Empire of Gold

  ‘The very same. And it appears she’s not resting on her laurels. Unfortunately for her, you found this place first.’ He stepped back. ‘Search them.’

  Three soldiers moved along the line, roughly relieving the prisoners of their possessions and tossing them to the ground. Stikes began to examine the passports and wallets.

  ‘You’ve got me at a disadvantage,’ Nina said to the general, trying to maintain a façade of calmness. ‘You know my name, so who are you?’

  ‘I know who he is,’ said Valero quietly. There was a note almost of betrayal in his voice. ‘General Callas.’ He looked the officer in the eye. ‘You are supposed to be President Suarez’s closest ally – his closest friend! Why have you not told him about this place?’

  Callas’s lips tightened at the mention of Suarez, but he didn’t answer, instead turning back to Nina. ‘I am General Salbatore Delgado Callas,’ he announced. ‘I would offer you my hand, but I do not think you will take it.’

  ‘I think you’re right,’ she replied. He seemed amused by her defiance.

  Stikes held up Nina’s wallet. ‘Well, look what I’ve found!’ he said with exaggerated cheer, thumbing out a business card. She recognised it as the one Larry Chase had given to her. He grinned malevolently at Eddie. ‘So, how are your daddy issues these days, Chase? Still mad at him for fucking other women behind Mummy’s back?’

  Eddie said nothing, but his jaw muscles clenched. Stikes chuckled, pleased at having touched a nerve, then opened the metal case from Nina’s backpack. The three statuettes were revealed within.

  Callas crouched to look more closely, tapping the half-figure. ‘This was in the ruins,’ he said, puzzled. ‘But the other two . . . ’

  ‘You didn’t take it?’ Stikes asked.

  ‘It wasn’t gold or silver, just stone. Broken stone! It is worthless.’

  ‘Apparently not,’ said Stikes, shooting Nina a calculating look. He gave the bagged khipu a similarly intrigued appraisal, then carried on with his check of the team’s belongings. Kit’s was the last; after reading his identity card, he regarded the Indian with surprise. ‘Interpol? Inter-esting.’ A small smile to match the joke. ‘Now, why would the head of the Cultural Property Crime Unit be personally poking around in the jungle?’

  ‘Interpol?’ Callas said in alarm. He pointed his gun at Kit. ‘Who have you told about this place?’

  ‘Everyone,’ said Eddie.

  ‘Nobody,’ Stikes said simultaneously. ‘If they’d told anyone, Suarez would have ordered your arrest by now.’

  ‘Then we must make sure they never do tell anyone.’ Callas stepped back, nodding to Rojas. Loretta started to cry again, trembling. The soldiers readied their weapons.

  Stikes raised a hand, as if about to object – but Eddie spoke first. ‘Kill us and you’ll never find the real treasure – in El Dorado.’

  ‘Eddie!’ Nina protested.

  Callas laughed. ‘This is El Dorado. The lost city of gold!’

  ‘If you were an archaeologist, you’d know it’s not. This place is called Paititi. Didn’t pay attention to anything but the gold, did you?’

  Eddie’s eyes were fixed on Callas; meanwhile, Stikes scrutinised Eddie’s expression. ‘You know, Salbatore . . . he may be telling the truth.’

  ‘What?’ Callas demanded.

  ‘Chase here is very protective of the so-called innocent, so he’ll say whatever it takes to save them . . . but he’s not a natural liar. Blunt, simple-minded honesty is one of his defining characteristics.’ He looked towards the ruins. ‘It’s possible they have found something else – especially considering his wife’s talent for discovering lost civilisations.’

  Callas stood before Nina, gun still in his hand. ‘Then we only need to keep one archaeologist alive, don’t we?’

  She glared at him. ‘Hurt anyone else and I’ll never tell you anything.’

  His lips spread into a lupine smile. ‘Oh, you will. I promise you.’

  A noise came from the jungle, the whine of a straining engine. A military truck lumbered into view, jolting along the rutted logging track. Eddie tensed, ready to take advantage of the distraction, but the jab of an AK’s muzzle into his back told him that his guards were expecting it.

  The driver seemed surprised to see them, however; the truck had apparently set out before the SOS was received. It stopped in the clearing. The general shouted an order, and Cuff’s corpse was tossed like garbage into the vehicle’s open back.

  Callas turned back to Nina. ‘I have a use for your friends after all.’ He clicked his fingers. His troops straightened, ready for action. ‘Bring them to the city.’

  The use Callas had in mind was purely physical: slave labour, to help move his biggest prize. The prisoners were held at gunpoint in the plaza while men went into the Temple of the Sun to complete the assembly of the block and tackle before the two-ton golden disc was prised from the wall with jacks and slowly, carefully, lowered to stand on its edge between supports on the specially built cart.

  Once it was done, the explorers were forced to help move the trolley and its weighty cargo to the top of the steps. Other soldiers assembled a makeshift ramp from stout planks so that it could be lowered to the plaza, where the overhanging jungle canopy was thin enough for it to be airlifted out without risking damage. Callas stood nearby, watching the disc’s slow progress from behind his sunglasses.

