‘What!’ snapped Fisher, before hurriedly falling silent as the militia man glared at him.
‘Trust me, it is a bargain. The money?’
‘Outside pocket on the grey-and-blue backpack,’ Nina told him. Fortune found it and produced a wad of hundred-dollar bills, which he counted off into the leader’s hand. The man stuffed the money into a pocket, then said something doubtless meant to sound threatening but which came out under Fortune’s level stare as a reedy stammer. He retreated and shouted to his comrades to move their vehicles off the road.
‘How did you make a deal?’ Nina asked as Fortune returned to the driver’s seat.
He grinned, gold flashing in the sun. ‘I told them my name.’
‘That’s all?’ said Fisher, agog. ‘They backed down just because you told them who you are?’
‘Fortune’s got quite a reputation,’ Eddie said with a smile. ‘Lucky for us, he’s on our side.’
The well-dressed man laughed. ‘You might even say I am your good fortune, eh?’ He signalled to Paris, who had returned to his own bus, and the convoy set off again. The members of the Insekt Posse watched with evident hostility as they passed, but took no action against them.
Ziff sighed in relief. ‘That was close.’
‘There may be more before we reach Nakola,’ said Fortune. ‘Insekt Posse is one of the largest militia groups supporting the LEC, but it is not the only one.’
‘Any of ’em operate out past Nakola?’ Eddie asked.
‘There is no way to know for sure, but I have heard of them hiding in the jungle in the past. Some may be there now.’
‘They use the rivers to get around?’
‘Sometimes, yes.’
‘Right.’ He sat back, thinking.
Nina turned to speak to him, but on seeing his pensive expression held her tongue. His questions to Fortune gave her the feeling that another argument was brewing, and after escaping one tense situation she had no desire to drop immediately into another.
Despite Fortune’s concerns, the rest of the journey to the small village of Nakola was completed without any further militia interference. The rough road, however, had not been so cooperative, a puncture on Paris’s minibus adding almost two hours to the predicted travel time. ‘Oh, my God,’ gasped Rivero as he clambered exhaustedly from his ride. ‘I never want to do that again!’
‘You’ll have to on the way back,’ Howie reminded him.
‘Maybe I’ll just stay here. There’s a hotel, it’s got a bar – what more do I need?’
‘I don’t think it’ll win any Michelin stars,’ said Nina. Even at night, lit only by the headlights of the three vehicles and scattered lamps, Nakola’s wretched poverty made Butembo look like Dubai.
‘It’s not bouncing around over potholes, so that’s good as far as I’m concerned,’ Eddie grunted as he collected their belongings.
‘I know,’ she agreed. ‘It’ll be great to get into a room for the night.’
Five minutes later, she had changed her mind. ‘Okay. Maybe we’ll just sleep in the bus,’ she said in disgust on seeing their squalid chamber. The bed linen not only hadn’t been changed since the previous occupant, but it seemed entirely possible that said occupant had died in their sleep and not been discovered for days.
Eddie shrugged. ‘I’ve slept in worse places.’
‘Oh yeah? Where?’
‘Well, I was in a Zimbabwean prison once. And you’ve camped in the jungle before, you know what it’s like with all the insects and stuff.’
She pointed at a thumb-width crack in one wall, through which a creeper was protruding. ‘Yeah, but it’s different when the jungle’s trying to get indoors with you!’
‘We’ll stick a groundsheet over the bed and kip in our sleeping bags. It’ll be fine.’
‘I’m not convinced,’ she said as he opened a pack. ‘And . . . there’s something else I’m not convinced about.’
‘What’s that?’
‘That you’re going back to Butembo tomorrow. You’re going to insist that you come all the way to Zhakana, aren’t you?’
Eddie briefly paused in his search. ‘What makes you think that?’
‘Because I know you? You were determined to see me this far, and after that business at the roadblock I can’t imagine you waving goodbye in the morning and letting me head upriver into a jungle where more of those assholes might be hiding out.’
He tugged out the groundsheet. ‘That pretty much covers all the arguments I was going to use, so yeah.’
