by Michael Cole
"By all means."
"Have you ever heard about the vast amount of gold Francisco Pizarro was supposed to receive for the release of the Inca god-king, Atahualpa?"
"I recall reading something about it, but I don't remember the specifics. Besides, isn't it just a myth?"
"No. I've read enough about the treasure to know it's real. Even the history books mention its existence."
"What does that have to do with the aryballos?"
"Does the name Valverde ring a bell?"
Phillip seemed to ponder Catalina's question. "No. Not really."
"Until now, I wasn't sure if the man had really existed, but I'm getting ahead of myself. Maybe it would be better if I started from the beginning." Catalina lowered her voice as if it mattered that the cook would hear her. "When the conquistadors captured the Inca ruler, Atahualpa, they held him for ransom. The gold-crazed Spaniards demanded a fortune in gold for his release. In order to secure his freedom, Atahualpa charged an Inca general by the name of Ruminahui with the responsibility of ransacking all the gold his soldiers could find. A number of forges worked for months to reduce the gold creations of master craftsmen to mere lumps of metal. Even Atahualpa's gold litter was smelted."
Phillip shook his head in disbelief. "If that's true, then it's a shame. As you know, the Incas were marvelous craftsmen."
"I've also read that the Incas were in such a rush to deliver the gold to Pizarro, that they didn't get a chance to smelt all of it. If this is true, some of their gold artifacts may still be intact."
Shoving his breakfast aside, Phillip said, "Then the objects would be priceless." He riveted his eyes on Catalina. "Please go on with your story."
"A trade was to be made. Pizarro agreed to free Atahualpa in exchange for a roomful of gold. However, before the ransom was delivered, Pizarro had him garroted."
"Jesus, what a way to die."
"It was a lot better than being burned at the stake."
"What do you mean?"
"The history books tell us Atahualpa made a deal with the Spaniards. They promised not to set a torch to him providing he agreed to be baptized. You see, the Incas believed that death by fire condemned the soul to eternal damnation."
"So what happened?"
"After the baptism, they killed him. When Pizarro didn't fulfill his promise to free their king, the Incas realized the conquistadors couldn't be trusted. Ruminahui vowed the two-timing greedy Spaniards would never lay their hands on the gold."
Staring at Catalina with unblinking eyes, Phillip leaned slightly forward, waiting for her next words. "Then what happened?"
"Shortly after Pizarro killed Atahualpa, the gold ransom mysteriously disappeared. This is where Valverde comes in. Legend has it that a Spanish soldier by the name of Valverde periodically ventured off into the Amazon only to reappear with gold bullion-lots of it. Over the years he had become extremely wealthy or so the story would make us believe. It's been said when Valverde was on his deathbed, he wrote a derrotero, a guide text if you will. He forwarded it to the king of Spain."
"What did the king do?"
"The king didn't waste any time sending a 'cedula real,' which is a royal decree, to the corregidors of Latacunga and Ambato to recover-" Catalina stopped in mid-sentence. Now she remembered! "Those were the two towns mentioned on the aryballos."
The involuntary muscle below Phillip's right eye began to twitch. Still paying attention to Catalina's story, he shifted his chair closer to her. "To recover what?"
"The treasure," Catalina said. She had seldom seen Phillip so animated. His interest ignited a surge of melodrama in her voice.
"The rest of the story gets a little fuzzy. Supposedly, the king of Spain asked a monk by the name of Father Longo to lead an expedition to recover the gold. According to the legend, Father Longo recruited a group of men and headed out for the Llanganates Mountains, but before they found the treasure, the monk disappeared, never to be heard from again."
"What makes you think you have the derrotero that Valverde wrote?"
"Because he signed it."
"My other question deals with the treasure's location. From what you said so far, the bulk of the treasure is most likely in the Llanganates Mountains. That's the most inhospitable place on earth. Even though I'm a pretty good mountain climber, there's no way I'd venture up those slopes."