  Stikes, meanwhile, disappeared into the palace. When he returned, Loretta’s camera in hand, his expression was more calculating than ever. ‘I think Chase really was telling the truth,’ he told Callas. ‘There’s a painting on the wall, an account of what I assume is the Incas fleeing the Spanish – I’m hardly an expert on Inca history. But,’ he added, gesturing at Nina, ‘I know someone who is.’

  ‘She can tell us how to find El Dorado?’ Callas asked.

  ‘I’m sure she can, yes. Given the right kind of encouragement.’

  Callas nodded. ‘She will have it. But after the operation. That must come first.’

  ‘Well, of course. That’s why I’m here, after all.’

  ‘Why are you here, Stikes?’ Eddie demanded as he strained with the others to push the cart to the ramp. ‘You’ve got your knock-off SAS beret on, so I’m guessing you’re pretending to be a soldier.’

  ‘Actually, I’m in the same line of work as you used to be, from what I heard on the grapevine. A private military contractor.’

  ‘You’re a mercenary?’ said Nina disapprovingly.

  ‘Aren’t we all, ultimately? We provide our skills to those who need them, in return for money. Mine happen to be in the field of conflict resolution. 3S – that’s my company’s name, for Stikes Security Solutions—’

  ‘Not Stupid Southern Shitehawk?’ Eddie cut in.

  Stikes kicked him hard, dropping him to his knees. The guards quickly moved in, AKs raised to deter Eddie from retaliating as he painfully stood back up. ‘As I was saying,’ Stikes continued, as if nothing had happened, ‘my company has been rather successful, what with all the opportunities in Afghanistan and Iraq. But things are tailing off now, so it’s time to look for new markets.’ A nod to Callas. ‘And new clients.’

  ‘There are no conflicts inside Venezuela,’ said Valero. ‘Only the fight against imperialist aggression.’

  Callas laughed sarcastically. ‘The voice of the new convert! What were you before you put on that joke of a uniform? A farmhand? A dog from the barrios? You have no idea what is really going on in this country.’

  ‘He’s right, though,’ said Stikes. ‘There certainly won’t be any conflicts in Venezuela – once we’re finished.’

  Another laugh from the general. ‘That is true.’

  ‘Finished what?’ Eddie asked.

  But no answer was forthcoming, Callas instead walking to the steps in response to a call from below. The ramp was complete. The general issued more orders, and chains were attached to the cart and looped round thick stone pillars at the top of the stairs so the workf
orce could lower the sun disc slowly to the plaza. It was made very clear to the unwilling members of the group that if the cart broke free and its cargo was damaged, they would all be shot.

  After ten minutes of straining, sixteen people struggling to hold the great weight of the Inca treasure on the incline, the sun disc was safely off the foot of the ramp. Arms aching, Eddie nevertheless kept a close watch on Stikes and Callas. Once the golden artefact had been wheeled to the clearing and crated up ready to be lifted by helicopter, the only expedition member they needed to keep alive was Nina. Any opportunity to escape, however slim, would have to be taken.

  But even with the majority of the soldiers helping move the sun disc, there were still four guards with AKs, and both Callas and Stikes were armed; the mercenary carried a gleaming nickel-plated Jericho 941 automatic, an Israeli weapon styled to resemble its larger and more famous Desert Eagle cousin, in a hip holster. And the crate was not far away; it would take just a few minutes to reach.

  Not much time. There had to be some way they could break loose.

  Maybe there was.

  The mud near the tent, still churned up from where Eddie had fought the soldier. The cart would be pushed right past it . . .

  ‘Move!’ barked Callas, pointing across the plaza.

  Everyone resumed their positions: Kit, Osterhagen, Becker and Loretta holding the chains to pull the sun disc, Eddie, Nina and Macy pushing the cart, both groups joined by soldiers. The cart’s fat tyres squeaked, bulging under the great weight as it rolled inch by inch across the uneven stone flags.

  It drew closer to the patch of sludge. Eddie whispered to Nina, ‘I’m going to try something in a minute. If it works, run.’

  ‘What about the others?’

  He couldn’t speak any louder without risking being overheard. ‘Just hope they’re quick on the uptake. This mud, coming up – get ready.’

  The group pulling the chains were already angling to avoid the obstacle. Eddie checked the mud as the trolley skirted it.

  The knife he had knocked from the soldier’s hand was still where it had fallen, almost submerged in the thick brown ooze.

  He shifted position, moving his feet further from the trolley. Only another couple of steps now. A sidelong glance at the nearest guard. If he saw what he was doing . . .

  Last step—

  He planted his right foot into the mud – and felt the knife under his sole.

  Now!

  Eddie pretended to slip, his other foot slithering in the mud. He brought his right sharply forward to regain his balance, dragging the knife with it.

  The guard would see if he tried to pick up the blade. Instead, he shoved it forward again and pressed the edge of his boot down hard on the hilt, forcing the blade upwards—

  Into one of the tyres.

  The point stabbed through the rubber as the cart rolled over it. The tyre exploded with a bang as loud as a gunshot, the sudden extra strain on the two neighbouring wheels causing them to compress.

