She looked away from the vertiginous view to the sliver of road between the tyres and the long drop. ‘About six inches, six inches, three inches – whoa! Minus an inch.’
Eddie turned the 4×4 in as far as he could, trying to keep it in the ruts made by previous traffic. ‘That better?’
‘Yeah. Relatively speaking.’
They reached the waterfall, the stream drumming off the roof. Nina, still leaning out of the window, gasped as spray washed over her. But the Nissan rolled on, soon clearing the landslip.
‘Piece of piss,’ Eddie said, cracking his knuckles. ‘And we even stayed dry! Well, I did.’ Nina glared at him from under damp strands of hair.
The Nissan’s passengers caught up, then the last off-roader made the crossing, Zender chivalrously abandoning the passenger seat and allowing Cruzado to act as Juanita’s navigator. But she too cleared the landslide safely, and the convoy continued. There was an awkward moment when a pickup truck coming the other way took a ‘first come, first served’ attitude by swerving to the inside of another tight, unprotected bend marked by more crosses, forcing the three vehicles to creep around it on the outside, but they soon reached the first piece of actual infrastructure along the road: a short wooden bridge across a narrow gap.
‘We’re getting close,’ Nina said into the radio as she found the landmark on the map. ‘About another mile.’
The news produced a renewed sense of anticipation, even as the clouds closed in. The road narrowed again, the hillside so steep that a short section had actually been carved out of the rock itself to allow it to continue, thousands of tons of stone hanging above the vehicles. Beyond that, though, the way ahead began to widen out. Another couple of turns . . . and their destination came into view.