Like Kane Sonco believed the ancient map correctly indicated Vilcabamba’s location, and also like Kane had it stored deep in his memory. He had never trodden along these trails before… no one had in centuries… but Sonco was so in tune with the landscape and so adept at seeing dangers, despite the dark, that it seemed he was guided by some supernatural force far beyond a mere sixth sense.

  Sonco would agree. Sonco felt he was being guided on this mission by a higher force, a spiritual, even physical guide, and that guide was Pachamama. He was not a deeply spiritual man, more a part-time worshipper of the old Incan Gods, yet he had prayed for guidance at Pachamama’s altar, and despite his earlier misgivings, he was no longer in doubt that the Earth Goddess herself now guided him along ancient Inca trails to his destiny.

  If Sonco had ever doubted in the power of the Gods before, then he never would again, and repeated his silent prayers to Pachamama for her continued guidance to Vilcabamba, and to the aid of his friend Hiram Kane.

  Edgewood was desperate, her nerves shredded, and it was all she could do to keep herself from a tearful breakdown. If she became a burden to Yupanqui, she guessed he would kill her there and then, a deadweight on their passage to Vilcabamba.

  Yupanqui must assume I’m part of the Eagle Alliance, she thought, and I’m as much the enemy as De La Cruz and Hooper. Why the fuck have I gotten myself into this? She had barely believed in God before this so-called mission, and since the whole thing had gone to shit she was certain anyone who did was morally and emotionally flawed. If there was a God, at least a good and just God, then how and why would he allow people to kill each other?

  She was now starting to realise the foolishness of religion, though she reminded herself of the real reason she had come to the Andes. The gold. But even Inca gold was ceremonial, in other words, a religious icon. How could I have been so stupid? Haven’t I inherited at least some of mother’s good sense, or just the greed, selfishness, and immorality of my father?

  Edgewood knew that none of that mattered any more. There was little she could do to get out of the hole she’d created for herself, and she would get her comeuppance: a grisly death at the hands of Yupanqui. She considered appealing to the man, pleading his forgiveness and begging clemency. But she knew it was futile. He would not listen to a Catholic, the enemy. And even if Yupanqui did believe in her sorrow and spared her life, then given even a quarter of a chance the Eagle Alliance would also kill her as a heathen traitor. She was doomed.

  Whichever way Kate Edgewood looked at it, she was doomed.

  Unless…

  Kate remembered her deal with the kid, Umaq. Was that his name? She had made a deal with him to help her in exchange for US $10,000. He had wavered at first. But with Evan out of commission, and her unlikely to get any sympathy from Kane if he showed up, Umaq was her only chance.

  She had to talk with him. And time was fast running out.

  Vilcabamba: The Lost City

  Kane had no idea what would transpire when he and Ridley got to Vilcabamba. He had considered a whole raft of differing scenarios, but without knowing the exact layout of the place, the state of the ruins, the geography, even the weather, and without being able to see into the mind of their adversaries, all they could do was prepare the best they could and see what happened. It was not how Kane liked to operate, but for once in his life, he was not in control.

  They were close, within an hour of the famed lost city. At least, that was what he believed. Yet, despite the dangerous, probably life-threatening situation they were actively putting themselves in, Hiram Kane just could not prevent the tremor of adrenaline that surged through his body.

  It was cold, barely dawn, but his shivers came not from the frigid mountain air but from an immense and building excitement. Kane was about to do what so many had attempted to do before him, included in their numbers a host of famous explorers. Not to mention, members of his own family.

  Kane was soon to step among the fabled stones of Vilcabamba.

  History would never know the truth, but there was a very real chance that the last person to do so was of Inca nobility, perhaps even Atahualpa himself. In reality, Kane believed indigenous farmers most likely inhabited the city in the preceding centuries, and maybe still were. But the jungle was so thick and the trails so unused, Kane believed it had been decades or more since any humans had trodden those stones.

