19
Nina jerked awake, a fierce cramp burning in her arm.
For a nightmarish moment she thought the antivenom had worn off,
letting the Gormar’s toxin continue its work, but as she scrambled
to sit up she realised it was only the result of her uncomfortable
sleeping position on the hard floor.
She rolled her
shoulder to ease the stiffness. The wallowing nausea had subsided,
leaving just a hangover queasiness. Examining her wrist, she saw
that the swollen sting had gone down, though it was still an angry
red.
‘Nina? Are you all
right?’
She looked round to
see Kit sitting against the wall of his cell. ‘I’m . . . not
great,’ she admitted. ‘But better than I was.’ A glance told her
that the guard had been replaced by another man. ‘How long was I
asleep?’
Kit checked his
watch. ‘Quite a while. It’s after eleven in the
morning.’
She had been out for
something like fourteen hours while her body did its best to
expunge the poison from her system. ‘Jesus. How long have you been
awake?’
‘About an hour. I
didn’t want to wake you.’
Another look at the
guard. This one apparently understood English, his eyes flicking
between them as he followed their conversation. ‘We’ve got a new
watchman – did I miss anything else?’
‘No, he was there
when I woke up. I’ve been spending the time wondering how on earth
I ended up in this situation. It seems destiny works in strange
ways.’
Nina made a sarcastic
sound. ‘You think being tortured with scorpions was our
destiny?’
‘I prefer that to it
being nothing more than bad luck.’
‘Huh. I kind of see
your point. Just hope that our destinies don’t end in
here.’
‘So do I. But . . . I
do think that things happen for a reason, even if we can’t always
see it at first. There is order in the universe, but it has to be
maintained – whether by the gods, or by our actions. Part of our
purpose is to keep that order.’
‘Interesting,’ said
Nina with a faint smile. ‘I’m not used to philosophical discussion
in the morning. But then, I do live with Eddie.’
Kit grinned back
through his puffy lips. ‘Not bad for a humble policeman,
no?’
‘So is that why you
became a cop? To maintain order?’
He nodded. ‘In some
ways. Growing up in India, I saw a lot of corruption, a lot of
greed that caused others to suffer. I wanted to do what I could to
stop it – to make sure that people who took more than they deserved
were punished.’
‘Sounds like a good
motivation to me.’
The Interpol officer
gave her an appreciative look, then sighed. ‘It did not always make
me popular. Even among my colleagues.’
‘Yeah, I know what
that feels like,’ Nina told him sympathetically.
‘But then, this is
what I mean about destiny. If I had been the kind of cop who looked
the other way when I saw others taking bribes, I probably wouldn’t
have been “encouraged” to move from regular police work into more
specialised areas like art theft. And if I hadn’t done that, I
wouldn’t have been offered a position at Interpol, which means I
would not have investigated the Khoils, I would not have met you
and Eddie . . . and I would not be here right now.’
Nina raised her
eyebrows. ‘And you’re still upbeat about it? If I’d thought about
the course of my life like that, I’d be going “Oh God, where did it
all go so wrong?”!’
He smiled. ‘I’m a
very upbeat person. And I don’t regret my decisions. Even though at
the moment they seem to have brought me to a rather dark
place.’
‘You’re not kidding.’
She tapped the bars. ‘Any ideas how we can get out into the
light?’
‘A few.
Unfortunately, they all begin with us being outside these
cells.’
‘That’s not as
helpful as I was hoping for.’
‘I’m still working on
them.’
The door opened and a
pair of soldiers trooped in. ‘Work faster,’ Nina urgently told Kit
as they unlocked her cell and entered. ‘All right, okay!’ she
protested as she was pulled to her feet.
They took her back
upstairs, ascending a broad marble staircase to the mansion’s upper
floor. Nina screwed up her eyes, dazzled by the brightness of the
morning sun through panoramic windows as she was led through a
luxurious lounge with a giant TV on one wall. Beyond, a large
balcony overlooked the golf course.
Stikes and Callas,
the general in full uniform, waited for her outside, but there was
also a third man; tall, tanned, with long jet-black hair swept
greasily back from his forehead. His pastel jacket and trousers
were clearly of some extremely expensive designer label, though the
stylish effect was offset by a vulgar gold medallion. Even this
early in the day, he had a glass of Scotch and clunking ice cubes
in his hand.
‘Ah, here she is!’
said Callas as the soldiers brought Nina into the open. ‘My
expert.’
The third man’s
eyebrows flickered in recognition. ‘Wait, she is . . .
’
‘Dr Nina Wilde,’
Callas announced. ‘Discoverer of Atlantis, and the secret of the
Sphinx, and now . . . my guest. Dr Wilde, meet my good friend
Francisco de Quesada.’
