‘If I didn’t, I wouldn’t have asked to go in the first place, would I?’ He clapped the younger man on the shoulder. ‘I already had you carry me to safety once in my life. Twice would be embarrassing. I still have my pride!’
‘Well . . . all right,’ said Eddie, feigning grudging acceptance. ‘So long as I don’t have to share a tent with you.’
‘If that were going to happen, I’d back out right now!’ They both laughed. ‘Better get ready for dinner. See you soon.’ He headed down the hallway.
Eddie watched him go, then returned to his own suite.
In his room, Kit changed his shirt and put on a jacket, and was about to leave when he paused, thinking, then took out his phone. Listening at the door to make sure nobody was about to knock, he made a call. ‘This is Jindal.’
‘What is it?’ came the terse reply.
‘Dr Wilde thinks she has found the location of the last statue segment, in northern Peru. I’ll be accompanying her on the expedition.’
‘Good. Do whatever is necessary to ensure she recovers it. The future of the world depends on our obtaining all three statues. And, having spoken to her, I think she may be sympatahetic to the Group’s goals.’
‘I’ll see to it,’ said Kit, but the call had already ended.
He was taking a huge risk by not telling his paymasters what had happened at the Clubhouse: that Stikes had tortured information about his true mission out of him, despite his best efforts to resist. The mercenary leader now knew of the Group’s existence, even if he had no specific details of its plans, for the simple reason that his interrogation subject didn’t know them himself. But that alone would be reason enough for the Group to terminate his employment . . . or more. In return for the considerable rewards they promised, they expected – demanded - success.
Which, if Nina’s deductions were correct, would soon be forthcoming. Reassured, he left the room.
30
Peru
‘So these are cloud forests, huh?’ said Macy, surveying the scenery. ‘I can see the forest part – but where are the clouds?’
‘Don’t worry,’ said Eddie, driving. ‘Once they come down, you won’t see anything
The seven-seater Nissan Patrol was in the middle of a small convoy, heading north along a dirt road that had split off from a paved highway some thirty miles north of the provincial capital, Chachapoyas. In another off-roader behind them were two Peruvian archaeologists; the tall, thin-faced Professor Miguel Olmedo from the University of Lima, and his shorter, fatter associate Dr Julian Cruzado. A local archaeological presence was both expected and welcome, but Nina was less enthused about their also being accompanied by a senior official from the Peruvian Ministry of Culture, a rather full-of-himself man named Diego Zender who had attached himself lamprey-like to the expedition to claim a stake in the glory if the mythical El Dorado turned out actually to exist. Zender had an assistant, a young, long-haired woman called Juanita Alvarez whose function when not acting as a chauffeuse, as far as Nina could tell, was mostly to stand beside her boss looking pretty.
But freeloaders weren’t the issue. More worrying was the profession of the four men in the leading Jeep. Soldiers. Her request for security had been taken seriously, but she couldn’t help feeling that the armed group in their military vehicle might draw exactly the kind of curiosity she hoped to avoid. Zender’s claim that the troops were necessary to protect them from the terrorists known to operate in the province had not exactly been reassuring.
But for now, Nina was able to forget such concerns and simply enjoy the landscape. The three 4?4s were heading up a long, lush valley, vegetation clinging to practically every non-sheer surface. Unlike the trees in the rainforest around Paititi, those here were rather squat, clawing moisture out of the air when the clouds descended rather than waiting for rainfall, but they were every bit as dazzlingly green in the stark high-altitude sunlight. The river that had carved the passage out of the Andes was over fifty feet below at the bottom of a ravine, but the slope they were ascending was broad enough for them to stay well clear of the drop.
That wouldn’t be the case for long, however. In the distance, she picked out the road’s brown thread clinging precariously to the flanks of the mountains. Swathes of grey running down the hillside, as if someone had randomly scraped away a top layer of green paint, provided evidence of recent landslides. ‘So,’ she asked Eddie, ‘when you mentioned death roads the other day . . . is that actually what they’re called?’
‘’Fraid so,’ he replied. ‘Went along one in the Philippines once. Fucking terrifying! Combat’s bad, but idiot drivers are worse. The best bits of it, there was just enough room for two cars to get past each other.’
‘And the worst bits?’ Kit asked from the second row of seats, where he was sitting with Macy.
‘Just enough room for
‘You know,’ said Mac from beside Osterhagen on the rear seats, ‘I think I’ll just sleep until we get there. If we go over the edge, try not to wake me with your screams, hmm?’
‘At least there is not much traffic,’ Osterhagen said. ‘We should not have any prob—’
At that exact moment, the convoy rounded a bend – and the Jeep skidded to an emergency stop. Eddie had prudently kept a safe distance behind it, and was able to bring the Nissan to a halt with ten feet to spare. Unfortunately, Juanita had not been so careful, and the Patrol’s occupants took a jolt as her off-roader nudged their bumper.
The driver of the bus lumbering the other way gave the stalled vehicles a baleful glare. ‘Everyone all right?’ Eddie asked, getting positive responses. He looked back at Osterhagen. ‘You were saying, Doc?’
Osterhagen recovered his composure. ‘I was about to say that once we get