  It was a moment he had been waiting for all his life, or at least since his grandfather had first given him the Incan sun disc he still wore around his neck. That beloved necklace, and later the map that was now in the hands of a terrorist.

  Putting those thoughts aside Kane and Ridley surged on, their strides and breaths quickening with the flow of adrenaline. It was just the two of them on that trail, but Kane sensed a presence with them, more than one. In fact, so strong was the sense that others were with them he felt as if he were leading a procession.

  But Kane knew what that presence was, knew who it was. Matching their strides as they trekked were the ghosts of great-grandfather, his grandfather, and none other than Hiram Bingham himself.

  It was just his imagination. He knew it, but their presence felt real and it did not perturb him. Rather, it instilled in him a confidence he didn’t feel and an energy long sapped by the harsh terrain. It also made him fully appreciate the very real and significant role he was to play if any of them were to survive this ordeal. There were people, bad people, who had proven themselves both willing and capable of murder, and Kane knew they would not stop there. He had seen it in their eyes, both Yupanqui and De La Cruz, and though each other’s enemies they were cut from the same warped cloth. They considered themselves leaders, soldiers, in the Andes on disparate missions but each with the same objective: Get the gold, and use it against the enemy.

  They had to be stopped.

  Powered on by nervous excitement and eager to see Vilcabamba with his own eyes, Kane sped up to a jog. Ridley struggled to keep up, her lungs on fire from both the speed Kane dragged her along and the thin air she so greedily inhaled. She wanted him to slow down, warn him of the unseen dangers ahead, but she knew the man, knew he’d narrowed his focus to things only he understood.

  She fought to stay close to him, eyes fixed on the wildly bobbing beam of torchlight now twenty yards ahead. But suddenly Kane slowed his pace then stopped, so sudden Ridley almost careened into the back of him.

  The very first flickers of light began to filter through jungle more dense than anything Kane had ever seen. Branches and vines closed in around them, the trail almost impenetrable, the light little more than useless.

  Ridley stood still, attempting to catch her breath and letting her eyes adjust to the darkness, then raised her arms out either side until her hands disappeared into the black foliage so close around them. Unnerved, she soon drew her arms back to her sides. Who knew what lurked in there.

  The jungle was quiet, as all wooded areas are when humans pass through, and Ridley could not shake the notion they were being watched by someone. Or something. The only movement was the gentle swaying of the canopy far above and out of sight, the branches whispering as if in warning. It was an ominous feeling, and Ridley’s body tensed into a fighting stance.

  “This is it.”

  Ridley thought she heard a voice, but it was so faint she wasn’t sure if it was just the jungle playing tricks with her mind.

  “This is it,” she heard again, a little louder this time. It was Kane. “We’re here.”

  “I’m sorry?” she answered.

  “Vilcabamba. This is Vilcabamba.”

  Ridley sidestepped around Hiram to hear better, and in the evolving light made out the unmistakable silvery sparkle of a tear on his cheek, slithering like mercury in the near dark. She stepped into his arms and slipped her own around his waist, her face pressed against his body. She felt his strong heartbeat and the rise and fall of his chest.

  She felt power. She felt pride.

  And she felt love.

  Kane had done it. He had fulfilled his life’s dream. Kane had made it to where so many had failed before him, and whatever happened, whatever anyone did to him, no one could deny him his moment.

  Kane took a deep breath, took half a step back from Ridley and wiped the tears from his eyes. Embarrassed, he smiled. But it was fleeting. “We need to move on,” he said, “but we must be careful and stay quiet. I think we’re alone but… well, you know.”

  And she did know. Sensing Kane didn’t want to dwell on his achievement she resisted the urge to congratulate him. Anything was possible. The area could have been booby trapped, though Ridley guessed that was just in the movies. She looked beyond Kane to appraise the jungle ahead. Was this really Vilcabamba? She couldn’t make out any obvious sign of a lost city. No ruins. Not one carved stone. Nada.