"Most of the treasure's probably there, but part of it, the part Valverde had apparently found, is in Brazil! You see, I didn't piece that part of the puzzle until last night." She took the quipu out of her purse and handed it to him. "This is how much gold was taken from Peru to Brazil, more specifically to the Devil's Dimple in Mato Grosso."
"What in the hell is the Devil's Dimple?" Phillip asked.
"Geographically speaking, it's Roncador Mountain, but the Indians call it Muela Del Diablo, which in Spanish means the Devil's Dimple. It's a volcano that's supposed to be a bitch to climb."
She handed Phillip a blown-up version of a photograph she had taken of one of the pictures on the aryballos. "This, Phillip, is the Golden Disk of the Sun. Until I came across the aryballos, I always thought it was just a myth, a bedtime story that was told to children."
"You've obviously taken quite a bit of time to study the aryballos. What is the Golden Disk of the Sun?"
"Of all the objects the Incas owned, they coveted a golden mirror the most. Legend has it that it's a mirror made of pure gold. It was said to contain magical qualities which only Atahualpa's queen knew how to use. The tale is similar to Snow White's story. In it, the queen saw the fate of her king. The mirror told her that whether the ransom was paid or not, Atahualpa would perish. Realizing her husband and the empire were doomed, she decided never to reveal the secret of where the mirror was to be hidden for fear the gold-crazed Spaniards would steal it!"
"So what are you telling me?" Phillip asked.
"Valverde must have found the mirror! That, as well as a hoard of gold. I haven't completed translating all of his directions, but they appear to be fairly specific. Don't you see? The Golden Disk of the Sun is in Brazil!" Catalina could no longer keep the excitement out of her voice. "The whole thing makes perfect sense. The Incas must have carted the mirror and some of the gold through a maze of tunnels to Brazil, more specifically to the northern part of Mato Grosso where that mountain is. It would've been a long journey, but I'm sure the Incas felt the mirror would be safer there than in Peru. Also, it would've been easier to haul to Brazil than up the treacherous slope of the Llanganates."
Phillip got up from the table. "Come walk with me."
They were at the back of the house in the rose garden before she said anything. "I feel confident that in time, I will eventually be able to make some sense out of the derrotero. How would you feel about hiring a couple of guides to help us search for the treasure?"
Phillip gave Catalina an incredulous look. "You're not serious, are you?"
"I'm dead serious. If you and I were to find all that gold, we-"
Phillip cut her off. "I already have more money than I could ever spend."
"But what if we were to find some ancient artifacts? Think of what they might do for your collection."
Phillip began to pace up and down the cobblestone walkway. "I don't know, Catalina. I just don't know. The jungle is really no place for a woman. It's too dangerous."
Catalina tried to suppress her indignation. "I was born and raised in Manaus, remember? I'm a lot tougher than you think."
Upon re-entering the house, Phillip said. "You really want to go to look for that treasure, don't you?"
"Yes, I do. Just think what would happen if we found the Golden Disk of the Sun? Our names would be recorded alongside of Carter in the history books. The discovery would equal King Tutankhamun's find! I could call Marcelo and ask him if he can recommend some English-speaking guides."
* * *
Phillip had to admit that finding an ancient golden relic appealed to him. However, he did not particularly wan
t to leave the comforts of his mansion and go traipsing off into the Amazon.
Catalina gave him an imploring look. "Please. This would mean so much to me."
He couldn't remember the last time Catalina had actually asked him for something. He knew it would be difficult to deny her, but he didn't want to give her a commitment. At least not yet.
"Why don't you fly to Manaus and talk to Marcelo? See what he has to say."
Catalina rushed over to him and gave him a hug. "Does that mean we can go?"
An inner voice told Phillip this was not a good idea. He hoped Marcelo would talk some sense into Catalina. "As I said, go to Manaus, talk to Marcelo, and check things out. Then we'll decide."
CHAPTER 14
The first thing Catalina did was pay a visit to Marcelo. When she asked him what he thought about her going into the jungle to search for treasure, his eyes lit up.
"I wish I was young enough to go with you."
"Do me a favor," Catalina said. "Email Phillip and tell him you think it's a wonderful idea."
