by Jack Du Brul
The explosion was muffled by distance and the way the charges had been pressed into fissures in the rock. A gout of dust and rock shards blew from the face of the dam and water glinted like diamond chips as it flew away from the detonation. The blast wave shocked hundreds of birds into flight and caused a riot of shrieking animals as it boomed down the valley. With the rolling thunder dying away, the party could hear the earth groaning as tremendous weights shifted inside the stone façade.
And then they noticed that there was more water flowing at the base of the falls than was going over its top. It was negligible at first but grew steadily until water gushed from the hole cleared by the explosives. As they watched, the force of water expanded the gap by clawing away more loose boulders. And by increasing the hole, more water was allowed through, which eroded more of the stonework. A large section of the dam cracked, geysers of water spouting from around its edges, and then it collapsed completely, sweeping away tons more material.
The carefully placed stones next to the rushing torrent were sucked into the maelstrom and swept down the valley. The banks of the River of Ruin were overwhelmed. Everything that once lined it was caught in the flood and uprooted. Trees were smashed down and stands of jungle were ripped away by the unrelenting flood. More of the dam broke away, huge crashes of stone and water that shook the earth.
Like stormwater flowing through a drain, the water gushed through the opening, allowed to follow its natural course for the first time in hundreds of years. It was mesmerizing to watch, the force of that much water released all at once, and the party stood rooted for nearly an hour just to absorb it.
The deluge drew down the level of the lake much faster than Mercer had predicted. He’d used the Manning hydrology formula to determine that the billion-plus cubic feet of water in the lake would need about eight hours to drain away, but it appeared his resistance figures were off. Water flow was greater than the fifty thousand cubic feet per second he’d estimated.
He shot a furtive glance back at the little island in the center of the vanishing lake. As the level dropped and the shore of the lake seemed to retreat, more of the island was exposed. Already the spot where he had hidden Gary’s boat that fateful night was ten feet from the water’s edge.
“There’s no sense standing here,” he said at last. “Why don’t we take the boats out to the island to wait.”
They headed back. Where once the lake lapped just feet from the camp, they were confronted by an expanse of mud flats that dropped sharply to the retreating water. Much of it was so unstable that sheets of it oozed downward. The pier looked oddly out of place sitting alone on its pontoon barrels high above the shoreline. The three boats had drifted at the end of their tethers as the current tried to suck them down the ruined dam. Had Foch not lengthened the painters, the little craft would have been high and dry by now.
He and Rabidoux drew the boats back toward the shore and helped the party into them. Carmen had no interest in joining them so she remained behind with her children, although nothing could keep Miguel from the adventure. They motored out and circled the island once looking for evidence of a cave. That they didn’t see anything didn’t dampen their expectant mood.
The boats were beached and everyone was forced to wade through the clinging mud to reach high ground. Harry had the worst of it because of his fake leg and needed Foch and Mercer to help him. More beers and a Coke for Miguel were dispensed from the cooler they’d brought. Roddy also passed out sandwiches that Carmen had made for the occasion.
The conversation drifted from a recount of what had happened to the canal for the benefit of Parada and his companions to the possibility of finding the legendary treasure. Every half hour or so one of the group would excuse themselves and walk around the island, keeping clear of the mud by stepping along its old shoreline. As the sun sank toward the horizon, Mercer announced he would make one last circuit and that afterward they should head back to the camp to wait out the night and return in the morning. Lauren got to her feet as Mercer set off.
“Mind some company?” She grinned, taking his hand.
“Not one bit.”
They got no more than a minute from camp when Mercer stopped suddenly. Lauren turned to him, tilting her head, expecting to be kissed. She opened her eyes after a second, piqued that Mercer hadn’t gone through with it. He wasn’t even looking at her. His attention was riveted to a strange rock formation slowly emerging as the water receded. “What is it?”
“Pay dirt.”
“A cave?”
“I think so. It might take another hour to be sure. The water’s still hiding a lot of it.”
Even before they could return to tell the others, Professor Parada and Roddy had come out to see what was taking so long. A minute later they all made their way down the muddy shore. The morass was thick and stunk of rot.
They had to circle around the projection of rock that hid the cave and wade through water up to their knees to reach the entrance. The cavern was roughly thirty feet wide and about six tall, a black mouth that led into the earth. The rocks were cool and slick. Mercer was the only one to remember a flashlight.
Holding it in front of him, he stepped into the entrance, feeling along the stone floor with his feet to make sure it didn’t drop away suddenly. Water dripped from the ceiling like rain. Lauren joined him, keeping behind him to step where he stepped.
