City of Gold, page 3
"I hope so, too."
They unpacked while they were talking.
"You about ready?" he said.
"Yes."
They went downstairs and onto the porch. Cushioned chairs and couches made of dark wood were arranged around a flat coffee table. Ronnie and Lamont lounged on one of the couches.
"I asked Diego if he had any beer," Lamont said. "He laughed and said everybody drinks beer here. He went to get some for us."
Valentina came out onto the porch and sat down next to Selena.
"We are drinking?"
"Beer's on the way," Ronnie said.
"This is quite a view," Selena said.
It was quite a view. It was easy to see why the Incas had chosen Cuzco as their capital. The Urubamba stretched away in sweeping curves toward snow covered mountain peaks rising in the distance. The fertile river valley was ideal for agriculture. From where they sat, they could see the Inca terraces cut into the sides of the mountains bordering the valley.
Diego came out onto the porch, carrying a tray loaded with bottles of cold beer.
"My man," Lamont said. "Diego, right?"
"Yes, sir."
"Thank you, Diego," Nick said.
Diego was about five foot six, around thirty years old, muscular. There was something about his face that made him look as though he had stepped out of a history book picturing Inca royalty. He moved with an unconscious grace, a hint of unseen abilities.
Livingston appeared on the porch, carrying a round map case of faded brown leather.
"I see Diego is taking care of you. Good, good. Diego, please bring me a G and T."
Diego left to get the drink.
"Doesn't talk much, does he?" Lamont said.
"That's not his job," Livingston said. "He's a good man to have around. He'll be going with us."
This guy belongs in a Victorian novel, Nick thought.
"Where exactly are we going?"
Livingston sat down next to Nick and gestured at the river.
"Up the Urubamba."
"Sounds like an insult," Ronnie said.
Livingston looked vaguely disapproving.
"Hmm. How do you like the beer?"
Nick held up his bottle and read the label.
"Cusqueña Dorado. Pretty good."
"There are a lot of beers in Peru, but you can't go wrong with that one," Livingston said.
Diego brought the gin and tonic. Livingston waited until he had gone, then opened the map case. He took out a sheet of parchment and carefully placed it on the table in front of them.
The map was obviously old, drawn in dark ink that had long since faded to brown. Notations written in crabbed script dotted the drawing. Crude sketches accompanied some of them. A tributary branching off from a main river featured prominently, with notes written at several places along its length.
"Those sketches look to me like natural landmarks," Livingston said. "They should still be there."
Nick pointed at the map. "Is this big river the Urubamba?"
"Yes."
"The writing is Spanish, but it doesn't make sense," Selena said.
"Very observant, Doctor Connor. It's in code. I found the map hidden in the false bottom of an antique chest I bought in Madrid, along with the Quipu hanging your director showed you. I discovered that the chest had belonged to a man named Juan Gomez. He was a captain in the army of Francisco de Toledo."
"Who was Francisco de Toledo, please?" Valentina said.
"The Spanish viceroy of Peru in 1572, when the last Inca emperor was defeated. By that time all that was left of the Inca Empire was a single stronghold in the mountains, called Vilcabamba. The Spaniards expected to find treasure when they entered the city, but by that time it had been hidden away."
"In the lost city of Paititi," Selena said.
"Exactly. The City of Gold."
"And you think this map leads to it?" Nick asked.
Livingston's face glowed with excitement.
"I'm certain of it. After the conquest of Vilcabamba, de Toledo sent an expedition of thirty men to look for Paititi. Gomez led that expedition."
"What happened to them?" Ronnie asked.
"Only Gomez and one other man returned. His companion was delirious and died soon after," Livingston said. "Gomez was wounded. He told a story of being ambushed by painted savages. Two weeks after he got back to Cuzco, he sailed for Spain. The sea chest made it, but Gomez didn't. The wound was infected. He died during the journey, probably from blood poisoning."
"So you think Gomez found Paititi, made that map, and hid it in the chest?"
"Yes. I think he planned to find backers in Spain to finance his return. If he found the city and secured the Inca treasure for the Spanish king, he'd be rewarded with wealth and influence beyond his dreams."
"How come he didn't tell this guy Toledo about it?" Lamont said.
"If he had, de Toledo would have gotten all the credit," Livingston said. "Gomez would have been shunted aside. De Toledo would have claimed the glory and the gold."
"Figures," Ronnie said.
Nick looked at the map.
"I don't want to rain on anyone's parade, but that map ends in the middle of nowhere. I don't see anything that indicates where the city may be."
"You wouldn't expect Gomez to make it easy, would you?" Livingston said.
"I suppose not. How do you expect to pin it down?"
"I believe I already have. Ground radar scans have been made of the entire area. About ten kilometers past where that map ends, there is a significant anomaly that's covered up by vegetation. It can only be the ruins of a city, right here."
He tapped his finger on the blank area.
"If scans show something's there, how come no one else has found it?" Ronnie asked.
"Do you know how many hidden ruins have been located by scans under the canopy of the rain forest, or overgrown in the jungle?" Livingston said.
"No, but I bet you're going to tell us."
