“Grab my hand mate,” he said. “That’s it… a few more inches.”

  “Reach down a little more,” Kane grunted, his energy depleted. He paused a moment longer, giving his legs a few seconds rest before the final launch upwards. He gazed up and saw both determination and relief in his old friend’s eyes. They’d been through a lot together over the years, but this was a whole new level.

  They locked eyes, love and respect between the two men patently clear to any witnesses, and Kane nodded, the hint of a grin more pertinent in that moment than a thousand words.

  “Ready?” asked Evan.

  “Ready.”

  “Okay… on three… 3… 2… 1.”

  Kane leaned back, and with all his strength swung his left arm upwards. Evan grasped Kane’s wrist and locked his grip tight. Inch by inch Kane pushed with his legs, and he soon had one arm over the cliff edge.

  “That’s it… almost.” Evan said, breathing hard.

  “Reach down… hook your arm under mine,” Kane said “… just a little more…”

  Evan stretched, straining every sinew to find the extra inches needed to grip under Kane’s armpit.

  “Got it,” he yelled. “I’ve got you, buddy.”

  And then in a moment none present would ever forget, the edge of the cliff gave way and Evan Craft tumbled over the side, his body cartwheeling wildly out of control until it smashed into a rocky ledge hundreds of metres below.

  Lifeless.

  Dead.

  Epilogue

  August 16th, 2014

  Oulton Broad, England

  Kane placed down the fresh tray of drinks but didn’t retake his seat at the table. He grabbed his pint. “I’ll be back in a minute,” he said, and wandered away from the pub’s beer garden, taking a seat on the grassy bank overlooking the beautiful Norfolk Broads.

  The Commodore was a pub with a view that never got old, and one Kane always revisited every time he returned to his native England. It was three o’clock on a Saturday afternoon, and as always on rare sunny days during the English summertime, The Commodore’s beer garden was crowded. But there was something special about today’s crowd. Most of the drinkers were drinking to toast the life of a great son, brother, uncle, and friend. Evan Craft.

  After the tragedy in Peru a couple of months before, and after Kane had accompanied Evan’s body home, a funeral had taken place just a week later. However, it was decided by the Craft family to wait until today, on what would have been Evan’s 40th birthday, to have a memorial party. Not one to shy away from the attention of his adoring family and friends, Evan would have approved.

  Kane estimated there were at least two hundred such people crammed into the pub and its broad-side garden, and though technically a sombre occasion everyone was in great spirits. Evan wouldn’t have had it any other way.

  Kane had taken the loss hard. They’d been best friends since primary school, and though they both had other close friends–most of them attending today–it was with Evan whom Kane had shared their most memorable occasions. One of those times was Peru, regardless of the horrifying way it had ended.

  Gazing out across the passive water of the Broads, Kane cast his mind back to an incident that happened just several hundred yards from where he now sat. He took a sip of his beer and smiled. They were just kids when Evan had hauled Kane from the water after he’d fallen in and almost drowned. And it was Evan who was trying desperately to haul Kane once more to safety when he himself had fallen to his death. Why is it always the good ones who die young? he thought.

  A kingfisher sitting on a nearby branch suddenly dove into the water, the flash of blue catching Kane’s attention. It stirred another memory. As a kid Hiram’s brother Danny had loved drawing the electric blue and red birds, a skill not shared by Hiram. Danny’s image often appeared to Hiram at random moments, and just as it did while saving the life of the Quechuan kid on the cliff face in the Andes, Danny’s image appeared to him now. Danny’s eyes were wide open, and Kane couldn’t read them. Sad? Happy? It was hard to tell. Of course, Danny had known Evan too, and perhaps it was Danny’s way of giving Hiram a hug? Kane wasn’t a spiritual person, not even close, but a small part of him wanted to believe that wherever they both were now, they at least wouldn’t be alone. Were they in a better place? Probably not. But he imagined they were anyway.

  “Hey.” Ridley’s voice startled Kane, and the image of Danny faded away. It was probably for the best. Kane didn’t want to get caught up on that downwardly depressing spiral of guilt, at least not today.

  Alex Ridley had left the table of friends to join him by the water’s edge. “It’s a fitting send off, isn’t it?” She slid her arm around his waist and leaned into his chest.

  Kane nodded, words unnecessary. But it was the perfect way to honour their friend’s life. Many of the old gang were there. Lee, Jo and PG, Jon and Kim, Clare, Robbie and Callum, and countless other friends and family all devastated by the terrible loss but grateful to have shared their lives with a man so genuine and full of love.

  “Coming back to the table? I’ve something to show you.”

  Ridley led Kane back to the table, and Kane’s old mucker Lee couldn’t keep the grin from his face.

  “We thought you might want to see this,” he said. “Hot off the press.” He handed Kane a magazine, the unmistakable yellow border causing Kane’s own smile to reappear.

  “National Geographic,” he muttered, and took a seat.

  Lee nodded, before adding: “Read out the headline.”