She remembered the
Venezuelan mentioning the name at the military base, though in a
far from friendly way. Like Pachac, then; another of his allies of
necessity.
De Quesada took in
Nina’s dirty, dishevelled clothing. ‘You do not let your guests
shower, Salbatore?’
‘She’s not entirely a
willing guest,’ said Stikes.
‘But she will still
tell you how much this is worth,’ Callas said, indicating something
on a glass coffee table: the khipu, opened out to its full length,
knotted strands displayed along the braided central cord. Nina
noticed the case holding the statues on the floor
nearby.
De Quesada shook his
head. ‘I am already paying you fifty million dollars for the sun
disc—’
‘It is worth far
more,’ Callas smoothly interjected.
‘Perhaps. But you are
also getting a share of my . . . proceeds.’ He looked askance at
Nina. ‘Is it safe to talk in front of her?’
Callas snorted. ‘You
can say anything you like – she won’t be telling
anyone.’
‘My drug revenue,
then. Now that the American DEA and the government have cracked
down in Colombia, I need Venezuela to ship my product. Which means
I need you, general. Or should I call you el
Jefe?’
Callas smiled
proudly, only to be deflated by Stikes’s ‘Let’s not count our
chickens before they’re hatched.’
‘Which brings me to
another English phrase,’ said de Quesada. He gestured dismissively
at the khipu. ‘“Money for old rope”. You are getting a lot of money
from me, Salbatore – cash now, and a share of what will come later.
Why should I pay another million for this trash?’
‘That is why I
brought Dr Wilde,’ said Callas. ‘Who better to tell you why these
strings are worth so much? If you can’t trust the world’s most
famous archaeologist, then who can you trust?’
‘Yes, who?’ de
Quesada replied, his tone suggesting to Nina that the Venezuelan’s
veiled dislike was mutual. But he sat back, gesturing at her with
his drink. ‘Very well. Impress me, Dr Wilde.’
‘And be honest,’
Stikes added in a quiet but threatening voice.
Nina walked to the
table, examining the khipu. Fully opened, it was more than three
feet long, the number of multicoloured strings attached to the
woven spine greater than she had thought; well over a hundred. The
number of knots on each string ranged from a couple to over a
dozen.
The topmost knot on
each string, she noticed, was always one of four kinds. She knew
that the Incas had divided their empire into quadrants based on
astronomical features: could they be directions? Below the first,
the other knots were more varied, strung like beads. If it were
indeed a guide to the Incas’ journey, it would require considerable
work to decode.
But she had seen such
guides before – leading to Atlantis, to Eden. It could be done. El
Dorado could be found.
If she made the khipu
seem dull enough to dissuade de Quesada from buying
it.
‘Well, it’s called a
khipu,’ she began, slipping into a professorial tone. ‘They were
used as a system of record-keeping by the Incas. The knots on each
string are a way of storing numbers, similar to an abacus.’ She
tried to remember what Osterhagen had said about them. ‘They were
used to keep censuses, calculate taxes, track how much food was
grown.’ Keep it boring, she told
herself. ‘They were the backbone of the Inca accounting
system.’
To her relief, de
Quesada didn’t appear impressed. ‘But they are valuable, no?’
prompted Callas.
‘I suppose, but more
because of their scarcity than any intrinsic worth. There are only
a few hundred still in existence. The Conquistadors destroyed all
the ones they found.’
‘The Conquistadors?’
De Quesada’s eyes flashed with sudden interest. ‘Why did they
destroy them?’
‘They thought the
Incas used them to send secret messages,’ said Nina, aware that
Callas now had a look of greedy expectancy. It seemed she had
unwittingly pushed one of de Quesada’s buttons. ‘I don’t think
that’s true, because as far as we know the khipus only contained
numerical information – the Incas never developed a written
language. But the Spanish—’
De Quesada regarded
the khipu more closely. ‘So the Conquistadors destroyed them to
show their power over the Incas?’
‘You could say that.
Really, though, they’re just—’
He cut her off again,
getting to his feet. ‘I will buy it, Salbatore!’ He cackled,
swigging from his glass. ‘You just make sure that my old friend
Arcani Pachac knows I have it, like his precious sun disc. That
little communist cagada thinks he is
the Inca emperor reborn? Then I’ll remind him what the Spanish did
to the Incas. A million dollars, you said? Make it
two!’
‘You – you’re
spending two million dollars just to annoy Pachac?’ Nina said,
shocked and appalled.
‘I am spending more
than that! The sun disc, this great symbol of Pachac’s glorious
heritage?’ His words dripped sarcasm. ‘I have the perfect place for
it. When it is installed, I will send him a picture – it will drive
him mad!’
