by Darren Hale
‘Good morning!’
‘Ahh, good morning.’ Simon clambered to his feet, a little embarrassed that he’d failed to recognise Catherine as she approached. Not that he was entirely to blame – her appearance had changed somewhat from the previous day.
He checked his watch. ‘Although…’
‘I know… I know… But it still feels like morning to me… Though I am sorry to have kept you waiting.’
‘That’s quite all right. Actually, I’ve been rather enjoying myself.’
‘So I can see.’ Catherine nodded towards the wine cooler. ‘Do I get a glass?’
‘Of course…’ Simon nodded to the waiter, who then scuttled off. No further prompting was necessary.
Catherine took a seat. ‘Well… This is very civilised. Are you normally in the habit of drinking wine so early in the day?’
Simon smiled. ‘Not really – though I am beginning to think it’s something I could become accustomed to…’
The waiter returned with a glass and filled it from the bottle next to the table. ‘Would you care to see the menu?’
Simon looked at Catherine questioningly. ‘I must say I’m beginning to feel somewhat peckish, and the food here does look rather splendid. What about you?’
‘Starving… I don’t think I’ve had anything more than cabin food and minibar snacks in the last forty-eight hours.’
With a nod from Simon, the waiter handed them menus and waited patiently for their orders.
Catherine diligently perused the main courses. ‘Pirarucu ao forno sounds interesting. Any idea what it is exactly?’
‘A type of fish found locally in the Amazon. The largest freshwater fish in the world I believe. Usually served with a lemon sauce,’ Simon replied.
‘Sounds excellent. That will do for me thank you.’ She folded the menu and handed it back to the waiter. ‘What about you?’
‘Strictly a steak and chips man I’m afraid – Medium rare.’
‘Thank you, sir. And can I get you any more wine?’ The waiter pointed towards the almost empty bottle.
Simon blushed.
‘Yes, we’ll have another of the same,’ said Catherine, before he could reply.
The waiter made a discrete note of their orders, then retreated towards the kitchen.
‘So, are you ready to tell me where this magical mystery tour is off to? I guess there’s a good reason for me spending a week pursuing a working visa for Peru, even though we are hundreds of miles from the border?’
Simon chuckled. ‘Yes we are going to be working in Peru. Unfortunately, it’s not very easy to get supplies over the Andes. Far simpler to ship them across the Atlantic and up the Amazon River. And a lot gentler on our budget I might add.’
‘So where exactly in Peru, are we going?’
‘I’m afraid I can’t reveal those details at the moment,’ he said with an almost mischievous smile.
Catherine raised an eyebrow. ‘A little cloak and dagger don’t you think?’
‘Maybe a little,’ he admitted. ‘But the fact of the matter is that Peru is a very poor country, and there is good money to be made selling historical artefacts on the black-market. In fact, it was a pot in just such a market, that drew Professor Ellis attention to the site in the first place.’
‘Well if that’s the case, what makes you think there is going to be anything left for us to find when we arrive?’
‘A good point…’ he confessed. ‘It’s certainly true that the site the professor’s pot came from, has nothing left to offer us. By the time he’d found someone to take him there, the place had already been stripped clean. The pot was, however, so radically different from anything we’ve ever found in this region, he decided to commission a landsat analysis of the surrounding jungle and found a much larger, untouched site, some miles to the north.’
‘Landsat?’ asked Catherine, a little bemused.
‘The modern archaeologist’s dreams come true. There are private companies that can produce very high-resolution satellite images capable of peering through the trees and picking up anything bigger than a metre in size. It gives us an unfair advantage over the grave-robbers.’
Somehow Catherine had never conceived the existence of commercial satellites capable of spying on the earth with such clarity. The military – yes. But the thought that such information was available to anyone who could afford it, frightened her.
As she paused to collect her thoughts, the waiter returned with their meals and a fresh bottle of wine. The food looked positively divine. ‘So, if you have such wonderful technology at your disposal, how come we haven’t found every other lost city on the planet?’
