The Source - Michael Cordy [70]
They laughed, but Juarez was indignant. 'It's true,' he protested.
Suddenly they were silenced by a distant, high-pitched wail.
'What the hell was that?' exclaimed Zeb.
Hackett's face had paled. 'The alarm on my boat.'
It stopped as abruptly as it had started.
'Must have been an animal or a malfunction,' said Mendoza.
'You're probably right,' said Ross. What else could it have been? No other human had reason to come this way. Except Torino. And he had no way of knowing where they were headed.
A rifle shot rang out, startling them.
'What the hell—'
Mendoza was standing, rifle nestled in his shoulder. 'Got him,' he said. 'That'll keep them away better than any grunting.'
Hackett arced the beam of his torch towards the river, and Ross saw, reflected in the light, countless unblinking eyes staring at them.
40
The next day they reached El Halo, a twenty-foot-diameter circle of black stone, veined with quartz that sparkled in the sun. According to Falcon, El Halo was the place where they should leave the boats and continue their journey on foot. From here, in Falcon's notebook, the directions became more cryptic – not least the next one: At El Halo use the arrow to set your course, then follow it through the jungle to La Barba Verde, the Green Beard.
After a sleepless night spent listening to the crocodiles, some had changed places on the boats before continuing on their voyage. Sister Chantal waved away Ross's concern for her. 'I'm okay.' Now, as they reached the distinctive circle of stone, Ross knew that the nun's interpretation would be of crucial importance. The lead boat had already reached the bank and was obscured by El Halo. When Ross's boat joined it, Hackett and Mendoza were unloading. He couldn't see the nun.
'Where's Sister Chantal?' he asked.
'She must have walked off,' Hackett suggested. 'She can't be far.'
Ross panicked. They were in the middle of the jungle and the one person who could direct them was missing. Then he saw her behind the black stone with her back to him.
'Where do we go from here, Sister?' he asked. She didn't reply. 'What does the next clue mean?'
Still no reply.
She stared at El Halo blankly, then began to stroke the stone. His heart sank.
When he stepped closer, he saw that she was studying marks carved into the stone, gate marks such as those a prisoner scratches on a cell wall to count the days, four vertical strokes crossed with a diagonal, representing five. Beside it was a single vertical stroke, indicating a total of six. There were also six sets of roman numerals. It took Ross a moment to work out that they represented dates, the most recent more than seventy years ago. Before he could process what he was seeing, Sister Chantal brushed her hands over them.
'I know where we are,' she said, to no one in particular, eyes sparkling. She clutched her crucifix. 'Give me a compass.'
Ross reached into his pocket and handed her his. She stroked the stone again. 'Feel it, Ross,' she said.
He touched the stone and felt a raised area, disguised by moss. His fingers described the shape of a triangle with a tail.
'What is it?' said Zeb.
'An arrow.'
'And it points south by south-east,' said Sister Chantal, studying the compass.
Ross checked the map on his GPS palmtop and tried to work out where the arrow might be pointing, but his screen showed only a blank expanse of uncharted virgin jungle.
'Follow me,' said Sister Chantal.
'Wait,' said Mendoza, turning back to the boats. 'I've got to get something.'
'Hurry,' said the nun, showing no trace of her earlier exhaustion. 'We're getting closer. I can sense it.'
41
The jungle was everything described in the Voynich. Noisy, hellish and hot. Juarez made everyone wear heavy shoes and watch each step because of the constant threat of fer-de-lance and other poisonous creatures. Cutting through the steaming undergrowth