  “Erm, Hiram?” she whispered, “What is it you see, exactly? I can’t see anything in this gloom.”

  Kane looked at her and smiled, the unmistakable glow of adventure in his eyes. “Follow me,” he whispered back, and took her hand. Slowly, and with great care, Kane led her forwards into even thicker jungle, and after perhaps thirty yards he stopped. Guiding her hand, he reached down into thick black foliage. Ridley flinched. And then she gasped.

  Out of sight, but unmistakable in its texture, was a large stone, the smoothest she had ever felt, like polished mahogany. Kane edged back the stubborn, leafy vines, and with the torch held close revealed the beginnings of an Inca wall.

  Unmistakable. Undeniable.

  It was an entrance to Vilcabamba.

  Two hundred yards away and entering the complex of Inca buildings from the east side, Yupanqui and the Quechuans led their prisoners slowly into Vilcabamba. They walked in near silence, the prisoners too weak and weary to speak, the Quechuans too overwhelmed by the significance of where they were.

  The young men were poor villagers with little or no education, just porters when this expedition had started. But Yupanqui had changed all that. Through his eloquent passion and erudite manner, they were no longer mere human burros, instead trusted and worthy members of the Inca Uprising. It must have been an emotional and powerful moment for any descendants of the Inca to be there in the fabled Vilcabamba.

  However, for those young men gold was not on their personal agendas. Their only duty was to serve the Pachacuti and do what was right to restore the Inca to power.

  Despite the solemnity of the others, Yupanqui smiled, as if what was soon to transpire he had been awaiting a lifetime to happen. He smiled, yet behind that smile was a fierce and lethal determination to see this drama through to its end. The end would not be today, of course, for this was just the beginning. The end would be when all Catholics and Europeans were either expelled from Peru or dead. To him it mattered little which came first.

  He now stood in what most scholars believed was the location of the Inca’s last stand. The place that concealed the last remnants of Inca wealth. But that was about to change. The gold would no longer be elusive. And in a matter of hours, Yupanqui knew it would no longer be the site of the last stand.

  Instead, it would become the place where after five hundred long years of poverty and oppression, the Incas would at last rise again and reclaim their rightful position of power over all Tawantinsuyu, the land of the four corners.

  The Inca Empire would once more be mighty, and he, Yupanqui Atoc, Earth Shaker and newly chosen Pachacuti, would shake up that world.

  Then, and with the bodies of dead Catholics strewn on the ground around him, he would fulfil the condor prophecy.

  Among Ancient Stones

  Minute by minute the night melted away as dawn morphed into a bright new day. They could only guess what that day might bring, but Kane knew one thing for certain: dramas and danger were guaranteed.

  He led them forwards. The trail no longer justified such a title, more of a natural obstacle course, and the going was slow. This was how it must have been for Bingham a hundred years ago, Kane thought, and smiled. But again, it didn’t last.

  In such rampant, virgin jungle, any wind from the nearby valleys could not penetrate. A heavy stillness clotted the air, and an eerie silence accompanied the calm, almost as if the bird life were alarmed at the existence of strange intruders. It was perhaps more evidence they were the first humans there in a very, very long time. Good, thought Kane. It meant they could remain concealed by jungle with ease should they have to hide. He had a feeling they would.

  They edged on, clambering over hidden walls and ducking under concealed ruined arches. Ruins? The stones were so well hidden that the structures might not have been ruins at all, perhaps in excellent condition and held together by the relentless strangle of roots and vines. Only years of careful excavation would really reveal what was no doubt a magnificent site, and as they pushed on Kane wondered if that would ever happen: it would all depend upon what transpired in the next few hours. If things went as well as Kane desperately hoped, no one would be hurt and the reclaimed gold would end up in worthy hands, and not in the paws of one dangerous terrorist or another.

  And once the ancient dust of Inca stones had settled over the Peruvian Andes, only then might the majesty and mystery of Vilcabamba be shared with the world.