‘We’ve found a few. But mostly the ones we had some idea existed anyway. Unfortunately for us, these surveys are rather expensive. And, when you’re looking at such high resolution, you need to have a pretty good idea where to start. What appears to be an ancient wall, will often turn out to be nothing more than a natural stone formation, when you finally get to it.’
‘If that’s the case, why choose to investigate somewhere that’s so far out in the jungle?’
‘For precisely that reason… Because it’s so far from human invasion, making it much more likely that we’ve found it before anyone else…
And the fact that we have no knowledge of any such civilisation this side of the Andes…
We have the Incan civilisations in Peru, and the Mayan in Central America, but nothing very much in Central Amazonia.
Chances are… this find represents something entirely new. And when word gets out, its likely to create a lot of interest.’
Catherine took a bite of the pirarucu. Its delicate meat crumbled in her mouth. ‘Hmm – wonderful,’ she added appreciatively. ‘So, is there anything you can tell me?’
Simon smiled as he took a sip from his refreshed glass of wine. ‘Well… We have chartered one of the cruise boats to ferry us upriver to Iquitos, where we’ll pick up more supplies for the final leg of the trip.’
‘Iquitos?’
‘A city on the Peruvian side of the Amazon, about four or five days upriver from here. Quite a popular tourist destination I believe.’ He placed his glass on the table, then reached for his knife and fork.
‘So, do we get to spend any time there?’
‘I’m afraid not. We’ll be there just long enough to pick up some additional equipment the professor has ordered.’
Catherine teased away another piece of the fish and lifted it onto her fork. ‘And when do I get to meet the rest of the crew?’
‘I thought you might like a day to recover first, so I’ve arranged to take you to the boat tomorrow – if that’s okay?’ Simon had by now started to assault the steak and was not looking at her as he replied. ‘…The last members of our crew are due to arrive sometime tomorrow evening.’
‘Excellent! I think I might just have another glass or two of that wine then…’
******
The van pitched and swayed its way through the back streets of Manaus, past the primitive shacks that choked the sides of the road on either side. The buildings had been cobbled together from pieces of old wood and sheets of corrugated iron, now so corroded they resembled the dirt from which they rose.
Catherine watched as a dog limped from the mouth of a neighbouring alleyway, its emaciated body pockmarked with sores. ‘Lovely neighbourhood,’ she whispered, saddened by such squalor and poverty.
‘And to think this used to be one of the wealthiest cities in South America…’ Simon mused.
The van lurched violently as a pothole threatened to swallow one of its wheels, its rusted suspension coils squealing in protest as it bounced out the other side.
The jolt threw Catherine against her seat belt. ‘Are you sure he knows where he’s going?’ she said, voicing the thought she’d meant to keep to herself.
Eduardo did not look offended. ‘Sorry guys,’ he said apologetically. ‘But we’re almost there now…’
And he’d been tru
e to his word. Catherine had barely had the opportunity to open her mouth again before the van swung around a corner and into the bustling dockyard.
‘There you go… What did I say?’ Eduardo beamed as he pulled up next to the quay and the flotilla of boats bobbing and jostling nearby – a motley collection of passenger vessels wallowing on black waters glazed with a film of diesel fuel that glistened like mother of pearl.
Simon pointed towards an unobtrusive looking vessel wallowing in the swell nearby. ‘There’s our ride – the Amazon Queen.’
Catherine frowned as her eyes took in the rather dilapidated looking boat ahead of them. ‘I can see we are going to be travelling in comfort then…’ she said sarcastically.
Simon smiled. ‘Don’t worry. She’s not quite as bad as she looks.’ Having hoisted Catherine’s bag onto his shoulder, he then carved them a path through the crowds of confused looking tourists milling aimlessly around them.
The Amazon Queen looked like most of the other tourist boats gathered thereabouts; a French colonial plantation house resting upon a raft-like hull that would have foundered in a knee-high tide.
