“Good thinking,” I said.
Rachel and I waited for Ben to turn on his invisible flashlight beam and his modified binoculars. He held the powerful spotlight in one hand, and with the other hand he pressed the binoculars up to his eyes. As soon as I turned my flashlight off, Rachel and I each placed a hand on Ben’s shoulders. Ben led us slowly toward the dock. I couldn’t see where my feet were walking, but after a few minutes I sensed we were getting close. A refreshing breeze off Lake Gatun began to hit us in the face and felt terrific.
“Hey,” Rachel whispered, “there’s a boat.”
Through the trees we caught flashes of tiny running lights as another giant ship navigated the tricky turn into the canal.
Ben stopped and did a thorough sweep of the area with the NightHawk. His shoulders suddenly tensed under my hand. Rachel must have felt it too.
“What’s wrong?” she asked.
“This is bizarre,” Ben mumbled. “It just keeps getting weirder and weirder.”
“What’s so weird?” I asked. “What do you see?”
“Well,” he said, “the good news is, there’s no one on the dock.”
“Okay,” I said, “that’s good.”
“But the bad news is, the Balboa is now on the other side of the canal and tied to a tree—to the very same tree that guy was hiding behind.”
Chapter 6
“SO ANNA WAS right,” Rachel said. “That guy was waiting to steal the Balboa—and now he has her.”
“We better go tell the camp director,” I said.
Ben passed me the binoculars, but continued to aim the IR spotlight across the water. “You guys might wanna take a look first—before we report that the boat got pinched.”
I took the binoculars from Ben and looked at the area he was illuminating with the NightHawk. All the Balboa’s lights were turned off, but she was clearly visible in the eerie green monochromatic display of the binoculars. “I don’t see anything suspicious,” I said slowly. “There’s the boat... There’s the big tree we saw this afternoon... and... Hey, wait a minute! There’s Captain Pescada!”
“What?” Rachel said. “They took the captain hostage?”
“No, he’s definitely not a prisoner.” I gave Rachel the glasses. “He’s over there with Elvis, and it looks like they’re both chatting with the guy we saw hiding this afternoon.”
Ben and I waited for Rachel’s opinion.
“This is nuts,” she said after a minute. “Now I can see the captain passing shovels over the side of the boat to a fourth person—maybe a girl.”
“Maybe he’s just delivering shovels to some locals,” I suggested. “Maybe there’s nothing sinister about any of this?”
“Not a chance,” Ben said. “This is the Panama Canal, one of the busiest waterways in the world. There’s no way he’d turn off all his lights and risk being hit by another ship, unless he’s up to something shady.”
“And what’s with the shovels?” Rachel asked. “Who the heck needs to plant a garden or dig a flower bed in the jungle so urgently that someone has to deliver shovels in the dark? That just doesn’t seem normal.”
“Unless,” Ben said, “they’re in a hurry to bury and hide something.”
Rachel passed the binoculars back to Ben. “Something like two recently stolen crystal skulls?” she said.
“That would totally explain why the captain warned us not to leave Camp Gatun,” I said. “He probably overheard us talking about the skulls on the boat, and he didn’t want us to stumble on their hiding spot.”
“And if one of his partners stole the skulls,” Rachel said, “it makes sense that Captain Pescada would be nervous about getting caught. Maybe their plan all along was to bury the artifacts until the heat from the cops went away.”
“Exactly,” Ben said. “They’d know the police would set up blockades. And any boat leaving Camp Gatun would be easy to check too. The guy we saw with the binoculars this afternoon was likely just waiting for delivery of the skulls, or the shovels, or both.”
“Jeepers,” I said. “The artifacts may have been on the boat with us this afternoon.”
“Or,” Ben said, “sitting right next to that guy we saw hiding by the tree.”
“There’s only one problem with our theory,” Rachel said.
“What’s that?” I asked.
“Neither one of those guys fits Rudi’s description. The whole reason Rudi is in trouble is because someone said they saw a big man. Those guys don’t look anything like Anna’s uncle.”
