Pearls (21 page)

“Take a look at this.” Manuel gestured to a point behind her shoulder.

She turned and caught her breath at the beautiful scenery. Green mountain peaks and shadowed valleys stretched as far as the eye could see. Low-slung clouds lingered so close overhead that Isabel felt the urge to reach up and try to touch one.

Magnificently grand, the view humbled Isabel with its majesty. “This explains how Rodrigo drew that topographical map so accurately. It’s a stunning view.”

They stood in silent awe for a moment.

Isabel sighed. “I think I’ll sit down. My legs are tired.” She walked to a meter-high wall bordering the next terrace and found a comfortable perch. Manuel followed and dropped onto a rock a few feet away.

“Aside from the view, what do you suppose influenced the tribe to build so high on the mountain? I can’t imagine this location was convenient for the Indians.”

Manuel smiled. “From a military standpoint, it’s a highly defensible position.”

“I should think so. No doubt, the enemy was ready to drop from exhaustion by the time they climbed to this height. I know I am.”

He chuckled. “Since the rain at this altitude is sufficient for agriculture, the Indians grew food on these terraces. There are settlements like these all over the mountains, connected by the stone paths and stairs. Some of the larger colonies supported as many as 3,000 people.”

Isabel studied the area. “I can’t believe it’s still here after so many centuries. Erosion hasn’t impacted the landscape much, if at all.”

“The tribes who built these were incredible engineers. Some of the modern coffee plantations that plant in the higher altitudes have tried to reproduce this kind of construction, but they haven’t been able to build anything that compares with what the Indians accomplished.”

“How long do you think it will take us to search this area?” Isabel cast a skeptical look around. More than twenty terraces sprawled across the mountain side, making for a large search grid.

“The ground-penetrating radar equipment is fairly efficient. I think we can cover one or two terraces a day. But I suspect this direct sun will make us uncomfortable if we work during the heat of the day. I suggest we hike up here first thing in the morning and work until lunch. Then we’ll spend the warm afternoon hours in the valley looking for that well Rodrigo mentioned.”

Isabel nodded. “Judging by the quality of the Indians’ work here, I expect we’ll find the well intact.”

“Ready to hike down?”

Isabel pushed to her feet, weary but willing. “I guess we better get moving if we hope to get the camp set up and settled by nightfall.”

As she walked toward the stone stairway, Isabel’s legs felt like noodles. After backpacking the gear from the jeeps, her back and arms would probably offer some complaint, as well. No doubt her limbs would be stiff and sore in the morning. Despite the discomforts, she had no desire to abandon the search. In fact, she had never felt more exhilarated. She didn’t think of herself as an explorer or adventurer, but after a week of trekking the wilds, she couldn’t imagine anyplace she’d rather be.

Isabel stepped from her tent several mornings later, glad to leave its close confines. She slept well in the small tent, but it seemed claustrophobic when she was awake and trying to move around. She lifted her hands over her head and indulged in a languorous stretch, thankful the soreness she’d experienced the first few days had subsided.

Often when she awoke, Manuel was already busy fixing breakfast, his close shave and fresh clothes making him look as if he’d been up for hours. Today, the camp appeared empty. She peeked into the larger tent they used as a workstation and storage area for their supplies and equipment, but it sat empty and quiet. A few feet beyond the main tent, the flap on his sleeping tent hung open, hinting that he’d risen before her and set out on his own.

Rather than wait for him, she decided to go to the stream and wash up. She grabbed her bag of personal items and headed for the designated “facilities.”

Along the way, she spotted Manuel sitting on a large rock jutting from the mountainside. Its smooth surface provided a tempting, if unusual, place to sit. A book lay across his lap, and when he shifted, the sun glinted off the gold-leafed pages. A Bible. Before he could look up and see her, Isabel turned away, feeling as though she’d intruded on a private moment.

She’d seen him perched on the rock once before, reading and meditating on the scripture. Seeing his devotion filled her with guilt. When had she stopped taking time for God each day? At some point during the hectic move from the United States to Venezuela, she’d forgotten about the peace, strength, and direction God offered to those who would come and sit with Him daily.

Her spiritual life had suffered neglect for years, and no doubt, this contributed to her lack of judgment where Raúl was concerned. Even though she now realized her error, she’d done nothing to correct the problem or ensure she wouldn’t repeat the same mistake again. She hadn’t change her habits or sought healing for the reason she’d made the poor decisions in the first place. She sensed God tugging at her heart. Maybe the time had come for her to renew her own commitment.

After washing up, Isabel returned to her tent and pulled out her worn Bible. As she opened to a Psalm and began to read, a comforting presence wrapped around her like a blanket, and she felt the joy of returning home.

Before the trip, Isabel had never seen radar equipment that scanned underground. Now, after four days of working the machinery, she felt like a seasoned expert. At first, the images she’d viewed on the monitor looked like confusing blobs to her. Manuel had taught her to see the images, lines, and shapes in the sonar feedback displayed on the screen. Some pottery, a hammer-like tool, and an eating utensil had appeared on the screen over the last few days. Each discovery amazed her, helping her better understand Manuel’s passion for his career.

She and Manuel finished their breakfast and climbed to the terraces to begin another day’s search. They’d started with the highest terrace and were working their way down, fully scanning each level before moving down to the next one. Because of the cumbersome weight of the equipment, they left it on the terraces each night instead of hauling it up and down the long staircase.

Isabel pulled at the tarp draped over the supplies and began to uncover their equipment. When she realized Manuel hadn’t joined her, she turned to find him staring into the distance, a frown creasing his handsome features.

She followed his line of vision and tried to identify what had drawn his attention. “What are you looking at?”

