Empire of Gold_A Novel

  Eddie checked the odometer. “Five miles since we left the road. Can’t be much farther.” He hauled the wheel over to avoid a large jutting bough, the vehicle lurching over the ruts carved by dragged logs.

  Macy liberally spritzed herself with insect repellent. “I just had a thought—”

  “First time for everything,” Eddie cut in.

  She slapped his shoulder. “No, but what if the people who found it come back? They might be armed.”

  The same had occurred to Eddie, who had been less than pleased at the Venezuelans’ refusal to let him or even Kit bring weapons into the country. However, he tried to sound reassuring. “Oscar’s got a gun.”

  “If he knows how to use it. I was chatting to him last night. You know what he used to be before he joined the militia?”

  “A pilot?” Nina suggested.

  “Well, yeah,” Macy said peevishly, “but before that, I meant. He was a chef! That’s not exactly like being in the SAS.”

  “Depends how bad a cook he was,” said Eddie. “If he got a lot of complaints, he’d have to—Whoa, hang on.” He slowed sharply. “End of the road.”

  They entered a clearing, ragged stumps showing where the loggers had chain-sawed down several valuable hardwood trees. A steep bank of earth rose ahead. Layers of tire tracks in the dirt showed that the area had seen a fair amount of traffic.

  “There’s another path over there,” said Nina, indicating the bank.

  “Not sure it’s drivable, though,” Eddie replied. He stopped the Land Cruiser. “It’s probably better to go on foot from here … and there’s something I want to check.”

  “What?” Nina asked, but he had already hopped out, eyes fixed on something on the ground nearby. Curious, she followed.

  “Oh, ew,” said Macy, wrinkling her nose as she stepped into the mud. “What’s that smell?”

  “That would be the jungle,” said Cuff patronizingly as he got out of the second Toyota. He closed his eyes and waved a hand under his nose as if wafting the scent of some delicious meal into his nostrils. “The most diverse ecosystem on the planet. The lungs of the world. Just smell that life.”

  “I can smell something,” Macy said, adding “like bullshit” under her breath. Despite the repellent, small insects were swarming around her; she flapped a hand before treating them to a burst of spray.

  Osterhagen emerged from the Land Cruiser behind Cuff. “Why have you stopped? We can go …” He tailed off as Eddie waved urgently for silence.

  “What is it?” Nina whispered.

  Her husband crouched and pointed at the mud. “These tire tracks, they’re recent. Less than a day old—there hasn’t been time for any rain to wash them out.” In the humid equatorial climate of the rain forest, downpours were an almost metronomic occurrence. He went to the nearby path. “And there are some footprints here.”

  The others joined them, the atmosphere suddenly tense. Kit peered at the impressions in the soil. “Different sizes—two men.”

  Eddie nodded. “They go into the jungle … but they don’t come back out.”

  That produced consternation among the group. “Are you saying there are people here?” asked Loretta nervously.

  “Guards, maybe,” said Nina. “A treasure trove of Inca gold … they’d want to make sure nobody else found it.”

  Eddie checked the surrounding trees. No signs of movement, or sounds beyond the chatter of birds and buzz of insects, but he was now very much on the alert. “Oscar, you might want to keep that gun handy.” Valero hurriedly drew his weapon and checked that it was loaded. Loretta gasped in alarm.

  “Oh, come on,” said Cuff. “Why would they post guards when nobody else knows this place exists? It’s not as though anybody’s likely to stroll by.”

  Eddie gave him a contemptuous look. “No, the plane that circled it yesterday wouldn’t attract any attention, would it, Dave?”

  “That’s Day,” Cuff mumbled, trying to salvage some dignity under the group’s withering gaze.

  “So what should we do?” asked Becker. “If there are guards, we could be in danger.”

  “We have to go on,” Nina insisted. “We’ve got to know what’s out there.”

  “I agree,” said Valero. “If thieves are stealing Venezuela’s treasures, the Bolivarian Militia will stop them!” He stood with his hands on his hips, glaring defiantly into the jungle.

