Sonco was charged with keeping a close eye on the fallen Inca leader, and motioned to Kane that he’d awoken. There was no doubt he was still a danger. His sheer size and force of will ensured that. If he somehow got free of his restraints, he would try and rally the young Quechuans again, veer them back to his side with fear and the power of his words, and lead them on a final assault on the gold and the Catholics. They had him securely bound, but would continue to watch him with diligence.

  De La Cruz glowered at Kane, his mission in the mountains far from over. The Spaniard was around fifty, average height and small in stature. But beneath his filthy, tattered clothes hid a muscular, wiry-strong man. He strained at his ropes, rage growing with every passing minute. It wasn’t the gold that the terrorist wanted, but the power the gold would give him. De La Cruz was a zealot, a devout and dedicated servant of God, and knew he could never rest until he’d carried out God’s will. The Spaniard believed the rise of the Incans would cause never-ending problems to Catholics across South America, and although Yupanqui–nemesis leader of the uprising–was stifled others would follow.

  The traitor Hooper was dead. Edgewood had abandoned the cause out of self-preservation. He himself was bound like a rabid dog, and he had no ally to help him escape. The Spaniard was alone.

  There was, of course, God.

  Despite his almost hopeless predicament Angelo De La Cruz still believed, his faith stronger than ever. And the Spaniard knew if he did just one more thing in these mountains before he left, whether as a prisoner or as a successful attendant to God, he knew he would kill Yupanqui.

  De La Cruz was aware he would need divine intervention. He would not have long to wait.

  Decisions

  As the afternoon heat rose with the air pressure, a shimmering haze settled across the valleys. Perhaps two more hours of daylight remained before the mountains would once more swallow the sun, and Kane needed time to prepare.

  The previous days were the most challenging of his adult life, an exhausting and emotional drain on both Kane’s physical and mental strengths. In need of a little space, he took himself away from the others in search of a few moments of reflection, and after just a couple of minutes’ walk through the ruins he found an isolated spot on an intact Inca wall. He sat, his long legs dangling across the ancient stones, and with the sun on his face he tried to force all the drama out of his mind and focus on where he was, if just for a few minutes.

  Vilcabamba.

  For hundreds of years the world believed Vilcabamba had vanished beneath the mists of time, reclaimed by the jungle and gone the way of the Incas. In more recent times, it mattered little that the Peruvian authorities may have rediscovered the site, because the rest of the world didn’t know of its true existence, whether fable or fact, whether legend or lies.

  But Kane knew.

  Many, many people had tried and failed to do what he was now doing; to sit on an Incan wall at Vilcabamba, deep in the Andean wilderness, and gaze upon the ruins of one of the last truly undiscovered places of the world. Many even paid with their lives.

  It was a momentous moment in the history of world exploration.

  And yet humans, as they had a long and tragic habit of doing, had somehow tainted the moment forever.

  There was just no way Kane could avoid involving the authorities. He had a moral duty to inform them about the Catholic terrorists, the dead and injured porters, and the attacks on Muddy Waters and his friends. And there was also the issue of Kate Edgewood, who had started out with criminal intentions, but who at least showed genuine remorse. Kane would worry about that later.

  And then there was Yupanqui, dangerous leader of the Inca Uprising. The man had murdered Hooper in cold blood and was seconds from killing Edgewood. No doubt De La Cruz would have been next. Only because of the bravery of Umaq Huamani was Edgewood still alive. They had to turn Yupanqui, a murderer, over to the authorities.

  Peru only issued the death penalty in cases of treason during war time, and Kane knew if either Yupanqui or De La Cruz had prevailed, war would be upon the Peruvian people. The current president of Peru was of mixed descent, a native Quechuan father and an Italian mother, and Kane wondered where his loyalties lie.