Livingston ignored the remark.
"Hundreds, scattered all over Central and South America. This is only one of them. It takes a lot of money and expertise to mount an expedition into these places. That tends to discourage people. Not to mention that this location is in one of the most difficult environments on earth. There are easier places to reach and explore. Without the map, there's no reason to think this particular set of ruins is Paititi."
"Okay, you made your point," Ronnie said.
"How are we getting there?" Nick asked.
"The first part is easy. We go by road to a town called Poroy and take a train to Aguas Calientes. From there, we take a boat along the Urubamba and then up the tributary you see here on the map. That leads deep into the rain forest and unexplored territory."
"Machu Picchu is near Aguas Calientes," Selena said.
Livingston nodded. "That's right. You can walk to Machu Picchu from there, if you like. The town is where tourists start their trips to the ruins."
"I'd like to see Machu Picchu," Lamont said.
"There will be plenty of time to explore, if you want to do that," Livingston said. "Once we arrive in Aguas Calientes, it will take a day or two to get everything ready."
Livingston tapped the map again.
"We leave the river here, where this stream comes in and there's one of those notations in code. After that it gets more difficult. But we have GPS to help us."
"Have you cracked the code?"
"Not yet," Livingston said. He turned to Selena. "I was rather hoping you could help with that, Doctor Connor. Your reputation is accompanied by reports of your abilities to decipher things like this."
"I've had some luck in the past," Selena said. "That doesn't mean I can do anything with this."
"I realize that. It isn't essential to our journey, but it would be helpful if we knew what those comments say. Aside from landmarks, they may warn of hazards in the area. Everything we can learn from this document is useful."
"I'll have to study it. I may want to send a copy back to headquarters and use our computer resources."
"Do you have secure communications to Virginia?"
"Yes."
"In that case, go ahead, if you think it will help."
"When are we leaving?" Nick said.
"The day after tomorrow," Livingston said.
Chapter 5
The buildings along the narrow cobblestone streets of old Cuzco were quaint and colorful, a tourist's delight. Tourists never saw the poverty and despair that was often hidden inside them. Inside an apartment in one of those buildings, two men sat talking.
One of them was an unsmiling block of a man who called himself Auqui Amaru Tupac. He was the one who had placed the bomb in Lima.
Tupac was not his real name. He had taken the nom de guerre of the brother of Tupac Inca, the last Inca emperor. Tupac had buried his real name with his family. His parents, his sister, and his little brother had been murdered by government soldiers during a raid more than forty years before, when he had been sixteen years old. That day had scarred his mind and driven him into the arms of the MRTA. In the movement, he'd found a new family and a purpose for his life.
His skin was dark with sun and Inca heritage. Unreadable black eyes peered out from hooded lids. His face was lined with the strain of years spent hiding from police, too many days without food, too many nights spent nurturing anger.
Tupac had survived MRTA's years of active struggle, the arrest and execution of the leaders and the surrender he considered a betrayal. He belonged to the hard core of true believers, those who had gone underground, refusing to abandon their principles. The movement had been crippled but never eliminated. Tupac was now a senior commander, near the top of DIRCOTE's most wanted list.
The government had loudly proclaimed the movement finished. They'd promised change, peace, and prosperity for all. Tupac and the others who still believed knew nothing would really change. Wolves didn't become sheep. The jaguar didn't change his spots. They knew all they had to do was wait until the time was right to begin again.
The time was now.
The seeds of revolution were spreading anew through the country, watered by poverty and oppression. The economy had been hijacked by powerful banking interests controlled from Europe and America. Wages had fallen, and inflation was taking hold. The price of food was rising. The police were once again silencing dissent with brutality. Word was starting to get out that Peru was no longer as safe for tourists as it had been.
Tupac lived for the day when the red flag of the movement would fly over the government palace in Lima, but revolution was expensive. He needed money to buy weapons and explosives, to pay corrupt officials.
Everyone was talking about the expedition getting ready to set out in search of Paititi, the legendary City of Gold. Everyone knew about the lost city. Although the Spanish had found a lot of gold during the conquest, it was only a fraction of what the Incas possessed. The biggest part of their treasure had never been found. It was a long shot, but what if the Englishman succeeded in finding the gold? Such wealth would buy whatever Tupac needed. It would be a simple matter to take it. Who could stop him? There was no law in the unexplored Amazon jungle.
The man sitting with Tupac was called Titu. As with Tupac, it was not his real name.
"The government is getting worried, Comandante," Titu said. "The attack in Lima shook them. Tourist income is falling. The incidents at Machu Picchu are scaring people away, though the media tries to hide them."
"The media parrots what those parasites in Lima tell them to say. They pretend these crimes are the work of common criminals, but they know it isn't true. The tourist trade is vulnerable. The last thing the government wants is for people to realize we are back, and that the movement is growing every day."
"You'd think those pigs in Lima would have learned by now."
"They will never learn, Titu," Tupac said. "They will continue to exploit the workers who provide their food and services. It has always been this way. Mao knew this better than anyone. Marx and Lenin thought the key to revolution lay with the industrial workers, but Mao knew that the soul of a country lies with the people who work the soil. He is our inspiration."