Simon waved to it with a loud ‘Ahoy there!’, and a minute or two later, a portly Brazilian with cocoa-coloured skin and wide toothy grin appeared at the head of the boarding ramp. He was wearing a battered green baseball cap over dense curls of oily black hair. ‘Ahh, unless I am much mistaken, you must be the beautiful Audrey Hepburn. Finally… you have arrived,’ he laughed, clearly amused by his own sense of humour. The line was an obvious reference to the film “The African Queen” and one that he had no doubt used many times.
Catherine blushed. ‘I’m sure you must have mistaken me for somebody else.’
‘No – I don’t think so.’ The captain extended a hand and helped her onto the deck.
Simon climbed up behind her. ‘The rest of the team is likely to be on the observation deck. I’ll show you to your room so you can drop off your bags, then take you to meet them.’
Taking the lead, he escorted her inside; along a narrow corridor that ran the length of the ship and up to a flimsy wooden door at the far end.
He fished a key from his pocket and jiggled it in the lock. ‘You’re on the lower deck, right at the front. Not much of a view I’m afraid, but being our valued medical representative, you do get one of the double rooms. Though I’m afraid you do have to share it with the medical supplies…’
A half-dozen blue storage boxes occupied much of the room.
‘Hmm, cosy...’ she observed as she deposited her rucksack on the bed.
‘But you do also get an on-suite bathroom, complete with shower,’ he said, opening an adjoining door. ‘Don’t worry about the colour of the water, it’s pumped and filtered straight from the river, so it looks rather black. It’s quite safe for bathing and doing your teeth, but I would strongly advise you against drinking any of it. There is, however, plenty of bottled water up in the bar – if you want any.’ He turned on the tap, and true to his word brown-tinged water sluiced into the bowl. ‘You may want to have a quick check through the supplies before we leave. There’s an inventory attached to the lid of each box, so you can make sure we haven’t forgotten anything. Though I’ll be damned if I know where we’ll find replacements in this forsaken place… Anyway, I think we managed to find everything you requested – more or less…’
‘I’m sure you did. There looks to be enough here to stock a small field hospital. All the same, I’ll have a good look through it all before we leave.’
‘Excellent. Then if you feel up to it, I’d better take you up to meet the others.’
******
Catherine’s future travelling companions were standing around the observation deck, watching the surrounding dockland dramas while sipping from bottles of coke, or beer, according to their preferences. A canopy fluttered gently above their heads, sheltering them from the glare of the midday sun, though it did nothing to deflect the thick miasma of dust and fumes that hung like a shroud in the air; effluent from the dozens of little boats that flitted about them like flies.
‘Okay, you lazy lot, can I have your attention for a minute,’ said Simon, raising his voice above the din. ‘I’d like to introduce you all to Dr Catherine Mills. She’ll be joining us as the expedition medic.’
Catherine felt a twinge of apprehension as she suddenly found herself the centre of attention. ‘Hi,’ she said, raising her hand in a rather limp wave.
Simon pointed to the closest of her new colleagues. ‘This here is Ngozi Okikiolu, one of our gap year students. He’s here to give us a hand with all the heavy work.’
Ngozi bowed his head obediently. ‘I’z a here to serve masser.’ His lips parted in a broad smile, revealing teeth that glistened like chips of ice against the dark ebony of his skin.
‘I know it might be hard to believe, but Mr Ngozi here actually comes from a very middle-class English family. And not from the deepest south as he might have you believe.’
‘Pleased to meet you Catherine,’ said the man, extending his hand, his words mellowing into a perfect Oxfordshire accent. ‘Oh, and by the way, feel free to call me Oki.’
Simon moved on. ‘This vagabond here is Angus McCrae, one of our PhD students and undoubtedly the source of any mischief you might encounter.’
Angus tried his best to appear wounded. ‘Ach, don’t you listen to him. Do I look like a troublemaker to you?’
Catherine sucked her lip thoughtfully. ‘Well now that you mention it… Yes, I guess you do.’