  Kane looked around the table at his and Evan’s friends. They all smiled their encouragement. Kane cleared his throat and read out the first few lines:

  “‘The Lost City of the Incas: Vilcabamba

  Words by Leslie P. Moore.

  Photos by Evan Craft.’”

  A tear formed in the corner of Kane’s eye. He continued:

  “After more than a century of searching for one of the most enigmatic and mysterious sites in the history of exploration, the puzzle has at last been solved. A mystery no more, and Vilcabamba has been found. Legendary explorer Hiram Bingham failed. As did Gene Savoy, and numerous others over the long decades of the Twentieth Century. But in what is surely the most poignant moment of exploration history, none other than the great-grandson of Bingham’s assistant Patrick, and a man named after the fabled Harvard scholar himself, Englishman Hiram Kane has finally located what so many others before him couldn’t.”

  Kane shook his head, bashful as ever.

  “Go on, mate,” said Jo, “Keep reading.”

  He did. “Kane found Vilcabamba, and perhaps even more amazing, he located one of the most sought after finds in all history; the lost Inca gold. Expertly hidden in a natural cave, far from the greedy hands of the Spanish conquistadors, Kane found Atahualpa’s treasure horde after an earthquake forever changed the landscape. During the process, Kane bravely saved the life of a young porter. Unfortunately, during the rescue attempt, expedition photographer Evan Craft lost his life. We at Nat Geo would like this special edition be a fitting tribute to a good man and a brilliant photographer.”

  Upon those words Kane wasn’t the only one at the table to wipe away the tears. Kane either didn’t want to or couldn’t continue, and Lee took over.

  “After several days of deep deliberation Mr Kane declared his discovery of the gold to the world. The now infamous expedition had been infiltrated by two separate terrorist groups, the Condor Uprising, led by deceased leader Yupanqui Atoc, and The Eagle Alliance, a little known Catholic terrorist group led by Spaniard Angelo De La Cruz, also deceased, and Ferdinand Benedix, a Dutch professor of antiquities with no previous known links to terror. Benedix currently stands trial in The Hague, accused of plotting terrorist attacks and inciting hatred and murder.”

  Lee paused and looked at Kane. They shared a smile, before Lee continued. “Each fundamentalist group was determined to claim the riches and wage war on their enemies, using Hiram Kane and his alleged map to locate the gold. But through amazing courage and no shortage of skill, not only had Kane located the lost city and the gold, but in doing so managed to prevent a religious conflict that would have spelt disaster for the entire continent of South America and beyond. The gold, estimated to be worth a staggering ten billion dollars–way more than previously speculated–is now being evaluated by the Peruvian government, who informed us they have paid Kane an undisclosed amount of money as an official finder’s fee. Though he has repeatedly refused to comment, it’s believed Kane has donated every penny of the massive sum–thought to be in the region of $5,000,000–to help the impoverished Quechuan populations, not just in Peru, but throughout the Andes.”

  Lee put down the magazine and stood, then climbed onto the pub table, his beer count evident by the ungraceful ascent. Grabbing a spoon, he tapped loudly on his pint glass. “Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls… friends, family. May I please have your attention. I’d like to propose a toast… well, two toasts, actually. First, the main reason we are here today is to celebrate the life of our dear friend Evan, the life and soul of any party and a kinder, more lovable man you couldn’t wish to meet. Perfect in every way… except those awful shirts, obviously. Please, raise your glasses… To Evan, the shortest of us, yet with the biggest of hearts.”

  Tears of joy and sadness fell in equal measure as the gathered hordes remembered their wonderful friend.

  “Thank you, everybody,” said Lee, scuffing away his own tears. “And now a second toast. To Hiram… finder of lost Inca gold and preventer of wars. Our friend. Our hero… our very own, Hiram Kane.”

  The clear skies over the Broads were aglow with the fiery orange of a sinking sun. Kane and Ridley once more stood at the water’s edge, and watched as a pair of swans flew elegantly across the stunning scene. “They’re beautiful,” said Ridley.

  After a moment, Kane replied. “They are. And so are condors.”

  Ridley chuckled. She knew it was true.

  Across the other side of the world, deep in the heart of the Peruvian Andes, at that moment a pair of condors had also taken flight across their own magnificent vista, soaring effortlessly on thermals and oblivious to the chaos recently caused in their name.

  The condors had indeed risen. It was true, and it was spectacular.

  Most importantly, the condors had risen in peace.

  Six Months Later

  The violent Inca Uprising, labelled the Condor Uprising in the press, had for now been stopped. Its self-appointed leader, Yupanqui Atoc, was dead, and the uprising had received unanimous vilification from all sides, not least from the newly formed and peaceful Quechuan People’s Party, and their recently elected leader, Sonco Amaru. Sonco was a national hero, albeit a reluctant one, and though the word would never be mentioned, not on his watch, Sonco was looked upon by all Quechuans as the real Pachacuti, their one true Inca leader.

