'Of course,' said Hackett. Ross almost smiled. It would be impolite and unBritish to snub the man who had just saved your life. Hackett extended his hand and Mendoza shook it. 'I don't know how we can repay you for coming to our assistance.'
'You can give me a lift to Iquitos, my friend. My boat is not as grand – or as memorable – as yours. That's why I'm here. It sank, and I was waiting to flag down the ferry to Iquitos when I saw your difficulty.' He gestured to the body still on board. 'Bandits don't usually operate so far from the drug fields of the Huallaga valley. What did they want?'
Hackett turned to Sister Chantal. 'Why didn't you give them the notebook? They would have killed us if Senor Mendoza hadn't turned up.'
'As I said before, they would have killed us anyway,' she said.
Mendoza grimaced. 'I fear she's right, senor. Those men don't let you live to complain to the police. What notebook did they want? It must be valuable.'
'It contains directions,' said Hackett, glaring at the nun.
'Directions?'
Hackett turned to Ross. 'How the hell did they even know about it? You told me no one else did.'
No one else should have known about the notebook, thought Ross. But one other person knew of Falcon's garden. Torino. The priest could have seen the book when he'd met Sister Chantal at Ross's house, then put two and two together. Ross found it hard to believe that a senior officer of the Church would hire murderous bandits to steal it but there seemed no other explanation. 'Perhaps one other person knows what we're looking for, but he can't find it without the notebook.'
'You mean-' started Sister Chantal. Ross flashed her a look and she stopped. Now was not the time to explain to Hackett and the others why a senior Catholic priest was involved.
'So we've got serious competition?' said Hackett.
'We had serious competition,' said Ross. 'With those men dead, there's no way he can follow us into the jungle.'
'What about the police?' said Zeb.
'What about them?' said Mendoza, quietly.
All eyes turned to him.
'She means the bodies,' said Ross.
Mendoza bent down to the remaining body on the deck and rolled it into the river. A red stain marked where it had lain. 'What bodies?' He pointed to three large crocodiles moving through the water. The other two had already disappeared. He took a handkerchief from his pocket and passed it to Ross. 'Wipe your face.' Ross did so and Mendoza looked him in the eye. 'I killed three men to help you. The police here are not as they are in America. They'll ask us a lot of questions – questions I don't need, questions you don't need. They'll take your book of directions and keep it. If you're in a hurry, senor, and want to find what you seek before your rival, don't involve the police. You understand?'
'I'm afraid I agree with him, Ross,' said Hackett. 'The police won't do us any favours.'
Ross looked at the women, who stared blankly at him, ashen-faced, eyes wide with shock, then at the churning river where a crocodile was already pulling the last body under the murky water. He had always had his doubts about this quest but now the stakes were even higher.
Mendoza's eyes met his. 'Where you're going you need a man who knows how to use a gun. When I left the army my boat was my future, but now it's gone. I have no insurance, no prospects. Give me a share of whatever you seek and I'll come with you.'
'You don't even know what we're looking for.'
'It must be valuable.'
Ross tried to judge the man standing before him. Mendoza had saved their lives and proved himself a powerful ally, but he might also make a dangerous enemy. He turned to the others. Zeb and Juarez nodded uncertainly. Sister Chantal lowered her eyes and said nothing. 'Nigel, you're the captain. It's your boat. What do you think?' Hackett hesitated. 'Now's not the time to be polite,' Ross pressed. 'Senor Mendoza says you've met him before. Have you?'
Hackett grimaced. 'I don't know. I've got an appalling memory for faces, but he has no reason to lie and we might easily have met. I've certainly been to Lagunas a number of times and met many river-runners. Anyway, I'd say Senor Mendoza's earned his passage.'
'That's settled, then. Now let's get the hell out of here.'
32
The Sacred Heart Hospital, Bridgeport, Connecticut Ross and Lauren Kelly's unborn baby was now five months into its development, over halfway through the pregnancy. Its length from crown to rump was more than seven inches, its weight about ten and a half ounces. Though its rapid growth rate had slowed, the baby's organs were maturing and developing.
Yesterday her grandchild's progress had filled Diana Wharton with hope. Now she sat in the dark beside her daughter's bed, drifting into and out of sleep. She had intended to leave at midnight but had changed her mind: she preferred to be with Lauren than alone in her bed at home.
Something snapped her awake. Disoriented, she peered round the darkened room, silent except for the rhythmic beat of the instruments. According to the luminous clock on the wall it was almost three in the morning. As her eyes grew accustomed to the gloom she did a double-take, unable to believe what she was seeing: Lauren's eyes were open.
Diana Wharton jumped up and bent close to her daughter. For a second she allowed herself to believe a miracle had happened – the miracle she had been praying for every day and every night. But Lauren's eyes were closed. It had been an illusion, a trick of the light, a cruel dream.
Tears streaming down her cheeks, knowing she would not sleep again that night, Diana stroked her daughter's face.
33
Iquitos The remote capital of the Department of Lareto is unique. Linked to the outside world only by air and river, Iquitos is the world's only large city totally surrounded by jungle and unreachable by road.
Founded as a Jesuit mission in the 1750s, a century after Falcon had written the Voynich, Iquitos had to fend off constant attacks from Indian tribes who didn't wish to be converted. The tiny settlement survived and grew slowly until by the 1870s it had 1,500 inhabitants. Then came the great rubber boom and the population increased sixteen-fold. While the barons became fabulously rich, the rubber tappers, mainly local Indians, suffered virtual enslavement. During the Second World War the rubber market collapsed. Then, in the 1960s, a second boom revitalized the area, this time in oil. Iquitos was now a thriving frontier town, violent but prosperous, attracting oilmen, adventurers and tourists alike.
When the Discovery pulled alongside the other boats in Puerto Masusa, a couple of kilometres north of the city centre, Ross saw the influence of oil everywhere. Small children ran around in grubby oil-company T-shirts playing with logo-stamped tennis balls. A huge poster by the docks depicted a lush, idyllic jungle scene, complete with bright parrots, flowers and a cooling spring – not an ugly oil rig, pipeline or sump in sight. Beneath it was a discreet oil-company logo and the tag line Ayudamos Peru a utilizar sus recursos naturales. Helping Peru use its natural resources.
When the boat had docked, Hackett asked the group to gather in the galley. 'After what happened I realize some of you'll be nervous about going on. Iquitos is the last outpost of civilization from where you can board a plane back to Lima. Here, we'll take on final supplies and then we'll be on our own, in virgin jungle, for the next month or so. Once we leave no one will be able to return unless we all do. If you want to bail out, now's the time
