Panama Pursuit

by Andreas Oertel

  “My ebook reader,” she said, answering our unspoken question. “I was reading all about Panama on the plane.”

  “There it is,” Eric said, pointing at the second last boat.

  Bruno studied the back of that vessel. “That is it,” he agreed. “And it has been reserved for our use.”

  “The Balboa looks kind of big for five people,” I said. It only had one level, or storey, or deck—or whatever it’s called—but I was sure it could carry a hundred people.

  Bruno shook his head. “No. I mean, it has been rented for the archaeologists to use for the duration of the dig. It is to ferry people and gear back and forth to the site. Other teams may be joining us shortly.”

  “Where exactly is the site, anyway?” Rachel asked.

  “Yeah,” Eric said, “is it far from here?”

  “Let’s get our gear on board first,” Bruno replied, “and I will show you the map.”

  We wound our way through the throngs of tourists, all waiting to take a day trip through the canal with one of the many tour boat companies. When we got to the Balboa we waited next to the gangplank until the captain saw us. He waved a greeting from the open window of his cramped wheelhouse, but didn’t bother coming out. The name painted on the door suggested he was Captain Cedric Pescada. He bellowed at a young man who was sleeping in the middle of a coiled rope as thick as my wrist. The deckhand sprang to attention and helped us stow our bags in the rear of the boat. His English was pretty good and he seemed friendly.

  “I would like to ask the captain if we can leave immediately,” Bruno said, “but I think it might be polite to wait an hour or so to see if any other teams show up.”

  We all wanted to get to the camp and begin sleuthing around as soon as possible, but it would seem odd if we demanded that a nearly empty boat leave immediately.

  “Show them the canal,” Anna said, “and Lake Gatun.”

  Bruno nodded. “Ahh, yes, the map.”

  The Balboa’s deck was covered with a canvas canopy that protected passengers from the tropical sun and rain. The sitting area was made up of row after row of plastic chairs fastened directly to the metal decking. Some of the rows had long, narrow tables in between so that people could eat or talk. We made ourselves comfortable around one of those tables.

  The deckhand came over and identified himself as Elvis de Tortuga. He saw the corners of Eric’s mouth twitch and quickly explained that his mother was a huge fan of Elvis Presley, the famous American singer. He asked Bruno if he could get anything for us, so Bruno gave him money to buy drinks and ice cream for everyone—including Elvis. His face lit up and he jumped into action. He leaped off the side of the boat and onto the dock without even bothering to use the ramp.

  “I think Elvis likes ice cream even more than you do, Eric,” Anna said.

  “I didn’t think that was possible,” Rachel said, “but you could be right.”

  By the time Bruno found his map, Elvis was back with a bag full of water bottles and ice cream sandwiches. We all thanked him and he drifted away to enjoy his ice cream and another nap.

  “Okay,” Bruno said, pinning down the corners of the map with our water bottles. “This is Panama.” He placed both palms on the map and smoothed the surface in every direction.

  “It’s not a very big country,” I said.

  “No, it isn’t. On a clear day you can stand in the mountains and see both oceans—the Pacific and the Atlantic. It’s quite remarkable, really.”

  “You’ve been here before?” Eric asked, licking ice cream from his knuckles.

  “Yes, I did some research here five years ago...” He stopped and looked at Anna. “Or was it six?”

  “It was six years ago, Papa.”

  “Oh,” Bruno said. “Yes, I suppose it was.”

  “And this is the Panama Canal here?” Rachel said, pointing to the narrowest part of the country.

  “Ja, yes,” Bruno said. “That is the famous Panama Canal—a man-made wonder of our world and an amazing feat of engineering.” He spoke with such admiration, we stayed quiet and stared at his finger as he traced the waterway. “It is seventy-seven kilometres long and has three sets of locks that use water from Lake Gatun to raise and lower ships,” he continued. “And when we leave here, the boat will take us north through the first set of locks and then into the canal system—”

  “North?” Eric interrupted. “Don’t you mean east? Doesn’t the Panama Canal connect the east and west—the Atlantic to the Pacific?”

