Daniel’s chair groaned as his weight shifted forward. “Who is Salvatierra? And what is this letter you’re talking about?”
Christa filled both of them in on the highlights as Conroy’s eyes raced over her translation. “The Demon’s Wings,” he read, his voice hushed. “The Oculto Canyon. Yes, they are familiar, I think. My God, Salvatierra actually names the seven lost gemstones. This is fantastic news.”
“I’ve got bad news, too. Baltasar Contreras plans to poison the water supply in Princeton and New York,” she said. “Maybe he already has. He thought Gabriella found an antidote, but it only lasts seven days. She returned to Colombia two days ago. She must be hoping to find the antidote plant, if it even exists.”
“Whole villages destroyed,” Conroy read. He let the pages fall to the desk. He may be old, but his mind was quick. Like her father.
Daniel snapped up the printout and began reading it. He stood and paced, nearly tripping over a pile of books, but still not taking his eyes off that letter. Daniel fumbled the eyeglasses off his nose and swiped his forehead with the back of his hand. “My God,” he whispered.
Conroy touched the tip of his forefinger to his nose, as in charades when the puzzle is solved. “That would be the one,” he said.
Christa leaned in closer. “The Breastplate is connected, vitally connected. I don’t know how, exactly, but Contreras is desperate to find the lost gemstones and restore the Breastplate, even more desperate than Dad.” She rubbed the scar on her forehead. “He kidnapped Lucia, Professor Conroy. He is demanding that we deliver Gabriella’s findings to him, but that’s not all. He thinks I can get him the Tear of the Moon Emerald and the Yikaisidahi Turquoise.”
“Which means the wreck of the San Salvador has been found,” Conroy said. “Have you heard from Ahmed?”
“Not yet,” she said, “but Contreras must have been watching. He seemed to know that the Emerald has been recovered.”
“And the Turquoise?”
“I’m working on it, but how is the Breastplate connected? He calls himself The Prophet,” she said. “Could it simply be religious fanaticism?”
“Religious fanaticism is never simple” he said. “It is the most deadly force in history.” He pointed to the letter in Daniel’s hands. “Alvaro Contreras answered your question, five hundred years ago, when he set in motion what might destroy or save our world.”
CHAPTER 33
A subtle breeze wafted a citrus scent through the orangery as Fenton, with Lucia clasping his hand, closed the door behind him. Baltasar edged his chair up to the laptop, his virtual window to the Colombian rainforest. Gabriella Hunter was on the other side of the world, but he had her just where he wanted her.
“Now that we can talk privately,” Baltasar said.
“If you hurt her, I’ll kill you,” Hunter hissed through the video connection.
“No need for threats,” he said, “especially unfeasible ones.”
“It’s not a threat. It’s a promise.”
Baltasar frowned. Gabriella Devlin Hunter had better not disappoint him. “And there is certainly no need for clichés,” he said.
“The Muisca tribe eradicated the plant you seek generations ago, because of what your ancestor did.”
He would not have this woman questioning his family’s mission. “My ancestor was well on his way to creating a truly new world.”
“Before he was sent back to Spain in chains and executed.”
Baltasar slammed his fist on the table. “By an emissary from the Vatican. They were afraid, terrified that Alvaro Contreras would create the world that God envisioned, using His words directly, not the arcane whims of an interpretation written by fallible men.” He sucked in a calming breath. The woman was infuriating, but Baltasar kept his rage in check. He had to remind her of the danger to her own family. “Lucia is a lovely girl,” he said. “I have much to offer her, that is, if anything were to happen to you and your husband.” Baltasar smiled wistfully. “I could be a good father to her. Teach her all she needs to know.”
Hunter’s face paled even more. “You need to tell me all I need to know.”
“I have given you my ancestor, Alvaro’s, missive. As of now, you know about the plants, the legend of the temple, the Oculto Canyon, knowledge that you did not have when you left for Colombia last summer. Yet, even then, you discovered the Belladonna Conquistadorum. Now, you have everything you need to find the Papaver Contrerasum and the temple pyramid.”