Nina rubbed her temple. ‘For God’s sake, Eddie. What about Macy? Do you really want to leave our daughter with her grandparents for an extra week or more, without even seeing her in person to explain why? Let’s be honest – you don’t even especially like your dad! But you’re happy to dump Macy on him for that time?’
‘Of course I’m not bloody happy about it,’ he protested, spreading the waterproof sheet over the stained bedding. ‘But what else can I do? You heard Fortune. The militia might be in the jungle—’
‘Might be.’
‘You willing to take the chance? ’Cause I’m not, not when it’s your life on the line. And everyone else’s too. Those Insekt Posse dickheads wanted to strip us of everything at gunpoint – and who knows what else they would have done?’
Nina regarded him with disapproval. ‘You mean to me and Lydia.’
‘Yes, to you and Lydia. This isn’t some sexist thing either,’ he added, cutting off her impending objection. ‘This is what these bastards do. Rape’s as much a weapon as an AK in this part of the world. I’ve seen it – Rwanda, Sudan. And if—’ He broke off, briefly affected by a surge of emotion. ‘And if something happened to you out here and I could’ve been with you to stop it, but wasn’t . . .’
‘Eddie . . .’ she said, realising the depths of his feelings. ‘I – I know what you’re saying, and I appreciate it, you know I do. But I’m sure we’ll be okay.’
‘You might be. But I’m not. That lot at the roadblock were trying their luck. If you run into a bigger bunch in the jungle, though . . . that’s their territory. Fortune’s reputation won’t scare ’em off.’
‘You said yourself that Fortune and Paris should be able to handle them.’
‘Fortune’s good. But I’m better. And you know it.’ He finished covering the bed. ‘There’s a satphone in the gear, so I’ll call Dad. And we’ll talk to Macy too. I know she’ll be upset, but like I said yesterday, there are much worse things that could happen.’
‘God damn it, Eddie,’ she said, but she knew he would not change his mind. Resigned, she took out the sleeping bags to prepare for what she was sure would be an uncomfortable night in more ways than one.
9
Nina did not sleep well. The night had come alive with the chirps and rattles of countless nocturnal creatures, and the cracks in the hotel’s walls let many of them pay her a personal visit. But it was Eddie’s presence that had kept her awake the most, still angry about their argument. She understood full well why he had insisted on staying, and even saw his point to a degree – which only made her mood worse.
Her husband was still asleep. Brushing away several creepy-crawlies, she rose and quietly left the room. ‘Morning,’ said Howie from a wicker chair as she entered the run-down lobby.
‘You’re up early.’
‘Doing my yoga.’ He munched an energy bar. ‘You might want to skip the breakfast buffet. I saw a bug the size of a phone checking it out.’
‘Maybe just a coffee, then,’ she replied. ‘Who else is awake?’
‘The local guys are all outside. I think they’re loading the boats.’
She went to see what Fortune and his men were doing. It was past dawn, but heavy clouds blocked out the sun, the gloom rendering Nakola even more miserable than she had imagined. She saw their vehicles had bee
n moved to the bank of a sluggish river. ‘Good morning!’ called Fortune from the water’s edge.
‘Hi,’ she replied. He, Paris and the three porters were indeed loading the crew’s gear into a pair of boats. Both craft were eight-seaters powered by outboard motors, the free spaces crammed with cargo. ‘You sure everything will fit?’
‘Yeah, yeah,’ Paris assured her. ‘No problem.’
‘I should probably tell you that Eddie’s decided he’s coming with us.’
He regarded the boats. ‘Huh. Okay. Problem.’ He started to haul items back ashore.
Fortune raised his eyebrows. ‘He is?’
‘Yeah, thanks to those guys at the checkpoint. I told him we’d be fine with you guys watching out for us, but he wouldn’t listen.’
She had half-expected the African to be offended by her husband’s lack of faith in him, but it was not the case. ‘Do you trust Eddie?’ he asked.
‘Yeah, of course I do,’ she answered, surprised.
‘So do I. He is a very good man to have at your side when there is danger.’
