by PJ Skinner
‘Breakfast,’ he said, and he was gone again.
Sam sat on the edge of her hard bed and peeled one of the bananas. She bit into it and enjoyed the slightly harder, sweeter taste of the lady’s finger species. There were twenty-four species of banana in Sierramar, and Sam had decided that she loved them all. Even the bland cooking bananas could be pounded into flour that made exquisite, fluffy, fried drop scones with melted cheese in the middle. She was sitting there musing on the wonders of the banana when Wilson shouted at her from the front door.
‘Are you coming or not, gringa?’
She didn’t dignify his question with a response. Instead, she flipped her rucksack onto her shoulder and sauntered outside at her own pace. She grinned at Alfredo, who rolled his eyes. This was going to be fun.
***
Segundo braved the chill air at the train station in San Martin. He had bought his ticket with ease, the crowd parting before his intimidating presence. He was not a tall man, being a mestizo, but he was immensely strong with taut muscles that almost quivered with anticipation. His face was decorated with the scars of former battles, including one that dropped the left side of his lips downward, giving him a sinister appearance. Some women made the sign of the cross as he walked past them. The locals were very superstitious, and Segundo radiated evil. He was well aware of the effect he had on these credulous people. He used it to good effect when he wished to get information out of someone. Very rarely did he have to resort to torture, as he had in the case of Jose Falconi. Segundo was wary of meeting the man who had frightened Falconi into silence. He had picked up lots of gossip about Wilson in the brothels. Wilson gave the impression that he liked to punch women and generally avoided confrontations with men, but Segundo was going to be cautious anyway to avoid any unpleasantness. The train pulled into the station, and he climbed aboard and sat in the window seat of his row. A small boy clambered up beside him. He was young enough to be without fear, and he reached out and gently touched Segundo’s damaged face.
‘Did you fall down?’ asked the boy.
Segundo gazed down at this little warrior, and his eyes twinkled.
‘I did,’ he said. ‘I fell off a horse.’
The boy’s mother, who was wrestling with two other small children, grabbed him roughly when she heard him talk to Segundo.
‘How could you be so rude?’ she said, ‘Apologise to the gentleman immediately.’
Segundo, who was not used to being addressed as a gentleman, was momentarily startled. The small boy’s eyes filled will tears, and his bottom lip started to quiver.
‘Don’t worry, madam. He was only being curious.’
He searched in his pocket for a sweet and found willing recipients for several of them, despite them being covered in fluff. He let the little boy sit on his lap and look out of the window as they cut through the trees and headed for the coast.
***
Sam made her way into the jungle to a secluded spot where she could relieve herself without an audience. Reciting an incantation against snakes, she squatted in the undergrowth and hoped that no one else would choose that moment to do the same. Privacy, as she understood it, was not something that anyone in Sierramar was aware of or respected. A piece of grass tickled her bottom, making her jump and some urine splashed on her boot. Not a good start to the morning but she was pretty sure no one would notice a wet boot in the hubbub surrounding the launching of the canoe.
Emerging from the foliage, she squinted into the low sunlight. A crowd of people, including a group of what looked like thirteen-year-olds, had assembled on the riverbank beside a large canoe. Sam tried to spot Carlos, Rijer or Doña Elodea but she couldn’t recognise them. She was looking forward to hanging out with them again. As she approached the party, Sam realised that the silhouettes she had imagined were teenage children from far away were actually short, stout Indians wearing minimal loincloths and blank expressions. They stood close to the canoe which was similar in length to the one used on the last trip but deeper drafted containing low wooden seats with small backs instead of blocks of wood–definitely an improvement. All of the supplies had been packed into the front of the canoe under the bow and wrapped expertly in plastic.
A heated discussion was going on between Wilson and a tall, thin mulatto with a pencil moustache who shook with indignation.
‘What’s that about?’ Sam asked Alfredo.
‘The mayor of Riccuarte is pissed off because we are using imported labour.’
‘Imported labour? Where are the workers from?’
‘Arenas.’
‘Arenas? But that’s the next village. They’re hardly imported.’
