by Darren Hale
‘I’m going to need some help.’
The professor slipped his notepad back into his pocket, then turned to face him. ‘Ahh, Angus my lad… Good to see you. Where’s Simon? We have much to talk about.’
‘They’re about half an hour behind me,’ Angus replied. ‘We had a bit of an accident along the way.’
The professor slipped the pipe from his mouth. ‘No one seriously hurt I hope.’
‘Only Simon… He’s been stung pretty badly, but is otherwise okay.’
‘Stung?’ The professor cocked an eyebrow.
‘I’ll have to explain later,’ said Angus hurriedly. The light was failing fast now the sun had dipped beyond the trees. ‘Most of the equipment is back at the boats, so I’m going to need a few extra hands to go help me collect it, before we lose the light. If that’s okay with you?’
‘Fine… fine… Take what you need.’ The professor tapped the mouthpiece of his pipe against his watch. ‘But you’d better get a move on. It gets dark pretty quickly around here.’
******
‘Here you go… Home sweet home,’ said Angus cheerily.
‘Whatever they have to offer – I’ll take it,’ said Simon, lowering himself onto a recently hewn stump. The clearing was littered with the corpses of trees; mighty Ironwoods, fragrant cedars, and ageing mahoganies, hastily decapitated to make way for the camp. And, though the carnage might have been an affront to nature, it had been a welcome sight to Simon’s eyes. Though the pills had settled the worst of the pain, he still ached from head to toe, and had relied heavily upon Catherine’s shoulder for support during their slow trek through the jungle.
‘Heavens Simon you look dreadful!’ exclaimed the professor, as he strode into view, twigs and shoots snapping with loud retorts beneath the treads of his heavy walking boots. ‘What the devil have you been up to?’
‘I had an unfortunate encounter with a swarm of angry wasps.’
‘Damn fool thing to go and do, don’t you think?’
Simon forced a smile. ‘I’ll certainly be more careful in the future.’
‘See that you do. The jungle is not very forgiving you know.’ The professor turned to face Catherine. ‘And you must be the lovely Catherine, I presume, since I seem to recognise the other young ladies in this group.’
Catherine smiled, unsure what to make of him. The man was wearing thick army surplus socks rolled over the legs of faded green corduroy trousers, and an incongruously bright Hawaiian shirt; his face was a piece of worn granite, cracked and lined through years of exposure, from which a thick beard sprouted like moss; and he was wearing a wide-brimmed straw hat over tousled orange hair, while a pipe hung limply from the corner of his mouth. He looked like something out of an Arthur Conan Doyle novel: Sherlock Holmes and Professor Challenger rolled into one.
‘And as I’m sure Simon will testify, it would seem that we have use for a medic here after all,’ he continued, extending his arm and shaking her warmly by the hand. ‘Which leaves just one other person I’ve not yet met.’ His expression turned sour as his eyes fell upon Martin. ‘And that would be you, I presume… Martin Bennett, the yank botanist I’ve been hearing too much about?’
Martin nodded. ‘That would be me…’
‘Yes… And it would seem that I have only God to thank for that. I am of course, well aware that your company has provided us with a good deal of funding for this expedition, Nevertheless, I don’t want you to think for one-minute that it puts you in charge. I expect you to stay well out of my way – understood?’
‘No problem,’ Martin agreed. He did not appear to have been the slightest bit perturbed by the professor’s outburst.
‘Good…’
Juliet frowned. ‘Now then Professor, be nice. If you don’t calm down, you’re going to burst a blood vessel,’ she said chidingly.
The professor’s face softened to a gentle scowl. ‘You’re right my dear. Perhaps it would be best if we got you all settled in. Follow me,’ he said, before trudging off through the clearing, without pausing to see if anyone was following.
9
Sunday 17th September:
‘Excuse me sir…’
The officer stood nervously in the doorway, brandishing a worn and dusty leather bag.