The floor vanished. Mercer probed out with his foot, feeling underwater, and found a step six inches down. He found another and another. He was on a staircase that disappeared into the murky water. He stopped when he was chest-deep.
“We might need diving gear after all,” Lauren remarked.
“No, the water’s dropping. I think there’s a subterranean outlet below us that will drain the cave. We just need to give it a little more time.”
In just a minute the water was down to his waist again and Mercer took another couple of steps. Lauren stayed a few stairs above him, shivering in the cold water. When he could, Mercer took another step.
“I think I reached the floor.” He turned to look back. The cave’s entrance, forty feet behind them, was ten feet over their heads. The others were silhouetted against the dim light filtering down the passage.
Somewhere in the darkness he heard water rushing through a small side passage, draining away as he’d predicted. The cavern was larger than the beam of his small light could reach. Mercer and Lauren moved to the right, trying to find a side wall. The water was still above their knees so neither saw the obstruction. Mercer hit it awkwardly, groped for balance and ended up knocking Lauren off her feet too.
He hit on his shoulder but the ground didn’t seem solid. More like landing on a patch of loose gravel than volcanic rock. He felt around under the water and picked up a handful of the pebbles.
“What is it?” Lauren asked.
Mercer shook water from the flashlight, cursing as it dimmed because it wasn’t waterproofed. He flashed the dying beam onto whatever he’d recovered from under the surface. Even in their rough form and shown in the poorest light there was no denying the green fire of the palmful of emeralds, the smallest of which was the size of an acorn.
“Oh my God!” Lauren felt around and came up with a double handful, letting them trickle from her fingers like marbles.
She scooped up more and let them fall across Mercer’s head. He did the same to her, twining mud and the precious stones into her wet hair, laughing.
He swiveled the beam and it just caressed a stack of small wooden casks. He half swam, half crawled over. The wood dissolved when he touched one of the crate’s lids. He worked it a second, opening a hole large enough to fit his hand. Inside, he recognized the soapy feel of the metal disks. He grabbed a bunch and tossed them to where Lauren was scooping mounds of emeralds over her legs. One of the coins landed on her lap. Like it was angered at being kept in the dark for so many centuries, the gold coin flashed harshly, a gilded spark like a mirror.
Lauren cried
in delight. “It’s all here, isn’t it?”
The flashlight finally died, though neither cared as they hugged each other in the chilly treasure store. They finally made their way back to the surface, crawling up the stairs until they could see by the surface light spilling down from the entrance. They were soaked, covered from head to toe in mud that glittered where emeralds and other gems stuck to them.
Parada met them at the top of the stairs. “What have you found?”
Like a dog, Mercer shook himself. Mud flew from him and splattered the group. Miguel laughed, Parada gasped, and Roddy whooped when he caught an emerald. “What we have found,” Mercer proclaimed, “is success.”
With the rest of their flashlights on shore, the group had no option but to return to the camp in the waning light. Carmen had started a fire to guide them, although they had to hike several hundred yards through the mud to reach the camp. The lake continued to drain through the shattered falls. By morning, it might be possible to walk to the cave, though they wouldn’t know until dawn.
Carmen had also had the foresight to recruit the two Panamanian guards to gather water in drums, one of which she’d placed near the fire to warm. Taking a five-gallon pail with them, the expedition members retreated to private tents for a quick sponge bath before returning to the fire for dinner and a great many celebratory drinks. The party went on long after midnight, with sleeping children curled on various laps.
Mercer helped Roddy gather his brood to take them to the tent he had commandeered for his family. Standing at the flap, Mercer took Roddy’s hand and held it palm up. Into it he dropped seven of the best emeralds he’d found in the cave. He’d hidden them in his pocket when he and Lauren were crawling for the surface.
“What’s this?” Roddy asked, a little drunk.
“For you.”
“No. I can’t. I have my job back now. I can provide for my family.”
“Then take them for Miguel. Use them to give him the kind of life he deserves.”
Roddy was subdued by alcohol and emotion. “I will take them for when he and my children go to college.” He put his arms around Mercer, hugging him tight. “You will always be like a father to him too, you know?”
“I know, but I can’t give him the stable home life you can, the love, the sense of family. This is the least I could do.”
Walking back to his tent, Mercer felt pride tinged with regret. He doubted he’d ever have children, but if he did he hoped to be as good a father, as good a man, as Roddy Herrara.
Lauren was waiting for him in his tent. She sat cross-legged on the bed, her back to him. With her T-shirt bunched at her hips, he was afforded a view of her bare backside where the beginning of the cleft divided the two hemispheres.
“If you’re here to turn down the bed,” Mercer said, startling her, “could you leave a few extra mints?”