A day later, Marcelo had found a couple of bilingual-speaking guides. After checking on their references, he told Catalina about them.
"You mean one of them speaks English, Portuguese, and also Quechua?"
"That's what he said. He also indicated that he's familiar with the area you want to explore."
* * *
Eric Shade swatted at the fly on his nose. The insect had been hovering around him disturbing his nap. Finally, he mustered enough energy to lift himself out of his chair and go in search of a flyswatter.
Chris, who was sitting in front of the computer, said, "Oh, I'm glad you're awake. We just received an inquiry from a prospective client who lives in Los Angeles, California. She's an archeologist."
"What does she want?"
"She said she'd like to talk to us about guiding her and her fianc? to Muela Del Diablo."
Eric thought it unusual for someone to want to fly all the way from Los Angeles just to talk about hiring a couple of guides. "I thought we made a decision not to guide people up that mountain. It's no place for tourists."
"I don't think she is a tourist. Her grandfather lives here in Manaus. Apparently he was the one who recommended us."
"Why do they want to go there?"
"She wouldn't say. When I quoted her our per diem rate, she sent me an email to let me know that money would not be an issue. She wants to fly out here and meet with us as soon as possible. What do you think?"
Eric shook his head. "Those mountain climbers are insane." He thought for a moment. "Did you remember to double our fee? If we have to lead them up a mountain, particularly that one, I want us to charge twice our standard per diem rate."
"I told her it would cost five hundred euros a day for the two of us. I also informed her she would have to commit to a minimum of ten days. Do the math, Eric. We're talking five thousand euros."
"If they agreed to pay us five thousand euros, they must have more money than they know what to do with. Either that or they have a pretty damn good reason as to why they want to climb that mountain."
Chris shrugged his shoulders. "How do you know they are mountain climbers? The woman never said she was."
"Why else would anyone want to go there?"
"You have a point." Chris looked up from the computer. "Well, do you want to meet with her or not?"
Eric didn't particularly care to scale Muela Del Diablo. He had been up that mountain before, and it was a difficult climb. But then it wasn't every day that they were offered an opportunity to earn five thousand euros.
They were getting rather low on finances. Five thousand euros would last them a good six months. They wouldn't have to worry about making a living when the rains came. "Tell the lady we'll meet with her. What do we have to lose?"
* * *
The young man at the car rental agency had been nice enough to draw Catalina a map of how to get to Jamaal, the small village not far from Manaus where Eric and Chris lived. She figured she would go meet the guides, spend a few more days with Marcelo and then fly home.
Once she passed the city limits of Manaus, Catalina came to a virtual standstill. She quickly realized the futility of honking her horn. That was because no one seemed to pay the least bit of attention. She had to share the dirt road with trucks, bicycles, and handcarts, not to mention livestock. All competed for the right of way. There were no signal lights or stop signs at any of the intersections. People earned the right of way by being aggressive. Occasionally, she would have to wait for some farmer to herd his goats or cows across the road, which inevitably brought all traffic to a screeching halt. After an exhausting drive, she finally managed to find the home where the two guides lived-if one could call it a home.
As Catalina approached the ramshackled house, she saw a man working outside repairing a fence. "Hi, my name is Catalina Rivera. Are you Chris Bordeaux?"
"No, I'm his partner. Chris is in the village buying supplies." Eric extended a calloused hand. "The name is Shade, Eric Shade. You must be the climber who wants to scale the Snorer."
A puzzled expression appeared on Catalina's face. "The Snorer? I thought I made it clear in my email that my fianc? and I want you to take us to Muela Del Diablo."
"Snorer, Bluster's Mountain, Muela Del Diablo are all nicknames for Roncador Mountain. It just depends on who you talk to."