The police chief looked up from his desk. The remnants of a half-consumed sandwich lay scattered on grease-stained sheets of paper, oily slivers of meat seeping from between the folds of bread. ‘Yes, what is it?’ he asked, irascibly wiping crumbs from the whiskers of his moustache.
‘One of the men found this abandoned in an alleyway a few days ago. Sadly, he did not feel the need to report it at the time.’ The officer hesitated, conscious that Iquitos’ Chief of Police did not like being interrupted while he was eating, and much less so, when the news was likely to upset him. ‘I thought you might be interested.’
‘And what makes you think that I would be interested in a piece of lost property?’
The officer reached inside the bag and withdrew the folded pages of a letter.
The police chief licked the remaining smears of sauce from his fingers, then wiped them against the pockets of his shirt. ‘Let me see that,’ he said, reaching for the letter.
‘It appears to be the property of one of the women travelling with that expedition to the Napo River,’ the officer explained.
‘With the arrogant Englishman?’
‘Yes Sir. My English is not very good, so I had Ortez translate it. It appears that the Englishman has found a ruined city somewhere along the Tamboryacu river.’
The police chief swore beneath his breath. ‘Do we know where exactly?’
‘Yes sir. Fortunately for us, she was kind enough to mark the location on a map.’ He located the tatty travel guide lying in her bag and opened it at the map in the front pages, then pointed to the bright red circle scrawled next to the river.
The police chief smashed his fist down on the table, setting papers dancing and fluttering across its surface. ‘Damn the fools. Have you informed our friends?’
‘Not yet Sir, I wanted to inform you first.’
‘Thank you… You have done well in bringing this to my attention.’
10
Sunday 17th September:
‘I’m not entirely sure I like this idea,’ Juliet moaned.
‘Like what idea?’
‘These tents… It seems to me that just about anything could get in here if it wanted to,’ she protested.
‘I’m guessing that’s what the mosquito netting’s for,’ said Catherine hesitantly. Juliet was right. Referring to their sleeping quarters as a tent was perhaps being a touch over generous. It looked like it had come from an army surplus store, circa the second world war, and someone had run out of canvas about a foot above the ground, giving open access to any creepy-crawlies that wanted a way in. And the furnishings were no better… A pair of hammocks hanging about three feet off the ground, shrouded in layers of mosquito netting, and a number of plastic boxes in which they would stow their belongings.
‘And what if something bigger and hungrier comes along? What then? Mosquito netting isn’t going to do much to protect us from a jaguar now is it.’
‘I saw a few fires being built around the campsite,’ Catherine assured her. ‘I’m sure they’d be enough to frighten away anything larger. Besides… If anything did come visiting, it’s going to be more afraid of us, than we are of it…’
‘Really…?’ Juliet did not appear convinced. ‘Why do they say that? I guarantee that if a Jaguar comes poking its head round the corner of this tent tonight, I am going to be a lot more afraid than it is!’
Catherine started to unpack the content of her rucksack into one of the plastic boxes. ‘You seem to have the professor well under control,’ she observed, changing the subject.
Juliet giggled. ‘The professor’s a doll once you get to know him. I used to be a student of his, so you could say I’ve gotten to know his ways. All you have to do is flash your eyeli
ds and smile sweetly, and he’s putty in your hands.’ She fluttered her eyelids demonstratively. ‘Of course, it’s a technique that doesn’t work so well for the boys.’
Catherine laughed.
A silhouetted figure appeared at the front of the tent and rapped its knuckles against the stiff plastic sheeting. ‘How are you girls getting along?’
‘We’re decent… You can come in if you want,’ said Catherine, having instantly recognised Angus’s voice.
He pulled the sheeting aside and stepped into the tent.
‘Can we help you?’ Juliet enquired.
‘Maybe later if you like,’ he remarked with a suggestive grin.
Juliet’s cheeks flushed with embarrassment. ‘Angus!’
‘But seriously ladies… If you’re done propositioning me… The prof wants to see everyone in the dining tent in five minutes, so he can get us up to speed.’
‘Thank you. We’ll be there,’ Catherine assured him.
Angus gave Juliet an impish wink, then turned and left.