The mayor of Riccuarte obviously didn’t agree. He stood between Wilson and the canoe, his arms outstretched as if to block the way.
‘The problem is that work is almost non-existent in this region and sharing it out between the villages is good politics. The mayor is disappointed that it is not Riccuarte’s turn this time as he won’t get his cut. Leave it to me. I’ll sort it out.’
Alfredo went up to the mayor and quietly took him aside. They had an animated conversation. She saw him discretely give the mayor some money, and the problem disappeared as quickly as it had arisen.
‘What’s the plan today, then?’ said Sam.
‘We’re going to do an initial visit to the site, to clear and photograph the steps so that we can see if they lead anywhere. I need to document everything meticulously for the sake of history and completeness,’ said Alfredo.
‘And where are we staying tonight?’
‘We’re staying in Arenas. Wilson told me that it’s easier for the crew to stay in their own homes and cheaper for us if they do. I believe you stayed there last time.’
‘Yes, we did.’
Sam did not want to be reminded of her last stay in Arenas. She had not told Alfredo about Wilson’s attempted assault and she wondered if Gloria had. Alfredo got on fine with Wilson so it appeared that he was unaware or didn’t care about the attack. She was disappointed but she didn’t want to ruin her adventure by bringing up the incident for no reason and annoying or distressing Alfredo when he had other more important things on his mind. She would deal with Wilson in her own way.
After smoothing the mayor’s ruffled feathers, they got into the canoe and set off for the site of the Inca steps. The sun was not yet high in the sky when they left, so the air felt cool below the shade of the trees bordering the river. The water levels were raised due to the previous night’s rains, and the canoe skimmed over the minor rapids without any need for the passengers to get out. Clouds of tiny flies hung over the water like old lace curtains moving in the breeze. Alfredo poked Sam in the shoulder and offered his legs as a backrest. She leaned back against his skinny shins and looked up at the sky, which was startlingly blue. Her head was full of fantasies about Indiana Jones, who looked remarkably like Simon. Her anticipation rose as they got nearer to the site.
A fish jumped and plopped back into the water, stirring her from her reverie. She looked up from the floor of the boat into the jungle, and to her stunned surprise, saw a big cat lapping water at the river’s edge. It lifted its head as the boat glided by and flicked its tail in annoyance before disappearing back into the jungle. Sam lunged for her camera but to her eternal regret, it was double-sealed in a plastic bag at the front of the boat. One of the men propelling the boat through the water stopped poling, raised an imaginary rifle to his shoulder and shot at the vanishing feline. No wonder the wildlife hid from them. She glanced around to check if Alfredo had seen it, too. He mouthed ‘puma’ at her. She nodded vigorously and beamed.
They finally arrived at the place on river where they had been working when Sam had run into the jungle with the workers to photograph the snake. She was dozing and woke up with a start as the canoe nudged the riverbank. They clambered out onto the shingle. Everyone was a little stiff after sitting in cramped conditions for so long. The Indians who had crewed the canoe dived into the
river, laughing and joking together in the water. She was tempted to join them, but she didn’t want to get her clothes wet, as the day was not particularly hot yet. She didn’t want to take them off, either, because she couldn’t bear the thought of Wilson leering at her in her bra and knickers. Wilson leaned against a tree, smoking with his hat over his eyes. He had been very quiet the entire trip. He let Alfredo give the orders.
There was something strange going on, but Sam couldn’t work out what it was. She took her satchel out of the plastic wrapping and revised its contents. Her notebook, penknife, pens, compass, camera and some cooking chocolate were there. She wouldn’t make the mistake of putting her camera in there again. Eventually, everyone had dried off and stretched out, and they set out into the jungle, Don Moises leading. Sam was surprised until she remembered that he knew about the Inca steps the first time and was not interested in seeing them. Wilson followed close behind him, chain-smoking his packet of Full Speed cigarettes, so that everyone else walked several paces behind the two men to avoid the smoke and flying ash.
‘Filthy habit,’ said Alfredo to Sam. He was one of the few people she knew in Sierramar who didn’t smoke.
