Empire of Gold nwaec-7

by Andy McDermott

  ‘And a bribe?’

  ‘I prefer to think of them as favours. You know, customs men are almost universally underpaid and under-appreciated. I just show a little gratitude for the job they’re doing.’

  ‘And what about you, then?’ Eddie demanded. ‘You don’t have any problems with taking money from a drug lord?’

  ‘As I said, his business isn’t my business. He was just another client. The only questions I ask are where, when, and how much?’

  Eddie stood, voice low and harsh. ‘I’ve got a new question you should ask yourself: am I going to give every penny I got from this job to the British Legion or Help For Heroes, or am I going to jail?’

  A startled pause. ‘You – you’re threatening me?’

  ‘That’s right.’

  Anger flared in the older man’s eyes – and defiance. ‘You’ve got no proof.’

  Eddie took out the business card. ‘You dealt with de Quesada.’

  ‘Anyone could have given him that card. Besides, he’s an alleged drug lord, not a convicted one.’

  ‘Well, he’s a dead drug lord now.’

  Larry’s expression hovered between surprise and relief. ‘So you’ve got even less proof that I had anything to do with him.’

  ‘Interpol’s got his records. And why do you think I kept your card in a plastic bag? So they can get fingerprints off it. Yours and de Quesada’s.’

  ‘So . . . they haven’t actually fingerprinted it yet?’

  ‘Not yet. But I’ll give it back to them if you don’t make a very large donation to charity in the next few days.’ He returned the card to his pocket. ‘I’m giving you a chance here, Dad. You do the right thing. Or I will.’

  Larry gulped down the last of his drink, fingers clenched tightly round the glass. ‘I’ll . . . think about it.’

  ‘Don’t think for too long.’ Eddie went to the door, looking back at his father with disdain. ‘Have a nice trip.’ With that, he left.

  Larry banged the empty glass down on the table and jumped up. He paced back and forth across the room, shaking with barely contained fury, before taking a long breath, and picking up his phone. He thumbed through the contact list and dialled a number.

  ‘This is Larry Chase,’ he said when he got a reply. ‘I need . . . I need to speak to Mr Stikes.’

  Nina had already returned to Caracas; Eddie flew back to meet her. She was understandably curious about his side trip to the Colombian capital, but he refused to tell her anything beyond its being connected to Stikes. However, they were both too tired to argue about it, flopping into the luxurious bed in their hotel suite and almost instantly falling asleep.

  As soon as Eddie was woken by voices from the next room the following morning, he realised that Nina had something more important occupying her mind than his excursion to Bogotá. Her excitement was clear even through the door. He got dressed and went through to the lounge, finding Nina sitting at a table with Macy, Osterhagen, Kit and even Mac. ‘What’s this, a remake of The Breakfast Club?’

  Nina hurriedly gulped a mouthful of toast, washing it down with a swig of coffee. ‘Mm, morning! Guess you slept well – you don’t normally get up this late.’

  ‘Well, yesterday was kind of knackering. Mornin’, all.’ He waved to the others, getting greetings in response. ‘Why didn’t you wake me?’

  ‘I thought you needed a lie-in. And you looked so sweet while you were asleep.’

  ‘Funny, I’ve seen Eddie when he’s asleep,’ said Mac, ‘and that’s not a word I would ever have used to describe him.’

  ‘Yeah, well, kipping with a bunch of sweaty, farting SAS blokes tends to make you scrunch your face up,’ Eddie retorted. He looked at the table, seeing the recovered khipu laid out on a long white board, and a jumble of notes in front of the three archaeologists. ‘So, have we got this thing figured out? Hope you’re going to wash your hands before you pick it up,’ he added to Nina, who was wolfing down another slice of buttered toast.

  She waved to Macy for a napkin. ‘Yeah, Leonard thinks he’s got something.’

