Fool's Gold

by PJ Skinner

  ‘Si. Boom!’ shouted the man, and he threw himself backwards into the water. The other men roared with laughter, and she could see that this was his party trick and joined in. She held out her hand to help him back onto the boat.

  The canoe glided up the river to where Don Moises had a good fire going with an improvised grill made of twisted wire. The men jumped out of the canoe with their booty, and Sam followed. She must have been a bit ashen because all three men who had stayed ashore roared with laughter.

  ‘Why didn’t you warn me?’ Sam hissed at Alfredo, who was doubled over with mirth.

  ‘Priceless,’ he managed to say.

  The fish were gutted and thrown whole onto the grill. They cooked quickly and were flipped over and ready in less than ten minutes. The smell of their crispy skins made Sam salivate. She was presented with the first one wrapped in a palm leaf and nibbled cautiously on the fleshy bit by the fin. It was absolutely delicious. There was a myriad of bones, but it was worth it. Silence reigned until the fish were finished and the last finger was licked. Then, they made themselves comfortable and had a half-hour siesta on the riverbank. This was the kind of experience she had dreamed of in university. She was beginning to feel at home in the jungle.

  Chapter XX

  Carlos made good time in his light craft and arrived in the village of Arenas at midday. He pulled the canoe up onto the shingle and pushed it under the trees at the edge of the riverbank. Arranging the low hanging branches over the top of the canoe so that it was not visible from the river, he hid his pole underneath it.

  Satisfied with his work, he walked up the slippery clay steps to the raised, flat piece of land on which the village was built. He headed straight for the civic building, but, as he expected, there was no one there. Most of the women and children had gone to pick plantains for the evening meal. He sat on the steps of the house and waited for them to return. One of the women who had stayed in the village gave him a bowl of rice and fish and soon he had a young audience to watch him eat his lunch.

  No sooner had he finished his food than a football appeared, and he was forced to play with the children in return for his meal. Carlos didn’t mind. He had three children of his own and spent a lot of time playing football with them when he didn’t have any work. He felt proud that he had been chosen as Doña Elodea’s messenger. He wasn’t used to having such important jobs to do. It was better than sitting around smoking and playing cards with Rijer all day. He tried asking where the others had gone, but was met with blank stares and understood that it was none of his business. After playing football for the requisite couple of hours, he climbed into a hammock on the porch of the civic building and fell asleep.

  ***

  Mike and Gloria arrived at the coastal airport that morning to find a battered four-wheel drive waiting for them outside the terminal building with the engine running. The driver did not say much. He indicated that they should get in and showed interest only when Mike insisted on putting on his seat belt, which had been tied up and shoved under the front seat. It took a good five minutes of pulling and swearing to get it untangled and ready for use. It was filthy and oily, but Mike put it on anyway. Gloria told the driver that all gringos were like that, and he shrugged. There was not much danger of crashing on the way to San Lorenzo. The road was so bad they couldn’t go above thirty kilometres per hour. The driver took exaggerated care with his passengers, as he had the daughter of Señor Sanchez in his vehicle. He was hoping for a promotion, and he wanted good reports to get back to his boss.

  Gloria sat in the back of the car, puffing away at her cigarettes and handing Mike cassettes to play in the well-used tape machine in the dashboard. The journey took a few hours along the coast road, including a stop at a small beach restaurant for some delicious shrimp in coconut sauce on a bed of sticky rice. They arrived at San Lorenzo in the afternoon where they parted company with the driver, who could not go upriver with them, so he turned the vehicle around to go back immediately. Gloria was pretty sure that Mike was not up for another bumpy trip that evening. The rain was sheeting down on the town, and it was not difficult to persuade him to wait until morning. They set about finding a hotel for the night and settled on the same decrepit one that Sam and Wilson had stayed in on their last visit.

  ‘Are you sure this is the only hotel in town?’ said Mike.

  ‘I’m afraid so. The accommodation won’t get any better, you know.’

  ‘Yes, sorry, it’s a bit new to me, this adventure thing.’

  Gloria was surprised. Wasn’t he an entrepreneur? Weren’t adventures his forte?