Titu nodded agreement. "What are your orders?"
"When does the expedition leave?"
"I leave today for Aguas Calientes. The Englishman and the others go tomorrow. He was waiting for the foreigners to arrive, and for final supplies. There is a map, but I have not seen it. The Englishman guards it closely."
"We don't need a map. We will follow you with our comrades, a day behind."
"Sooner or later, we will leave the river and go into the forest," Titu said. "Then it will become more difficult to know where we are."
Tupac took out a box and gave it to Titu.
"This will take care of that. Inside is a satellite phone to call me. You only need to find an open spot in the canopy. Also there is a tracking device. Use them as needed. Make sure they are not discovered."
"Yes, Comandante."
"If the city is found, call. I won't be far away."
"I am worried about the foreigners," Titu said. "There's something about them. I think they could be a problem. Even the women. They all have the look of soldiers. Hard men, I think."
"Bullets make all hard men soft," Tupac said.
Chapter 6
Stephanie came into Elizabeth's office.
"This just came through from Selena," she said. "It's a copy of the map they're using to find the city."
Elizabeth looked at the image.
"This looks like you follow a river until you get to this point, here. Then it's on foot and off into the rain forest. There's something written there I can't make out."
"Neither can Selena. She wants Freddie to take a shot at translating the notes on the map. They're in Spanish, but Selena says they don't make sense. Whoever drew the map wrote them in code."
Freddie's voice boomed out into the office.
I will be happy to attempt to translate the coded notations, Stephanie. Please scan the document for me.
"Darn it, Freddie, turn the volume down," Stephanie said.
Sorry, Stephanie.
"That's much better Freddie, thank you. The document is on my phone. I'm sending it to you now."
She pressed the button.
I have received the document, Stephanie.
"Let us know as soon as you have something."
Of course, Stephanie. I do not think it will take long.
"Did Selena say anything else?" Elizabeth asked.
"She said Livingston dresses like he thinks he's Indiana Jones, but she's not impressed."
"Oh, dear."
"She also says the beer is good, the scenery is wonderful, and she's looking forward to the trip."
"Did she say when they're leaving?"
"Yes. The day after tomorrow."
"Are they going to wait and see if Freddie can translate that map?"
"I don't think so," Stephanie said, "but I'm sure she'd like to have that information before they set off."
Stephanie.
"Yes, Freddie?"
Something...is wrong. I am experiencing...difficulty...confusion... Stephanie! Help! He...
"Freddie?"
There was no response.
"Freddie, please respond."
The speakers were silent.
"Oh, shit," Stephanie said.
She ran from Elizabeth's office toward the back of the building, where the massive Cray supercomputer named Freddie lived inside a specially constructed room built to protect him against everything from dust particles to an EMP strike. She placed her hand on a scanner, then leaned in for a retinal scan of her right eye. Double doors of bulletproof glass slid open with a soft hiss. Stephanie entered the room.
Ahead was the master console, positioned in front of Freddie. On the right side of the console was the equivalent of a hospital monitor for vital signs. Normally it was alive with a constant stream of changing code.
With growing alarm, Stephanie saw that the monitor was dark.
Chapter 7
Colonel Alvarez leaned back in his chair at the Cusco offices of DIRCOTE and considered his options about Livingston. If the Englishman didn't succeed, it wouldn't matter. But if the lost city was found, that would be a different story. Then the world would soon hear the tragic story of one more foolish expedition that had vanished without a trace in the Amazon wilderness.
If Livingston was never seen again, the authorities would react with a sigh and a collective shrug of the shoulders. The risks of going into the unexplored Amazon were well known. More than one expedition had set out on the quest for the City of Gold and never come back. The jungle was home to dangerous animals, poisonous snakes, and many other unpleasant creatures were deadly to humans. Away from the eyes of the civilized world, anything could happen.
If Livingston found the gold, he would never live to enjoy it. It was unfortunate about the women, but Alvarez couldn't allow anyone to survive.
Thinking about the woman who was married to the American team leader, he could almost wish the expedition would fail. It would be sad to see such a woman cut down before her time, but he'd never allowed feelings to get in the way of what had to be done. Possibly he could persuade her to submit to him by promising her whatever she needed to hear. It would make things easier for her in the end.
Alvarez didn't consider himself to be a man lacking compassion. Did he not have a heart? Did he not appreciate poetry and music? He had heard the whispers about him. It annoyed him when people said he was a cruel man. He was simply a man, like any other man, forced to perform unpleasant duties as a necessity of his job. It wasn't his fault that hard times required hard actions.
Over the years he had assembled a team of men who would follow him into hell if they were well rewarded. All of them had prospered with him. Their loyalty was secure. One of them was part of Livingston's expedition. He would monitor their progress and report back.
If the city was found and gold discovered, Alvarez would come in with his strike team by helicopter. His man on the ground would clear a landing zone for him, if it was necessary. It was easy enough, even in the forest. The tallest trees would fall with a wrap of explosives around their trunks. The technique had served the Americans in Vietnam and it would work just as well here.
