Sanchez tried to open the thesis, but it required university credentials as password protocol, and he was left unsatisfied and desperate to find out more. He sat back on the couch, looking frustrated. “I have to leave as soon as possible and I cannot access the important details I might need for a bit of background on what this Sabian lunatic may be involved with. The university site won’t let me see this paper, for fuck’s sake!” He was vexed.
As always, his wife had some insight. “Who wrote the paper?”
“Dr. Nina Gould, MA Hist. Edinburgh University, blah, blah, blah,” he read out.
His wife shrugged. “So, Sherlock, look her up and ask her yourself.”
18
The Inca Prophecy
Solar Eclipse Imminent: 62%
“Before this gets ugly, let me shed some light on our presence there,” Purdue offered.
“We know why you were there, David,” Vincent roared, “because you simply had to bring up the remains before we could safely take them to El Dorado. I know who you are, David Purdue. Maybe you should remember that rat bastards like you, who defile tombs and ravage sacred history for financial gain and celebrity, are the enemy of the Children of the Sun!”
“Then why did you save us?” Sam growled, trying to subdue the fury in his veins.
“We did not save you,” Vincent scoffed. “We removed you from the Coast Guard, so that they will report you as ‘presumed dead’ and be done with you. That way we can kill you in any way or anywhere without repercussion, you naïve sods!”
“We didn’t even know about the ship!” Hannah chipped in, defiant of her place in the current hierarchy. “Mr. Purdue found it on a bloody sonar scanner or something. Jesus! Calm down!”
Vincent was furious. He turned viciously, but stopped short of slapping the insolent woman. Some unseen barrier appeared to block him from her—reason. “What?” he asked with a bit less anger.
“She’s right, Vincent,” Peter affirmed. “Mr. Purdue was on a pleasure cruise, a maiden voyage to celebrate the purchase of his yacht. I swear to God it’s the truth.”
“Then why did he send for Sam Cleave?” he bellowed at Peter. Spittle webbed on Vincent’s beard as he addressed the white-haired Purdue. “Those of us in the relic trade know all too well about your collaborations, David. Once Sam Cleave gets involved in your innocent trips, they always consist of some official capacity that becomes a full-fledged excursion to rape and plunder antique sites,” Vincent fumed. “Why is Sam here?”
Purdue did not have a favorable response to this. Actually, all that Vincent was spewing at them was true. “At first, we were just cruising to test the yacht, Vincent,” Purdue explained calmly. He was a wizard at diplomacy, and now more than ever, Sam hoped he had a good line to spin. “When we tried to make contact with you on numerous occasions, you did not identify yourselves. Am I correct?”
Vincent did not like being confronted with a valid counter. He didn’t want to answer, proving Purdue right, but he had to. Reluctantly, he nodded his silent verification.
“So how were we supposed to know that you had laid claim to what we detected under our hull?” Purdue asked in a civilized tone of voice. “Had you identified yourselves as marine salvage, or even just informed us that we were intruding on your obscure demarcation, we would not have interfered. But you ignored our identification request, so we assumed you were out of range or simply did not care to answer.” Purdue leaned in to Vincent across the small nook. “Now what would you have done if you were me? Would you have passed up on exploration?”
Again, Vincent had to concede that he would have done the same. “No.”
“Precisely,” Purdue said, closing his argument, his hand resting on Sam’s shoulder. “After we could not establish radio contact with you, we went ahead with the documentation of our discovery, obviously, which entailed my summoning Sam to record our progress.” The air was tense in the cabin. Vincent’s crew gathered along the interior of the cabin like a chain of villains. Purdue, however, was far from being timid while defending his own. “This was not an act of hostility on our part, Vincent. If anything, I would be happy to bow out of the find if you could just assure us safe passage to the nearest port.”
“Aye,” Sam agreed.
“I just want to go home,” Hannah said softly, still admiring the golden prayer stick at a distance while she elected to drink herself into ignorance of the looming peril. Vincent noticed her wandering stare, but he understood her infatuation. His men stood in place, unmoving, yet their eyes were fixed on the strangers intently. Vincent sank back into his chair with a long sigh. A long silence followed, during which most just took to their glasses to spare the room the sounds of quarrel.