“Maybe the witness lied,” Ben suggested, “because he was in on the heist.”
“Hmmm,” Rachel mumbled. “I... suppose.”
“I think we can move on to phase two,” Ben said.
“And what’s that?” Rachel said.
“I think we should go over there and see where they’re burying those broken skulls,” Ben said. “And that’s all we do. We’ll watch them with the IR light, memorize the spot, and return to camp. We’d be back here again in thirty minutes.”
“Perfect,” Rachel said.
“Really?” Ben said.
“Huh?” I said, equally surprised at her willingness.
“Well, duh?” Rachel said. “It’s the only plan that makes sense. Those guys over there are about to bury priceless artifacts. We don’t have time to go back to try and convince people we aren’t fibbing. And even if the camp director believed us and called the police, they wouldn’t get here until tomorrow. By then, those guys will have slipped away into the jungle. And Rudi will still be their number one suspect.”
“Okay,” I said, “we better hurry. Let’s take one of those camp canoes we saw dragged up on the shore. If we’re lucky, there’ll be paddles around somewhere too.”
Ben used his night vision gear to scout the best route to the canoes. Then, with our hands on his shoulders again, we followed him down to the water. Rachel and I flipped the first boat, while Ben hauled out two paddles and two life jackets wedged beneath. We borrowed a third paddle and third life vest from the next boat and tossed it in our canoe.
There were no stars or moon visible because thick clouds hid the sky. But our eyes had grown used to the darkness, and we were just able to see the water and jungle around us. We slid the canoe down the muddy bank, pushed it in the water, and climbed into the wobbly boat. The forest across the water formed a dark smear on the horizon, and we aimed our canoe into that direction.
After a minute of paddling, I heard Ben whisper from the front of the boat. “Do you guys see that navigational buoy, way over there on the left?”
“Yeah,” Rachel said.
I squinted north into the blackness. At first I didn’t see anything, but then, a few seconds later I spotted the flashing light that guided ships from Lake Gatun into the Gaillard Cut. “I see it,” I said.
“We shouldn’t get lost or disoriented,” Ben said, “as long as we keep that buoy on the left side of the canoe.”
I looked around for any other landmarks or buoys that might help us. “Hey,” I whispered, “look behind us—at the jungle. You can see the lights from Camp Gatun reflecting against the low clouds.”
“Excellent,” Ben said. “That’ll keep us oriented on the way back.”
We stroked our way across the canal, trying hard not to splash the water with our paddles.
“At least there are no more giant ships around,” I said to Rachel. She was sitting in the middle of the boat.
“Yeah,” she said softly, “so far so good.”
We planned on using the NightHawk again when we got closer to the Balboa, but for now our goal was to make it across the canal before a freighter slammed into us. I grinned because our plan was coming together nicely.
And then it started to rain.
I had never
seen anything like it in my life. Water poured down so hard I couldn’t see Ben—and he was only two metres away. Seriously! That was how fast and heavy the rain came down.
Ben said something over his shoulder, but I couldn’t make out a word.
“WHAT?” I shouted.
“HE WANTS TO KNOW,” Rachel yelled, “IF WE SHOULD GO BACK.”
I shook my head and hollered, “NO!” I figured we were past the point of no return—halfway across the canal—so we may as well plow ahead.
We began paddling furiously. I knew from Boy Scouts that the canoe wouldn’t sink, even if it filled right up with water. The problem was, as it filled—and it was doing that quickly—it was becoming harder and harder to paddle.
The minutes passed and the rain didn’t let up. I began to panic. What if our canoe was going in the wrong direction? What if a container ship was barrelling down on us? We wouldn’t even see a boat until it slammed into us.
Without warning, the canoe stopped dead and we all lurched forward. I had been in the middle of a powerful paddle stroke and the momentum threw me into Rachel. I knocked her from her seat, and we both splashed to the floor of the canoe.