“I told you. The Papaver Contrerasum, as your ancestor so egotistically named it, is now extinct. After what Alvaro did here, the Muisca Indians, the few who survived, forbade anyone from travelling to, or even speaking of, the hidden canyon. They destroyed any of the Papaver or Belladonna plants they found long ago. Papaver Contrerasum is derived from Papaver Somniferum, the poppy plant that produces opium. Colombia doesn’t need another addictive drug that brings violence to their people. The only reason I found the Belladonna Conquistadorum last summer is because belladonna adapts so well. In North America, belladonna grows like a weed. A few seedlings of Conquistadorum escaped the microcosm of the Oculto Canyon.”
“Then there is no reason to believe that Belladonna Conquistadorum and Papaver Contrerasum do not still thrive within the Oculto Canyon.”
“That Papaver can only grow in unique conditions, high humidity, rare nutrients in the soil and a limited range of high altitude. That’s why NewWorld Pharmaceuticals has only been able to propagate a hybrid of the original plant, despite your attempts at recreating the original species in microcosms around the world.”
“An ineffective hybrid,” said Baltasar.
“The seeds that Alvaro smuggled back to Spain in his Bible are from plants that can only grow in the Oculto Canyon.”
“Which is why you need to find where the Oculto hides.”
“How? I’ve studied Alvaro’s missive. He happened upon the Oculto by chance, when he was on that disaster of an expedition with Quesada. His men were starving. In desperation, they ate a poisonous plant, the Belladonna. When he helped ease their dying spasms with water from the river that flowed through the temple, his men were cured. He realized the cure came from the plants growing along its bank. He was as surprised as anyone.”
Not a surprise, but a divine revelation. “In the Oculto Canyon,” he said, “Alvaro found a weapon more powerful than any arquebuss with gunpowder. He had the only cure to a deadly poison. Alvaro told El Dorado, the ruler of the natives, that the Breastplate’s power could show the people the power of the Almighty God. He promised that they could be an army of conquerors, not the conquered. He could return to Europe and conquer the world with his army of savages and his deadly poison. He could put an end to a religion that condones murder by the tortures of the Inquisition and spread the true word of God.”
“He committed genocide, Baltasar. He poisoned the river that flowed through the villages, only doling out the Papaver antidote to the men who came with him to defend his pyramid.”
“Alvaro created his Papaver antidote to save the Muisca people. But first he had to reinforce the pyramid to protect the hidden canyon and his Papaver and Belladonna plants, just as God protected his Garden of Eden, the cradle of a new world. He planned to take the Papaver extract and return to the villages to save those women and children as he had promised the men. Then they would know his power,” Baltasar said, “and his mercy.”
“Shame he would have returned to find them all dead.”
“Because of Salvatierra! Because of the Vatican and the King and Queen of Spain who feared his power. He was forced to stay on at the pyramid to make sure the dam on the river was complete before they found him. They would ruin everything he had planned for so many years. He was on the threshold, ready to open once again the portal, the direct link, between man and God.” Baltasar’s hands were shaking in rage. He willed them to stop. He breathed in deeply the calming yet invigorating scent of citrus that permeated the orangery. “As I told you. Find the
pyramid, and you’ll find the hidden canyon where Papaver Contrerasum thrives.”
“Bring me home. The best way to find Papaver Contrerasum is to create it, to hybridize it, just like your ancestor hoped. I can do that for you. Just let my daughter go.”
“You know I have great admiration for botanists,” said Baltasar, “and you, no doubt, are nearly as brilliant as my ancestor, Alvaro. But we can no longer wait for more attempts at reverse hybridization. And I’m afraid I can’t let Lucia go, not until you’ve found that pyramid.”
“Impossible! The pyramid your ancestor found could have collapsed five hundred years ago. Alvaro’s own missive to your family, the one he hid in his Bible, relates that he barely got out alive as the pyramid collapsed. And it has been so overgrown with jungle that even satellite images couldn’t detect it.”