Shaking Eric's hand, Catalina looked into a piercing set of blue eyes. He was tall, well over six feet she assumed. She figured he had a dozen years on her, but he was in great shape. He was definitely a man's man. His black, curly hair was in disarray, and he had a five-o'clock shadow. His nose was slightly crooked, and there was a scar beneath his right eye, but everything seemed to fit. Eric Shade didn't have Phillip's finely chiseled features, but he possessed a ruggedness about him, which she found appealing. There was a definite sexuality there that made her heart beat a little faster. That was something she had never experienced with Phillip or anyone else for that matter.
"What makes you think I'm a mountain climber?" she asked.
"Why else would anyone want to journey to the land of no return?"
"Why do you call it that?"
"The Indians coined the phrase because many people who venture into that part of the Amazon are never seen or heard from again. Some say the mountain is haunted by evil spirits. It has been said strange choral sounds can be heard from one of its many tunnels." Eric was quick to add, "Personally, I think it's probably the wind."
Catalina's eyebrows shot up. "I live in L.A. now, but I'm originally from Manaus. I thought I had heard all the stories about strange occurrences in Mato Grosso, but I must say I've never heard that outlandish tale before."
Eric opened the front door and guided Catalina to one of two chairs in the room. "There are many rumors of bizarre events in that part of the Amazon. Who's to say what's true and what isn't? Some believe the mountain is possessed with a vicious persona that breaks the will and spirit of the strongest of men. The locals won't go near the place."
Catalina glanced around the room. It was obvious two bachelors lived in the tiny bungalow. The place was a mess. There were a few empty beer cans on the table, and flies hovered around a partially eaten sandwich. "We didn't want to hire Indian guides. That's why I am here. We'd much prefer to deal with an English-speaking person such as you. Does Chris Bordeaux speak English?"
"Not only does he speak English, but he also speaks Portuguese and French. If you're not a mountain climber, why do you want to go there?"
"I never said I wasn't a mountain climber. My fianc? and I both climb, but that's not why I am here. I believe I already told you my grandfather lives in Manaus. He has done some checking. It seems you and Bordeaux have excellent references."
Eric laughed good-naturedly. "No one else would be crazy enough to guide people to that godforsaken place. But you still haven't answered my question. Why go there if mountain climbing is not your objective?"
Catali
na liked Eric's laugh. She admired a man who had enough confidence to make fun of himself. Phillip never did. "My fianc? and I want to search for an Inca relic. I'm convinced I have something in my possession that would lead us to the Golden Disk of the Sun. Have you ever heard of the derrotero that Valverde wrote?"
"Don't tell me you came all this way in the hope of finding gold by following Valverde's instructions. Were you aware that copies of his derrotero have been circulating around these parts for years? Hell, I think I even have one here someplace. I've seen a number of fakes and every one of them is different." Eric paused, then said, "Wait a minute. Didn't you say you wanted Chris and me to take you and your fianc? to Muela Del Diablo? Atahualpa's treasure is in the Llanganates. Those mountains aren't in Mato Grosso. They're in Peru!"
Catalina never realized there were copies. "The bulk of the treasure probably is somewhere in Peru, but not the Golden Disk of the Sun. The Incas hid it in a tunnel inside Muela Del Diablo. Furthermore, my derrotero is not a fake!" She reached into her purse and handed Eric a copy. "The original is locked in a safe. As you can see, I've omitted the last couple of lines for obvious reasons."
* * *
Eric perused the document. At first he was skeptical, but after scrutinizing the derrotero and listening to Catalina's story as to how she'd acquired it, he began to think differently. Maybe it was genuine. The derrotero he and Chris had was obviously a fake; however, this one had a ring of authenticity to it. He based his conclusion that Catalina's could be genuine by the way it was written.
Valverde had been a Spanish foot soldier of low rank. Eric was aware that most conquistadors didn't know how to read or write, and those who did, were by no means fluent in either Spanish or Quechua. The derrotero could be real because there were numerous grammatical mistakes, misspelled words, and punctuation marks that were out of place while the grammar in his fake derrotero had been perfect. Also, all the fake derroteros he'd seen indicated Atahualpa's treasure was in Peru. He figured it was certainly possible that the Incas could have taken the mirror and a portion of the gold to Brazil.
"You've read this, I assume?" he asked her.