Trojan Odyssey

around Cape Horn, but they saved another thousand miles bypassing the isthmus at Panama to the south.'

'When did river traffic die?' asked Pitt.

'The Accessory Transit Company, as Vanderbilt called it, faded away with the construction of the Panama Canal. The Commodore built a huge mansion in San Juan del Norte, which still stands, although it is abandoned and overgrown with weeds. For eighty years the river lay forgotten, until the nineteen nineties when it emerged as a tourist attraction.'

'Seems like it was a more logical route for a canal than Panama.'

Rathbone shook his head sadly. 'By far, by far, but a complicated game of politics played by your President Teddy Roosevelt put it in hundreds of miles out of the way to the south.'

'They could still dig a canal through here,' said Giordino thoughtfully.

'Too late. Big business interests in the Panama Canal, environmentalists and ecologists would all fight the project tooth and nail. Even if the Nicaraguan government gave its blessing, no one would put up the money.'

'I heard there were plans afoot to build a railroad tunnel through Nicaragua between the oceans.'

Rathbone stared out over the river. 'There were rumors circulating up and down the river for months, but nothing ever came of it. Surveyors came with transits and tramped through the jungles. Helicopters were buzzing all over the place. Geologists and engineers filled my lodges and drank my whiskey, but after nearly a year they packed up their equipment, went home and that was the end of that.'

Giordino finished off his scotch and ordered another. 'None ever came back?'

Rathbone shook his head. 'Not that I'm aware of.'

'Did they give a reason for not pursuing the project?' Pitt queried.

Again, a shake of the head. 'None seemed to know more than I did. Their contracts were finished and they were paid off. It all seemed very cloak-and-dagger. I got one of the engineers drunk the night before he was to depart, but all I got out of him was that he and his fellow engineers were all sworn to secrecy.'

'Was the general contractor called Odyssey?'

Rathbone stiffened slightly. 'Yes, that was it, that was it, Odyssey. The head man even came and stayed at my lodge in El Castillo. A huge fellow. Must have weighed four hundred pounds. Called himself Specter. Very strange. Never did get a good look at his face. He was always surrounded by an entourage, mostly women.'

'Women?' Giordino perked up.

'Most attractive, but business executive types. Very aloof, very efficient. Never talked or offered to be friendly with any of the local people.'

'How did they arrive?' Pitt put to Rathbone.

'Landed and took off on the river in a big amphibian airplane painted like an orchid.'

'Lavender?'

'I guess you could call it that.'

Giordino swirled his scotch around the ice cubes. 'Did you ever get a hint about why the project never got off the ground?'

'Rumor, gossip and hearsay came up with at least fifty reasons, but none made any sense. My friends in the government at Managua acted as amazed as everyone along the river. They claimed the fault was not theirs. They offered Odyssey every benefit, every advantage, since the project would have greatly enhanced Nicaragua's economy. My own opinion is that Specter found other more profitable projects for the Odyssey Corporation and simply moved on.'

At that moment, it felt as if the earth was twitching and the ice in their glasses tinkled, and the contents quivered as if invisible raindrops were falling on it. The tops of the trees in the jungle swayed in unison with the birds squawking and the moan of unseen animals.

'Earthquake,' Giordino said indifferently.

'More like a slight earth tremor,' Pitt agreed, taking another sip from his drink.

'You fellows don't seem upset at our local ground movement,' said Rathbone in mild surprise.

'We grew up in California,' Giordino explained.

Pitt exchanged glances with Giordino. Then he said, 'I wonder if we'll experience any tremors on the rest of our voyage up the river.'

Rathbone looked uneasy. 'I doubt it. They come and go like thunder, but very infrequently and have yet to cause any damage. The natives are a superstitious lot. They believe the ancient gods of their ancestors have returned and are living in the jungle.'

He slowly, with some effort, rose from his chair and stood unsteadily. 'Gentlemen, thank you for the drinks. It was indeed, indeed, most delightful talking with you. But with age comes an urge to go to bed early. Will I see you again tomorrow?'

Pitt came to his feet and shook Rathbone's hand. 'Perhaps. We'll probably take a nature hike in the morning and continue our journey later in the afternoon.'

'We'd like to spend a day in El Castillo and see the ruins of the fortress before we head upriver into Lake Nicaragua,' added Giordino.

'I'm afraid you can only see the fortress from a distance,' said Rathbone. 'Government police have put it off-limits to all locals and visiting tourists. They claimed it was deteriorating under the crowds wandering the ruins. So much humbug in my book. The rain does far more damage than the feet of a few tourists.'

'Are Nicaraguan police guarding the walls?'

'More security than a nuclear bomb factory. Security cameras, guard dogs and a ten-foot fence around the fort, with barbwire running along the top. One resident of El Castillo, a fellow by the name of Jesus Diego, became curious and tried to penetrate the security. Poor fellow was found hanging in a tree on the riverbank.'

'Dead?'

'Very dead.' Rathbone quickly changed the subject. 'If I were you, I wouldn't go near the place.'

'We shall take your advice,' said Pitt.

'Well, gentlemen, it was a pleasure. Good evening.'

As they watched the old man shuffle away, Giordino said to Pitt, 'What do you think?'

'Not what he appeared,' Pitt said briefly. 'He made no mention of the container port.'

'You caught the dainty hands too.'

'The skin was too smooth and free of blemishes for a man over seventy.'

Giordino motioned to a waiter. 'Did you pick up on the voice? It sounded unnatural, as if it was a recording.'

'Apparently, Mr. Rathbone was handing us a bill of goods.'

'It would be nice to know what game he's playing.'

When the waiter brought over another round of drinks and asked them if they were ready to be seated for dinner, they both nodded and followed him into the dining room. As they were seated, Pitt asked the waiter, 'What is your name?'

'Marcus.'

'Marcus, do you often experience earth tremors here in the jungle?'

'Oh, si, senor. But not until three, maybe four, years ago when they began moving up the river.'

'The tremors move?' asked Giordino, puzzled.

'Si, very slowly.

'In what direction?'

'They started at the mouth of the river at San Juan del Norte. Now they shake the earth in the jungle above El Castillo.'

'Definitely not an eerie phenomenon caused by Mother Nature.'

Giordino sighed. 'Where is Sheena the Jungle Queen when you need her?'

'The gods will never let man find their secret, not in the jungle,' said Marcus, looking around him as if expecting an assassin to creep up on him. 'No man who goes in, comes out alive.'

'When did men start disappearing in the jungle?' asked Pitt.

'About a year ago, a university expedition went in to study the wildlife, and vanished. No trace of them was ever found. The jungle guards its secrets well.'

For the second time that evening, Pitt looked at Giordino and they both cracked tight smiles. 'Oh, I don't