Earth Cry

by Nick Cook

  A tingle of anticipation ran through me. ‘So do you know where I can find her?’

  ‘I do, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to tell you where she is.’

  The bartender materialised with a steaming coffee cup in his hand. I paid for it and took a long sip of excellent coffee, letting it sharpen my brain as I searched for the best way to approach this. Any friend of Cristina would be naturally protective towards her. I could easily imagine how her life had been turned upside down recently. And the poor woman was unlikely to be able to make any sense of what she’d seen.

  ‘Look, if you are worried about me being a journalist looking for a great story, or even a religious crank, you can relax on both counts.’

  ‘Oh, they all say that, trust me,’ Ricardo said.

  This wasn’t going well. My intuition was that the truth, or at least as much as I could reveal, would be the only thing that might work here. ‘OK, here’s the deal. Cristina isn’t the only one who has seen strange geometrical symbols at old archaeological sites.’

  Ricardo stared at me. ‘You know someone who’s seen something similar?’

  ‘I have – me. I have something called synaesthesia, which is trigged by certain sounds.’

  He sat up straighter. ‘For real?’

  ‘I’ll swear it on whatever Bible you care to put in front of me.’

  ‘So how can I really trust you? Those religious nuts you mentioned are real. There are people out there who honestly believe Cristina’s visions have angered the ancient Inca gods, hence the tremors. And some of those who have sought her out are anything but fans.’

  I started to understand Ricardo’s hesitance. Hell, I would have probably done the same in his position – protecting someone I loved from the crazies. So what would make me realise I didn’t mean any harm?

  I gestured to the barman, who headed over. ‘Hey, have you got a piece of paper and a pen I could borrow for a second?’

  ‘Sure.’ He dug out a pad from behind the counter and tore out a page. He handed it to me, together with a pen.

  ‘What are you doing?’ Ricardo asked.

  ‘Drawing some of the symbols she may have seen.’

  I started to sketch a series of icons – the wave symbol, the dot icon – but it was when I began drawing the star sign for E8 that Ricardo grabbed my wrist.

  ‘You’ve seen this too?’

  ‘Yes, I have – why? Has Cristina seen something like this?’

  Ricardo stared at me. ‘Seen it…? She has drawings in this shape all over her wall.’

  Hope rose like a bubble into my chest. ‘So will you take this to her? Cristina didn’t ask for this and the world has gone crazy on her. I really want to help.’

  Ricardo peered at me, then glanced over his shoulder at Jack and Mike currently taking orders for another round with much back slapping from the Germans.

  ‘OK, I know Cristina will want to see your drawings,’ he said. ‘So I will take you to her, but if she wants nothing to do with you, you must promise me that you’ll leave her alone?’

  ‘If that’s what it takes, then I promise.’ I thrust out my hand and Ricardo reluctantly took it, his handshake firm. Of course I had no such intention – we were talking about saving the world here, and what Cristina knew might be a big step towards that.

  ‘I just hope my usual good instinct is right to trust you,’ Ricardo said. ‘Don’t make me regret my decision.’

  ‘I promise, you won’t.’ I hoped duplicity wasn’t showing behind my eyes.

  He peered at me and slowly nodded. ‘OK, Cristina lives with her husband Gabriel, another guide, and their baby girl in a house at the edge of town. I can take you to her now if you’d like?’

  ‘Absolutely. Just let me round up my friends and we’ll get going.’

  Ricardo nodded. ‘Sure.’

  Relief surged through me and I felt my neck muscles relax. At this rate we’d be heading back to Eden with vital intelligence before the day was out. I finished the rest of my black coffee and turned round to see Jack and Mike getting started on another beer each. I was so going to have to have words with them later about keeping a clear head whilst on a mission.

  We’d headed away from the bar up alongside a broad river running through the heart of Aguas Calientes. Ricardo led us on to a steeply sloping side street and we began to make our way between tall buildings painted with a bright palette of colours – from blues to yellows to deep oranges. We clung to the cooling shade on one side of the pavement to shield us against the already intense heat of the day.