  Bruno took several bites of his ice cream. “Excellent observation, Eric, but, no.” He twisted the map so that it was directly in front of Eric. “The country of Panama has a unique S-shape. The narrow strip of land where the canal is runs from the west to east, but the canal itself generally follows a north to south path. It confuses many travellers.”

  “Hmmm,” Eric murmured.

  “Show them where we are going,” Anna said, keeping her dad on track.

  “We are going... here.” His finger jabbed a spot on the map. “To the south end of Lake Gatun.”

  “That’s where they found the artifacts?” I asked.

  Bruno nodded.

  “Is that where Uncle Rudi is?” Anna asked.

  He nodded again.

  Eric cleared his throat. “And that’s where they’re rebuilding the locks?”

  “Actually, there are no locks right there,” Bruno said, “but this is an important section of the canal that must be widened and deepened.”

  A ship’s foghorn suddenly boomed and we all turned to look out across the harbour.

  “Holy smokes!” Eric cried. “Look at the size of that ship!”

  Eric and I raced to the railing on the side of the Balboa to watch a giant container ship packed so high with colourful boxes, it was hard to understand how it stayed upright. Two tugboats helped guide the monstrous boat into the Canal Zone. The girls and Bruno joined us a few seconds later.

  “Isn’t that amazing, Rach?” Eric asked his sister.

  “If a ship like that can fit through the canal,” I said to Bruno, “why do they need to make it bigger?”

  “Because there are many ships that are much, much larger,” Bruno said.

  “You gotta be kidding,” Eric said. “You mean there are boats bigger than that?” He pointed at the hulking vessel as it slipped down the channel. It looked so close, I felt I could reach out and touch it, yet it was over a kilometre away.

  “That ship,” Bruno said, “is called a Panamax and—”

  “How do you know that?” Rachel asked. “I still can’t see the back of it, where the names are painted.”

  Bruno laughed. “No, Rachel. Panamax is not the name of the boat. It is what all the maximum size ships on the Panama Canal are called. A vessel bigger than that cannot use the canal because it just won’t fit.”

  “So they’re making the canal wider and deeper for those ships,” I said.

  “Yes.” Bruno nodded and finished off his ice cream. “The supertankers, for example, have to travel all the way around South America right now. If they could use the canal they could shorten their journey by almost thirteen thousand kilometres.”

  “And save a ton of money on gas,” I said.

  “Wow!” Eric said. “This thing really is a shortcut.”

  “Told ya,” Rachel said.

  We watched from the railing as another ship—some sort of ore carrier—left the canal and headed out into the Pacific Ocean. Bruno explained that the canal had two lanes of locks so that ships could travel in both directions at the same time. I imagined it to be sort of like a water highway, which is exactly what it was starting to look like. As soon as one boat vanished, another seemed to appear like magic. It was crazy. After twenty minutes of watching a variety of different ships come and go, we
walked back to our table and sat around the map again.

  “Now,” Bruno said, “where was I?”

  “Lake Gatun,” Rachel said.

  “Yes. When we leave here, we will head to the first set of locks at Miraflores.” He began pointing at locations on the map. “Next we will use the Pedro Miguel Locks, and from there we will cruise through the man-made Gaillard Cut to Lake Gatun. We won’t see the third or last set of locks at Gatun, because they are on the north end of the lake and we aren’t going that far.”

  We all murmured that we understood.

  “And the artifacts were found here,” Bruno said, poking the map again, “and that is where the camp is.”

  “It looks kind of isolated,” I said.

  “It is,” Bruno agreed. “Everything we need must be brought in to the camp by boats or barges using the canal.”

  No one said anything for a minute. We were all staring at the map and the tracts of jungle that surrounded Lake Gatun.

