The Source - Michael Cordy [51]
'Have you got a good guide?' asked Zeb.
Hackett nodded. 'Juarez helps me with the boat. He's Quechua and knows the Amazon as well as anybody.' He reached into a pocket and brought out an inhaler. 'But this isn't just about gold for me. The area of dense cloud forest is littered with the remains of great pre-Inca civilizations, thousands of years old, and one of the great mysteries is what caused people like the Chachapoyans to live in that high mountain jungle. Where did they come from? Many archaeologists believe that the Chacha migrated overland through the jungles of the Amazon Basin and that the cradle of the continent's civilization, the great metropolis with its massive towers, battlements and plazas, is still out there, hidden in the Amazon rainforest. Some say that could be Eldorado.' Hackett smiled. 'I've wanted to find it for as long as I can remember.'
Ross felt a stab of guilt for allowing him to believe they were looking for Eldorado, then reminded himself that there was probably more chance of finding Hackett's lost city than Falcon's miraculous garden. 'What about the permits everyone keeps talking about?'
Hackett waved a hand dismissively. 'This government doesn't care about preserving its culture, only the money it brings in from tourism. Back in 2003 they granted the oil companies carte blanche access to indigenous ancestral lands throughout almost the entire Peruvian Amazon – and we all know how much the oil industry cares about conservation. If something valuable is out there we'd better find it quick before they destroy it. If it's big enough and valuable enough it might even make the government stop churning up the jungle.'
'When can we leave?' demanded Ross.
'Today's Monday . . . Thursday?'
'No sooner?'
'It'll take a little time to arrange supplies for a month or two.' He pulled out a pad, scribbled some notes, then tore off a sheet and handed it to Ross. 'I'll collect most of what you'll need but here are some personal items you must have in the jungle – sunscreen, sun hats, rucksacks, that kind of thing, if you haven't already got them.'
Ross scanned the list. They had most of the items already, but one surprised him. 'Condoms? I'm married.'
Hackett laughed. 'They're not for sex. They're for the jungle. And buy the smallest you can find – however proud you are of what you've got. The water in the Amazon isn't as warm as you think and you need a nice tight fit.'
'I don't understand.'
'You will, trust me. Where are you staying?'
'El Ingenio.'
'I'll pick you up first thing on Thursday. Before dawn. Say, four thirty? We'll have a long day ahead of us.'
'We'll be waiting,' said Ross, wondering how he was going to fill the time once he'd bought the remaining few items.
From where Marco Bazin stood in the shadows, he didn't need the discreet earphone connected to the directional microphone in his hand. He had heard everything, both in the bar and out on the street. Now he knew when and where Kelly was setting off on his quest, he had time to meet Torino and tell him his plan.
Despite his fatigue, Bazin felt good as he watched Kelly and the others shake hands with the Englishman and go their separate ways. In the sun his olive skin was already losing its sallow pallor, his hair was growing back and he felt strong for the first time in months.
He had been tailing Kelly, the nun and the student with bright red hair all the way from the States, and had let them out of his sight only when they'd checked into their hotel yesterday evening. Then he had wandered around the bars on the seamier side of town, recruiting help.
He preferred to work alone but in the past he'd occasionally brought in jackals and vultures for preparation, back-up and cleanup work. This was one of those occasions, except now he was doing it for a higher purpose.
'Is the notebook a treasure map?'
Bazin stepped out of the alleyway, adjusted his Panama hat and turned to the man beside him. The Peruvian's greedy eyes gleamed like jet. 'Let me worry about the book, Raul. You worry about getting the equipment,