  The streets were crammed with tourists that should have been up on Machu Picchu but instead were wandering around looking for ways to kill time. Consequently, there was something of a carnival feel to the town. Yes, people were disappointed not to get to one of the great wonders of the world, but they were more than making up for it by spending their money.

  Tom had told us Aguas Calientes lay at an altitude of 2,000 metres and my lungs were soon complaining about the thin air. Mike’s and Jack’s faces looked flushed too. By contrast, Ricardo hadn’t even broken a sweat.

  I gestured towards him as he strode ahead of us. ‘Bloody hell, that guy is putting me to shame. I can barely keep up.’

  ‘You’re not alone,’ Mike said, wheezing slightly.

  ‘I wouldn’t beat yourselves up,’ Jack replied. ‘A lot of the locals have a physique that’s adapted to living at this altitude. Many of them have broader, more barrel-like chests, able to squeeze every last molecule of oxygen out of the thinner air.’

  ‘So they’re built for this altitude in a way that we simply aren’t?’

  ‘Yep.’

  ‘OK, that makes me feel a bit better.’

  We rounded a corner to see a five-storey building with balconies painted in a bright yellow ochre.

  ‘This is where a lot of the other guides live,’ Ricardo said. ‘Just wait here and I’ll check if Cristina is around.’ He headed for a table outside the entrance where men and women were playing cards. He high-fived several of them and bent his head in for a conversation with the group. A few moments later Ricardo waved us over.

  ‘Cristina is up in her room preparing her famous chicken stew for everybody. With Machu Picchu shut, none of us have been paid for the last week and we all pretty much live hand to mouth. Cristina offered to cook for the other guides in this apartment block who shared their ingredients with her. It’s a way of saving money when things get this tight.’

  It sounded like a tough existence to me. My fingers gently brushed the money belt beneath my shirt containing a wad of ten thousand dollars.

  We followed Ricardo through the doorway into a courtyard. A covered staircase wound its way up to the floors. Criss-crossing the open space, washing lines fluttered their clothes in a gentle breeze, like pendants stretched between the balconies. We climbed up the stairs to the third floor and passed through the doorway into a dingy corridor. The only source of light was a single open window at the far end with a metal fire escape visible past it.

  ‘This place looks really rundown,’ Mike whispered to Jack and me as Ricardo walked ahead.

  ‘Let’s make give Ricardo a substantial cash donation that he can share with the others,’ I replied. ‘Not just a sign of our appreciation, but to make things easier for them at the moment.’

  ‘You’ve got a good heart,’ Jack said.

  I raised a shoulder. ‘I try.’

  Ricardo came to a stop in front of a peeling blue door and knocked. We could hear a baby crying in the room beyond.

  ‘Sounds like my favourite little person needs a hug,’ Ricardo said through the door.

  The wailing continued, but there were no footsteps.

  Ricardo rapped his knuckles on the door harder. ‘Cristina, hey! It’s Ricardo.’

  Still no response. He knocked again.

  ‘On the loo maybe?’ I asked.

  ‘She would still be able to hear – their apartment is tiny. She would have shouted some
thing back.’

  ‘Maybe she popped out,’ Jack suggested.

  ‘She’d never leave baby Nicole by herself,’ Ricardo replied.

  I gestured along the corridor to the fire escape beyond the open window. ‘A quick ciggy break?’

  Pedro shook his head. ‘Cristina doesn’t smoke.’

  As he knocked again, a guy with dark eyes and a broad face appeared in the corridor behind us carrying a bag of groceries. ‘Hola, Ricardo.’

  ‘Hola, Gabriel. Tu esposa no responde y Nicole está sollozando con su corazón allí.’

  ‘Ella no es?’ Then Gabriel looked at Jack, Mike and me, and scowled. ‘Hey, you know the deal, Ricardo. Cristina doesn’t want to talk to anyone at the moment, especially strangers,’ he said switching to English no doubt for our benefit.

  ‘I know, we all know, but she’ll want to talk to this lady.’

  I stepped forward. ‘I can imagine the sort of crazies that have been turning up at your door, but I promise you we’re different. You see, I have a pretty good idea what Cristina has been going through as I have the same thing – an audio-visual form of synaesthesia.’