  Eddie pulled up a chair and sat as Osterhagen, with deep bags under his eyes that suggested he had been working all night, held up a large photo of the map in Paititi. ‘We know the start point of the journey,’ the German explained. ‘Cuzco, of course, the centre of the Inca empire. And we know the end point – Paititi. What we needed were reference points along the way. If we could identify other known locations, it would allow us to work out the code shared between the map and the khipu - directions and distances.’

  Eddie nodded. ‘So what’s you found?’

  Osterhagen was about to speak when Macy enthusiastically cut in. ‘Only the biggest Inca landmark in the world,’ she said, waving at a blow-up of part of the painted wall. ‘Machu Picchu!’ She pointed out a small illustration amongst the markings, little more than a sketch: two rounded-off conical peaks, one large, one small, with lines presumably representing buildings at their bases. ‘It’s about seventy miles northwest of Cuzco, along a thing called the Inca Trail.’

  ‘I’ve travelled along it many times,’ said Osterhagen, trying to wrest back the discussion from the perky student. ‘I know the landmarks well. Now, the number of these markings here,’ he indicated part of the map, ‘correspond to the huacas along the Inca Trail between Cuzco and Machu Picchu.’

  ‘Huacas?’ said Eddie. ‘Sounds like an Inca puking.’

  Those who knew him well either smiled or let his attempt at a joke pass without comment; Osterhagen, however, seemed mildly affronted. ‘No, they are sacred sites,’ he said. ‘The Incas believed that certain places were of spiritual importance. Some were natural features like springs or mountain peaks, some were places of historical importance, and others were burial sites for mummies. Not all of them survived the Spanish conquest, because the Conquistadors tried to eradicate everything associated with the existing religions.’

  ‘But it’s kinda hard to destroy an entire mountain,’ Macy added. ‘A lot of them survived.’

  ‘Got you,’ Eddie said, examining the photographs. ‘You know where these things are today, so we can work backwards and say this marking means a burial site, or whatever.’

  ‘And the other part,’ said Nina, having wiped her fingers, ‘is the khipu.’ She indicated the leftmost section of the collection of knotted strings. ‘This part is a record of the first stage of their journey, as far as Machu Picchu. The number of strings matches the number of huacas on the map.’

  ‘A lot of landmarks,’ noted Eddie.

  ‘It was a long journey. It’s over a thousand miles from Cuzco to Paititi, and that’s as the crow flies – the Incas took an even longer route. You see this?’

  She pointed further along the Inca artefact’s woven spine. Although the strings were dirty and darkened by time, Eddie saw that the various strands were discernibly different. Those up to roughly two-thirds of the way along the khipu’s length were a variety of shades, mostly greys and browns and reds with greens and blues interspersed; beyond that point, they were almost entirely of the last two. ‘The colours change,’ he said. ‘What does that mean?’

  ‘We think,’ said Osterhagen, ‘the colours represent different types of terrain. This section here,’ he gestured at a cluster of grey strings in the first section of the khipu, ‘corresponds to the highlands along the Inca Trail leading to Machu Picchu. By going back towards Cuzco, we found that other colours match particular features of the landscape.’ He gently nudged one of the strands with a toothpick. ‘This shade of turquoise seems to represent river valleys, for example.’

  Eddie took a closer look. The string had multiple knots of different types along its length. ‘So the map tells you what landmarks to look for, the colours of the strings show you the terrain . . . so the knots are, what? Directions? Distances?’

  ‘Both, in a way,’ said Nina.

  ‘The Incas had a system of sacred routes radiating outwards from Cuzco,’ Osterhagen explained. ‘They were call
ed ceque pathways, and they connected all corners of the empire. Some were actual roads or paths, but most were just straight lines from one huaca to another. We knew that the pathways had ritual significance – the most important ones, the forty-one ceques around Cuzco, can be linked to the lunar calendar. But nobody has ever worked out how to connect all the others around the empire.’