Catherine rounded on Juliet. ‘Surely not!’
‘Not what?’
‘Please tell me you don’t fancy Angus!’
Juliet blushed though the affect was not so noticeable in the lamplight. ‘Why not… he’s kind of ruggedly good-looking don’t you think?’
Catherine shook her head in disbelief. ‘The man is an animal, with a vocabulary that would make a sailor blush.’
‘Yes, but he’s harmless really. Anyway, it’s not as if there’s much choice out here, now is it…’
The dining tent was much larger than their own, but of similarly unimaginative design. Electric lamps hung from the roof, drawing power from the small diesel generator that chugged noisily outside as they cast their flickering illumination across those gathered inside. It stood just a short walk from their tent, nevertheless, Catherine and Juliet had been the last to arrive, having exercised their right to finish unpacking first. They pulled up chairs next to one of the trestle tables and sat down.
‘Nice of you ladies to join us,’ said the professor, with just a hint of sarcasm. ‘I realise you’re probably all rather weary after your arduous journey, but I beg your indulgence as I make a few important introductions before giving you a lowdown on our situation here.’ He paused before continuing. ‘First of all, let me welcome the members of Simon’s team. Regrettably, Simon himself is unable to join us this evening. I gather he is somewhat the worse for wear, following a brief pause to familiarise himself with some of the local wildlife.’
Angus sniggered.
‘The first and arguably the most important introduction to make, is that of Arno, the camp’s cook…’
The professor’s words drew a grin from one of the figures nearby; a strapping young man, muscles tightly bound within his modest five-foot-eight-inch frame.
‘Hmmm – I think I like him,’ Juliet whispered.
Catherine jabbed her with an elbow. ‘Shush… Can’t you keep your hormones under control for just one moment?’
‘… And, as soon as I’m done shooting my mouth off, he’ll be providing dinner for those who want it. Arno is also our resident hunter and likes to supplement our diet with a range of… shall we say… fresh produce.’ He turned. ‘And hiding away at the back of the room, we have Carmen D’Souza from the Larco Archaeological Museum in Lima, an expert in ancient Mayan civilisations.’
Carmen acknowledged him with a smile. As far as Catherine could discern, the woman was somewhere in her mid-to-late twenties and had a figure that made her deeply envious; trim and athletic; and with skin that glowed like beaten copper in the lamplight. She was dressed in a simple pair of stonewashed jeans and rather drab khaki-coloured shirt.
‘And last but not least, we have Miguel – our resident Mr Fix-it.’ The professor’s face turned grim. ‘Okay, that takes care of the pleasantries, so now for the bad news.’ He paused, as if uncertain how to continue. ‘The Peruvian government has only given us another three months to complete our preliminary investigation of this site.’
A groan went up around the room.
‘With a bit of luck, we’ll be able to persuade them to extend our visas, but in the meantime we must do our best to acquire as much information as possible, and save as many artefacts as we can.’ He took a deep breath. ‘Unfortunately for us, these time constraints are not conducive with the best archaeological practice… Nevertheless, we must do the best job we can. Now that this site’s been uncovered, it won’t be long before those parasite grave-robbers move in to pick it clean.’ He picked up his pipe and charged it with a fresh load of tobacco before gently tamping it down with his finger. ‘I am, however, hopeful that the new GPR systems that Simon and his team have brought with them, along with Angus rather unorthodox seismic detection system, will allow us to locate those areas that will yield the best results.’ He raised the pipe to his lips. ‘So, enjoy your meal. It’s going to be an early start in the morning.’
Catherine turned to Juliet. ‘And what exactly is a GPR system?’
‘Ground Penetrating Radar…’ Juliet explained. ‘It’s a system that uses radar beams to detect buried objects.’
‘Like a metal detector?’
Juliet shook her head. ‘Not exactly… A GPR system can detect buried objects, whether or not they’re made of metal.’
‘And seismic surveying?’
