“How’re ya holding up there, Howie? Me, well I’m as tired as a Spring Break clean up crew.” Muddy had dropped back and fallen into step just ahead of the writer.

  “Fine,” came the curt reply.

  Muddy probed. “You don’t say a lot, do you?”.

  “I’m focusing on my steps, that’s all. It’d be dumb to fall now and miss out on victory.”

  Muddy noticed a sudden flash of passion in Hooper's eyes, though he quickly blanked his expression. Writer? Didn’t seem likely. “Kane tells me you write. Who d’ya write for?”

  Hooper had his cover story worked out, though he hadn’t yet needed to use it. He was unprepared. “Um, well, I write for, you know… various magazines. In the States.” He wasn’t convincing, and Muddy pounced.

  “Oh yeah. Like who?”

  “Why the fuck do you care, anyway? Can’t a man trek in peace?” Hooper shoved his way past Muddy on the narrow trail, done talking. But the bulky professor placed a surprisingly strong hand on Hooper's shoulders and spun him around.

  “You wouldn’t be lying now, would ya? I know a liar when I see one.”

  Hooper's eyes narrowed with sudden rage as if he was about to strike the older scholar. “Back off, old man,” he snarled. But just as quick as it came, he regained his composure and backed down. Now wasn’t the time, and he closed his eyes for a second. “Listen, I’m sorry. This is a big story, an opportunity to make something of my writing career. I’m nervous, nothing more.”

  Muddy removed his hand from Hooper's shoulder and glared at him. It was plausible, but–

  Howie offered up his hand. “No hard feelings, Professor?”

  Muddy looked deep into Howie’s eyes for long seconds, but saw nothing sinister.

  He shook the hand.

  The atmosphere in camp that evening was as cool as the falling temperature, in harsh contrast to the draining humidity of the day. Understandably it seemed as if Muddy’s accident had aroused in the group a heightened level of respect for their undertaking. Muddy was okay, more or less recovered, but a new edginess drifted about the team as they came to terms with the reality of the many dangers they faced.

  It’s not that the team members weren’t getting along. On the whole, it had somehow brought them together. Edgewood, who’d disguised her anger over Hooper’s failure with cold efficiency, was cosying up with Evan as they sought the warmth of the campfire.

  He couldn’t know it, but Kate had certain agendas that needed fulfilling, and always a soft-touch with the ladies, Craft would be a useful ally. Kane teased him about his obvious attraction, and warned Kate off with banterous tales of his friend’s long list of disappointed conquests. Ridley and Kane, their special friendship now in the open, no longer sat apart, while Haines chatted amiably with Angelo De La Cruz, finding mutual ground with talk of Valencia’s rich history and splendid architecture, not least its Roman ruins, one of Professor Haines’ many specialities. And in order to rest his aching joints and a sore head, Muddy hit the hay early, as he called it, but not before assuring them he’d be ready to rock n’ roll come first light.

  Though the others were oblivious to his anxious fidgeting, Hooper remained distracted. Of course he was. He’d failed in his first assignment and now feared his boss Benedix would cut him from the deal. Sure, he was supposed to answer to Edgewood while in the Andes, but it wasn’t her that worried him. In fact, he doubted Benedix was too concerned about her, either. All Benedix cared about was success. If that meant removing Edgewood from the equation, Hooper wouldn’t hesitate to do it.

  His immediate worry was the Spaniard, for it was De La Cruz overseeing their mission on the ground in Peru. Hooper wasn’t sure who wielded more power, De La Cruz or Benedix, but he knew the Spaniard was a dangerous man, driven by blind faith and guided only by God. Hooper knew he could deal with Edgewood. But Angelo De La Cruz was an entirely different prospect. He said little–at least not to him–but he knew without a doubt the man did not miss a beat, almost as if he was omnipotent, like God himself.

  Howie couldn’t deny it: the seemingly innocuous Spaniard unnerved him.

  Umaq

  Away from the main camp, Sonco and his men sat in a tight cluster around their own fire. Smoke drifted above them, curling from their delicate stone pipes in wispy trails. They spoke quietly, at peace with the world.