  ‘You have?’

  ‘Yes, and I’ve seen geometrical symbols hanging in the air at another archaeological site. That’s why we’re desperate to talk to her.’

  Gabriel’s eyes widened. ‘Then please come in. She needs to talk to someone who understands what she’s going through. She thinks she’s been going crazy.’

  ‘God, I can imagine.’

  Gabriel shifted his bag of groceries to his left arm and fished out his key. ‘Hey, Nicole, hush your tears, Papa is coming.’

  He unlocked the door, pushed it open with his foot and let out a small gasp. He dropped the bag of groceries and darted inside. ‘Cristina, where are you?’ he shouted.

  We followed Ricardo. A baby girl, tears streaming down her face, sat in the middle of the floor. She was surrounded by the scattered contents of the small room.

  Ricardo scooped the girl into his arms to soothe her. ‘Hush, Nicole.’

  Gabriel stared around, his hands interlocked on top of his head, then rushed into the adjacent room.

  I began to take in the chaos. Books had been thrown off a toppled bookcase, drawers emptied out on to the floor. A pot had been tipped over and a cooling puddle of stew slopped out over the worktop. A framed photo of Gabriel, Nicole and a pretty dark-haired woman with smiling eyes lay shattered on the ground. A sketch book was open on a sofa, some pages torn from it.

  Ricardo bounced Nicole on his arm as he tried to quieten her.

  Gabriel stormed back into the room, his eyes wide. ‘Cristina isn’t here.’

  He spun round to stare at us. ‘I find strangers outside my door and now this.’

  Ricardo shook his head. ‘It’s nothing to do with them, I promise, Gabriel. They were with me the whole time – I brought them here. They can’t have been involved.’

  Gabriel slumped on the sofa and picked up the torn notebook, examining the missing pages. ‘Whoever it was took her drawings.’

  ‘You mean the symbols?’ I asked.

  ‘Yes – the ones she saw hanging in the air at Machu Picchu, just like a sign from god,’ Ricardo replied.

  My pulse amped. ‘And this was triggered by a sound?’

  He nodded. ‘She was up there guiding a group last week when a tremor hit the mountain. It was followed by a strange animal-like cry from beneath the earth. Then these symbols appeared in front of her eyes. She filled that sketchbook with what she saw.’

  ‘Her synaesthesia kicking in, it has to be,’ I said.

  Jack and Mike both nodded as Nicole held out her arms for her father.

  Gabriel took Nicole from Ricardo, smoothing out her dark hair as he kissed her head. ‘Shush, my baby girl. Mama’s going to be OK, you’ll see…’

  But I could hear the fear behind every syllable of his words to his daughter. I twisted my fingers through the strands of my blonde wig. So what were we talking about here – had one of the fanatics who’d labelled Cristina as a devil abducted her and taken her drawings as evidence of sins against god? It sounded like a bad Dan Brown novel. And if so, what would they do with her?

  A chill ran through me as I exchanged a loaded look with the others that told me they were thinking exactly the same thing.

  Chapter Ten

  We leant against the wall of the corridor in Gabriel and Cristina’s cramped apartment. It was crowded with a procession of people offering to help look for her. But no one had found any clues about who had taken her, or where. The police had been called and I’d agreed with Jack and Mike that we’d make a fast disappearance as soon as they arrived. Despite the seriousness of Cristina’s abduction, we had an even bigger priority – discovering the whereabouts of the waking micro mind. We needed to keep away from the authorities’ radars as best we could.

  Ricardo walked past us to the balcony and lit a cigarette.

  ‘I’m just going to see how our friend is doing,’ I said to Jack and Mike. ‘Cristina’s his cousin after all.’

  Mike nodded. ‘Everyone is all over Gabriel and Nicole. Ricardo’s been a bit forgotten in all this mess.’

  I clambered out and leant on the railing beside him. The bright sunshine was a stark contrast to the gloomy corridor inside. ‘How are you?’

  He breathed out a wreath of smoke round his head. ‘I keep hoping this is a nightmare and that I’ll wake up from it in a moment.’