“Sorry,” I whispered, scrambling to get off her.
“Better you hit me,” she said, “than the propeller from some giant boat.”
“We made it,” Ben’s voice filtered through the rain. “We’re on the other side.”
The three of us tried to drag the canoe onto shore, but it wouldn’t budge. It had way too much water in it. I was soaked anyway, so I slogged my way into the lake up to my waist. We rolled the canoe over while it was still in the lake and then lifted it from the water. Slipping and sliding we wrestled with the canoe and hauled it on the bank.
After we stowed the life jackets and paddles under the canoe, we fought our way through the brush and into the jungle. Ben found a tree with enormous leaves that seemed to direct the rain away from the trunk. Rachel and I joined him around the base.
“I think the rain is letting up a bit,” Rachel said.
“Good,” Ben said. “We have to wait for it to stop, if we want to use the night vision gear. It can’t see through rain.”
“Then we better wait right here,” I said. “I have no idea if we hit the shore south of the Balboa or north of the Balboa. If we leave here now and walk even five metres, we’re going to be lost forever.”
Several minutes passed, and then as suddenly as it began, the rain stopped. The jungle dripped noisily, but we all agreed that the downpour had ended.
“Well,” I said, “should we go back down to the lake and see where the heck we are?”
We found our canoe easily and studied the lakeshore. The buoy was off to the right—exactly where it was supposed to be—and the glow of Camp Gatun cast a friendly beacon across the dark water and to the southwest.
“Perfect,” I whispered, “now we just have to find—”
A hand suddenly clamped over my mouth.
“Shhh,” Rachel hissed in my ear. “Look to your right.”
I spun my head to the right. Ten metres away there was an orange glow. It wasn’t much brighter than a single bulb on a Christmas tree, and it seemed to pulse and fade. Huh? I wondered. What was that?
“It’s the Balboa!” Ben whispered, reading my mind. “I think she’s right over there!”
“But what was that light?” I asked quietly.
“Gimme a sec,” Ben said.
I heard him fumble in Rachel’s bag for the infrared spotlight, and a few seconds later the binoculars came alive with a soft electronic buzz. Rachel and I waited for his report.
“It’s the captain,” Ben whispered. “He’s smoking a cigar under the canopy. He’s looking this way, but I don’t think he can see us. Keep still.”
We remained frozen until he gave us the all clear.
“Okay,” Ben said after a minute, “he’s heading off to the wheelhouse. We can go after those guys in the jungle now.”
It was comforting to know exactly where we were again. All we had to do now was head straight back into the forest and slowly work our way north. If we were lucky, and if the thieves were lazy, they wouldn’t bury the skulls too far from shore.
Rachel had one hand on Ben’s shoulder again, and I had a hand on Rachel’s shoulder. And together, in single file, we began searching the thick jungle for the skull thieves. It only took about ten minutes for Ben to stop and freeze.
“I think they’re up ahead,” Ben whispered. “I saw movement.”
“Hey,” Rachel said, “I think I can see light over there—from a lantern or a flashlight.”
“Yeah,” I said quietly, “I see it too. There’s a glow in the trees, about fifty paces ahead.”
Ben lowered the binoculars, and we all crouched behind a thick tree. “Should I see how close I can get?” he asked. “You know, to see what’s happening?”
“No way,” Rachel said quickly. “I don’t think we should separate, even if it is a bit awkward shuffling around the forest like this.”
“I agree,” I said.
“Good,” Ben said, sounding relieved.
“I need to stop for a moment,” Rachel whispered. “I think something scratched my leg or... or something. Can you please take a look?”
Ben played with the night vision glasses and adjusted them so he could see up close. A few seconds later I heard Ben moan and take a bunch of short breaths. It sounded like he was about to hyperventilate.
“Ben! What’s wrong?” I asked. “Are you okay?”
“Don’t freak out, guys,” Ben said, “but—”
“But what?” Rachel demanded. “Tell me what you see.” She sounded like she was about to freak out too.