  ***

  By late afternoon, the plateau was almost totally cleared of vegetation, and the workers had started to remove the soil. Alfredo had gone very quiet and paced around the plateau like a caged tiger. He had stopped taking notes and was having some sort of internal debate. He muttered to himself, and on occasion, his arms flew out from his sides in a shrug. Sam approached him cautiously and tapped him on the shoulder. Alfredo spun around in fright at her touch, as if roused from a nightmare.

  ‘Alfredo?’ asked Sam. ‘Are you all right?’

  ‘All right? Yes, I think so. I assume so. That is…’ His voice trailed off.

  ‘Do you know what the plateau is yet?’ she asked hopefully.

  ‘The plateau? Oh, yes. No. Well, I don’t know, really. There are no signs of construction. It is a random platform for worship or something. It’s not what I expected. I must think. I need to wait until they clear off the earth. Maybe there’ll be some indication of the purpose or its relation to the treasure. We’ll know tomorrow, I hope.’

  Alfredo lapsed back into his reverie and started pacing the plateau again. Sam left him to his thoughts, seeing that he needed some space to figure them out. Perhaps it was a wild goose chase after all. What if it was only a place for offerings or human sacrifice and had nothing to do with treasure. She felt disappointed for Alfredo but not for herself, because in truth, most of the fun for Sam had been in the adventure and simply being in the jungle. She was still exhilarated after her close encounter with dynamite fishing. When Don Moises declared that another storm was coming, she was looking for unusual insects to photograph. They downed tools and descended the stairs to the jungle floor as it was safer to stop work and return in the morning. The path they were using was becoming wider and flatter and, despite the muddy surface, it took no time to walk to the canoes.

  The rain started before they got to Arenas, and everyone was soaking wet by the time the canoe beached on the riverbank. Sam looked up from under the hood of her jacket and noticed Carlos standing under the trees beside a small canoe. She waved at him but he didn’t appear to see her. Remembering that Wilson had underpaid him, she resolved to slip him some money later. He gestured to Don Moises, who ran across to the shelter of the large leaves to join him. The rest of the group walked up to the house where they were staying and changed into dry clothes. Sam stored her used camera film in her bag and wound a new one onto her ancient Canon. She liked to get ready for the next morning when she was wide awake, as she had a habit of forgetting very important stuff at dawn.

  The ladies from the village arrived soon after dark with their supper of fish soup, patacones (slices of plantain boiled and then squashed flat for frying) and grilled crayfish. There were also some fresh avocados. Sam almost drooled with delight.

  ‘I wouldn’t eat the crayfish if I were you,’ drawled Alfredo.

  ‘Why not?’ she asked.

  ‘They catch them in the river.’

  ‘So?’

  ‘The crayfish are easy to catch because they all swim over and eat the poo we leave in the river during our morning evacuations. Isn’t it wonderful how nature recycles everything?’

  ‘Yuck, I can’t believe it. I’m not eating these.’

  ‘You won’t mind if I eat yours, then.’

  Sam shook her head in horror and transferred her crayfish onto Alfredo’s plate. She lost interest in her food an
d picked at her fried plantains. As Alfredo happily munched on the crayfish, she felt she might have fallen for one of his tall tales, but she couldn’t shake off the idea of all those crayfish coming to eat breakfast. She would definitely check the next time.

  Moises reappeared as they were finishing their food and asked Wilson if he could have a chat with him. Sam was rather uneasy about the subservient way Moises behaved towards Wilson. It didn’t fit with Sam’s high opinion of him, and she didn’t like the smug look that Wilson threw back at them as he left. Something wasn’t right, but she couldn’t figure out what it was. If Wilson knew about the treasure, was he going to tell Moises? What if they plotted to take it? What would happen to her and Alfredo?

  ‘Alfredo, I’m worried about Wilson. He’s behaving strangely, and he has Moises wrapped around his finger. Are you sure he doesn’t know about the treasure?’

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous. Moises is not the sort of man to let Wilson tell him what to do. I know you don’t like Wilson; you make it pretty obvious. We have enough problems without you inventing conspiracy theories.’