  Bruno broke the silence and answered the question we were probably all thinking. “The archaeologists will be exploring a narrow strip of land, right between a dense rain forest and one of the busiest shipping lanes in the world. And the five of us will be looking for clues to try and figure out why Rudi is accused of theft.”

  “No problem,” Eric said. “I just wish I had one of those goofy hats. I’d really feel like a detective with one of those hats that have the visor on the front and the back, and the side flaps that you tie up on top.”

  We laughed lightly at Eric’s silliness, but we also knew we’d be racing against time to help Rudi. Bruno explained earlier that if Rudi didn’t return the artifacts within three days, or confess where he hid them, the police would take him to Panama City and officially charge him. And since he didn’t steal or hide anything, there was nothing he could do. The bottom line was, we had to hurry and figure out what was happening.

  After two hours of patiently waiting for other team members to show, Bruno had enough and went to the wheelhouse to speak to the captain. I could have easily hung out in the shade for another hour watching the ship traffic, but Bruno was looking kind of restless and twitchy. I suspected he wanted to talk to his brother ASAP. And who could blame him? Plus, I’m sure he didn’t want to have to pitch a tent in the jungle in the middle of the night with four kids. Can’t blame him for that either. With my luck I’d set up our tent on a mound of poisonous ants, or next to a huge snake, or... Well, you get the idea.

  I saw Captain Pescada nod at Bruno, and a few seconds later the engines rumbled to life beneath the deck.

  “Here we go,” Eric said.

  Elvis was about to untie the ropes that held us in place, when we heard shouts from the dock.

  “WAIT!” A voice called out. “Don’t leave yet!”

  A few seconds later, seven people jostled aboard the Balboa. They mumbled their thanks and appreciation to the captain as they settled themselves.

  Bruno seemed to recognize one of the adults and walked over to embrace a tall, lanky man in his sixties who wore thick glasses. They hugged each other enthusiastically like long lost friends. The other grown-up—a much younger man—waited patiently for the reunion to end.

  All five kids on the team waved hello to us, but only one came over to visit. The rest stretched out on the rows of empty seats and seemed to fall asleep.

  “Wow, that was a close call,” the boy said when he was next to our table. “But I’m sure happy we got here before the boat left. I’m Ben, by the way, Ben Boswick.” He held out his hand and we all took turns shaking it.

  I explained who we were and where we were from.

  Ben nodded. “Our team is from the United States. I live in Houston, Texas, and those guys are from Seattle and New York.”

  “Your friends seem very tired,” Anna said.

  “Who?” Ben asked. “Oh, right. Actually, I only just met them at the Panama City airport. They seem like nice guys, but they’re not my friends.”

  “But how come they’re so sleepy?” Rachel asked.

  “They had a much longer flight than I did. And they said they had a lot of stopovers and delays.” Ben adjusted his glasses, looked over at his travelling companions, and laughed. “But I’m way too excited to sleep. Panama is awesome!” His Texan accent reminded me of cowboys in western movies.

  “We can see that,” Anna said pleasantly. “Why don’t you sit with us and relax.”

  Ben grinned. He was about as tall as Eric and had the same blond hair. He took a deep breath and sat down beside Rachel and across from me. “Yeah, I guess I am pretty pumped,” he admitted. “But I just can’t wait to see those skulls!”

  “What skulls?” Eric said.

  Captain Pescada, who had been helping Elvis remove the gangplank, suddenly appeared next to our table. He opened his mouth to say something, but then changed his mind and went back to the wheelhouse. That was weird, I thought. The boat shuddered a few seconds later, and we began to move away from the docks.

  “Are you guys kidding me?” Ben asked when the Balboa was out in the channel. “You didn’t hear what they found?”

  “No,” Anna said, “we’ve been travelling too. What did they find?”

  Ben leaned over the table and glanced around the nearly empty boat—like whatever he was about to say was a huge secret. “Crystal skulls,” he whispered. “They discovered crystal skulls.”

  Chapter 3

  “YOU’RE JOKING,” ERIC blurted.