Baltasar did not need a reminder of his frustration. “You told me that the limestone plaster the Mayans used in building their cities leached into the soil as the buildings aged, that the difference in plant life that the limestone created would show up on the satellite images.”
“And it does,” said Gabriella. “Just ten years ago, an archaeologist discovered Mayan cities completely overgrown and long lost by studying color differentials in infrared images from satellites. Perhaps this temple wasn’t built using limestone.”
“What modern technology cannot find,” said Baltasar, “ancient man must teach us.”
“Five hundred years ago, the Muisca Indians forbade talk of the pyramid,” said Gabriella. “The medicine man does not know where it is.”
“Doesn’t he? Don’ let your blind loyalty to your father’s Circle of Seven stop you from discovering the greatest find of our lifetime.”
“Circle of Seven?”
“Come, Doctor Hunter, don’t be coy. I know that your father is in Morocco. And I knew it couldn’t be coincidence that his trusted friend, Ahmed, just happened to secure a job on board the treasure hunter ship which was searching for the wreck of the San Salvador. The Circle of Seven has been a thorn in the side of the Contreras dynasty since Salvatierra began it in 1586, but they have unwittingly been leading me towards the very stones that they protect. I did not hire you by serendipity.”
“Is that why you’ve taken my daughter? Because you think I’m some part of a secret society that’s out to get you? Perhaps you’ve been working with belladonna too long. It can cause delusions.”
“Your lovely sister, whom I had the pleasure of meeting in the Arizona desert, is no delusion.” Hunter couldn’t hide her shock at his news. “You will find the Papaver Contrerasum, and the pyramid that protects it.”
“I cannot find what does not exist.”
“The medicine man knows where it is. You are the only one he will trust, the only one on my team that can speak his dialect of Embera.”
“He doesn’t have to speak our language to understand that your team’s intentions are evil. He is as brave as he is wise. He will not divulge information that may harm his people.”
“That’s a shame,” Baltasar said, “since Papaver Contrerasum is the unique antidote to Belladonna Conquistadorum.” Baltasar sipped his cognac thoughtfully. “What if, by chance, the water system in say, Princeton area, or New York City, were to be poisoned with the extract from Belladonna Conquistadorum? How would they get the antidote? Who would provide it?”
Her shoulders shook, as if burdened by a sudden weight. “You can’t unleash that poison. I found an antidote, but it’s only temporary.”
“That is your fault. Not mine.” He slammed his fist on the table. “It is a necessary purge, akin to the great flood, essential to a new beginning,” he said. “Just as a plant must die to nourish new growth. Just as we now know that the very universe expands, only to collapse upon itself, so it can start anew.”
She clenched her fists. “You’re talking about people’s lives.”
“I’ll kill if I must, but you can help me save them.”
“The best way to get that antidote is for me to get back to my lab. I’ve been working on the solution in my greenhouse. Bring me home. Let my daughter go. And I will help you.”
A spot of blood red against the orangery’s gray slate floor caught Baltasar’s eye. It was distorted somewhat, refracting through the beveled edge of the glass table. Baltasar narrowed his eyes. It was the rose that Rambo had crushed. Baltasar, too, could crush what displeased him. He leaned towards the computer screen. “Is the damn Circle of Seven that important, that you will still keep the location of the pyramid and hidden canyon secret? Do you think I have the seven stones, even though I tell you I do not? Are you willing to take the chance that I’m telling the truth? Or will you risk the lives of your daughter, and your son?”
“Liam?”
“Of course, you haven’t heard. Your son, Liam, has fallen ill. He has a rash and delusions.” Tears brimmed in her eyes. Baltasar almost pitied her. “The whole community is becoming sick, although it hasn’t made it into breaking news. Not yet.”
“I’ll do anything,” she said, “to save my children.”
Perhaps he had gone too far. The woman looked broken. “You will find that pyramid and the antidote,” he said, “within the next forty-eight hours. You must believe in your destiny, Doctor Hunter, as I believe in mine.”