‘Full speed to the grave,’ Sam replied with a wink.
It didn’t take them long to reach the steps, which were in the shade at this time of day. They looked very dull and nondescript, like a blocky rock formation. Were they on a wild goose chase after all? Then, she heard Alfredo gasp. He shuffled forward through the group and was up at the rock face, caressing it with his right hand. He had his cheek against it and his eyes shut in some sort of ecstasy. He muttered to himself. Sam waited with the others while he recovered himself and pulled away from the surface where she could see that he had been running his hand over the carved stone cipher of a snake.
Alfredo was very pale, and his eyes glistened in a peculiar manner. He turned to look for Sam, and catching her eye, he nodded. He was overcome and sank to his knees. One of the workers ran forward with a log for him to sit on. He sat with his head in his hands, talking to himself.
‘Hey, are you okay?’ said Sam.
‘Yes, it’s a bit of a shock. It’s so real.’
‘We’re not there yet.’
Sam gave him a piece of her precious chocolate, which helped to revive him. He gave orders for the men to clear the rock face with machetes. They set to work removing the vines and creepers. It took about an hour to complete this job, and when they were finished, the bottom of a stone staircase was revealed that cut though the ancient river terraces stacked up into the jungle. There were serpent ciphers on the vertical part of each step and concave indentations on the tops of the steps filled with sediment, which Alfredo ordered the workers to collect in plastic bags.
He took copious notes at this stage and pointed out key locations for Sam to photograph. Every aspect of the stairs was logged and measured. When they had documented the bottom of the staircase, Alfredo directed the workers to start clearing the upper reaches. Painstakingly and halting at almost every step for more photographs and measurements, they cut their way up the slope. Startled lizards shot into the jungle in all directions, their early morning sunbathing cut short by the invasion of their habitat. At one point, a viper was disturbed and slithered away in alarm. The workers wanted to kill it, but Don Moises stopped them, causing a momentary pause in the work for a vigorous debate. Sam missed the chance to get a photograph as she had her back to the steps.
‘Why are they trying to kill the snake? It’s running away, isn’t it?’’ she asked.
‘Did you see the markings on its back?’ asked Alfredo. ‘They look like an ‘X’, so the snake is called Ekis. They’re poisonous and can kill small children. The workers wanted to kill the snake in case it goes to their village.’
‘What do they do to protect themselves from snakes who get there?’
‘They’ve a secret weapon.’
‘Really? And what’s that?’
‘Did you see the pigs that the villagers keep under their houses? They’ve an immunity to snake bites because of the thick layer of fat on their bodies. They kill the snakes and eat them.’
‘The pigs eat the snakes?’
‘Yes, pigs will eat anything.’
Moises assured the workers that their village was too far away for the snake to reach and that it was not right to disturb the balance of nature in the jungle by killing the predators. Peace was restored, and they went back to their task of clearing the vegetation.
***
Segundo arrived at Riccuarte in the late afternoon and set about finding somewhere to stay. He was offered the same decrepit hut where Sam and Wilson had stayed on their first visit to the village. He left his belongings in a dark corner and ventured out into the dusk. Bats were swooping to catch the insects gathered around the bare lightbulbs lit by small generators in some of the newer dwellings. He went to look for a cantina. He met Doña Elodea on the main street and asked her if there was a cantina in the village and where he could find it. She had a villager’s suspicion of strangers, and there was something about the man that made her shudder.
‘I haven’t seen you around,’ she ventured. ‘Have you got business in Riccuarte?’
‘My name is Segundo Duarte. I came to Riccuarte to look for someone. His name’s Wilson Ortega. I don’t suppose you have come across him? I believe that he arrived yesterday afternoon.’
Doña Elodea did not let any recognition cross her face.
‘Maybe he’s in the cantina,’ she suggested. ‘Most visitors eat there in the evening.’
‘Can you tell me where I can find it please, Señora?’ asked Segundo.
‘Follow this street and the first turn on the right.’
‘Thank you, Señora. Have a good evening.’ He was gone.