  “What?” Ben frowned and looked slightly hurt. “No, I swear. I checked the Kids Dig It website a few days ago. They posted an announcement that huge pieces from a broken crystal skull—two skulls, actually—were found at the dig site. They were buried under the floor of an ancient house.”

  We all stared at Ben, not knowing what to say next. We were stunned that we had met someone who might have information on the items Rudi was accused of stealing. And we weren’t even at the camp yet. But I suppose Ben thought we still didn’t believe him.

  He jumped up and said, “I’ll show you guys the pictures. I printed them.”

  When Ben was out of earshot and rooting through his bag, I leaned over the table and whispered, “There’s no way that’s a coincidence. Those skulls he’s talking about must be the same ones Rudi is accused of stealing.”

  Anna and Rachel nodded.

  “This is our first big break in the case,” Eric said. “We need to find out everything we can about those crystal skulls.”

  “Should we tell Ben what has happened with Uncle Rudi?” Anna asked.

  “I think we can trust him,” Rachel said. “He can’t be involved in anything, because he wasn’t there when the skull was found, or when it disappeared.”

  “The more important question is: will Ben believe us?” I pointed out.

  “Will I believe what?” Ben asked. He was so quick to return to our table with the pictures, we didn’t hear him approach. “Will I believe what?” he repeated.

  So we decided we had to trust him and started telling him our story. We began by explaining who we were and who Bruno and Rudi were. And we ended by telling Ben how, for some reason, Rudi was locked up at the camp and accused of stealing pieces of crystal skulls.

  Ben sat and considered what we said quietly. Listening to us take turns telling the story, I had to admit the whole thing sounded nutty. When we finished, a tense minute of silence followed. I was sure he was going to laugh at us or get up and leave, but instead he turned to Anna and said, “We have to figure out who framed your uncle.”

  We all sighed with relief. We now had another investigator on our team.

  “So you believe us?” Rachel asked.

  “Well, yeah. Why would anyone make up a story like that?”

  “So what’s the deal with the crystal skulls?” I asked.
“Can you tell us what you know?”

  “Are they like the ones in the movies?” Eric said.

  Ben unfolded a crumpled piece of paper and tried to smooth it out with his hands. “This is what they found at Camp Gatun,” he said. “And this must be what Rudi is accused of stealing.”

  “Whoa!” Eric said, staring at the colour printout of two skulls.

  I leaned over and studied the paper. The page was spilt into two photographs. One picture was of three pieces of a crystal skull. The pieces were placed close together so that anyone could see they formed the original skull. The crystal skull in the second image was broken into seven pieces, but still, there was no doubt they could all be glued together to make another head.

  Ben pointed at the paper. “Neither one of these skulls was completely finished. The website said that they think the artist was working on the final details when they broke, or cracked, or whatever happened.”

  “I always thought crystal skulls were just a myth,” Anna said.

  “Crystal skulls are real,” Ben said, “but ancient crystal skulls are a myth.”

  “I don’t get it,” Eric said.

  “I know, it’s confusing,” Ben admitted. “But if these artifacts are real, and if this”—he tapped the paper again—“is a genuine crystal skull, properly found and documented, that’s a huge deal.”

  The four of us were quiet for a few minutes. It was pretty clear that Ben knew a lot about crystal skulls. I sat back and watched as the Balboa followed two other tour boats into the locks at Miraflores.

  Finally, Rachel broke the silence. “But why—why is a crystal skull such an important find?”

  Ben was so excited, I don’t think he even realized our boat was about to be raised by the first set of locks. “Okay, where should I start?” He took a deep breath and looked around. “Hey! We’re being lifted.”

  Anna and Rachel laughed, but Eric and I frowned, wanting to hear more about the skulls.

  I looked behind me and saw that Bruno and the two other archaeologists were now talking excitedly around another table. He was probably filling them in on Rudi’s predicament too. “Tell us more about the skulls,” I said quietly.