  Sam was hurt by his barbed comment, but she reasoned that the empty plateau was the cause of his irritation rather than her theories and she didn’t hold it against him. It didn’t do much to assuage her doubts but if Alfredo didn’t think that there was any treasure, there probably wasn’t any. Wilson was not going to be a threat if there was nothing to steal. She was tempted to spy on the pair, but since some of the villagers were already suspicious of their motives in being in the region again, she decided against it.

  ***

  Wilson couldn’t wait to get away from the others. He couldn’t believe that Mike had sent a drunk, a woman and a half-breed to look for something so important and had intended to leave him out. After their chat in Riccuarte, Moises had made it obvious whose side he was on and now it was clear that he wanted to discuss arranging the disappearance of Sam and Alfredo. Wilson congratulated himself on reading his man well. Moises was also expendable, but Wilson would deal with him after he had eliminated the competition. The treasure was so close that he could almost feel it. He was pretty sure that his troubles were over.

  They shook hands and walked to an old house on the outskirts of the village. The roof was only just withstanding the rain, which fell in sheets. Big drops bounced on the rotten wood of the floor, turning it to mush. They stepped gingerly onto the veranda and sat on wobbly stools made from fat slices of tree trunk. When Moises offered him a bowl of chicha to drink, Wilson gladly accepted it as a sign of trust. He was not very keen on chicha. Like many traditions, the truth about its manufacture was pretty unpalatable. It was made by the women of the village by chewing the cassava root and spitting the resulting liquid into a bowl. This mixture was left to ferment and then strained to capture the liquid for drinking. The alcohol content depended on the time of fermentation. Wilson found the whole process disgusting, but even he was not prepared to spoil the ritual by refusing. He took a good mouthful and swallowed it quickly before he could gag. The liquid was surprisingly tasty, but he could not be tempted into a second bowlful. Don Moises made some small talk about the trip, and then he got down to the point of the conversation.

  ‘I’ve thought about what you told me in Riccuarte,’ he said in a low voice, ‘and I’ve decided that we need to take action straight away.’

  Wilson was thrilled beyond measure to hear this. He felt a frisson of excitement as he leaned forward on his stool to better hear Moises in the pouring rain. He wobbled and planted his feet wide for balance. As he did this, he felt someone grab him from behind with great strength. Although he wanted to struggle, his limbs felt like rubber. He tried to protest, but his tongue filled his whole mouth. He couldn’t form any words. Don Moises smiled at his struggle.

  ‘Yes, we need to take action straight away, against you. You didn’t imagine I was going to let a man like you steal our treasure? I’ve heard about you, Wilson Ortega, and none of it is good.’

  Moises spat at Wilson’s feet, which were flopping about like stranded fish. Wilson had a disbelieving look on his face as he slumped backwards into the arms of Carlos, who picked him up and slung him over his shoulder like a scarecrow. Wilson’s arms and legs dangled from his body. He drooled down Carlos’ ancient t-shirt.

  ‘Take him away to the storeroom and tie him up, Carlos. Make sure he can’t shout for help.’

  ‘You can count on me, sir,’ Carlos replied.

  ‘I want you to put Wilson in your canoe before we leave for the plateau tomorrow morning and take him to Riccuarte to Doña Elodea. Be careful. Wilson is a desperate man and will stop at nothing. I’m eternally grateful to you for warning me. God will reward you.’

  ‘Is there really treasure in the plateau, Don Moises?’

  ‘No. Wilson is deluded and greedy and he is confused. This makes him a dangerous man, capable of killing to get what he wants. He won’t be able to move until morning anyway. The ayahuasca will give him sleep paralysis. I can’t guarantee sweet dreams, though.’

  Carlos knew of the reputation of ayahuasca for opening the mind to horrors. He had never taken it himself. He was a Christian and avoided Indian medicine, believing it to be the work of the devil. Manoeuvring himself carefully down the soggy steps of the porch, he cracked Wilson’s head against one of the struts holding up the roof, inducing a low moaning sound from his victim.

  ‘Be careful, Carlos. We don’t want anyone to see you.’