  The sun crept higher, enough to make the torch redundant and cast their shadows about them in jittery, darting movements. Little by little, the spaces between the trees and the stones widened, until suddenly they broke through into some kind of courtyard, which took Kane by surprise. In a flash, he ducked down and pulled Ridley behind a large stone. Even if he believed they were the first there, Kane could not take any risks. They sat as still as the stones themselves and listened. Nothing. Not even the hint of a breeze rustled the branches above.

  Edging higher still, the sun slowly revealed their surroundings, as if it was the God Inti himself illuminating their surreal world. And at last, after a further half an hour, the fateful day was upon them.

  Kane took a quick look over the wall they were hiding beneath, and with a raised thumb signalled to Ridley they were alone. With a strong arm Hiram helped her to her feet and watched for her reaction. It was a rare occasion when Alexandria Ridley struggled for words, but this was one of those moments. Stretched out before them, in a jungle cleared by an army of slave hands, was the most spectacular and unexpected sight she had ever seen. Mouth agape and eyes wide, Ridley stared, unable to process what she was witnessing.

  Kane looked at her and smiled. He understood her awe, and he felt it too. “Need a hand with your jaw?” he teased with a whisper.

  Only an eighth of the scale of Machu Picchu at most, Vilcabamba more than matched it for beauty. A dozen buildings lie scattered around, their graceful stone walls immaculate and their trapezoidal entrances built with perfection. Such technical brilliance, such refined craftsmanship. But a question needed asking, and it was Ridley who broke the silent spell. Her question was simple: “How has this never been found before?”

  Kane nodded in understanding. “My grandfather once told me,” he replied, “that in his deepest of hearts he believed Vilcabamba had already been discovered. It was kept secret by a cover-up at government level. Including Google, no organisation was ever permitted to shoot satellite images over this portion of the Andes, and no aerial reconnaissance either, with the threat of being shot down by Peruvian fighter places. The government, according to my grandfather, also believed no one could ever find Vilcabamba from the ground. I know it sounds far fetched, and I never really believed him.”

  Kane cast his eyes over the scene before him and shook his head. “But now we’re actually here, I have to ask the same question. Has Vilcabamba been known to the authorities all along, and if so, does that mean Atahualpa’s gold is no longer here?” The trace of a smile snuck onto his face, much to Ridley’s surprise.

  “Can I assume you’re smiling because of the immense irony, I mean, in case what you’ve just said is true?”

  “Basically, yes,” he answered. “Think about it. Not one, but two sets of terrorists are here to steal or claim the gold, whichever camp you’re in, then use it to wage war against the other… and there is no gold. You couldn’t write it. Poetic justice, wouldn’t you say?”

  “Are you saying we’re all here for nothing, and our lives are in danger for nothing?” Ridley was staggered. “Really?”

  “I’m saying it’s possible. I don’t want to believe that, but it’s definitely a possibility.”

  Ridley continued to stare out at the marvel before her. “It’s so beautiful, Hiram.”

  “I know,” he said, and with moist eyes Kane smiled as he recalled the opening words of Bingham’s legendary book, The Lost City of The Incas. He’d read it so many times over the years he knew it almost by heart. “When Bingham rediscovered Machu Picchu, he wrote these words in his diary. ‘Suddenly,’” quoted Kane, “‘I found myself confronted with walls built of the finest quality of Inca stonework, carefully cut and exquisitely fitted together. It fairly took my breath away.’ Trust me, I know how he felt.”

  Ridley knew it too. But as she herself stood in awe over the lost city, she just could not believe what Kane had said. Yet it made sense. The fact the real Vilcabamba had never been found didn’t add up, what with modern technology and all the other gadgets contemporary explorers had at their disposal. And why wouldn’t the Peruvian government not have invested heavily to claim the riches for themselves? Ridley had to admit, the more she thought about it the more plausible it sounded. And before she could help herself, she released a chuckle as she thought of those idiots Yupanqui and De La Cruz, and imagined their faces as they learned the gold was gone.