‘I prefer that to it being nothing more than bad luck.’
‘Huh. I kind of see your point. Just hope that our destinies don’t end in here.’
‘So do I. But . . . I do think that things happen for a reason, even if we can’t always see it at first. There is order in the universe, but it has to be maintained – whether by the gods, or by our actions. Part of our purpose is to keep that order.’
‘Interesting,’ said Nina with a faint smile. ‘I’m not used to philosophical discussion in the morning. But then, I do live with Eddie.’
Kit grinned back through his puffy lips. ‘Not bad for a humble policeman, no?’
‘So is that why you became a cop? To maintain order?’
He nodded. ‘In some ways. Growing up in India, I saw a lot of corruption, a lot of greed that caused others to suffer. I wanted to do what I could to stop it – to make sure that people who took more than they deserved were punished.’
‘Sounds like a good motivation to me.’
The Interpol officer gave her an appreciative look, then sighed. ‘It did not always make me popular. Even among my colleagues.’
‘Yeah, I know what that feels like,’ Nina told him sympathetically.
‘But then, this is what I mean about destiny. If I had been the kind of cop who looked the other way when I saw others taking bribes, I probably wouldn’t have been “encouraged” to move from regular police work into more specialised areas like art theft. And if I hadn’t done that, I wouldn’t have been offered a position at Interpol, which means I would not have investigated the Khoils, I would not have met you and Eddie . . . and I would not be here right now.’
Nina raised her eyebrows. ‘And you’re still upbeat about it? If I’d thought about the course of my life like that, I’d be going “Oh God, where did it all go so wrong?”!’
He smiled. ‘I’m a very upbeat person. And I don’t regret my decisions. Even though at the moment they seem to have brought me to a rather dark place.’
‘You’re not kidding.’ She tapped the bars. ‘Any ideas how we can get out into the light?’
‘A few. Unfortunately, they all begin with us being outside these cells.’
‘That’s not as helpful as I was hoping for.’
‘I’m still working on them.’
The door opened and a pair of soldiers trooped in. ‘Work faster,’ Nina urgently told Kit as they unlocked her cell and entered. ‘All right, okay!’ she protested as she was pulled to her feet.
They took her back upstairs, ascending a broad marble staircase to the mansion’s upper floor. Nina screwed up her eyes, dazzled by the brightness of the morning sun through panoramic windows as she was led through a luxurious lounge with a giant TV on one wall. Beyond, a large balcony overlooked the golf course.
Stikes and Callas, the general in full uniform, waited for her outside, but there was also a third man; tall, tanned, with long jet-black hair swept greasily back from his forehead. His pastel jacket and trousers were clearly of some extremely expensive designer label, though the stylish effect was offset by a vulgar gold medallion. Even this early in the day, he had a glass of Scotch and clunking ice cubes in his hand.
‘Ah, here she is!’ said Callas as the soldiers brought Nina into the open. ‘My expert.’
The third man’s eyebrows flickered in recognition. ‘Wait, she is . . . ’
‘Dr Nina Wilde,’ Callas announced. ‘Discoverer of Atlantis, and the secret of the Sphinx, and now . . . my guest. Dr Wilde, meet my good friend Francisco de Quesada.’
She remembered the Venezuelan mentioning the name at the military base, though in a far from friendly way. Like Pachac, then; another of his allies of necessity.
De Quesada took in Nina’s dirty, dishevelled clothing. ‘You do not let your guests shower, Salbatore?’
‘She’s not entirely a willing guest,’ said Stikes.
‘But she will still tell you how much this is worth,’ Callas said, indicating something on a glass coffee table: the khipu, opened out to its full length, knotted strands displayed along the braided central cord. Nina noticed the case holding the statues on the floor nearby.
De Quesada shook his head. ‘I am already paying you fifty million dollars for the sun disc—’
‘It is worth far more,’ Callas smoothly interjected.
‘Perhaps. But you are also getting a share of my . . . proceeds.’ He looked askance at Nina. ‘Is it safe to talk in front of her?’
Callas snorted. ‘You can say anything you like – she won’t be telling anyone.’
‘My drug revenue, then. Now that the American DEA and the government have cracked down in Colombia, I need Venezuela to ship my product. Which means I need you, general. Or should I call you
Callas smiled proudly, only to be deflated by Stikes’s ‘Let’s not count our chickens before they’re hatched.’
‘Which brings me to another English phrase,’ said de Quesada. He gestured dismissively at the khipu. ‘“Money for old rope”. You are getting a lot of money from me, Salbatore – cash now, and a share of what will come later. Why should I pay another million for this trash?’
‘That is why I brought Dr Wilde,’ said Callas. ‘Who better to tell you why these strings are worth so much? If you can’t trust the world’s most famous archaeologist, then who can you trust?’
