'You used to sing in a church choir?' asked Zeb, astonishment written on her face.
'Only as a kid.'
'I used to go to church,' said Mendoza, popping a painkiller into his mouth. He sounded wistful and Ross remembered him crossing himself when the Discovery was in the Mouth of Hell. 'I still believe in God as my saviour.' His companions gawped - this was the man they had witnessed shoot three dead - but Mendoza ignored them. 'You believe in God, Ross?' he asked.
'I believe in good, not God.'
'How will you find absolution for your sins?'
Ross thought about this. 'By trying to take responsibility for my actions, I guess. I don't believe you can be absolved of your sins, as you put it. You can only try to make amends with good deeds. Overwrite the bad with the good.'
'Only the Church can wipe away your sins,' said Juarez, with an emphatic nod.
Ross laughed. 'You can't just go to church and ask some priest to wipe the slate clean. When you wrong a man you ask him for forgiveness, not God. You prove your remorse by your deeds, not prayers. We are what we do. One good deed can make a lot of difference to the world.'
'A good deed in the eyes of God or man?'
'Man, of course.'
'But how does man know good without the guidance of God?' asked Juarez.
'And how does man know God's guidance without the Church?' said Mendoza.
'Enough!' said Hackett, taking a swig of beer. 'Where were you brought up? Don't you know it's simply not done to discuss religion, politics or sex over the dinner table?' He turned to Mendoza. 'Let me ask you a much more interesting question. I don't mean to offend you, senor, but you were a soldier and we all saw what happened on the river near Iquitos. What's it like to kill a man?'
'What sort of question is that?' said Zeb, shocked.
Hackett raised his hands defensively. 'I qualified as a doctor, made a vow to do no harm, but I also served in the British Army and had military training. I've often wondered what it's like to take a life.' He flashed a crooked smile. 'Christ, during my divorce I fantasized about it. So tell me, senor, what's it feel like?'
For a long moment Ross thought he wasn't going to answer. Then Mendoza said, 'Killing one man is difficult. Killing the second is easier, the third easier still. Soon it's so easy life has no value any more. And when life has no value, nothing else does. Only what you believe. Your faith.' He smiled, almost sweetly, at Hackett. 'Stick to your Hippocratic oath, Dr Hackett. You'll sleep better for it.'
Hackett digested this. Then he turned to Ross. 'Since we're getting to know each other, tell us how you came by the priest's notebook.' He pointed at Ross, Zeb and the sleeping shape of Sister Chantal. 'And what brought you three together.'
'It just happened,' said Ross, evasively.
Juarez rescued him. 'Why you gringos always want to find old ruins?'
'Because of their history,' said Hackett. 'And their gold.'
'You don't care about the curse of el abuelo?' 'The what?' said Ross.
Hackett raised an eyebrow, sneezed, then took a hit on his inhaler. 'The curse of el abuelo - the grandfather. Juarez's people believe it's dangerous to enter ruins because the curse of el abuelo will strike you. It's an unpleasant transference in which all the diseases of the gathered dead enter and infest the interloper's body.'
They laughed, but Juarez was indignant. 'It's true,' he protested.
Suddenly they were silenced by a distant, high-pitched wail.
'What the hell was that?' exclaimed Zeb.
Hackett's face had paled. 'The alarm on my boat.'
It stopped as abruptly as it had started.
'Must have been an animal or a malfunction,' said Mendoza.
'You're probably right,' said Ross. What else could it have been? No other human had reason to come this way. Except Torino. And he had no way of knowing where they were headed.
A rifle shot rang out, startling them.
'What the hell--'
Mendoza was standing, rifle nestled in his shoulder. 'Got him,' he said. 'That'll keep them away better than any grunting.'
Hackett arced the beam of his torch towards the river, and Ross saw, reflected in the light, countless unblinking eyes staring at them.
Chapter 40.
The next day they reached El Halo, a twenty-foot-diameter circle of black stone, veined with quartz that sparkled in the sun. According to Falcon, El Halo was the place where they should leave the boats and continue their journey on foot. From here, in Falcon's notebook, the directions became more cryptic - not least the next one: At El Halo use the arrow to set your course, then follow it through the jungle to La Barba Verde, the Green Beard.
After a sleepless night spent listening to the crocodiles, some had changed places on the boats before continuing on their voyage. Sister Chantal waved away Ross's concern for her. 'I'm okay.' Now, as they reached the distinctive circle of stone, Ross knew that the nun's interpretation would be of crucial importance. The lead boat had already reached the bank and was obscured by El Halo. When Ross's boat joined it, Hackett and Mendoza were unloading. He couldn't see the nun.
'Where's Sister Chantal?' he asked.
'She must have walked off,' Hackett suggested. 'She can't be far.'
Ross panicked. They were in the middle of the jungle and the one person who could direct them was missing. Then he saw her behind the black stone with her back to him.