  But one among the Quechuan contingent was less at peace than the others. Their youngest member, Umaq Huamani, was troubled, and he hated himself for it.

  Hailing from a poverty-stricken farming village, to get assigned on an expedition like this was akin to winning the lottery, the family on the verge of financial ruin. Due to injury, his father could no longer work as a porter on the Inca Trail, a job he’d done with pride for two decades, and his mother was weak from ill health, unable to shift bronchitis she’d suffered with for several years. To top it off, Umaq’s elder brother was killed in a landslide while working in the mountains five years previous. At just eighteen, Umaq was barely a man himself, and yet he’d already endured a tough life.

  But luck had finally shone on the Huamani family. His kid sister, Miski, attended the same school as Sonco’s daughter, Quri and their families had become friends. As a favour, Sonco invited Umaq to accompany him on two previous treks. The boy had acquitted himself well, and Sonco trusted him enough to employ him for Kane’s latest expedition.

  On the first day of the expedition, however, Umaq was approached by a young woman in Aguas Calientes. She was European though Umaq didn’t know from which country. The woman had a proposal for him–a proposal worth ten thousand dollars, and an opportunity to secure his family’s financial security forever. The money was an absolute fortune for a destitute Quechuan family, enough that he could get the medical help his parents needed. Not only that, it would ensure his beloved sister Miski could stay in school. Umaq could even follow his dreams and go to university in Lima.

  Ten thousand dollars. He still didn’t know why she’d approached him. All he needed to do, she said, was one thing. One simple act that, when she gave him the signal, he did it without hesitation.

  Umaq said no at first. He was a nice kid, raised with high morals and a solid notion of what was right and wrong. But he also had a strong sense of duty to his family. Umaq was the man of the house, now, and the responsibility to care for his family sat heavily on his young shoulders. That’s what troubled him most. Because of that responsibility he found himself considering the bizarre offer. Ten thousand dollars would change their lives. He didn’t know what she expected him to do, but ultimately Umaq had little choice.

  The cook Yupanqui had been watching Umaq like a hawk since day one, enough to unnerve him. Though he couldn’t be sure what it was, Umaq knew there was more to Yupanqui than met the eye. Yesterday the big Quechuan had taken him aside, and with a firm grip and a dark expression, had asked him a surprising question.

  “Are you a Quechuan man, Umaq?”

  “Quechuan? Yes, I am.”

  “Yes, I know you are.” Yupanqui’s eyes softened just a little. “You are Quechuan, which means you are also Incan, like your ancestors before you. Like me. Do not forget your history, boy. Understand me?”

  “Yes, Yupanqui,” Umaq replied, his voice weak.

  Without another word, the cook left him there. It was another strange encounter. But Umaq soon turned his attention back to the woman, his mind made up. When he got a chance he would accept the offer and do whatever Kate Edgewood wanted him to do.

  5

  Day 5

  Tension

  Dawn announced itself with an ethereal golden glow.

  First to emerge from the sanctuary of their tent was Muddy Waters. He rubbed his sore head and winced while stretching the stiffness from his bones. A collection of nasty scrapes on his arms and legs stung, and if he wasn’t mistaken he’d cracked at least two ribs as evidenced by the difficulty he had breathing. However, he was a tough character, and despite everything he felt good. It would not stop him continuing, and eager to show the others he was fit to carry on, the faux-bossy patriarch returned.

  “Rise and shine, kids.” Muddy’s tenor-like voice echoed across the valley. “Breakfast is imminent.”

  And it was. Yupanqui was busy scrambling eggs and prepping tea and coffee, and roused by Muddy’s call, one by one the tent flaps opened, the weary campers struggling to leave the relative warmth of their tents. But lured by the tantalising aroma of strong, hot coffee, they were soon milling about the welcome heat of the central fire.

  “How do you feel?” asked Ridley, stifling a cavernous yawn. After a quick stretch, and after gratefully accepting a cuppa from a porter she took a seat next to the professor.

  “I feel great, Alex, thanks. I’m ready for the day. It’ll take a lot more than a clumsy slip to set this rugged old adventurer back.” He beamed a smile, and she knew he was right.

