Michael Cordy - The Source

'This is it,' said Hackett. 'The tour guides call it El Cuarto del Rescate, the ransom chamber, but your priest was right. This was actually La Prision del Rey.' He looked Ross in the eye. 'But you already knew that, didn't you? Would you be more impressed if I told you where the first direction leads?'

'Yes,' said Ross. 'I think we would.'

When Hackett led them outside it was dark, and as Ross's eyes settled on a bright star, he tried to remember what the charts in Falcon's notebook had said about the night sky in June. Hackett followed his gaze then said to Sister Chantal, 'Tell me again the first direction in your book.'

She read it aloud: '"With the cross as your guide, march two days to an ancient lost city on the eyebrow of the jungle." '

Hackett smiled. 'Oh, yes, the Eyebrow of the Jungle, La Ceja de la Selva.' He pointed up to the bright star. 'That's your cross – Crux, also known as the Southern Cross.' He flashed a boyish smile. 'But we don't need to follow it because I already know where it leads. The ancient city on the Eyebrow of the Jungle may have been lost when your priest wrote his book, but Juan Crisostomo found it in 1843. It's called Kuelap.' He pointed to a spotless silver Land Rover parked nearby. 'And it won't take us two days in that.' He smiled at Ross. 'More impressed?'

Ross couldn't suppress a grin. 'A little.'

Hackett indicated the notebook in Sister Chantal's hands. 'From what I read, most of the early directions seem pretty straightforward. The important thing is to find where on the river they lead you. Once you take a boat and head up the Amazon I suspect the clues will be harder to follow. Fortunately, June's the beginning of the drier season and the riverbanks won't be flooded. Most landmarks should be visible.'

Ross couldn't help liking the Englishman. 'Will you help us, then? Can you provide transport, a guide to keep us out of trouble and whatever supplies we need to survive the trip? We'll pay whatever you think is fair.'

For a while Hackett didn't say anything. Then, 'Does anyone else know about this?'

'No.'

'Let's say I get a guide, equip the expedition and come with you. And let's say we do find Eldorado. Do we share everything? I know a man who can sell the gold for us.'

'I don't see why not.' Ross turned to Chantal and Zeb, who nodded. 'The way we see it, a percentage of something is better than all of nothing. We'll split any gold we find four ways. Equal partners.' He and the women extended their hands, which Hackett shook.

'Have you got a good guide?' asked Zeb.

Hackett nodded. 'Juarez helps me with the boat. He's Quechua and knows the Amazon as well as anybody.' He reached into a pocket and brought out an inhaler. 'But this isn't just about gold for me. The area of dense cloud forest is littered with the remains of great pre-Inca civilizations, thousands of years old, and one of the great mysteries is what caused people like the Chachapoyans to live in that high mountain jungle. Where did they come from? Many archaeologists believe that the Chacha migrated overland through the jungles of the Amazon Basin and that the cradle of the continent's civilization, the great metropolis with its massive towers, battlements and plazas, is still out there, hidden in the Amazon rainforest. Some say that could be Eldorado.' Hackett smiled. 'I've wanted to find it for as long as I can remember.'

Ross felt a stab of guilt for allowing him to believe they were looking for Eldorado, then reminded himself that there was probably more chance of finding Hackett's lost city than Falcon's miraculous garden. 'What about the permits everyone keeps talking about?'

Hackett waved a hand dismissively. 'This government doesn't care about preserving its culture, only the money it brings in from tourism. Back in 2003 they granted the oil companies carte blanche access to indigenous ancestral lands throughout almost the entire Peruvian Amazon – and we all know how much the oil industry cares about conservation. If something valuable is out there we'd better find it quick before they destroy it. If it's big enough and valuable enough it might even make the government stop churning up the jungle.'

'When can we leave?' demanded Ross.

'Today's Monday… Thursday?'

'No sooner?'

'It'll take a little time to arrange supplies for a month or two.' He pulled out a pad, scribbled some notes, then tore off a sheet and handed it to Ross. 'I'll collect most of what you'll need but here are some personal items you must have in the jungle – sunscreen, sun hats, rucksacks, that kind of thing, if you haven't already got them.'

Ross scanned the list. They had most of the items already, but one surprised him. 'Condoms? I'm married.'

Hackett laughed. 'They're not for sex. They're for the jungle. And buy the smallest you can find – however proud you are of what you've got. The water in the Amazon isn't as warm as you think and you need a nice tight fit.'

'I don't understand.'

'You will, trust me. Where are you staying?'

'El Ingenio.'

'I'll pick you up first thing on Thursday. Before dawn. Say, four thirty? We'll have a long day ahead of us.'

'We'll be waiting,' said Ross, wondering how he was going to fill the time once he'd bought the remaining few items. From where Marco Bazin stood in the shadows, he didn't need the discreet earphone connected to the directional microphone in his hand. He had heard everything, both in the bar and out on the street. Now he knew when and where Kelly was setting off on his quest, he had time to meet Torino and tell him his plan.

Despite his fatigue, Bazin felt good as he watched Kelly and the others shake hands with the Englishman and go their separate ways. In the sun his olive skin was already losing its sallow pallor, his hair was growing back and he felt strong for the first time in months.

He had been tailing Kelly, the nun and the student with bright red hair all the way from the States, and had let them out of his sight only when they'd checked into their hotel yesterday evening. Then he had wandered around the bars on the seamier side of town, recruiting help.

He preferred to work alone but in the past he'd occasionally brought in jackals and vultures for preparation, back-up and cleanup work. This was one of those occasions, except now he was doing it for a higher purpose.

'Is the notebook a treasure map?'

Bazin stepped out of the alleyway, adjusted his Panama hat and turned to the man beside him. The Peruvian's greedy eyes gleamed like jet. 'Let me worry about the book, Raul. You worry about getting the equipment, guns and men. You can have them by Wednesday noon?'

'Si. You will pay the men how much, senor?'

'What we agreed. No more, no less.'

For a second, Raul looked as if he might try to renegotiate, then he nodded. The man was an amateur but Bazin had no choice. He had to use him. He had no contacts in the area and time wasn't on his side. This might be God's work but it was the Devil's job finding reliable men willing to steal and kill for money.

Lima, the next day The two anonymous black limousines left the Jesuit Residence and made their way through the wide boulevards of Lima. Tinted windows concealed the two passengers in the back seat of the lead car. A soundproof screen separated them from the driver.

'What if it doesn't work?' demanded Torino, as he listened to Bazin's plan.

Bazin smiled. 'It has to. And if anything goes wrong, I've built in a few contingencies.' He handed Torino a palmtop computer and explained how the device worked. 'The transmitter's global-positioning satellite technology will allow you to pinpoint their exact location on the map to within a few feet.'

Torino sensed new confidence in his half-brother. He was no longer simply accepting his tasks but embellishing them. 'We can't afford any mistakes. This must succeed.'