  Kane did not know, but he knew it didn’t matter. There would be others like Yupanqui. If Yupanqui received a death sentence for his crimes, or at least sentenced to life in prison, Kane’s fear was the Quechuans would make a martyr of him, rise up in his name to wage war against the Europeans, whether Catholics or not. It was a frightening thought, but Kane wondered if it might be safer for the innocent Peruvians if they did not turn Yupanqui over.

  It was a difficult and unfair decision Kane felt unqualified to make. He could not know his decision would soon be made for him.

  Sonco sat huddled with the remaining Quechuan youngsters, holding council with boys that not long ago were ready to kill in the name of the Incas. But Sonco was not ashamed of them. Instead, he was proud of their passion for an Incan heritage they had known so little about until Yupanqui had spoken to them. Until he had corrupted them.

  Sonco’s mission now was to ensure their passion stayed on the right side of the line. His side.

  Sonco himself had been swayed by Yupanqui’s powerful sermon. Now it was he who felt pressure to be just as persuasive. If not they risked losing them again.

  “My sons,” he said, “My brave Quechuan brothers. Do not feel ashamed about what has happened here in our mountains. The history of our people should make you proud, just as it should make the Spanish people ashamed of theirs. But what the Spanish did to our Incan ancestors in the sacred lands of Pachamama was so long ago in the dark past, and the world has changed. Since those painful days, when our people got tricked into slavery and death, those of us descended from the mighty Inca now lead peaceful and settled lives. The years have been unkind to us, it is true. We are poor, and our families have suffered in poverty for decades, even hundreds of years. But ask yourself: Are you happy? Are you loved? Do you have homes, and families that love you?”

  Murmurs of assent and subtle nods of comprehension from the young porters warmed Sonco’s heart, as they listened to their wise elder. “I know it is true. I too am loved. I too am happy. For now, let that knowledge be enough. Banish thoughts of shame from your hearts. Eliminate thoughts of revenge from your souls. The Incas were strong, brave people. Now is the time to be strong and brave again.

  “We can rise. We can show our strength. But let us do it in peace, and let it begin with ourselves. Fighting is for the weak. Fighting is for those led by others. It is the time to become our own leaders. Yupanqui claimed he was the new Pachacuti, the new leader of the Incas. Your king. But he was wrong. Become your own king. Become your own Pachacuti, ruler of your own hearts and in control of your own destinies. No one person has power over that. No one...” Sonco paused and took a deep breath. “Except you.”

  Sonco gazed at the young men before him, and saw looks of astonishment in the eyes gazing back. He had won their hearts and minds by speaking the truth. As their hearts filled with emotion, each of them stepped forward and embraced the man who had made sense of the world, and who, in their eyes, had himself become Pachacuti.

  Sonco turned his attention to Umaq, the quietest of all the boys. It had emerged that Edgewood had tried coercing the boy for her own ends, and Sonco could tell the boy struggled with the guilt, could see it in his eyes.

  “It was a brave thing you did to save that woman, Umaq. Very brave. It does not matter about the reasons why, and you should feel no shame about the money she offered. I know your family, and I know as the man in that family you have a duty to support your loved ones. But in my heart I know the truth. You reacted to save her life because Yupanqui was wrong. Killing is wrong. She too was wrong to be involved with the terrorists, though it is not wrong to consider herself a Catholic. It is her choice, just the same way it is my choice or your choice to follow Inti and Pachamama. Or to follow nothing. The world in which we live now is a world in which all men, women, and children should be free to choose. Freedom...” said Sonco, as he looked again into the eyes of the men before him, “Freedom is the greatest of all liberties.”

  Umaq smiled, grateful for Sonco’s attempt to wash away his shame. It would take more than a few kind words to absolve himself completely, but it was a start.

  Sonco continued. “Humans, no matter where we live or where we are from, and the colour of our skin and the gods we believe in or don’t believe in, once we look inside our hearts and minds we are all the same. Yupanqui got corrupted by his ego, holding onto some wayward belief he was the leader of an Inca Uprising. Some might say his intentions were noble, but noble intentions become ignoble when used in the wrong way. Yes, as Q’ero he is an Inca descendent–just like us–and we shall remember that. But Yupanqui committed heinous crimes, his heart tainted by power and greed. He will receive due justice."