  ‘Don’t worry, sir. This rain would keep anyone indoors.’ He was gone into the darkness with Wilson swinging over his shoulder.

  ***

  Sam looked up from her book when she heard someone stumble on the steps of the house. Her neck was stiff and she struggled to focus in the gloom. He shuffled under the light and she could see who it was.

  ‘Alfredo, where are you going?’

  ‘I’m coming back from a pee if you must know.’

  ‘I thought you went to bed.’

  ‘Well, you thought wrong.’

  ‘Are you drunk?’

  ‘What’s it to you, gringa? Wouldn’t you be drunk in my position?’

  ‘I don’t understand.’

  Sam moved over to sit on the top step and patted the floor beside her. Alfredo lurched over and sat down with a big sigh.

  ‘How could you understand? You’re a success. You have a career. I’m a failure, a drunk. Gloria’s going to leave me.’

  Sam couldn’t help smiling. Alfredo thinks that I’m a success? It was amazing how differently other people perceive me.

  ‘Don’t be silly. You’re not a failure. Why would Gloria leave you?’

  ‘She’s the daughter of Hernan Sanchez. She’s clever and beautiful and organised.’

  Sam stifled a snort of derision.

  ‘Why would she go out with a drunk? And a failure.’

  ‘Why do you keep calling yourself a failure?’

  ‘I don’t think there is anything on the plateau. What if I’ve made a terrible mistake? Mike will kill me. Gloria will think I’m an idiot.’

  ‘What if you haven’t? What if you’re about to be a massive success? Don’t count your chickens yet, Alfredo. Go to bed. You’ll feel better tomorrow.’

  ‘How do you know?’

  ‘I’m a failure, too. I always feel better with a new day ahead of me.’

  Sam put her hand on his shoulder and squeezed it.

  ***

  Bound and gagged, Wilson lay on the floor in the dark hut. His hands were bound, pushing his face into the dirt. He could feel grit in his teeth but he couldn’t move. He was conscious, but his body was not under his control. How could he have been so stupid? That bastard half breed had poisoned him. If he ever got out of there, he would kill him. But he was trapped. As the drug took hold, he began to hallucinate. He saw large ants crawling across the floor of the hut toward him and swarming all over his prostrate form. He felt them biting his body, but he could not brush them off. He tried to scream but the g
ag nearly choked him. He saw El Loco laughing at him, holding out a pair of rusty scissors. He was surrounded by mocking women taunting him with their breasts. He lay in a heap on the floor, drowning in his own nightmares, but he knew somewhere in his head that the horror was only beginning. He prayed for death. Only when dawn broke did the horrors cease and then the door opened.

  Chapter XXI

  Carlos pulled his canoe out from under the trees and into the shallows. Chilly drops of dew fell from the leaves onto his back causing him to shiver in the cold dawn light. He was determined to get away from Arenas before the others saw him because in the bottom of the canoe, trussed up like a turkey, and pale as Christmas snow, was Wilson Ortega. He was gagged and he was now awake with his eyes open. They widened in fright as Carlos leaned in to check on his cargo.

  ‘Good morning, engineer,’ he whispered. ‘We’re going to take a little trip to Riccuarte to see a friend of yours. If you promise not to shout, I’ll take off the gag and give you some water. If you shout, I’ll drown you like a rat. It’s your choice. Nod if you want me to take it off for you.’

  Wilson nodded with relief, and Carlos took off the gag, and, supporting him with his hand, he tipped some river water down Wilson’s throat. He gulped it down, almost choking in his anxiety to quench his thirst. Carlos laid him back down in the canoe.

  Wilson was traumatised by his night in the hut and would have agreed to anything in order to lie on the floor of the canoe and breathe normally. He had not given up, though. There must be a way to escape. His blood boiled as he remembered how Don Moises had deceived him but he slowed his breathing so that his captor would not notice the change in his awareness. Someone as smart as him was not going to be outwitted by a bunch of primitive Indians. He needed to restore his strength so he could try to escape once they got to Riccuarte. He was sure that he wasn’t out of the game yet.