  Sat on his haunches in the doorway of his tent and listening to their conversation, Hooper couldn’t keep the scowl from his face. A moment later Edgewood approached wearing a look of such disdain he was momentarily taken aback. “One more chance. Don’t mess it up.”

  Hooper swallowed his anger. He hated being spoken down to, especially by a woman. But a lot was riding on this job and he would rather proceed as planned than take it into his own hands. At least for now. Howie would play Benedix’ game, and he would complete his mission.

  On the outskirts of the camp Umaq leaned against a tree, observing and waiting for his opportunity to approach Edgewood. He was reluctant, but he had a duty to his family to secure that money.

  Sonco was also watching, but his eyes weren’t on the group. He was appraising Umaq. Sonco had noticed the young kid hadn’t been his usual self since leaving Aguas Calientes, and though he had no inclination why, something didn’t sit well with the experienced guide. His loyalty to Hiram was fierce, and as always wanted everything to go well for his friend. Sonco had known Hiram since he was a teenager on his first adventure in the Andes, on a trek to Machu Picchu with his grandfather. Sonco, just a couple of years older, was working as a porter on that trek, way back in the late-eighties, and despite their limited ability to communicate back then, they’d remained friends ever since.

  Since Kane’s career as an expedition leader took off he’d worked hard trying–and failing–to convince Sonco to travel beyond Peru and work with him on other adventures. But that would mean flying, and though he’d always admired the mighty condors that had graced the wide Andean skies since before the days of his ancestors, he knew that if humans were meant to fly he’d have wings instead of arms.

  Turning his attention back to the boy, Sonco made a conscious note to keep a close eye on the kid he considered his protégé.

  “Buen día, mi amigo,” said Kane as he approached Sonco. “Everything okay?”

  “Si, Hiram, esta bien,” replied Sonco. Yes, everything’s okay.

  “You sure? You look worried.”

  “The kids today. We give chance,” he said, tipping his head towards Umaq. “They take for granted. The boy, there. I give job when family need, but always sulking. Everything difficult. Too lazy.”

  Kane cast his eyes at the boy, Umaq. He’d seen no evidence of the young Quechuan’s laziness, in fact he thought the opposite was true, and Kane had him pegged as a diligent, competent porter. Sure, he looked distracted, worried even. But Sonco was prone to exaggeration.

  What is it with this expedition? thought Kane. His concerns over Hooper wouldn’t dissipate, Muddy’s accident, and now a young porter looking as if his world might end that very day. Even Sonco was out of sorts. Kane slapped his friend on the shoulder and shook his head. “You worry too much, amigo,” he said. Sonco just shrugged, and Kane left him to it.

  Kane walked off and looked around him, into the jungle and then above, catching a glimpse of the little sky visible through the dense canopy. It didn’t look good. The morning glow was gone, smothered by clouds a dozen shades of grey that had crept up the valley, threatening and inauspicious. Kane smiled, but it wasn’t a smile borne of confidence. “Pachamama,” he whispered. “What do you have in store for us?”

  He wouldn’t have to wait long to find out.

  Power Trips

  Kane and Sonco were buoyant, happy with their progress so far, despite the looming weather. They’d covered a lot of ground and were on schedule for the seven-day target Kane set for reaching their destination. That meant they were more or less half way, and with a little luck and if no further incidents hampered their progress, by mid-morning in a few days they would pass the point he and Sonco had reached last time out. Kane knew if they reached that point it was just several hours further until the location of the big X on his map. That single mark, drawn by the shaking hands of Hiram Bingham himself on his deathbed some fifty-five years earlier, had driven Kane for a decade, and he was once more getting close.

  Without thinking he reached into the neck of his shirt and clutched his golden sun disc. As he did he saw images of his grandfather’s pale blue eyes encouraging him. Next to him stood his great grandfather Patrick, that old explorer’s assistant who’d gone down in history as part of the team that re-discovered Machu Picchu. In his mind, their smiles willed him on, and that golden Inca sun disc, the artefact he’d had worn every day since receiving it so many years before, seemed to radiate power. Not in a supernatural sense, but more of a confidence boost that he was nearing Vilcabamba, and in doing so, fulfilling what he’d long believed was his destiny: locating the real lost city of the Incas, and with it, Lord Atahualpa’s legendary lost hoard.