  ‘I know exactly what that feels like…’ I paused, trying to find the right words.

  ‘If anything’s happened to her…’ Ricardo crumpled into himself as he squeezed his eyes shut.

  I patted his arm. ‘Let’s not go there yet.’ He took some deep breaths and I looked out from the balcony into the rear narrow alley where people had already checked for signs of Cristina. A small van was trundling along it towards the back of an adjacent building. ‘I can’t believe that no one saw anything.’

  ‘Me neither. There are lots of eyes in Aguas Calientes. For this to happen in broad daylight is impossible.’

  The van reached the yard at the back of the building and parked up. An old guy climbed out and headed round to the vehicle’s doors, opening them and revealing a stack of boxes inside. The man carried a box to a metal door in the building, and I saw a security camera was mounted above it… I stared at the camera and grabbed Ricardo’s arm.

  ‘That camera has a view of this rear alley.’

  He blinked at me. ‘Mary, mother of god, you’re right.’

  ‘Do you know who it belongs to?’

  ‘A small shop round the corner. We should tell Gabriel.’

  I shook my head. ‘I think he has enough to deal with – and let’s not build up false hope in case it hasn’t captured anything.’

  Ricardo nodded. ‘You’re right. So let’s go and check that footage. Then if we learn anything, we can let Gabriel and the police know.’

  I stuck my head back through the window into the corridor. ‘Guys, we may have just found a lead about Cristina.’

  Jack stopped pacing and stared at me. ‘Which is?’

  ‘I’ll tell you on the way.’

  The four of us headed down the fire escape, jumping it three steps at a time.

  A short while later we were all crammed into the small grocery shop, standing among piles of vegetables, canned goods and an assortment of noodle packets. A Peruvian grandmother-like figure was peering over her specs at Ricardo as he negotiated with her to see her camera security footage. She would only agree to a surprisingly large amount of cash – supplied by us. There were no flies on this lady.

  The old woman rotated a monitor on the counter towards us and gabbled something in Peruvian Spanish back to Ricardo, then disappeared into a storeroom at the back.

  Ricardo pushed a fast-forward button. ‘Here we go, my friends.’

  The morning’s footage began to play at high speed.

  Children played some sort of ball game that lo
oked a bit like hopscotch, followed by a flock of pigeons settling along the rear wall of the apartment. The birds were frightened off by a skinny cat as it attempted an optimistic leap to catch them. Followed by a delivery van pulling up and unloading several boxes of multicoloured drinks into the yard. The everyday comings and goings of an alley in Aguas Calientes.

  But then at last we saw something that stood out.

  A grey jeep drove slowly along the alley and stopped next to the fire ladder we’d just climbed down. Two local looking people got out of the vehicle – a thick-necked man and a shorter guy. Both wore casual shirts and blue jeans. At first glance they were guys just going about their business. But there was something about the shorter guy and the way he moved that radiated authority, especially as the taller man kept nodding frantically to everything he said and wringing his hands.

  Ricardo leant in and his eyes widened. ‘Hang on, that short guy is Miguel Villca, the police commandant for this region. Why was he here in Aguas Calientes?’

  ‘Would he have turned up if somebody had reported something suspicious?’ Mike asked.

  Ricardo shook his head. ‘Normally it’d just be a couple of regular officers. We wouldn’t usually see someone of Villca’s rank unless it was serious, like a tourist going missing from the Inca Trail.’

  ‘So something is already off about this,’ Jack said.

  ‘Absolutely,’ I agreed. ‘Let’s see how this plays out.’

  Ricardo pressed the normal speed playback button.

  A tightness grew in my chest as the two men headed up the fire escape together to the third floor. Jack and Mike exchanged a silent look as we watched them clambering through the open window into Cristina’s apartment.

  Mike pointed to the timestamp on the video. ‘Nine-fifty a.m. – roughly twenty minutes before we got there. This has to be linked.’

  Villca and the other man re-emerged from the window a few minutes later clutching a woman with a bag pulled over her head. Her arms had been cuffed behind her back and she was struggling as they escorted her down the fire escape.