He pointed into the distant sky. “See that? Is it smoke?”

She tipped her head and studied the faint gray curl hovering over the treetops. “Yes, I think so. Probably some other campers making their breakfast or maybe someone lives on this mountain. The area isn’t completely isolated, is it?”

“No. I imagine a few people live out here.”

“They wouldn’t have electricity this far out, would they?”

“Probably not.”

“Smoke from a campfire or stove isn’t so unusual then, is it?”

“Maybe.” Manuel looked unconvinced and continued to study the smoke curl. “But last night the smoke was further west. Residents wouldn’t be moving around.”

A chill swept through Isabel, making the roots of her hair tingle and stand on end. Was it the man who’d burned her apartment then waited for her along the road out of Caracas? Maybe she had seen him in Santo Domingo, but why would he follow her across the country? She could not fathom any motive to justify the extreme behavior.

“I’m sure it’s nothing to worry about.” Her voice sounded strangely calm. She turned her back to the distant fire, but as they went about their daily routine, the ominous curl of smoke never left her thoughts.

The bristly rope pricked Isabel’s palms, but she refused to loosen her grip. She vowed to have a thorough mental evaluation upon her return to Caracas because no sane woman would agree to put herself in the precarious position in which she now hung—literally.

“How you doing down there?” Manuel’s steady voice bounced over the stones, taking on a hollow ring before it reached her ears.

Isabel rolled her eyes and resisted the urge to say something snide. “Fine. Can you lower me more quickly, please? This harness isn’t very comfortable.”

She heard him chuckle, but the rate of her descent did increase. Why she’d let him talk her into being lowered into the old well was a mystery. Maybe the warmth that radiated from his eyes or the way his mustache twitched when something amused him had influenced her decision. She’d remember not to look him directly in the face the next time he proposed something outrageous.

“Can you see the bottom yet?” Manuel called to her. “I’m running out of rope up here.”

“Oh, that’s comforting.” She aimed her flashlight downward and leaned to see if anything materialized in the dark abyss. The change in position caused her to sway, and she instinctively reached out to brace a hand against the stones lining the circular wall of the well. Her fingers slipped on the slimy rock, and she cringed. Moving carefully, she took another hesitant look down.

“My light is reflecting off the water table. I’m almost as low as I can go without getting wet, but I can’t tell you how deep the water is.”

“I’ll lower you a few more feet. Holler when you’re almost touching the water.”

Isabel clung to the rope as he worked the manual winch, which allowed him to handle her suspended weight with ease.

“Stop! My feet are just about to get drenched.”

“Can you see the bottom now?”

She aimed her light into the water, but the beam was absorbed after only a few feet.

“No, I’m sorry. It must be deep.”

“Let’s find out how deep. I’m going to tie something heavy to the end of another rope. You lower the weight into the water until it stops sinking then mark the waterline on the rope. We’ll measure from the weight to the mark and get a depth.”

“Okay. That sounds like it will work.”

“I need to find a weight. I’ll be right back.”

The sound at the top of the well ceased and, except for the creak of the rope, Isabel waited in silence. The rope sling chafed her hips and thighs, and she shifted to relieve some of the discomfort.

A shadow moved across the top of the well accompanied by the sound of scuffling. She glance up into the point of light at the top of the tunnel and saw the glint of sun on metal.

“Manuel?”

Suddenly, the rope went slack, and Isabel dropped into the icy water, the impact plunging her under the surface. She righted herself and gave a powerful kick, thrusting herself to the top. When her head emerged, the length of rope that had held her aloft wrapped itself around her shoulders and arms. The harness tied around her midsection slid downward and tangled her legs. She coughed and choked, trying to clear the water from her throat. Her thrashing entangled her in the rope, and her heavy shoes and clothes began to suck her down.

“Manuel!”

No answer.

Panic flooded through her, and Isabel wrestled against the dangerous restraints tangling around her. She sank into the dark water and fought her way to the surface again, desperation overtaking her senses.

“Isabel?”

She heard Manuel’s horrified yell but couldn’t call to him. Keeping her face above water long enough to breathe took all the effort she could muster.

He must have heard her thrashing because he continued to yell down to her.

“Isabel, I brought another rope. When I drop it down, you grab on.”

He kept talking, but her splashing and frequent dips under the surface muffled his instructions. She worked to free a hand from the tangle, wondering how she would find the strength to hold onto the rope long enough to reach the top of the well. She pushed away the frightening thought and forced herself to relax and think.

She stopped fighting the ropes winding around her limbs and worked instead on freeing herself from their hold. When she forced her legs to still, the harness slowly drifted down to her shoes. Fluttering her feet, she freed her legs. Able to tread water more easily, powerful kicks kept her afloat while she untangled her arms. Almost free, she felt something brush against her head. She startled then realized it was the rope Manuel had sent down. Relief flooded through her as she grabbed hold of her connection to the surface.

“Get a firm grip!” Manuel ordered, “And let me know when you’re ready.”

“Can you lower it a few more feet?” she called.

The rope dropped down a little further, giving her the extra length she needed.

Isabel pulled her knees to her chest and slipped her foot through the loop he’d tied at the end of the rope. Grasping hold with her hands and locking her other leg around the rope, she called up to him. “Get me out of here, Manuel.”

The rope went taut. As Manuel hoisted her out of the water, her weight caused the rope to twist and spin, bumping and banging her against the rock walls. She adjusted, taking more weight on her hands and using the foothold as a counterbalance. Her arm muscles strained with the task and were soon shaking violently and burning like fire. The light at the mouth of the well grew larger and brighter, but not as quickly as Isabel would have liked.