  They broke camp and bore south, even deeper into a jungle that now arced downwards into the valley, and toward the wild and rampaging Urubamba River below. Known as the Willkamayu in Quechuan, the ferocious sacred river had claimed many explorer’s lives over the decades, notably that of English geologist John Walter Gregory, in 1932. After assessing the sky, Sonco and Kane knew they were in for a fearsome Andean storm, just a matter of time until it hit. With a wry smile, Kane hoped he or any of his team wouldn’t become the latest additions to the long list of the Urubamba’s victims.

  To begin with just a few raindrops penetrated the tree-line, nature’s brolly serving them well. But within mere minutes the rain hit them in torrents the likes of which those unfamiliar with the Andes had ever seen. The drops fell like stones, and the trail became a lethal quagmire. Okay, now we’ll be tested, thought Kane, and with nowhere obvious to wait out the deluge they had little choice but to press on. In reality, Kane wasn’t that concerned with the storm. It meant they were forced to proceed slowly, and by default, carefully. He made sure to stay close to the older, less agile guys, but not too close as to give Muddy or John a complex. They were tough. Shit, Muddy just survived a twenty-foot fall, almost unscathed bar a few scratches.

  If it was a fall. Since that moment there had been no evidence of any wrong doings by Hooper. In fact, Kane had even seen Howie helping Muddy pack up his things earlier that morning. Still, thoughts of Hooper leaving the camp just moments before the accident seemed too much of a coincidence. Or did it? Maybe Hooper simply needed the bathroom too? Am I being paranoid? he thought. Maybe. Kane couldn’t be sure.

  Through the raging storm visibility fell to only a few yards, and the single file procession had inadvertently spread out over a quarter of a mile. In a dangerous jungle that is far. Too far. The terrain was testing enough, but in those conditions, they were hardly moving. Howie Hooper was to the rear of the group, plotting his next move. He didn’t know who was next in front, but it was Edgewood, who suddenly turned to face him.

  “You have until tonight to dispose of Waters. No excuses. If you fail, the deal’s off. Use the storm.”

  For a split second, Hooper had the urge to get rid of Edgewood, strangle her with one hand right there and then. It would be easy, what with his military background. But that would mean dealing with De La Cruz, and later, more explaining to Benedix. He clenched his teeth, then nodded.

  “It will be done.” He glared at her a little longer than he meant. And then he smiled. “Ma’am.”

  Edgewood didn’t miss the antagonism in his eyes, but she knew he’d succeed. There was both a victory and a fortune awaiting, and though she knew his motivation was in part religious, she also knew he needed the money. After his dishonourable discharge from the U.S. Military for multiple drug misdemeanours, Hooper became somewhat alienated from society in the United States, and found his way to England in search of a new start. He’d written and published some articles about life and the widespread use of drugs in the military, as well as a few travel articles, and had received some minor success. She wasn’t sure how Hooper and Ferdinand Benedix became involved, but that wasn’t of any concern to Edgewood.

  She knew Benedix was using her, as she was using him, and they were both using that idiot Hooper. That she was going to betray Ferdinand troubled her. She admired him for his passion and his vast knowledge, and had enjoyed their romance, as fabricated as it was. But it only troubled her a little, and she had more important issues than her feelings. She needed to keep Evan by her side, and maintain her facade as a weak but keen graduate student on an adventure, in the eyes of Kane and the others. And she had to dominate Hooper. That was under control. He wouldn’t fail again.

  Unseen by them Umaq Huamani had witnessed the hostile exchange between the woman and the ugly American. He hadn’t yet spoken to Edgewood about his decision, but he couldn’t help wonder if she wanted him to make the American go away. Umaq was a gentle kid, and had never hurt anyone or anything. But the thought of his impoverished family, his sick father and weak mother, and of Miski’s disappointment when they’d pulled her out of school because they couldn’t afford the fees, well they were hurting, and it broke his heart, and Umaq knew he’d do anything to improve their lives. He didn’t like the American. It seemed to Umaq that nobody did. Perhaps he’d be doing them all a favour, if that was what she asked of him.