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By Root 308 0

who got him government permits and offered to sell any gold he found without involving the authorities, his river-running business was barely viable. The locals were squeezing him out and he was only surviving by ferrying oil geologists into the jungle and offering himself as their on-board doctor. As for his dream, he had had precious little time to look for any ruins – most of which had been discovered anyway. He had come to Cajamarca in a last-ditch attempt to link up with local tour companies and offer visitors a one-ticket tour of the cloud forest and the Amazon. But none of the tour operators in Cajamarca or nearby Chachapoyas was biting: the status quo suited them just fine.

Hackett needed a change of fortune. Unless he earned some money soon he faced the unthinkable: selling his new boat and the Land Rover to return to the grey skies of England with his tail between his legs. When he had overheard the frustrated trio of travellers in Amazonas Tours – the tall American, the young, disconcertingly attractive red-haired woman and the elegant elderly lady with striking eyes – he had listened.

Introductions made, he smiled at his potential clients, wondering what had brought together a geologist, an academic and a nun. 'So, you want equipment, provisions, transport and a guide?'

'Yes,' said Ross.

'For how long?'

'Up to two months.'

'Two months? That's not going to be cheap.'

'Obviously.'

'All of you are going?'

'Yes,' said the elderly sister, who wore none of the trappings of a nun, save the large crucifix he glimpsed at her neck. She smiled as she sipped her latte. Something about her eyes made Hackett decide against underestimating her.

'But you don't know exactly where you want to go,' he observed.

'Not exactly,' said Ross. 'We know where to start and we've got directions that lead to the river, then into the jungle.'

Hackett's eyes widened. 'Let me guess. You're looking for gold.'

There was a pause as the three glanced at each other. The attractive young woman, Zeb, dipped her finger into some spilt coffee on the table by her cup and licked it off. He shuddered. Had she no idea how many germs she had just ingested? 'Yes,' she said. 'We're treasure hunters.'

'Aren't we all?' he said drily. God, there was one born every minute. 'Don't tell me, someone sold you a map.'

'No,' said Ross.

'You have a map, though, haven't you? Where did you get it? Someone sold it you in Lima, no doubt. Told you it leads to lost treasure, Inca gold.' He laughed. 'I'm warning you, there are thousands of maps flying around and they're all nonsense. I know. I've checked out a few myself.' Hackett studied them again. The bizarre trio didn't resemble the Yank tourists who came, in their loud shirts and ironed denims, for safe adventure. 'Take my advice, my friends, don't waste your time and money. Enjoy Peru. See the amazing Chachapoyan ruins here. Go south to Cuzco and Machu Picchu, travel east to jungle-locked Iquitos, then north to the beach in Máncora. Paint the town red in Lima and go home.'

'Mr Hackett, we don't have a map,' said Ross. 'What we do have is a very old document, written by a Jesuit priest, shortly after Pizarro's conquest of Peru.'

Hackett almost laughed again, but the other man's expression cut through his scepticism. This was no holiday adventurer seeking easy gold. 'Where did you buy it?'

'I didn't buy it,' said the nun, 'but it contains directions and we need your help to follow them.'

'Directions to where?'

'The Jesuit priest accompanied a troop of conquistadors into the jungle.' Her beautiful eyes crinkled in an enigmatic smile. 'To find Eldorado.'

'The fabled city of gold.' An electric surge of excitement rippled through Hackett. 'And he found something?'

The trio nodded.

Hackett sat forward. 'What?'

'That's what we want to check out,' said Ross.

'Can I see the document?'

Sister Chantal handed him a book. Hackett opened it carefully. Its leather binding and yellowed vellum pages appeared authentic. There were some mismatched pages bound into the back but they looked equally old. He turned