  In Europe, much like the Condor Uprising, The Eagle Alliance was finished. Its leader Ferdinand Benedix was in jail for life, the Dutch government finding him guilty of, among other charges, inciting terror, corruption, and manslaughter. They’d pushed for multiple counts of murder, but settled for the lesser charge of manslaughter provided he was never released from prison. His attorney agreed, but last month guards had found Ferdinand Benedix hanging from the bars in his jail window, a torn up copy of the St. James Catholic Bible beneath his swinging feet.

  Umaq Huamani was alive and well, his guilt laid to rest by the wise words of his mentor Sonco. Umaq’s poor family were one of the first to benefit from the newly formed charity, the Kane & Craft Foundation. His parents were finally receiving the treatment their poor health required, and his sister Miski was excelling at her new school. Umaq himself was currently applying for a place at the College of Hospitality and Tourism Management in Cuzco. It had always been his dream to attend university, and thanks to Kane he was about to fulfil that dream. The course would give Umaq previously unattainable opportunities, but if you asked him honestly what he wanted to do when it was over, he’d say, Andean trekking guide.

  Katherine Edgewood had returned to England in shame and immediately turned herself into the police. She had told them everything she had planned to do, and was willing to accept whatever punishment the courts handed her. However, after some sterling character testimony from her former mentor Professor John Haines, she was given a suspended sentence and warned about future conduct. She then wrote a letter to Kane, begging him for a chance to be involved with TheKane & Craft Foundation, and was now living in Peru and working as a volunteer at its Cuzco office. Umaq Huamani was a frequent visitor.

  Professor John Haines had finally retired from his jet-setting life of adventure and much sought after speaking engagements around the world’s most prestigious universities. After the trauma of the Andes, John was quick to visit the family of his friend and colleague, Muddy Waters, after learning of his sudden death. Muddy had been recuperating at his and shared with them details, not of the man’s death, but of the life and joy he had brought to that fateful expedition. Both men were enormously popular in their respective worlds, and both would be sorely missed. John was now writing a posthumous biography of the great archaeologist, sure Muddy himself would have approved of the working title, Keep on Digging.

  Kane wasn’t surprised to learn that the Spaniard Angelo De La Cruz was a direct descendent of Francisco Pizarro, the most notorious of conquistadors. De La Cruz had lost, failed in his mission. Pachamama had seen to that, and for Kane it was just another example of nature trumping Man, and his imagined religions.

  As for Howie Hooper, despite his grisly demise no one had given him another thought.

  A Good Plan

  November 5th

  Somewhere above eastern Europe

  Ridley and Kane snuggled up close on their flight to Asia. Several months had passed since the expedition to Vilcabamba, and much had changed. As predicted, Kane’s discovery had put the name Hiram Kane on everyone’s lips, and he was sought after for interviews and TV appearances the world over. But that wasn’t Kane’s style. He’d appeared on a couple of shows, but refused to talk about the actual expedition. Rather, he focused the attention on the lost city itself, and the amazing legacy of Atahualpa’s gold and the fantastic good that had come of its discovery. He did mention his charity, The Kane & Craft Foundation, and the great work its staff was doing to help the disenfranchised people of the Andes, the Quechuans, and their modern day leader, Sonco Amaru.

  Besides, it wasn’t in either of their natures to sit still, and Kane and Ridley were ready to explore somewhere new. Thus, they were on a flight to India, a place they’d each been once, but never together. And they were an item now, Ridley finally letting her heart rule her stubborn head, and letting Kane claim his rightful place by her side. They were happy. Despite everything that had happened, they were ready.

  And they were on a mission. Their late friend Evan had always admired the Dalai Lama, and they were on their way to visit His Holiness in Dharamshala on Evan’s behalf.

  It was a solid plan, a nice idea to visit such a peaceful part of the world in order to forget the events of Peru and put it all behind them.

  It was a good plan.

  But Kane’s plans had gone wrong before.

  THE END

  Like That? The You’ll Love These!

  The Hiram Kane Action Thrillers…

  Book 1 — The Tiger Temple

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  Book 2 — The Samurai Code

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  Book 4 — The Shadow of Kailsah

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  Author's Note

  Hello there, and thanks for reading The Condor Prophecy.

  I often get asked where my story ideas emanate from. The simple answer? From my extensive travels and wonderful experiences around the world. I first left my home country of England aged nineteen, and I’ve been travelling ever since—that’s almost twenty-five years—and I’ve been fortunate enough to have visited some incredible places and met the most inspiring people. Combine this with real world events, historical characters, exotic locations, current social issues, my own interests and passions, and a large slice of imagination, and I have some pretty motivating material.

  How about my protagonist, Hiram Kane?

  Well, he’s a guy I would love to be more like. Hiram has an archaeology degree, as do I, but just like Mr Kane I didn’t follow through with my studies, instead choosing a different path. I’ve been on many similar adventures to Hiram, and have visited all the countries that will feature in the series, from Peru to Egypt, to India, and beyond. Also, like Hiram, I’ve found myself in more than a few dicey situations. I actually live in Mexico, so inspiration for exciting action and adventure in mysterious, enigmatic settings is never far away.