  Top-heavy, unbalanced, the cart tipped over.

  Eddie and Nina jumped back—

  One of the soldiers tripped, landing beside the cart. His panicked scream was abruptly cut off as the sun disc fell on top of him, two tons of dense metal flattening him with a splatter of blood and mud.

  ‘Run!’ Eddie yelled. He punched out a guard and broke into a sprint for the nearest alley.

  Nina started to run after him, but another soldier blocked her way. She tried to swerve past – only to slip in the mud, knocking them both to the ground in a tangle of limbs.

  Macy fared even less well. She had instinctively leapt back as the sun disc fell, colliding with the soldier behind. Before she could twist away, he tackled her.

  Of the other team members, both Osterhagen and Loretta were too surprised to think of fleeing, turning in startled confusion. Kit, sandwiched between two soldiers, got just a couple of feet before he was grabbed. Only Becker managed to break away, barging another soldier out of his path and running for the main gate—

  Callas bellowed in Spanish: ‘Stop him!’ The guards hurriedly brought up their weapons and tracked the gangling German. He weaved desperately as the shots closed in.

  One tore a thumb-sized chunk of flesh from his thigh. He fell.

  Stikes was hunting another target, snapping the Jericho from his holster and whirling to track Eddie as he ran. He fired – but his target had already ducked behind a tree, the 9mm round smacking into the trunk. Stikes cursed and moved to get a better firing angle.

  Too late. Eddie disappeared between two buildings, a second bullet hitting only his shadow. Stikes hissed in frustration and ran after him.

  Eddie realised he was heading back towards where he had emerged from the pit. That gave him the advantage, however small, of knowing the terrain. Was there anywhere he could stage an ambush?

  Yes. If he could reach it before being shot in the back.

  He swatted branches aside, following his footprints in the dirt. He could hear Stikes pounding after him, boots thudding rhythmically down the narrow alleyway. Gaining. The taller, leaner officer had always been faster, and while both men had stayed fit after leaving the SAS, Eddie had spent the better part of five years in an office. Another bullet cracked against the wall behind him, the Jericho’s bark echoing through the ancient city. From somewhere deep inside he dredged up an extra burst of speed, swinging round the next corner—

  The collapsed section of battlement was ahead – but Eddie was only interested in the vines and ivy hanging from the wall a few yards away, the entrance to the lower level all but invisible behind them.

  He dived through, rolling and taking up position at the squat opening. His passage had ripped away some of the creepers – if Stikes spotted the gap and guessed his plan, a few bullets fired through the green curtain would end it instantly.

  Footsteps. Stikes had reached the corner. They got closer.

  Slowed.

  Eddie peered through the leaves. Stikes drew nearer, moving at a cautious walking pace. Eddie tensed, waiting for the best moment to attack – or run. Had Stikes seen the archway, or. . .

  The mercenary went past. He hadn’t spotted the entrance, instead heading for the doorway of a nearby ruined building. But it would only take him a second to see that there was nobody inside—

  Eddie burst out through the vines.

  Stikes spun at the crackle of branches – and Eddie slammed him against a wall. He fired, muzzle flame scorching the sleeve of Eddie’s leather jacket. Eddie responded by grabbing his wrist and smashing it against the edge of a stone block. Stikes barely held in a grunt of pain as the gun was jolted from his grasp. Eddie shoulder-barged him against the wall, then reached for the fallen Jericho—

  Stikes whipped up one knee, catching him in the side and making him stumble. He twisted away from Eddie, then lunged, trying to catch him in a headlock.

  Eddie lashed out with a foot, catching his kneecap. Stikes grunted again, reeling – then let out a full-blown groan as Eddie drove a solid punch into his stomach. The Yorkshireman pressed home the attack, delivering another blow to his midsection before landing an uppercut on his jaw. Stikes fell against the wall, blood round his mouth. ‘Always knew you were just a fucking Rupert!’ Eddie snarled: army slang for a useless upperclass officer. He pulled back his fist for a knockout blow. ‘Can’t win in a proper fight—’

  Two of Callas’s men ran round the corner, raising their AK-103s—

  Eddie hauled Stikes away from the wall and shoved him back at the two soldiers. In the confines of the alley they couldn’t fire without hitting him, giving Eddie the chance to sprint in the other direction.

  Stikes shook off his dizziness. ‘What are you waiting for?’ he shouted in Spanish, moving aside to give them a clear shot. ‘Shoot him!’

  They opened fire – just as Eddie reached the collapsed wall and made a running jump into the jungle beyond.

  He was over forty feet above the ground, nothing to stop
his fall except the branches of a nearby tree. Leaves smacked at his face as he arced through the foliage, arms thrown wide . . .

  He hit the damp wood hard, a bough thumping against his chest. Winded, he grabbed it. There was a sudden explosion of movement around him – dozens of small, brightly coloured birds in the tree took to the air in alarm, shrilling and chittering. The branch bounced as if trying to shake him off, but he kept his hold.

  He looked for a way to the ground – but the tree chose one for him. The branch snapped. Eddie dropped – and was caught in a knot of creepers, swinging at the trunk.

  He braced himself—