  Gold?

  After the horrific sacrifice of Howie Hooper and the near death of Kate Edgewood, the atmosphere was simmering. Edgewood had been seconds from death, but was now safe, secured and resting. Angelo De La Cruz was also detained, but for the first time they saw a new expression in his eyes. Rage. His plans had unravelled, and the man was powerless to do anything. He had lost control of his mission, and he seethed. Yes, it was still in God’s hands, which was always the most important factor, but now it was personal.

  There seemed little danger now from the Quechuans. Yupanqui was securely bound, with no chance of escape, and after a decisive lecturing from Sonco, his former converts had realised their mistakes and sworn allegiance to Sonco and Kane. It was a close call for a few of them, but due to the bravery of one of their brethren, Umaq Huamani, and their respect for Sonco, they had crossed back without too much emotional damage.

  With unlikely confidence restored among the group that their mission could still be a relative success, an unsaid question hung in the air among them: Where, if at all, is the gold?

  After a couple of hours of contemplation and well-needed rest, it was Evan who at last broke the spell. He took a seat next to Hiram as dusk faded to black.

  “Look, I know it’s no longer important, I mean we are at Vilcabamba, which was the main aim. Right?”

  “Right,” replied Kane. “But…?” He could tell what was on his friend’s mind.

  “But. Come on, you guys can’t tell me you’re not all thinking about the gold.” Evan looked at his friends. Ridley wore a kind of lopsided smirk, as if she agreed with him but didn’t want to admit it. Professor Haines was a cool customer, and his poker face did not betray what was on his mind. But behind that facade, he was indeed wondering about Atahualpa’s gold.

  Kane just shook his head in mock annoyance. He wanted to know the truth, and even though he believed the treasure was no longer in the vicinity of Vilcabamba he couldn’t know for sure. It was impossible to know. If there was one thing that all the world’s great mysteries had in common, it was that they did not give up their secrets easily.

  “Well, old mate, considering everything that’s happened I guess I should tell you my theory on the gold.” He grinned. “But you might not like it.”

  “What do you mean?” Evan frowned like a child who’d been told Christmas was cancelled. Ridley and Haines looked more captivated by Kane’s cryptic words.

  “Look, I’ve been thinking. Something Sonco said, and some of the things my grandfather said over the years has made me question whether the gold even exists.”

  “What?” exclaimed Evan. “Of course it exists.”

  “You’re right,” Kane agreed. “I’m sure it exists. But that’s not what I’m saying. The question is whether it’s still at Vilcabamba, or has it gone? Think about it. Why has it never been recovered? Why, with all the technology and gadgets used by organisations these days, has its true location never been found? With an estimated value of two billion dollars, of course the Peruvian government would have done anything and everything in their power to find it, not to mention private collectors and those just in it for the adventure. See what I mean? The chances of it being here are slim. Slim to none, probably.”

  “Okay, but that’s not official, is it? It’s just your theory, right?” probed Evan, unwilling to accept everything they had gone through without knowing for sure about the gold. “I mean, if it’s just a theory, then a theory could be wrong, and the gold could just as easily still be here as not, right? Right?” The words came in a flurry, almost as if the lure of the fame and treasure had Evan under a spell. He surged on. “Ah, come on Hiram, you can’t tell me that we’re just going to give up? I know for you it was about Vilcabamba, but still… the glory of finding the gold would be the story of the century.” He slumped back on his arms, as if he realised he had let himself down. A bashful smirk softened his face. “Sorry, pal… got a little carried away there.”

  Kane smiled and nodded, then fell silent for a while, a pensive frown betraying his deep thought. He looked at the people around him. Friends. Colleagues. Enemies. All poised, waiting for Kane’s words. Even the enraged De La Cruz was listening, trussed nearby but intrigued by Kane’s revelation.