  “Easy there, Rambo,” Eddie said. “Let’s see what we’re dealing with first. If it really is this place we’re looking for and there are people keeping an eye on it, we’ll call el Presidente’s people for backup.” He indicated the satellite phone in the Toyota. “We’re not exactly geared up for trouble.”

  “Sounds like a plan,” said Nina. “Let’s get our stuff.”

  The expedition members donned backpacks and equipment belts. Valero started up the path, but Eddie waved him back. “Not that way—we don’t want to walk right into ’em.” He gestured at a point farther along the earth bank. “Over there. Keep it quiet.”

  Eddie and Valero led, Nina just behind with the others following in a line. Keeping low among the undergrowth, they scaled the bank and dropped down on the other side to find themselves in a marshy dip. Despite the humps and hollows, though, the land ahead was on a gentle rise.

  It started to rain, drops pattering noisily off leaves and heads. Nina shot a jealous look at Becker’s wide-brimmed fedora. But even the downpour gave little relief from the cloying humidity as the group trudged onward. She peered into the gloom. “I can’t see much out there.”

  “Good,” said Eddie. “Anybody out there won’t see much of us.” He paused at the top of another muddy bank, then gestured off to one side. “I think there’s something over there.”

  Nina squinted through the rain. There was indeed a vague shape visible beyond the trees. “A wall?”

  She started toward it, but Eddie waved her back. “Wait here until I’ve checked it out. Oscar, with me.” Hunching down, the Englishman slowly advanced toward the indistinct shape, Valero behind him. Nina watched anxiously as they disappeared behind the trees. She strained to listen over the constant drum of raindrops for an unexpected shout, a gunshot …

  Eddie reappeared, waving for her to join him. She breathed out in relief and picked her way forward, Osterhagen and Becker behind her. As she got closer she realized that it was a wall, partially hidden by plants, crumbling in places and covered with centuries of dirt and decayed jungle debris, but definitely an artificial structure. At its tallest it stood about nine feet high.

  Becker had seen something above it, however. “Look,” he said, gesticulating excitedly. Set several feet back on its top was a second wall, rising another eight feet higher—and a third above that. “It’s tiered! Just like the walls at Sacsayhuamán.”

  Osterhagen was nearly as enthused. “And look! The shape, the zigzag—these are Inca, I’m sure!”

  “Shh, shh, shut up!” Eddie hissed, scurrying toward the group. Nina gave him a questioning glance. “There’s a gap like a big gate farther along,” he said. “That path goes through it, so those two blokes who we don’t want to know we’re here”—he glowered at the Germans—“probably did too.”

  Becker looked sheepish, hiding from Eddie’s glare beneath his hat brim. Osterhagen, meanwhile, turned his attention back to the wall. “If we climb it, we can try to spot these men from the top.”

  “There’s a collapsed bit over there,” said Eddie. “I’ll go up and have a gander. If it’s safe, I’ll wave.” By now, Valero had returned, and the other members of the group were approaching through the trees. “Oscar, keep an eye on the gate. Any trouble at all, everyone run like buggery back to the jeeps. Okay?”

  He went to the damaged section and scrambled up it, then searched for a suitable point to climb to the next tier. Finding a section where several large stones had been dislodged, he used the gaps as footholds and ascended again, disappearing from Nina’s view. The downpour was easing off, the water torture
of the large drops giving way to a clammy drizzle.

  After a minute, he leaned over the edge and waved. “Okay,” she said. “I’ll go up first. Oscar, watch the gate until everyone’s clear.” Valero’s eyebrows twitched at being given orders by her, but he nodded.

  It didn’t take long for Nina to reach Eddie’s position on top of the wall. By now, the rain had stopped, drips from the overhanging trees gradually slowing to nothing. He was on his stomach, looking out across what lay beyond the fortifications; she dropped and slithered alongside him, taking in the view.