Vincent finally spoke. “Whatever is down there corresponds with this object,” he declared, holding the dog-bone-shaped artifact up. “The German ledger I have, along with these papers from the unknown author I read from previously, state that the twin ship to the one off the Peruvian coast, is the one you found, David.”
“I take it whatever is down there will direct you to a treasure of sorts? Gold, perhaps?” Sam asked for clarification. He wanted to determine their short-term fate.
“No, Sam,” Vincent answered as his thick fingers traced the bumpy texture of careless gold smithy from centuries long gone. “Gold is good, of course, but this is so much bigger. Whatever matches this relic, and there is a twin for this, will complete the key to El Dorado, my friends.”
“The legendary City of Gold? It exists?” Hannah asked.
“No one knows. The last great change, like the next prophecy we are looking to fulfill, took place in 1949 when an earthquake ravaged Cuzco, Peru. A golden Incan temple was unearthed by an act of the gods, so to speak. But it’s not the gold we are after as much as the prophecy.”
“What does it say?” Hannah asked.
“The end of the world,” he replied bluntly, leaving most of the present party a little breathless. “When the next prophecy comes to pass, the Americas will unite and The Children of the Sun will flourish as brothers. All modern evils will fall to ruin and mankind will enter a new state of existence. They return to the old ways before men were enslaved by technology and greed.”
“Very noble and selfless of you lads,” Sam remarked.
“But it is!” Vincent insisted. “Do not ridicule the possibilities, particularly the reversal of the destruction prevalent in the world right now! We need a renewal. We need this world to end. My God, have you not noticed that our race of beings have gone insane? The whole world, the Great Mother, and all our natural resources are now ruled by mad gods. It’s not about nobility, Sam. It is about common bloody sense!”
“I agree,” Purdue said.
Vincent scoffed. “Isn’t that a crock of shit! A billionaire who is fueled by greed, a grave robber who takes scepters from the bones of great kings? You? You want the mercenary powers to fall and reduce you to a meager man like the rest of us? Bullshit, David.”
“You don’t know me, my friend,” Purdue smirked. “I gather relics to shield their immaculate power from being pissed away by evil men. My vaults and that which I donate to international museums that I help fund, are sanctuaries for the old kings you refer to.” Purdue wet his gullet with the last pool of wine at the bottom of his glass and looked Vincent in the eye. “As long as I have these artifacts in my keeping, they are out of the hands of imps who wish to conquer the world with ancient magic to consolidate modern slavery.”
“And who might these imps be?” Vincent asked, sounding rather intrigued.
“Madmen, following the redundant dogmas of a hellhound from the Second World War, Vincent,” Purdue clarified with conviction. “Giants of finance, information technology, religion, politics . . . they are everywhere. Sam can attest to this. You might think I am greedy because I am wealthy, but never forget that there are many creeds of men and you cannot link a man’s material possessions to the substance of his soul.”
“Sounds
to me like we are on the same page,” Sam grunted, sitting back and making himself comfortable. One of Vincent’s men came in and looked like he almost stood attention for the news he was bringing. “Sir, the radar is dark now.”
“Say what?” Sam asked.
Vincent grinned and said, “Gracias, Cortez.” He looked at his guests. “It looks like the Coast Guard and the search parties have finally left the site of our wreck, people. Now, I can drop you at Golfo de Almería, the closest to our current bearings. But I do not entirely trust you.”
“I can do you no harm, Captain,” Hannah stated. “Let me get off, please. I will find my way back home.”
“Me too,” Peter requested. “I think I’ve had enough excitement to anchor my career for a long while.”
Vincent shrugged. He knew these two were in no position to compromise his pursuits in the Alboran Sea. He excused himself to check on the radar readings he was alerted to. While he was absent, Peter approached Purdue and Sam, keeping his style casual, but his voice low. “Mr. Purdue, if you choose to stay onboard this vessel, do you want me to let anyone know that you and Mr. Cleave are alive and well?”