‘…Is Angus’s baby. You’d have to ask him… Though it basically involves a lot of blowing things up – isn’t that right Angus?’ She looked across to the next table where Angus was busily chewing on the stump of a cocktail stick.
‘Yeh – sounds about right,’ he said, acknowledging her with a shrug.
‘The principle’s similar to GPR,’ Rufus interjected helpfully. ‘By setting off small explosive charges in the ground and measuring the time it takes the shockwaves to then reach a network of detectors, you can estimate the density of the intervening soil. It’s rather crude and won’t detect anything smaller than an armchair, but it can be used to “sift” large areas of ground in a relatively short space of time.’
‘Bollocks is it crude!’ Angus protested. ‘And unlike the GPR sensors, it doesn’t much care whether the ground is covered in twigs, leaves, or trees, which I’m thinking might be something of an advantage around here.’
Juliet gave him a pouting smile. ‘Easy there, Angus… I’m sure we all appreciate your genius. Now didn’t the prof say something about food?’
11
Monday 18th September:
It was barely six o’clock in the morning, yet the first dappled light was upon them. The air was rich with the scent of cedar flower, and cotton wool mists clung tenaciously to the trunks of the trees. It had been a long first night.
Catherine turned to face a rather bedraggled looking Juliet and wished her a “good morning”. ‘Sleep well?’ she enquired capriciously, knowing full well that Juliet’s night had been no better than her own. She’d woken many a time to witness the flitting beam of Juliet’s torch chasing phantoms about the tent.
Juliet shucked her head from her pillow. Her eyes were like dark hollows, leaving Catherine to wonder if she’d slept at all ‘And you’re asking because it looks like I’ve just stepped out of an advert for Vidal Sassoon? And what was that dreadful animal roaring in the night?’ she asked. ‘I half expected to see it wandering through the tent, it sounded so close.’
‘You mean the howler monkeys? It sounds like we’ve got a troupe of them living near here.’
‘Monkeys made all that noise?’ said Juliet incredulously.
‘Ah ha… Noisy devils aren’t they!’
‘So, how am I ever supposed to get any sleep in this place? If it’s not the bugs chittering, it’s monkeys screaming!’
Catherine regarded her sympathetically. ‘Sounds like you could do with some coffee?’
‘Yes – I think that sounds like a very good idea,’ Juliet agreed.
Having dressed, they arrived at the dining t
ent to find large pots of tea and coffee waiting for them, along with a simple buffet of fruits and cereals. They helped themselves to generous mugs of coffee and a few slices of mango and banana.
‘Good morning ladies. Nice to see you so bright and early. I trust you slept well?’ said the professor breezily, as he strode in to join them.
Juliet yawned. ‘Actually, I think it’s going to take a whole lot of coffee before we’re up to much.’
The professor smiled knowingly. ‘Don’t worry, it took me a while to get used to it too. But give it a week or two and you’ll be sleeping like babies. In the meantime, I’m sure you’ll find there is ample coffee…’
Juliet gave him a weak smile. ‘Thank you, professor, you’re all heart.’
They ate in silence as their colleagues drifted in one by one, the newcomers from the Amazon Queen easily identifiable thanks to their dark, sunken eyes, and propensity to yawn at frequent intervals.
‘Okay then… If I can have your attention,’ said the professor, once they’d all finished their breakfast. ‘If Rufus and Marina would like to join me for a brief tour of the site, the rest of you can get started on the ground survey. ‘He turned towards Catherine. ‘You are of course welcome to join us – unless you have something more important to do?’
Catherine smiled. She currently had just one patient – Simon – and pursuant to her orders, he’d remained in his tent, doped on a cocktail of painkillers and antihistamines. ‘I would love to join you – if that’s okay.’
‘And what about you Martin. Would you like to come too?’ The professor’s face was not as welcoming as his words.
Martin declined with a shake of his head. ‘No thank you Professor. If it’s okay with you, I’d like to check on my equipment and make sure it survived the journey intact.’
‘Very well then.’ The professor turned on his heel and marched towards the exit. ‘If the rest of you would like to follow me – we’ll get going.’
