to do it.'
As Ross heard these words, his anxiety peaked. This was the point of no return, his last chance to fly back to Lauren. He looked around the group but no one raised a hand.
Except Juarez.
Hackett glared at him. 'We need you, Juarez. You're the only one of us who knows the jungle.'
'But why should I come with you, Senor Hackett?' Juarez asked. 'It is dangerous. People have tried to kill us. I don't even know what you're looking for.'
'The ruins of a lost civilization,' said Hackett.
'But I don't like ruins,' Juarez said mournfully.
'We're looking for gold,' Zeb said. 'Treasure.'
'How much?' asked Mendoza. He was rubbing his temples as if he was in pain.
'We don't know,' Ross said carefully. 'We're not sure what we'll find.'
'But you guys think there's something?' Mendoza said.
'I know it,' said Sister Chantal.
'That's good enough for me,' said Mendoza, shooting Juarez a meaningful look.
'Come on, Juarez,' said Zeb, with her most winning smile. 'You're a fit young man. You surely can't be scared when a girl like me and an old lady like Sister Chantal are prepared to go.'
Juarez reddened and shuffled uncomfortably in his chair. 'I'm not scared. I just want to know why I should go.'
'For glory and gold,' said Hackett. 'Come on, Juarez. You've always said you wanted to leave the jungle and visit the great cities of Europe and America. Well, with this gold, you could go to New York, Paris, London, wherever you want.'
'I only go if we share everything equally,' said Juarez.
'Agreed,' confirmed Ross, wondering how these people were going to react when they eventually discovered they hadn't been looking for gold but for a garden, which probably didn't exist. Sister Chantal didn't seem to worry about this, but he did. At that moment his GPS-enabled phone rang. When he heard his father's voice his pulse quickened. He walked out on deck. 'Hi, Dad. How's Lauren?'
'Stable. Her mother thought she saw something last night but it was nothing. I rang to ask about you. How's it going in Peru?'
'Early days,' said Ross. He decided against telling him about the attack. 'We're just about to head off into the jungle proper. The boat's got a radio but it'll be difficult to keep in touch.'
His father laughed. 'That may be no bad thing, son. Might stop you calling in every day.' He paused, as if hearing Ross's indecision. 'Son, whatever you think about what you're doing in Peru, you've got to choose. Either come home now and accept whatever happens, or commit to finding the garden. There can't be any half- measures. If you stay, you'll come home knowing you did all you could. If you don't you'll never find peace.'
As Ross put away the phone, he knew his father was right. Zeb and Sister Chantal came out on deck. 'How's Lauren?' asked Zeb. 'If you need to go back,' she checked her watch, 'we can be home by this time tomorrow.'
Sister Chantal said nothing.
'Is there a problem?' said Hackett, strolling out to join them. 'Bad news from home?'
'My wife's not been well.'
'So what the hell are you doing in the Amazon hunting treasure?'
'It's a long story, Nigel.'
Hackett hesitated, clearly balancing the desire to know more with his natural courtesy. 'I hope she'll be okay. Juarez and I are going ashore for supplies. We'll set off again in about six hours.' He looked meaningfully at Ross. 'You okay with that?'
Mendoza appeared suddenly, still rubbing his temples. He walked over to Hackett. 'You got some strong painkillers?'
'A few in my medical bag. Why?'
'Bad migraine.'
'I'll write a prescription. You can pick up some pills in town.' Hackett turned back to Ross. 'Are you in?'
Both Zeb and Sister Chantal were watching him closely. If Lauren died while he was away he'd feel terrible guilt. But if he went back and she died anyway, which she almost certainly would, he'd feel guilty for not having done everything in his power to save her. He had come this far and had to go on. Even if the garden was a myth, it offered the only chance to save his wife and he had to take it. Unlike Hackett, Mendoza and Juarez, he wasn't seeking mere treasure. He was seeking something far more precious and elusive. Hope. 'I'm in, Nigel,' he said. 'All the way.' Six hours later Yesterday's flight from Lima to Iquitos had been uneventful, and Torino had spent a comfortable night at the Hotel Eldorado Plaza in the centre of the city. After dismissing his private secretary and the rest of his entourage in Lima, he was travelling alone – except, of course, for his guards. The fewer people who knew of his mission the better. His only concern related to Bazin. He had sent him a number of texts on his satellite phone, but had not yet received a response. He had also heard rumours in town: fishermen had found a half-eaten body in the river south of Iquitos, with a bullet through its head. There was also talk of gunfire and an abandoned dinghy.
However, as Torino stood on the deck of his requisitioned boat, he refused to worry unduly about his half- brother. If Bazin was dead, he had died performing a service for the Church. And his death had not been in vain: he had put contingencies in place. Torino blinked in the dying sun and raised a pair of binoculars to his eyes. He watched the Discovery leave Puerto Masusa and cruise downriver until it disappeared round the bend of the vast waterway. Then he looked at the palmtop computer Bazin had given him in Lima. The onscreen map showed a dot moving north-east down the Amazon.
Now four soldiers in jungle fatigues were loading his boat. Three were fair-haired, which, with their height, made them stand out among the smaller, darker locals. Historically, the Swiss Guard were recruited from the German-speaking Swiss cantons. Two passed him with an open case of rifles and ammunition. 'Why are those coming with us?' Torino demanded.
Fleischer, the sergeant – the Feldwebel – frowned. 'Please, Father General, we're going into the jungle. My orders are to defend you. Guns may not sit well with your sacred office but we need them.'
'You misunderstand me, Feldwebel. I don't mind you bringing weapons. I'm only concerned to know – is that all you're taking?'
'I don't understand, Father General.'
Torino thought of the story in the Voynich, and Father Orlando Falcon's testimony in the Inquisition Archives. He considered the treacherous route to the garden's source, the radix, in the forbidden caves, and reflected on how the last conquistadors had been butchered, their blood colouring the stream a deep red. 'Assume you'll be confronted by forces far stronger and fiercer than you expect, Feldwebel. Arm yourselves with the best, most advanced weaponry you can. You must be capable of protecting us against every eventuality.' Then he remembered his agreement with the Holy Father. 'There are at least two more pieces of equipment you will need to bring.' He told Fleischer what they were.
'But, Father General, this will delay us by a day. Are you sure they're necessary?'
'I understood from the Holy Father that you were committed to helping me fulfil my mission unquestioningly. Is that your understanding, too, Feldwebel?'
'Yes, it is, Father General.'
'Then I suggest you do exactly as I ask. And, trust me, these extra precautions are as much for your benefit as mine.' Torino glanced up at the sun and basked in its warmth. The Lord was smiling down on him. Then his eyes dropped to the screen in his hand, the dot moving north-east. 'Hurry,' he said. 'I want to leave within twenty- four hours.'
34
Over the next few days, as the Discovery sailed down the Amazon, Ross became increasingly concerned