  But it was true. Unless a person had been directly involved with the discovery and subsequent removal of the infamous horde, nobody could know for sure if the treasure existed, and if so, where it was now.

  It could still be there at Vilcabamba, buried deep in a cave or hidden among the ancient citadel stones. But–and Kane knew it was probable–Atahualpa’s gold could have been recovered from the mountains at any time in the last five hundred years, and the likes of Hiram Bingham and myriad other explorers and treasure hunters might have been chasing wild geese ever since.

  The conquistadors might have found and shipped the gold to Spain after the Conquest, or anywhere in the Spanish empire, like Cuba, the Caribbean, or anywhere in the vast continent of the New World.

  But…

  Kane was an explorer. An adventurer. As a child he created treasure hunts for his kid brother Danny. His grandfather had done the same for him. Written deep within his genetic code was a desire to look for things and question everything, and right now Hiram felt torn over the question of what to do.

  His heart ached to find the elusive treasure and claim it for its rightful heirs. Though he didn’t crave fame, it would be bestowed upon him. Not only for locating the real lost city of Vilcabamba, but himself and the Kane family would be known forever as those who returned a lost empire’s artefacts and culture to its people. That to Kane was worth a million times more than his own fame and fortune.

  It had always been the objective, the ultimate challenge. He had succeeded in the first part. He had found Vilcabamba.

  On the other hand people had died in the search of the city and its treasure, including on this expedition. And if the terrorists who’d infiltrated his party claimed the gold, many more would die.

  Though it broke his heart, and went against his innate, adventurous philosophy, Kane knew what he had to do. He turned to his friend, a mix of sadness and courage in his eyes.

  “Evan, you’re right. Atahualpa’s gold could be here. It might even be within yards of where we’re sitting. But I have to ask you mate, as I ask all of you here now; even if it is here and we could still find it, the real question is… should we?”

  Kane let the question hang there for a few moments, and watched as the others digested what he’d said. Among them he saw nods of recognition, bewilderment, and disappointment. But overall, at least among his friends, he saw the hint of understanding.

  “What I mean is, the things we’ve witnessed and been through on this expedition have raised a very important question. Is it better that the truth about the gold remains a mystery? Or do we go one step further and solve the mystery with a lie? Declare the gold has vanished? Think about that. As long as there are those people… explorers, and governments… even terrorists… who believe that unimaginable riches exist somewhere in these mountains, then there will always be people dying to find it.”

  Kane sensed an air of comprehension settling among his friends as they listened.

  “I wonder… I wonder whether it’s best that we ourselves don’t even look for it. We could return to Cuzco and declare Vilcabamba to the world, yet tell them after a comprehensive search of the citadel and the surrounding we found no hint of Atahualpa’s horde anywhere. Perhaps add that we’d found the treasure chamber, but also clear evidence the contents were long since removed from the site? It would once and for all stop people killing and dying for the gold.”

  A weighty silence hung around the group, each of them lost in their own thoughts. They had all been through hell on this expedition, both the good guys and the bad, and the idea of leaving without even a cursory search for the gold was difficult to swallow for everyone.

  And yet, as each of Kane’s friends searched their hearts, they knew that he was right. How could they live with themselves if they found the gold, and it later fell into the wrong, corrupted hands, resulting in death and the suffering of many more people? Nobody wanted that on their conscience.

  10

  Day 10

  Pachamama

  Lying in his sleeping bag, the pre-dawn hours numbingly cold, Kane’s mind drifted to Danny. It often happened in times of stress, and it was a habit he had never been able to shake. He clasped his Inca Sun Disc, and again thought back to the day his grandfather had given it to him. Danny had overheard his grandfather’s disappointment that he wasn’t growing up adventurous like Hiram, and ran into the house crying. Hiram at first started after Danny, but his grandfather stopped him. Then he didn’t give his brother a second thought, focusing only on his precious gift. It was selfish. It was mean. And he had hated himself for it ever since.