“That is swell of you, Peter,” Sam whispered, “but the formalities following such an ordeal might get in our way. What say you, Purdue?”
“Do you have your camera equipment with you? Or did it perish with the chopper?” Purdue asked him quickly.
“Nope, it’s in a protective case I brought with me. But it’s down in the sleeping quarters. Why?” Sam reported.
Purdue paused. “Sam is correct, Peter. If the authorities found out that we had survived, insurance claims would have to be lodged and accident reports and emergency procedures logged, all that. We need more time to see this thing through.”
“Aye, I’m with you,” Sam nodded.
“Maybe we should get Nina in on this,” Purdue suggested.
“Christ, Purdue, can’t you let her have a normal life for more than three months at a time?” Sam growled softly, throwing his hands up. “Give her a break.”
“Sam, we don’t know what that relic says. She can help us,” Purdue reasoned.
“No,” Sam persisted. “Leave her alone. You don’t have to know what the relic says. Let’s just see what we get and I’ll do a report on it, plain and simple.”
“Sir,” Hannah chipped in, “you don’t have to pursue this suicide mission with these blokes, you know?”
“I know, my dear,” Purdue answered. “But you know what Jeff and I returned with, right?” He was referring to the doubloon he retrieved while investigating the heap of bones his scanner located. “I just have to know why there are so many corpses on board and get Nina to carbon date whatever we discover.”
“Vincent is not going to like that,” Hannah replied.
“He doesn’t have to know,” Sam said. “Once we know what happened to the bodies down there, we’ll know if it is worth chasing after.”
“Couldn’t have said it better myself,” Purdue declared. “I just want to sate my curiosity under the guise of assistance. It will keep Vincent from killing us.” He smiled mischievously. “And if it turns out to be nothing, we’ll contact my people in Edinburgh.”
Sam looked surprised, since all their cell phones had ended up in the saline void after the collision. “Never fear,” Purdue whispered. “I have my tablet on me, just in case.”
Hannah shook her head and smiled. “Okay, but if I don’t see an exposé on the telly within the next two weeks I’m reporting this vessel.”
Purdue felt comfortable with Hannah’s intentions. “You do that, my dear.” He looked preoccupied, as he often did when his mental wheels refused to slow down. “I am all for this Inca prophecy, but I must confess, I would love to find out if El Dorado is real.”
19
The First Quest
After bidding Hannah and Peter farewell at the port of Almería, the Cóndor and her crew bore back toward the east to return to the site of the gruesome collision hoping to resume the excursion that been had interrupted. It had been several days since reports of the crash had been broadcast on news channels all across the globe. By now it was old news that a billionaire and a journalist had perished in a maritime disaster off the coast of Spain. The heat wave had subsided somewhat over land, and on the Mediterranean Sea the squalls had grown more frequent, making the prospective dive dangerous for the explorers.
Purdue and Sam enjoyed a less threatening form of hospitality from Vincent and his crew since the skipper of the Cóndor had been offered a deal. An accord was established, fixed by contract, saying that Purdue was to fund all the Cóndor’s endeavors pertaining to what was mutually referred to now as the ‘Grave Dive’. Since the curious aspect of the wreck discovery was not what treasures it held in its bowels, but the peculiar presence of human remains, Purdue opted to buy his way into a partnership with Vincent Nazquez for the benefit of Vincent’s prophetic passion and his own curiosity.
“Today, we lift the lid properly,” Vincent declared proudly. His wild black and gray hair whipped madly at his face in the cool morning air of the pre-dawn Mediterranean, while he nursed a cup of black coffee. “I can’t tell you how long I have waited for this day, David.” He looked up at the towering Purdue, his face beaming with contentment, contrasting with his bestial appearance. “Thank you. I know your funding is mostly for your own gain, but if it were not for your financial backing and resources made available to us, this excursion would take me months to complete.”