“We’re all covered in leeches!” Ben said. “Our legs, our arms, our necks... we’re totally covered with them!”
“How?” I mumbled, dumbfounded. “We... we weren’t even swimming.” I felt like screaming and racing back to the canoe, but I knew that would be a big mistake. I took a few deep breaths and tried to control the terror I felt.
“It has to be the trees,” Ben said. “The trees in the jungle must be dripping with them, and they’re falling on us as we go by.”
“Disgusting!” Rachel whimpered. “Get them off!”
“With what?” Ben said. “Aren’t you supposed to use salt or a burning match?”
“No,” I said firmly. “Just pull them off slowly and flick them away. That’s what we were told to do in Boy Scouts.”
Rachel sounded horrified. “Really? That’ll work?”
I tried to control my voice so Rachel wouldn’t freak out. “Yeah, you’re actually not supposed to use salt or burn them. If you dump salt on a leech, it’ll puke. And then you could get an infection.”
“Gross!” she said.
Ben began pulling the slimy leeches from Rachel’s legs. “I think I need help, Cody. There’s too many.”
Rachel groaned.
“I think we’re far enough away,” I said, “and well enough hidden, that I can use the small flashlight.”
“Do it!” Rachel ordered. “Please hurry.”
I found my Mini Maglite, wrapped the bottom of my T-shirt over the bulb, and turned it on. The glow was just enough for me to help Ben rip the pesky pests from Rachel’s neck and arms. At first, I was disgusted by the slimy, boneless feel of the parasites, but there were so many, I quickly got used to it. I noticed that Rachel’s leech wounds continued to ooze red—a mixture of blood, sweat and rain—long after I removed the bugs. But I didn’t think this was the right time to tell her about the anticoagulant that leeches inject to better suck out blood. I only hoped we would still have enough blood left in us to make it back to Camp Gatun.
Rachel grabbed my light. “We’ll do you next.”
I had ripped so many leeches off of Rachel, they now no longer creeped me out. And even though I couldn’t see anything, I tried to help out by yanking the ones I could feel.
When we finished picking Ben clean and were satisfied that we hadn’t missed any, we covered our bodies in bug repellant. It stung like crazy on the leech wounds, and we didn’t know if the DEET would even work to keep them away, but it was worth a try.
“Okay,” I said, “let’s go and see what we they’re up to.”
“Yeah,” Ben agreed, “we gotta get moving—it’s getting late.”
The glow from the lights of the skull thieves acted as a beacon, but we still used the NightHawk to find the best route through the jungle. It would have been a shame to get caught now because we carelessly stumbled on a root and made a bunch of noise. Prowling ever closer, we followed Ben as he wound his way around trees and logs and bushes. The noise from the dripping canopy above us, and the soaked ground below our feet, helped disguise our approach.
Suddenly, I felt Rachel tug on Ben’s shoulder.
Ben stopped and crouched behind a rotting log.
“I think this is close enough,” Rachel whispered.
Ben passed Rachel the night vision binoculars, but we were so close now, we didn’t even need them. Ten metres in front of us were three people—Elvis from the Balboa, a girl of about seventeen, and a man in his twenties. They were standing in a small circle and leaning on their shovels. A battery-powered camping lantern sat on the ground near their feet.
I ducked below the dead tree and whispered. “Okay, let’s head back. We found our thieves and we know where they’re burying the skulls.”
“I’m not so sure anymore,” Ben said. He was still pointing the infrared spotlight over the log and toward the thieves.
“What do you mean?” I said.
“Something doesn’t make sense,” Rachel said, handing me the binoculars. “Take a look for yourself.”
I focused the binoculars and let my eyes adjust to the crazy green image. Elvis and the two strangers were standing in a tight clearing and discussing something quietly. The girl seemed frustrated with the hole they had just dug and began pointing at other spots in the forest around them.
Panama Pursuit Page 7