Oki gave Angus a playful punch on the shoulder. ‘Whad-ya know, it looks like the doc’s got some smarts.’
Simon stepped past the bickering duo and led her towards the stern of the ship where a couple of figures lay basking in the sunlight, beyond the cover of the canopy. Catherine recognised them instantly; the lithe young lady attired in shades of lilac and purple, entwined in the arms of her russet-haired Irishman. ‘Rufus Mulcahy and Marina Jackson… unless I’m very much mistaken.’
‘You have a good memory,’ said Rufus, shaking her hand.
Simon looked surprised. ‘You know each other?’
‘As a matter of fact, we only met on the flight over here. So, we haven’t had much of an opportunity to get to know each other,’ Catherine explained.
‘In that case, I’d better introduce you formally. Rufus here is one of our post-doc’s and the expedition epigrapher, whilst Marina is one of our talented dual-honours students, having qualified in both archaeology and biology.’
Catherine smiled. ‘Pleased to meet you – again… Good to see you made it.’
‘Only just! He’d only forgotten to book us a hotel as well!’ Marina folded her arms indignantly. ‘So we ended up having to spend a rather uncomfortable night on the airport benches.’
Rufus shrugged. ‘You have to admit, it was an experience.’
Marina flashed him an icy glare.
‘So what exactly does an expedition epigrapher do,’ Catherine enquired, changing the subject.
‘I specialise in the study of ancient hieroglyphic languages. Mostly that of the ancient Maya,’ he explained.
‘So you’ve been to the Amazon before?’
‘No – only Central America… Guatemala and Mexico mostly… The ancient Mayan people belong principally to Central, rather than South America.’
Marina faked a yawn.
Catherine supressed a smirk. Rufus had apparently not noticed his girlfriend’s indiscretion. ‘So what brings you here then?’
‘Well, as it happens, that’s kind of a funny story. Have you seen any of the pots the professor brought back from his last trip to Brazil?’
Catherine shook her head. ‘No – I’m afraid I’m still rather sketchy when it comes to the details relating to this trip.’
‘I have to be honest,’ Rufus admitted. ‘The pots themselves are not much to look at, but what is cool about them, are the decorations, which appear to be of Mayan influence.’
‘Accord
ing to Simon, the pots came from one of the local markets. What makes you think they aren’t fakes?’ A lifetime reading medical reviews and speaking to the representatives of drug companies’ intent on selling their wares, had left her a little cynical.
Rufus was not dissuaded. ‘We know that the pots are at least two thousand years old, though dating them exactly has been impossible, given that we don’t have much to compare them with. Nevertheless, we are sure that the clay they’re made from is local to this region.’
‘Should be good for a paper or two, eh Rufus,’ Oki jibed. ‘Before we know it, you’ll be angling for the prof’s job.’
Rufus dismissed him with a wave of his hand. ‘Yeh… yeh… And you’d better pray it’s not before you sit your finals, or you’ll find yourself excavating fossilised Eskimo shit in Greenland!’
They were interrupted by a delicate cough. ‘Excuse me, but aren’t you forgetting someone?’
An attractive, young, honeyed blonde peered at them from beneath the wilting brim of her large straw hat.
Simon smiled apologetically. ‘And last but not least, we have Juliet Walsh, another of our young undergraduate students.’
‘Pleased to meet you – finally…’ she said, pointedly referencing the fact that she’d been forgotten. ‘It’s nice to see another female face. If you ask me, there’s altogether too much testosterone floating around on this boat.’ She cast a surreptitious glance in Angus’s direction.
‘We girls must stick together…’ Catherine admitted with a wink.
‘And there you have it,’ said Simon. ‘Every charming one of them… Except one. We have an American botanist by the name of Martin Bennett joining us sometime in the early morning. He works for one of the large pharmaceutical companies. And, since they’ve forwarded us a considerable amount of money towards this expedition, we’re told we have to take him along,’ he said humorously. ‘And once he’s arrived, we should be ready to set sail.’