Doña Elodea was sure that there was something very sinister about Segundo. He made her flesh crawl with that nasty scar on his face. She couldn’t imagine why someone would follow Wilson into the jungle, and she couldn’t help feeling that Segundo was not to be trusted. She decided to take the initiative, as Don Moises was not in town. She didn’t want the stranger to get away upriver before she sent a message to Moises in the morning asking him to find out what was going on. She had lots of friends in Riccuarte, and they knew how to deal with dodgy strangers.
She picked up her skirts and hurried down the street to find Carlos and Rijer, who had worked on the original crew with Sam and Wilson. She found them playing cards on the porch outside Rijer’s house.
‘Chicos, I need your help. There’s a stranger in town looking for Wilson. He’s very evil looking. I think he might be dangerous.’
‘Where’s he now?’
‘I sent him to the cantina to buy some supper. Can you please come with me and capture him?’
‘But where’ll we keep him?’
‘The old prison room will be perfect until morning. I’ll question him then.’
‘Okay, let’s go.’
The three vigilantes strode down the street to the cantina where Segundo was enjoying a bowl of soup. He wasn’t allowed to finish it. Carlos and Rijer grabbed him from both sides, and he was caught totally unaware. Despite this, he was a match for the two strong men and wriggled like an eel between them. Another local, who liked a good brawl, came up behind Segundo when it looked as if he might struggle free. He hit him on the head with an empty beer bottle. He went down with a thump. The boys lifted his arms over their shoulders and dragged him down the road to the village lock-up. They placed him on a wooden bench inside the hut and locked the door from the outside. Doña Elodea asked them to fetch his belongings and throw them in, too.
***
By the time that Segundo came around, he had an old foam mattress, a cold bowl of soup and his small rucksack in the lock-up with him. He was very groggy and couldn’t imagine what had happened to him. The last thing he remembered was eating some soup in the cantina. He tried the door, but despite pulling and kicking with all his might, it did n
ot budge. He shouted his lungs out, but no one came to his aid. Deciding that he was unlikely to get an explanation until morning, he lay down on the bed. Despite the discomfort of the thin mattress and the mosquitos buzzing around his head, he was soon asleep.
***
The staircase had been cleared, and it was apparent that the terrain flattened out into a small plateau at the top of the steps. Large, black clouds rumbled into sight on the horizon, signalling a major storm was going to break. No one wanted to get caught outside, as these storms sometimes contained large, painful hailstones that could bruise anyone foolish enough to stay out in the open. A decision was made to stop work for the day and set out for Arenas.
Everyone descended the stone staircase onto the floor of the jungle and walked in single file to the riverbank. No one spoke. Some were exhausted by the hard, manual labour, others by speculation. The treasure hunt had not been mentioned in order to prevent rumours from spreading all over Arenas. Alfredo was posing as an archaeologist with an interest in the ancient steps and the workers had not been given any further information. In truth, no-one could be sure if the treasure existed, but the steps were significant in their own right and logic suggested that they had to lead somewhere. Sam tried to remain as calm as possible, as if she went searching for treasure every day, but inside her was a cauldron of emotions. She had hoped that the job with Mike would be a stepping stone to a geological career. She had never expected that she would be taking part in a treasure hunt. If there was no treasure, she would try and get some more field experience working for Mike. She wasn’t sure that treasure hunting was a legitimate entry for her resume.
The canoe fought with the river all the way to Arenas, which was relatively close to the site, but it was slow going. The crew had stopped laughing and joking and there was a grim concentration on their work as they forced the canoe through the torrent of brown water. They landed at the village as the first large drops of rain fell from the sky, which was already black even though the sun hadn’t gone down yet. They made their way to the main square where they had been housed in the same civic building in which they stayed before. Sam had been given one of the small rooms off the main upstairs accommodation. She was relieved to see that it had a primitive lock. She sat on the steps watching the rain pouring down. The children ran about in the rain, shrieking with laughter, and she was struck by the contrast to London where the mothers would have called the children inside instead of encouraging them to enjoy the rain.