‘You think there’ll be danger?’
He smiled. ‘We are going into unexplored jungle. There is always danger!’
By the time Paris had repositioned enough items to free an extra seat, the other expedition members had arrived – along with several interested villagers. Rivero recorded the proceedings with his Handicam. ‘Ay up,’ said Eddie, greeting his Congolese companions. ‘You got room for an extra one?’
‘You are always welcome,’ Fortune told him. ‘And we will get paid whether or not you are here!’
‘Wait, now he’s coming into the jungle too?’ Fisher complained to Nina. ‘Don’t you think you should have asked me first?’
‘You’re welcome to tell him he can’t come,’ she replied.
The director turned to Eddie as if to do just that, but the Yorkshireman’s folded arms and unblinking stare deterred him. ‘Well, he’s . . . not eating our food,’ he said instead, rejoining the camera crew.
The group’s remaining items were placed aboard. While Paris and the three porters checked that everything was secured, one of the villagers, an elderly man with a straggly grey beard, approached and spoke in French. Nina had some fluency in the language, but his heavy accent made it hard to understand. ‘What did he say?’ she asked Fortune.
He gave her a look of both intrigue and mild concern. ‘He wants to know if we are looking for the City of the Damned.’
She was shocked. ‘He’s heard of it? Ask him what he knows!’
Rivero hurriedly moved in to record the discussion. ‘He says it is a legend,’ Fortune reported at last. ‘He does not know where it is, only that it is supposed to be out there in the jungle.’ He glanced upriver. ‘But nobody ever goes to look for it.’
‘Why not?’ Fisher demanded.
Another exchange, the villager shaking his hands as if to disassociate himself from the very idea. ‘He says there is a curse,’ said Fortune. ‘A sickness, a . . . a “bad feeling”, that poisons even the trees.’
Lydia responded with alarm. ‘A sickness? Great, I hope all those shots I had will cover it.’
Fisher was much more enthused. ‘A curse? That’s great, it’s a good hook. The Curse of Solomon, there’s our series title.’
‘I think that’s a Clive Cussler book,’ Eddie noted.
Nina irritably shushed him as Fortune recounted the old man’s words. ‘He says that no one who has ever gone to search for the city has returned.’
‘Sounds about par for the course,’ said Eddie.
‘You still sure you want to come?’ Nina asked him.
‘If soldiers turned back every time they had a bad feeling, they’d never leave the barracks. So yeah, I’m still coming with you.’
‘Just checking. Fortune, does he know anything else?’
The Congolese questioned the villager further. ‘Sadly, no. But he wishes us good luck.’ The old man gave her a smile that was not especially reassuring.
She noticed that Rivero was holding his camera on her, hoping for a quotable line. ‘Let’s hope we’re the first to come back, then,’ was the best she could manage as she tied her hair into a ponytail, ready to begin.
Half an hour later, the expedition set out.
Nina sat at the lead vessel’s bow, watching the jungle rise around them. Nakola was on the edge of the Congo basin, and from here on the region became much wetter. The river was unusual in that it eventually drained into Lake Edward to the east rather than the mighty Congo itself, which suggested it could have been used both by Solomon and the empire of Sheba to reach Zhakana, but it also meant they were travelling against the current. With both boats fully loaded, they wouldn’t make much speed on the outward journey.
Fortunately, the waters were placid and slow-moving. She took out a GPS handset to check their position. ‘If the lost city’s where the map room said, then it’s thirty-two kilometres in that direction.’ She pointed ahead, slightly off the present path of the river.
Eddie looked across at the nearest shore to judge their speed. ‘We’re doing maybe five kph. That’s, er . . .’
‘Six and a half hours to get there,’ she told him, doing the mental arithmetic in a blink.
‘If the river’s straight. Which it isn’t. And if there aren’t any waterfalls. Which there probably are. We’ll be lucky to get there before nightfall.’
Lydia and Fisher were on the row behind. ‘Only thirty-two kays?’ said the former. ‘Can’t believe it hasn’t been found if it’s so close.’