  ‘Until now, at a guess,’ Eddie said, seeing that Nina was practically bouncing in her seat with excitement.

  ‘You got that right,’ she told him with a broad grin. ‘Leonard used the data he got by backtracking from Machu Picchu to Cuzco to figure out that the knots closest to the main cord give you directions, based on star charts – the Incas had a very advanced astronomical system.’

  ‘Not as good as the Egyptian one, though,’ Macy chipped in, defending the non-Cuban half of her heritage.

  ‘Maybe not, but still accurate enough to be usable for navigation. So that’s part of the key. And the other part is also on the khipu – the rest of the knots. The Inca numerical system was decimal, like ours, and on a khipu it worked like an abacus. The knots represent units, tens, hundreds and so on, depending on their position. If you know the system, you can tell what number’s recorded on a piece of string at a glance, or even by touch.’

  ‘Again, because I had reference points,’ said Osterhagen, ‘we were able to work out what the numbers meant. They are indeed distances. Nina calculated how they relate to huacas in the real world. In her head,’ he added, impressed.

  ‘So you know the total distance they travelled?’ asked Kit.

  ‘Something like seventeen hundred miles,’ Nina replied.

  ‘Jesus,’ said Eddie. ‘And you said it was a thousand miles in a straight line? Seven hundred miles is a hell of a detour.’

  ‘It’s because they were sticking to what they knew for most of it,’ Macy said. She opened up a large map of South America. ‘From Cuzco, they were pretty much heading northwest along the east side of the Andes. I guess they didn’t want to go into the jungle.’

  ‘But they had to eventually,’ added Nina. She pointed back at the section of the khipu where the coloured threads became predominantly green and blue. ‘We think the green ones represent jungle terrain. And the directions at the top of each string almost all indicate northeast. The blue ones, it seems likely that they mean to follow rivers.’

  ‘Makes sense,’ said Eddie. ‘Not a lot of other landmarks in the jungle.’

  ‘Especially if you’re used to living amongst mountains.’ She moved her finger back along the khipu. ‘So if we backtrack from Paititi, they covered long distances with comparatively few changes of direction . . . and then here’ – she indicated the point where the colour scheme reverted to the redder end of the spectrum – ‘is where they crossed from the Andes into the Amazon basin. But even up in the highlands, they were still heading mainly northeast . . . until here.’

  Eddie examined the strings she was pointing out. The exact meaning of the knots at their tops were a mystery to him, but he immediately saw what she meant: those to the right of her finger were tied right over left, while on the other side they were fastened left over right. ‘So that’s where they changed direction,’ he deduced. ‘They stopped following the Andes and went out into the jungle.’

  Nina nodded. ‘That’s the dogleg, where the extra seven hundred miles came from. And it’s something else too.’

  He could tell from her struggle to contain another smile that it was something big. Which, considering what they were looking for, could only be one thing. ‘El Dorado?’

  ‘El Doraaaa-do!’ she sang, showing him a blow-up of the painted city, the Punchaco – and the final piece of statue – at its heart. Mac chuckled at her unrestrained enthusiasm. ‘The number of huaca markings on the map before you get there is exactly the same as the number of strings on the khipu up to the point where they turn northeast. They left Cuzco, headed along the Andes, thought they’d found a safe place to hide the empire’s greatest treasures . . . then had to move again to avoid the Spanish. But they left some of the treasure behind. And now . . . we can find it.’

  Eddie gave her a genially mocking look. ‘What, you mean you haven’t already? I thought you were supposed to be good at this archaeology lark!’

  She pouted. ‘Well, we have only just had breakfast. At least give us until lunchtime!’

  It took rather longer than that, the process of calculating all the directions and distances represented by each thread of the khipu and then relating those to known huacas throughout Peru dragging on through the day. But Osterhagen’s knowledge of the country and its culture proved an enormous asset, even though he was at times on the verge of falling asleep at the table and had to be prodded awake by the two women. The Incas had illustrated on their map what were now known archaeological sites, and the German’s wealth of experience allowed the group to skip long sections of the trek, narrowing the possible location of the lost city each time.