“You’re welcome, my friend,” Purdue replied, keeping his hands lodged in his coat pockets as he contemplated the cold abyss he soon had to brave. “But don’t thank me yet. Our permit is only valid for three days. That means we have to work hard and fast.”
“No problem,” Vincent replied confidently. “Is Sam diving with us? Is his equipment waterproof?”
“It is, yes,” Purdue answered. “But I don’t think we will need him to dive. Once you and I establish the perimeters of the dive and get the men to bring up what we assign to them for recovery, Sam will get footage of the inventory, whatever it is.”
“Good, good,” the skipper agreed. “It will go faster with fewer divers, at least until we know what we’re dealing with.”
“Rather a sinister stance,” Purdue jested.
Vincent chuckled and dramatically lent Purdue a big-eyed glare. “I find the prospect of a hundred dead mariners quite sinister, don’t you? Who knows, truly, what we are dealing with? I ask you.”
Purdue suddenly felt the excitement of the exploration overwhelm him. It was indeed a macabre matter, but that only increased the probability of it being of historical magnitude. Right up his alley. There had to be some profound story behind such a scene, and that was what had spurred him to toss in his lot with the men of the salvage trawler, Cóndor. Their connection to the lore and heritage of the South American natives was pivotal and fascinating to Purdue. The links they held, by blood and tradition, to the legendary City of Gold, was no doubt rich, if puns were to be flitted about. In fact, Purdue envied them their exquisite cultural connection.
“Good morning, sunshine,” the blue-eyed captain suddenly roared, starling Purdue from his contemplative veneration. He turned to find a disheveled Sam Cleave, wrapped in an army blanket, leering at them as if their sanity had abandoned them.
“What is so goddamn good about it?” Sam complained. “Do you people ever sleep?”
“It’s the excitement of the day, Sam.” Purdue smiled and breathed in the warming air. “Can’t you feel it?”
“All I feel is a lack of caffeine in my system,” Sam replied casually, instantly provoking the skipper’s generosity. He shoved the coffee mug, still half full, in Sam’s hands. “Ah, God bless you,” Sam said happily and took a sip. “Jesus, man, what’s in this?”
Vincent looked at Sam with surprise. “You wanted caffeine. That is caffeine, not that dog piss you Europeans label caffeine just because it is a diluted remnant of the coffee bean.�
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Purdue laughed, hoping he would not have to partake of what had made Sam pull the most hideous face. “That is sure to wake him up for a bloody week!” Vincent laughed with Purdue.
“What is this, really?” Sam asked, smacking his lips to find the flavor in the bitterness that assaulted his tongue.
Purdue kept laughing at Sam’s expressions. “Didn’t you learn your lesson with the Arak and the Peruvian Death Pepper snack Vincent has already tormented you with, Sam?”
“Hey, at least he makes an effort to join in the culture,” Vincent said, defending the flabbergasted journalist. “I would love to serve you some of this good shit, David, but alas, you are not a sport of Sam’s caliber, eh?” He winked at Sam.
“You know, I’ve never been one to fold to peer pressure,” Purdue retorted with a happy smirk as his pale blue eyes examined the beauty of the silver breakers that pulsed repetitively under the birth of the sun.
Overhead the banner of the Children of the Sun rapidly licked the wind as if it could feel the impending unveiling of a secret, the imminent revelation of a supernatural myth and its origins.
By 11a.m., all aspects of the first dive had been facilitated successfully. Purdue, Vincent, and two professional divers from the Cóndor were busy zipping up their diving suits, engaging in small talk about the weather and water. Sam felt strange being on the very geographical spot where he’d almost died a few days before. Like his personal Bermuda Triangle, it seemed to beckon him, but he busied himself with filming preparations instead, choosing to silence the voices of doom that threatened to attack his psyche. Apparently he was not completely over the horror of what had befallen him and the subliminal trauma came and went like the tides. Sam was very aware of this temporary psychological impairment, but he elected to think of it is a twisted form of nostalgia instead.
The Inca Prophecy Page 11