'Where do we go from here, Sister?' he asked. She didn't reply. 'What does the next clue mean?'
Still no reply.
She stared at El Halo blankly, then began to stroke the stone. His heart sank.
When he stepped closer, he saw that she was studying marks carved into the stone, gate marks such as those a prisoner scratches on a cell wall to count the days, four vertical strokes crossed with a diagonal, representing five. Beside it was a single vertical stroke, indicating a total of six. There were also six sets of roman numerals. It took Ross a moment to work out that they represented dates, the most recent more than seventy years ago. Before he could process what he was seeing, Sister Chantal brushed her hands over them.
'I know where we are,' she said, to no one in particular, eyes sparkling. She clutched her crucifix. 'Give me a compass.'
Ross reached into his pocket and handed her his. She stroked the stone again. 'Feel it, Ross,' she said.
He touched the stone and felt a raised area, disguised by moss. His fingers described the shape of a triangle with a tail.
'What is it?' said Zeb.
'An arrow.'
'And it points south by south-east,' said Sister Chantal, studying the compass.
Ross checked the map on his GPS palmtop and tried to work out where the arrow might be pointing, but his screen showed only a blank expanse of uncharted virgin jungle.
'Follow me,' said Sister Chantal.
'Wait,' said Mendoza, turning back to the boats. 'I've got to get something.'
'Hurry,' said the nun, showing no trace of her earlier exhaustion. 'We're getting closer. I can sense it.'
Chapter 41.
The jungle was everything described in the Voynich. Noisy, hellish and hot. Juarez made everyone wear heavy shoes and watch each step because of the constant threat of fer-de-lance and other poisonous creatures. Cutting through the steaming undergrowth with heavy packs was slow, exhausting work. Sister Chantal leant on the others for support but led with almost manic vigour.
That night, after a hasty supper of fish and rice, they slept in hammocks suspended above the forest floor, shrouded in nets to keep out insects and other inquisitive jungle creatures drawn to their body warmth. Exhausted, listening to the constant chatter of the forest, Ross held his aching wrist and wondered about Lauren, his sadness tempered by excitement. Then he fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.
The next afternoon they reached a small lagoon backed by looming cliffs that blocked their path. Covered with trees and dense foliage, the high ridge of rock was another apparent dead end. Then the re
invigorated Sister Chantal called, 'Over here!'
She had walked fifty yards to their right and was pointing up at the cliff. Its fissures reminded Ross of the famous 'face' on Ayers Rock in Australia, with eyes, nose and mouth. Below the mouth a mass of vines and other greenery stretched to the ground like a beard: La Barba Verde.
Using machetes, Hackett and Mendoza cut through the greenery to reveal a large opening in the cliff face. Ross checked his watch, and when he led the others through the gap, he noted it was 1.58 p.m. The passage took them through a series of unusual caves, marbled and striated with fossils, minerals and ores. Under different circumstances he might have stopped for samples.
Eventually, they emerged on to a high shelf, overlooking a narrow valley that stretched to the far horizon. In the afternoon light it was a lush green paradise, splashed with exotic blooms of red, blue and other primary colours. There were fewer trees than there had been in the jungle and on the terrain above the valley. Ross had read once that when trees are burnt or chopped down in a forest, an abundance of other growth quickly fills the rich soil, exploiting the space and the sunlight filtering through the thinned canopy to the forest floor. What had thinned the trees here? He checked his watch again and noticed it was only two minutes past two, which was impossible. Many more than four minutes had passed since he'd last checked his watch, more like thirty. He then realized that the second hand had stopped. The rugged and expensive Tag Heuer had been a Christmas gift from Lauren, and Tags didn't just stop. He shook his wrist and turned to Zeb. 'What time do you make it?'
'Two minutes past two.'
Ross frowned. 'Nigel?'
Hackett glanced at his wrist. 'The same.' Then he tapped his watch. 'Hang on, it's stopped.'
'So has mine,' said Ross. 'It appears all our watches stopped at exactly the same time.' He pointed back at the ridge. 'Perhaps there was something magnetic in the caves we walked through.' He reached into his pack and checked the GPS on his palmtop computer. The screen gave a quick reading then fizzed, like a television with a faulty aerial. 'Wow,' he said. 'Whatever force it is, it's powerful enough to stop satellite signals too.' From this point on, then, they would be blind. Lost in space and time with no idea of where or even when they were. They were now totally dependent on Falcon's notebook - not just to find the garden but also their way back. 'Zeb, what does Father Orlando say we do next?'
Zeb glanced at her notes. 'We keep left and walk along the high shelf, with the valley on our right.' She pointed to the dense forest above it. 'We head over there.'
But Sister Chantal turned right, scrabbled in the undergrowth and began to walk down a narrow, sloping path into the valley. Ross's heart skipped a beat.
'Where are you going, Sister?' asked Zeb, echoing his thoughts. 'The directions don't lead down there.'