‘You can pass thirty-two feet from something in jungle like this and never see it,’ Nina replied. ‘There’s a reason the Atlantean temple in Brazil and the city of Paititi in Venezuela were lost for so long.’
Fisher took out a laminated chart. ‘I had a satellite map made before we left Israel,’ he said, unfolding it. Wemba, sitting on the next row back, peered at it with interest. A bright yellow line showed the route to take at each of the numerous forks where tributaries merged. ‘The river definitely isn’t straight, but it looks pretty easy to navigate.’
Eddie glanced back. ‘Were the satellite photos taken at the same time of year as now?’
‘I don’t know, but we’re almost at the equator, aren’t we? It shouldn’t make a difference.’
‘You still get seasons at the equator. If you’re in the jungle, they’re basically wet, and really wet. What’s a river on your map might be a lake now – or it might be dry land.’
‘At least if we get lost, Howie can send up the drone to see which way to go,’ said Lydia, swatting in irritation at insects.
‘How long do its batteries last?’ Eddie asked.
‘We’ve got plenty of spares and everything we need to keep it charged up, don’t worry,’ Fisher said. ‘Same for all our gear. Cameras, mics, laptops – they won’t run out of juice.’
‘You brought bloody laptops into the jungle? We’re not at Starbucks.’
‘Actually, we do our preliminary editing and sound mixing on them in the field,’ said the director, becoming defensive. ‘The drone’s even controlled from one. Plus, we need them to back up all our media every day. If a camera gets damaged or, God forbid, lost out here, we can’t exactly go back and reshoot anything.’
Eddie shrugged. ‘That’s a lot of stuff that might go wrong or break.’ He turned away, shaking his head. ‘Bet it’s not even bloody waterproofed,’ he whispered to Nina.
‘They do know what they’re doing,’ she said with a little smile. ‘Believe it or not.’
Fortune guided the boat onwards, Paris at the tiller of the second behind them. The vegetation grew thicker, drooping branches dipping into the water like grasping hands. Before long, it became impossible to make out the surrounding terrain beyond the dense green curtains. The air filled with the rich, cloying sc
ent of rot, dead flora and fauna alike rapidly decaying in the warm, humid environment. ‘Ah. There’s a smell I haven’t missed,’ said Nina, wrinkling her nose.
‘Easy to see who’s in the jungle for the first time,’ Eddie remarked, checking on the documentary crew. Most were reacting far more expressively to the scent, Howie the only one who appeared unperturbed. ‘The kid doesn’t seem to mind it.’
‘Maybe it smells like his dorm room.’ They both grinned.
The boats continued on up the snaking river. An hour passed, two, more, the unchanging view and the plodding chug of the outboards as wearing as the incessant attention of insects. Nina checked the GPS again. ‘Halfway there,’ she announced.
‘We should stop for a break soon,’ said Eddie. ‘Dunno about you, but I could use a piss.’
‘Charming,’ Lydia muttered behind him.
Nina looked at her watch. ‘It’s past noon, so we should eat too.’ She searched the banks for somewhere to put ashore. ‘If you see any—’
‘Hold it,’ Eddie interrupted, raising a hand.
Fortune immediately dropped the outboard’s throttle to idle, Paris following suit in the other boat. ‘What is it?’ the Congolese asked.
‘Rough water ahead. You see it?’
‘Yes, I do. Waterfall?’
‘Probably. Stop the engines so we can hear.’
Fortune shut down his outboard, as did Paris. With the boats silenced, a new sound became audible over the chitterings of bugs and birds: a deep, hissing rumble. ‘Definitely a waterfall,’ said Nina.
‘Going up or down?’ asked Rivero from the other boat.
The question drew him mocking looks. ‘We’re going upriver, and water flows downhill – what do you think?’ said Fisher, smirking.
The tubby cameraman huffed. ‘All right, Jeez. I’m not a hydrologist.’
‘Fortune, we’d better take a look and hope there’s an easy way we can get to the top of it,’ said Eddie.
‘When you say, “get to the top”,’ Fisher said uncertainly, ‘I’m assuming you mean on land.’