  It rendered her speechless. Inside the walls was a town, abandoned and in ruins, but still stunning to behold. The shells of stone buildings were packed tightly together, tall gables marking where roofs of wood and thatch had once been. Trees had taken root among them, breaking down walls and concealing the structures beneath the jungle canopy. Narrow streets meandered through the outermost parts of the settlement, becoming straighter and wider as they neared the center, where the buildings increased in size and grandeur.

  Temples, and palaces. The heart of the last outpost of the Inca empire.

  Paititi. The legend was real.

  But they were not the first to find it. “Have you seen any guards?” she asked.

  “Not yet,” Eddie replied, “but I heard something over there.” He pointed at one of the larger buildings.

  There was a rattle and clunk of loose stones, and they looked back to see Osterhagen, breathing heavily, pull himself on to the uppermost tier. Becker, Kit, and Macy appeared behind him. “Oh, for Christ’s sake!” Eddie grumbled. “What is this, a fucking conga line? I didn’t mean everyone to come up here. It’s not safe yet.”

  Osterhagen didn’t hear, spellbound by the vision before him. “Phantastisch …,” he whispered, gazing at the ruins, then fumbled to take a camera from his pack, as if afraid the marvel could vanish at any moment.

  Eddie grabbed his wrist. “If that flashes, it won’t just be the Incas who practice human sacrifice—I’ll have a bloody go!”

  Osterhagen pulled free, but checked that the flash was switched off before taking his first picture. “Mr. Chase, I know you are trying to keep us safe, but I do not like your attitude.”

  “You’ll like getting shot even less, Doc. Trust me, I know.”

  “So do I,” added Nina. Osterhagen looked shocked. “What do you make of it?”

  The German surveyed the ruins. The outer walls, as much as could be seen through the interloping trees, enclosed an area roughly two hundred yards square. “It is smaller than Machu Picchu, but there may be other ruins outside the fortifications. The architecture is definitely late-period Inca, though.”

  “The black-market artifacts—where would they have been kept?”

  He indicated one of the larger structures, a thick-walled block with numerous small trapezoidal windows high along its sides. “The royal palace, most likely. Or”—a smaller one, unlike its neighbors in that its walls were curved—“the Temple of the Sun.”

  “If that’s where the gold is,” Eddie pointed out, “it’s probably where the guards are too.”

  The remaining expedition members had by now scaled the wall, and were reacting with amazement. Loretta put a hand to her mouth, on the verge of weeping with joy. “Look at it, look! I never dreamed we’d find anywhere so intact!”

  Even Cuff’s seen-it-all-before smugness had temporarily deserted him. “Jesus. This is incredible. There’s so much of it—where do we start?”

  “You start by staying put until I find those guards,” said Eddie, moving cautiously along the wall. Not far away was a stairway down to ground level; it had partially collapsed, but he was able to half-climb, half-slide down it, jumping the last six feet. “Oscar, down here. Watch the last bit, it’s slippery.”

  Valero negotiated the ruined stairs rather more clumsily. Eddie was about to investigate a nearby building when he saw Nina also scrambling down. “No, I meant all of you to stay up—Oh, never bloody mind.”

  “I’m not going to blunder into the guards, Eddie,” Nina said as she dropped to the ground. “I just want a look around. If there’s any trouble, I’ll go straight back up the wall.”

  “I’m already halfway there,” he muttered.

  “What?”

  “Didn’t say a word.” Running between the high wall and a terrace of what he guessed were small houses was a pathway leading to the outer gate, but a narrower alley nearby would, he thought, give a better chance of reaching the settlement’s center unseen. “Okay, Nina, we’re going to check out that noise. Back soon. And don’t wander off!” he added firmly over his shoulder.

  “Love you too,” Nina replied with a mocking smile as she entered the building. To her disappointment, the interior, a single room with no other entrances apart from a small window, was wrecked. Rotted remains of the wooden roof were strewn across the floor, plants sprouting from the rich compost that had built up as leaves fell through the open ceiling. Fragments of broken pottery poked from the loam. She nudged one with her boot, then saw something more interesting—a stone sphere, slightly smaller than a tennis ball. A length of thick rope was knotted through a hole in its center. A bolas? She gingerly lifted the ball, tugging the weapon’s other two cords clear of the soil—and felt the moldering rope start to fall apart.