  While Nina, Osterhagen and Macy worked in the lounge, Eddie made a phone call from the bedroom. ‘Hi, Nan.’

  ‘Edward!’ came the delighted voice from across the Atlantic. ‘It’s so wonderful to hear from you. How are you, my little lambchop?’ His grandmother sounded somewhat stronger than the last time they had spoken, if still a little breathless.

  ‘I’m fine, Nan. I was going to ask you the same thing.’

  ‘Oh, I feel a lot better, thank you. I still have to wear this silly mask, but hopefully not for much longer – oh, excuse me.’ She stifled a yawn. ‘I’m a bit tired.’

  ‘Sorry, I forgot about the time difference!’ England was five and a half hours ahead of Venezuela, making it past ten o’clock in Bournemouth. ‘I’ll call back another time.’

  ‘No, don’t be silly, Edward. It’s never a problem staying up to talk to you. Where are you ringing from?’

  ‘We’re in Venezuela, but probably won’t be for long. Nina’s on the trail of something.’

  ‘Venezuela!’ Nan said, alarmed. ‘Is it safe there? I saw all that trouble on the news.’

  ‘Yeah, we saw some of it too,’ said Eddie, smiling to himself. ‘But everything’s okay now.’

  ‘Oh, I’m glad. You do lead an exciting life. But when are you going to be in the newspapers, or on television? Everyone saw Nina in the Sphinx last year, but you were only in the background. Why didn’t you say something?’

  ‘I’m not much of one for publicity. Nina isn’t either,’ he added, ‘but she sort of gets stuck with it. Besides, who wants to be famous? I’d rather be rich.’

  ‘Well, you’d better get to work on that. And while you’re at it, some great-grandchildren for your old nan would be nice. Before I pop my clogs.’

  ‘Plenty of time for that, Nan,’ Eddie insisted. ‘But I’ll see what Nina thinks once we find what she’s after.’

  At that moment, Nina burst into the room. ‘Eddie, Eddie!’ she said in excitement. ‘We’ve found it! Come and see!’ She rushed back out.

  ‘She doesn’t waste time, does she?’ said Nan, amused. ‘So, about those great-grandchildren . . . ’

  ‘Eddie!’

  He sighed. ‘I’d better go, before she drags me out. But I’ll call you again when I get the chance.’

  ‘That’ll be lovely. Will you be coming back to England? I’d love to see you again.’

  ‘Yeah, soon as I can. I’ll take you for another walk down to the sea.’

  ‘I can’t wait. Talk to you again soon, Edward. Love you.’

  ‘Love you too,’ he replied. ‘Bye.’

  ‘Goodbye, love.’

  He hung up, then went into the lounge just as Mac and Kit entered. ‘We were summoned,’ Mac told him wryly.

  The three men joined the archaeologists at the table. ‘So, what’ve we got?’ Eddie asked.

  ‘This is where we’re looking,’ said Nina, tapping a map of Peru. The area beneath her fingernail was in the Amazonas region, south of the border with Ecuador, on the eastern
flank of the Andes. ‘Leonard worked out that one of the last places the Incas visited en route was Kuélap, which is a pretty amazing fortress near Chachapoyas.’ She flipped open a reference book to show her audience a picture of its imposing outer wall.

  ‘Impressive,’ said Mac. ‘And it looks in good shape, too. Did the Spanish discover it?’

  ‘Actually, no,’ Osterhagen told him. ‘Even though they reached that region, they never found it – which is why it has survived so well.’

  ‘Which makes it more likely that they never found El Dorado either,’ said Nina. ‘The whole region is cloud forest; high-altitude jungle. Very few inhabitants, now or then – and lots of places to hide.’

  ‘So how close have you got to finding it?’ Eddie asked.