She turned, peeking over her shoulder, her magical eyes glowing in the gauzy light thrown from a hurricane lamp. “I’m sorry, sir, only one per customer. I can get you extra pillows.”
“Oh, that’s okay. I’m a deep sleeper. I never notice my pillows.”
“You really think you’re sleeping tonight?”
Mercer kicked off his shoes and pulled his shirt over his head. He went to her, leaned close and kissed her mouth, pressing something he’d palmed against her lips with his tongue. Lauren recoiled and reached for the object. The stone was wet from their saliva, glinting and glittering. She sucked a quick breath and held it up to the light.
“I can’t keep this,” she asked in a little-girl voice, “can I?”
“I just gave a bunch to Roddy. I think you taking the best one we found is only fitting. You can make it into a ring.”
“Ring? You might know how to mine gems but you don’t know the first thing about setting them.” She continued to examine the fifty carat stone, delighting in the flashes of light that sparked through it. “For God’s sake, I could use it as a paperweight.”
Mercer kissed her again. “You can use it for anything you want.”
She drew him down to the bed so that he was next to her where she sat. Even without support, her breasts were perfectly formed and strained her shirt. “By the way,” Mercer said, “I’m inviting Roddy and his family to Washington for Christmas. Miguel wanted to know if you’d be there.”
She arched an eyebrow. “Just Miguel, or do you want me there too?”
“Well.” He drew out the word. “I was also thinking of inviting Foch and his boys. If you didn’t come the reunion wouldn’t be complete.”
She gave his shoulder a playful slap. “Is that the only reason you’d want me there?”
“I can’t imagine another,” Mercer deadpanned, and she struck him again. “Seriously, would you like to come?”
Lauren’s eyes clouded. “As much as I’d love to say yes, I can’t.”
Mercer blinked, stunned that she’d say no. “I thought you’d . . .”
“You forget I’m not like you,” she said softly, knowing she’d hurt him and wishing she hadn’t. “The army takes a dim view of soldiers who take off whenever they like. They even have a word for it: AWOL.”
“Yeah, but you do get vacations, and besides I think they’ll cut you some slack after what we’ve been through.”
She looked away. “Just the opposite is true. Army intelligence is already swarming this country helping the locals look for others involved in Liu’s operation. Felix Silvera-Arias is cooperating but it’s going to take a lot more than just him to take down President Quintero. I doubt I’ll be getting away for a long time.”
“Come on, Lauren, Christmas is months away.” Mercer couldn’t understand why she was being so obstinate.
“I managed to get away this weekend so we could spend some time together. We’ve both earned it, but after this I can’t make any promises.”
Mercer thought he understood. As strange as it was, and as much as it hurt, he was grateful for her honesty. This wasn’t about her job. It was about them needing time to put the past weeks into perspective. The roller-coaster ride was coming to an end, and both were too shaky to commit to ride another one together. He’d been in this situation before. However, he was usually the one making the excuses to get away. He understood a little better the pain he’d caused other women, but that didn’t make him think he’d made the wrong call then or that Lauren was wrong now.
“Then if a weekend is the best I can get from you,” he said more brightly than he felt, “I have no choice but to take it.”
She touched his cheek. “Are you hurt?”
“A little,” he admitted. “But I’ll get over it.”
Her hand drifted down to his bare chest, and lower still. “I know just what to do to speed your recovery.”
“Why, Miss Lauren,” he said in an atrocious parody of her Georgia accent. “I thought fine antebellum women such as yourself don’t do such things.”
Throwing one leg over his waist, Lauren stripped off her shirt and purred, “Now, Mr. Philip, hasn’t anyone ever shown you what they really mean by Southern hospitality?”
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
River of Ruin wouldn’t have been possible without a lot of assistance. Most important is my wife, Debbie, who let me go on a two-week cruise without her only a month after our wedding. How I pulled that off will remain a professional secret. I need to thank Captain Attilio Guerrini and his crew aboard the Dawn Princess. And in Panama, Jose Luis Fernandez and canal pilot George Allen for answering innumerable questions. What licenses I took in this novel are the result of my imagination, not their information.
I want to thank my nephew, Miguel Saunders, for letting me use his name, and my uncle Peter for teaching me how to turn a napkin into a rabbit, a trick he showed me when I was seven years old and have never forgotten. I also need to thank Doug Grad, my editor at New American Library. Not only did he know about the sewers of Paris, he’d taken his wife there. Talk about your true romantic.
The reader might
be interested to know that the VGAS cannon is currently under development. If anything, I’ve toned down its capabilities because what it can really do is almost too much to believe.