  “Oops! Shit,” she gasped, hurriedly returning it to its resting place and going back outside—to see Osterhagen jumping down from the ruined stairway, Becker and Cuff descending behind him.

  “What did you find in there?” he asked, eagerly approaching her. “Are there any surviving artifacts?”

  Nina ignored his question, trying to block his path. “What are you doing? Eddie told you to wait up there.”

  “He told you the same thing,” Cuff sniffed.

  Now Macy and Kit were climbing down too. “Sorry, Nina,” said Macy. “I tried to tell everyone to stay up there, but only Loretta listened.”

  Nina looked up to see Loretta peering over the top of the wall. “Well, at least one person’s got some sense. Okay, look—everybody stay here until Eddie and Oscar come back. This place has been waiting since the sixteenth century, so a few more minutes won’t make any difference.”

  Eddie and Valero moved cautiously through the ruined town. The Englishman had already confirmed that they were not the first explorers, spotting broken stems where people had forced their way through the vegetation reclaiming the settlement. None of the damage seemed recent, though; more like weeks or even months old.

  He had a theory: The loggers had trampled through the whole place searching for valuables. After picking the outlying buildings clean, they had no reason to return, instead concentrating on the central buildings that Osterhagen said would have contained the greatest treasures. The men whose trail he had spotted in the jungle were probably guarding the remainder of the hoard.

  And they were close by. Eddie stopped, waving for Valero to do the same, as the tang of cigarette smoke reached him. He listened intently, picking out the muted sound of men talking in Spanish.

  He peered around the corner of a building. Before him was a plaza, dotted with trees that had forced their way up through the cracked stone flags. At the western end, a broad flight of steps led up to the rounded building that Osterhagen had called the Temple of the Sun.

  Something less imposing but more modern dominated his attention, though. A small canvas hut had been set up near the steps, its walls a jungle-green camouflage pattern. The entry flap was half open, giving him a glimpse of equipment inside.

  So where were its occupants?

  He leaned out farther. In a gap between the trees was a large, oddly proportioned crate resembling a giant pizza box, about five feet square but less than a foot thick. Beside it were the two guards.

  Soldiers.

  Both men wore Venezuelan army fatigues, in the same camo pattern as the tent. They were armed with AK-103 assault rifles, updated and locally made versions of the venerable AK-47; one had
his gun slung loosely over his back, the other had propped his weapon against a nearby tree. It was obvious from their relaxed stances that they weren’t expecting trouble.

  Eddie signaled for Valero to take a look. He reacted in surprise. “What is the army doing here?” he whispered. “I don’t understand. If the government knows about this place, why weren’t we told?”

  “I don’t think your government does know,” Eddie replied grimly. “This is someone’s private little operation. Probably run from that base—it’s only about five miles from here.” He nodded to the northwest. “They take any treasures they find to Valverde, and then they get sold on the black market.”

  “But—but that is treason!” said Valero, outraged. “They are stealing from the people of Venezuela, their own brothers!”

  “Family doesn’t count for much when there’s big money involved.”

  One soldier flicked away his cigarette and ambled back toward the tent, skirting patches of mud where the flagstones had subsided. The other checked his watch, then picked up his AK and followed.

  Eddie moved back. “We should leave.”

  “No,” Valero insisted. “As a member of the Bolivarian Militia, if a crime is being committed it is my duty to stop it.” He puffed out his chest. “I will talk to these men, and if I do not like their answers, I will arrest them.”

  “Are you fucking kidding me?” Both soldiers were tall and muscular, and looked to Eddie as if their combined ages matched Valero’s alone. “They’re not going to bend over for an ex-chef.”

  The Venezuelan scowled, insulted, and put one hand on his sidearm. “They will do what I tell them. I have a gun.”