CHAPTER 34
Christa felt the sharp edges of Salvatierra’s crucifix as Conroy pressed it into her palm and closed her fingers around it. She hung the chain around her neck and tucked it beneath her blouse. Its metal was cold against her skin. Conroy breathed in as if gathering strength and stood. He sidled out from behind the desk and navigated his way past stacks of books to the dirty hopper window that squinted out onto the campus green. She had translated Salvatierra’s letter, but she needed him to interpret it before she could hope to save Lucia, and the thousands who may already be poisoned.
“We must turn to the past to save the future,” he said.
“Not before sorting out the present.” She crossed over to him. “Gabriella had identified a new species of belladonna on her trip to Colombia last summer. Did she tell you anything about it?”
“Belladonna.” He peered towards the peeling ceiling. “I had the opportunity to try it once, silly of me, really, but, I thought, to truly understand the effects.” His voice trailed off.
“Professor Conroy,” Christa said. No telling what else he’d tried for history’s sake, hallucinogenic mushrooms, moonshine. “What about Belladonna Conquistadorum, indigenous to Colombia?”
He nodded and turned towards her. “As you know, belladonna, or as we commonly call it, deadly nightshade, has earned its infamous place in history, what with the wives of the Roman emperors Augustus and Claudius poisoning their husbands with the plant extract. But the name actually translates as beautiful woman,” he said. “Like using the deadly botulism toxin as Botox for a beauty aid today, ladies centuries ago would use the belladonna extract in eye drops to expand their pupils. The look was considered quite attractive at the time. Unfortunately, prolonged use could cause blindness. True irony, using the belladonna drops to enhance your beauty only resulting in never being able to see yourself again.”
“And the Muisca Indians,” she said, “did they use Belladonna Conquistadorum?”
“I know the Muisca used poison,” said Conroy. “For as long as they can remember, they have been using the poison dart frog to tip their arrows in poison. When I lived there as a child, I befriended the son of the shaman. He showed me. He held a golden frog near the fire. It sweated. He used that sweat for the arrow tip. Just a small drop was quite deadly. In fact, the tiny golden dart frog is the deadliest animal on Earth.”
Christa stepped aside as Conroy bundled by her. He dug through a miscellany of items on a lower shelf. He extracted an old photo, square, its color faded. He blew off the dust and handed it to her. The photo depicted a tiny, golden frog.
Daniel craned his neck to see over her shoulder. He raised an eyebrow. “That frog is
the deadliest animal on Earth?”
“And I thought that distinction belonged to man,” said Christa.
“Don’t let its size fool you,” said Conroy, “nor its beauty. A plant that is poison to us is a staple of indigenous beetles and ants. The insects eat the plants. The frogs eat the insects. The poison from the frog on the dart kills the Muiscas’ prey. Frogs raised in captivity are not poisonous, as long as they are not in an environment with poisonous plants.”
“But Gabriella is looking for one particular poison plant,” said Christa, “a species that has been thought to be extinct for five hundred years. She returned for a reason. She’s got to think that she can find it. Professor Conroy, the Oculto Canyon, it’s got to be where Gabriella is headed.”
“Yes, of course,” he said. “I should have thought of this before.” He began scrabbling his fingers across the spines of the books jammed onto one shelf, finally landing on a particularly thick one, an ancient looking tome, Atlas of the Americas. He yanked it out of its spot, its weight nearly knocking him off balance. He blew off the dust and opened the book. From inside the front cover, he removed a piece of paper that was yellowed and creased with age. “Now that I’ve read Salvatierra’s letter, I remember.” He let the atlas drop with a thud to the floor, kicking up another cloud of dust. “She returned to find the hidden canyon.”
“You know about the canyon?” she asked.
Conroy tilted the map towards the gloomy light of the hopper window. “I drew this as a child, when my parents were missionaries in the Colombian rainforest. My friend, Jairo Salaman, the son of the Muisca shaman, we’d adventure together. One day, we ventured a bit far, got lost, in fact. Jairo was terrified. We’d wandered into the forbidden area. He’d heard stories about an old temple there haunted by evil spirits. Didn’t find anything, of course, but something found us.” Conroy rubbed his shoulder as though reliving an old injury. “A jaguar.”
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