visible against the clear night sky, the station’s lights reflecting faintly off a rifle barrel.
‘One on the tank,’ he said, continuing his search, ‘and . . . ’ He was forced to admit defeat. ‘I can’t see the other.’
‘You wouldn’t,’ said Stikes. ‘Gurov’s outside the fence.’ His gaze briefly flicked towards the escarpment.
‘So are they going to shoot me?’
‘Only if you don’t give me what I want. So.’ Stikes straightened, putting his hands on his hips. ‘Am I going to be introduced to the Group?’
‘Have you brought the statues?’
Stikes nudged the box forward. Kit crouched and opened it. The three statues were inside; two intact, one split in half, but both the pieces present. He picked one up, feeling the weight of the stone, the texture of the ancient carving. They were genuine.
Finally reunited.
‘Well?’ Stikes demanded. ‘Satisfied?’
‘Yes,’ said Kit, standing.
‘Good.’ He produced a satellite phone. ‘Make the call. I’m sure you remember the number.’
The meeting with the president of Peru had been relatively brief and, to Nina’s mind, entirely unnecessary, accomplishing nothing that couldn’t have waited until the following day. Though ostensibly to congratulate her on discovering El Dorado, it was actually a far more political affair, the country’s leader firmly planting the flag of Peru on the lost city and the incredible wealth it contained, while simultaneously making it clear that the IHA’s role would be downplayed as much as he could get away with. Zender and the Peruvian archaeologists had already been elevated to the status of national heroes, brave explorers who had sacrificed their lives to bring the incredible find to the world.
Nina was too tired to raise more than a token objection, but in truth was neither surprised nor particularly bothered by the land-grab. She had experienced similar attempts by governments to claim credit for her discoveries – the Algerians for the Tomb of Hercules, the Egyptians for the Pyramid of Osiris – but so long as she could put her own account out via the UN, the countries involved could spin events however they liked. Ultimately, what mattered was not who had found a treasure thought lost to time, but that it had been found at all.
A government car brought her back to the villa, where she met Osterhagen as he descended the stairs. The German looked utterly exhausted, apparently having slept from the moment he was shown to his room. He was still in the same crumpled, torn clothes, too weary even to undress before collapsing on the bed. ‘Nina,’ he yawned. ‘Where have you been?’
She gave him a precis of the meeting. ‘Ah, yes,’ he said with faint amusement, ‘I have experienced the same thing. An occupational hazard.’
‘Ain’t it just.’ Macy hurried into the lobby, looking anxious. ‘Hey, Macy. What’s up?’
‘It’s about Eddie.’ With an apologetic smile to Osterhagen, Macy hastily guided her away from the German archaeologist, who shrugged and went in search of the kitchen. ‘I’m worried about him.’
‘Me too. I think it’ll take a while before he can deal with everything that’s happened today.’
‘No, no, that’s the thing – the day’s not over. He’s gone!’
‘What? Gone where?’
‘Some place called San Bartolo. We were talking, and he suddenly went all weird, and started asking one of the staff how to get there.’
‘Weird how?’
‘I mean, he was
Nina did know; she had seen that kind of cold fury before, not least earlier that day, and it never boded well. ‘Why was he angry? What were you talking about?’
‘About what happened at El Dorado – something to do with Kit. I told him what I was doing just before Mr McCrimmon got shot, and he got mad and kept saying I was remembering it wrong. Then he went quiet, like he was working something out, and then he found the maid and wanted to know how to get to San Bartolo.’ She thought for a moment. ‘No, not San Bartolo; somewhere near it, a pumping station on some gas pipeline. Station fourteen.’
‘What’s it got to do with Kit?’
‘I don’t know. But it seemed like he was comparing what I told him with what Kit told him, and then he said something about the statues – and that’s when he got angry. He took a cab.’
Eddie had somehow realised what Kit had been trying to keep from him: that Interpol was making a deal with Stikes to recover the statues. But Eddie would only be interested in revenge – for her torture, for Mac’s death. And he would be going after Stikes.
And if his anger was because he believed Kit had betrayed him by dealing with the mercenary – or worse, that he was somehow in league with him . . .
‘When did he leave?’ she asked Macy urgently.
‘I don’t know – a half-hour ago? What is it?’
‘I think Eddie’s about to do something he’ll regret. How do we get to this pumping station?’
‘That is it,’ said the taxi driver, pointing.
Eddie saw a handful of lights in the darkness off the Panamerica Highway. Gas tanks and pipes behind a