‘Francisco and Pachac
were once partners,’ explained Callas. ‘Until—’
‘Until he turned
against me,’ said de Quesada. ‘He got politics, decided he wanted
to restore the poor downtrodden Indians to power.’ He mimed wiping
a tear from one eye, pulling an exaggeratedly sad face. ‘The
defeated should keep their heads down. The Spanish nobles were the
victors. They still are.’
‘But all that money,’
said Nina. ‘You’re spending millions out of spite? Why?’
De Quesada shrugged
and took another drink. ‘Because I can. I already have cars, boats,
planes, houses, women . . . I have to spend my money on something.
Other than bribes, anyway.’ He looked back at the khipu. ‘I will
take it. What about the sun disc? How are you going to get it to
Colombia?’
‘It’s already being
dealt with,’ said Stikes.
‘You found a
replacement for West?’
‘Indeed we did.’ He
gave Nina a smug look. ‘As for the khipu, you can take it with you
if you like, but I’d recommend using our agent’s services for that
as well. In case anyone asks questions.’
De Quesada scowled.
‘You are probably right. I cannot take a shit in my own country
without some government pendejo or
bastard from the DEA trying to look up my ass. Maybe after tonight
I should move to Venezuela, eh?’
‘Maybe,’ said Callas
noncommittally.
‘And speaking of
tonight . . . ’ A small but distinctly cunning smile as de Quesada
took something from his jacket: a DVD in a transparent case. ‘I
know you have made a deal with Pachac, giving him control over the
southern routes across the border. I want you to give those routes
to me.’
Callas stiffened at
the challenge, regarding the disc suspiciously.
‘What?’
‘Capture and kill his
runners, and give his drugs to me. The only cocaine shipped through
Venezuela will be mine.’
The general shook his
head. ‘We have made a deal, we will stick to it. Just as I will
stick to the deal I made with Pachac.’
De Quesada laughed.
‘Yes, of course you will. It never crossed your mind to use your
new power to change the deal with him in your favour.’ His smile
vanished. ‘Or the deal with me.’
Callas looked
pointedly towards the two soldiers, both of whom were armed. ‘I
don’t like your tone, Francisco.’
‘And I don’t like
being double-crossed, Salbatore. So, let’s make sure it never
happens, eh?’ He held out the DVD to Callas, who hesitated before
snatching it from him, then nodded towards the television in the
lounge. ‘Put it on.’
‘Watch her,’ Callas
ordered one of the soldiers, who moved closer to Nina. The other
closed the door behind Callas, Stikes and de Quesada as they went
into the lounge. The reflections on the glass made it hard for Nina
to see inside, but she could make out Callas putting the disc into
a player and switching on the TV.
He watched it for
less than a minute before whirling angrily on de Quesada. A brief
argument, Callas becoming more furious by the moment, then the
Venezuelan stormed back to the player, ejected the disc and hurled
it across the room. Still seething, he threw the door open and
returned to the balcony, clenching his fists round the handrail as
he glared out across Caracas.
De Quesada followed.
‘If that became public, your new position would become very
unstable.’ He finished his drink, crunching an ice cube between his
teeth. ‘It might even give the Americans an excuse for regime
change. However much oil you offer them, they are not going to
tolerate a drug lord as president.’
‘I am not a drug
lord!’ Callas spat.
‘But you are working
with one, and there was the proof.’
‘That recording would
also be damaging to you,’ Stikes pointed out.
‘A calculated risk.
But,’ de Quesada went on, ‘it will be much easier if we just make
sure it is never seen, eh? Accept my new deal. You will still get
your percentage – and you know you would rather deal with me than a
psychopath like Pachac.’
The general drew in a
long breath before facing de Quesada. ‘Pachac is . . . unreliable,
yes. Very well. You will have his territory. But if the video is
ever seen . . . ’ He jabbed a threatening finger at the Colombian’s
heart.
De Quesada simply
smiled. ‘It will not be.’ He rattled the last couple of ice cubes
in his glass. ‘Now, we should celebrate our new deal with a
drink.’
‘Not for you, I’m
afraid,’ Stikes said to Nina. He nodded to the soldiers. As they
led her away, he added, in an overly casual way: ‘Oh, by the way –
your husband.’
‘What about him?’
demanded Nina, heart sinking.
‘Dead.’ The word was
delivered with a thin smirk. Nina felt as though she had been stung
by the scorpion again, her throat clenching tight. ‘I must admit,
he put up a good show. Even rescued your friends. But then their
plane got shot down and exploded in the jungle. The end of the
Chase, you might say.’
Fury and despair rose
simultaneously inside her, the former narrowly gaining ascendance.
She lunged at Stikes, but the soldiers caught her before she could
reach him, twisting her arms behind her back. ‘I’ll fucking kill
you!’ she snarled.
Stikes merely smirked
again as she was dragged away.