Sister Chantal carried on, then stopped on a natural viewing platform.
'Have you seen something?' asked Hackett. 'What's down there?'
She beckoned. 'If you come here, Mr Hackett, I'll show you.'
Ross and Hackett clambered down, leaving the others with the packs and equipment. Perhaps it was the angle of the setting sun, or the perspective from the lower ledge, but as Ross stood beside her and Hackett the valley's secret was revealed: a regular pattern of geometric structures.
It was too much for Hackett, who collapsed to his knees. 'This is it,' he said. 'We've only gone and found it.' Tears streamed down his face. 'This is the mother metropolis.'
Ross, too, was awestruck. The ruins of Kuelap had been vast but they were dwarfed now by the lost city laid out below him. Despite the greenery that covered everything, he could clearly see the contours of what had once been a mighty metropolis. The streets, the plazas, even the few remaining pillars that matched the mighty trees in the surrounding jungle were clearly visible. As he peered down he saw two spotted jaguars lope through the boulevards. This once great city had been reclaimed by nature.
'This place has probably been lost to mankind for more than a thousand years. Those circular habitations are typical of the Chachapoyan cloud people. I bet this is where their civilization was born, and many more besides - Christ, this could be the cradle of all South American civilizations. This is fantastic. A life's dream come true.' He called up to the others: 'We're here! We've found it! The mother of all lost cities!'
'Will there be gold?' asked Mendoza.
'There's a simple way to find out. Let's go down and take a look.'
'But what about el abuelo?' wailed Juarez.
'Where's your courage, man?' growled Mendoza.
Hackett laughed. 'Trust me, my friend, these ruins are worth the risk. They'll make us rich and famous. All of us.'
When Hackett led Juarez and Mendoza down into the valley, Ross and Zeb hung back with Sister Chantal. 'What is this place, Sister?' said Ross, quietly.
She did not reply.
'It's not in the Voynich or Falcon's book,' said Zeb, flicking through her notes.
'Perhaps it really is Eldorado,' said Ross, 'and Father Orlando missed it. Perhaps he and the conquistadors walked right past the very thing they were seeking.'
'Look at them,' said Zeb, watching Hackett and the others rushing down the path. Ross detected fondness in her eyes. 'Nigel's like a kid. Who'd have thought the tight-ass could get so excited? For his sake, I hope there is gold here.'
'There is,' said Sister Chantal, emphatically. 'So much that they'll stay here while we go in search of something infinitely more valuable. We should be able to reach the garden and be back in a week. We'll leave them a note.'
Ross realized he had seriously misjudged her. 'You had this little diversion planned from the start, didn't you?'
'The fewer people who know about the garden the better.'
Ross stepped round so he could see her face. 'How did you know this place was here?'
When she met his gaze her eyes were ruthlessly clear. 'I'm the Keeper,' she said, and walked down into the lost city.
Chapter 42.
The breeze dropped as they descended into the valley. By the time they reached the city, there was no movement in the warm, humid air, and the sheen on Ross's skin had developed into rivulets of sweat. As they passed the crumbling gate towers, the sounds of the jungle were replaced with an eerie quiet. Ross listened intently but heard only the occasional drone of insects. Among the vine-clad ruins and the surrounding slopes of the deep, lush valley, he had the surreal impression that he was on the floor of the ocean in a vast, verdant Atlantis. The impression was heightened when he looked up, beyond the towering pillars, to the sun refracted in the hazy blue sky above.
'I don't like this place. It's dead,' said Juarez, as he shuffled along behind Hackett. 'Something bad happened here.'
'Shut up,' said Mendoza.
'Yes, Juarez. Will you relax, for Christ's sake?' added Hackett.
But as they walked down the main boulevard, dwarfed by the towering rock edifices that lined their passage, stepping over thick vines and passing narrow side-streets, Ross noted that both Mendoza and Hackett had spoken softly when they admonished the other man, as if wary of disturbing some malevolent presence. Despite the silence, the sensation of being watched was even more acute than it had been in the jungle. Ross didn't like the place and he suspected that even Hackett, despite his passion for antiquity, wasn't happy. An intangible sense of foreboding reminded him of the time he and Lauren had visited the Colosseum in Rome, which had shared a similar atmosphere of dread and despair. He glanced at Sister Chantal, who kept her eyes straight ahead. Zeb was clutching herself as if she was cold, despite the oppressive heat.
'I don't see any gold,' said Mendoza.
Hackett pointed to the end of the boulevard, flanked by two rough-hewn pillars. 'From what I saw on the ridge, the public and civic areas will be over there. That's where we should search.'
'Screw the gold,' said Zeb. 'I want to know where we're going to spend the night.'
'Me too,' said Juarez.
&nb
sp; 'The public areas and the main plaza should be more open,' said Hackett, 'less claustrophobic.'
'You mean less creepy,' said Zeb.
Hackett was right. The boulevard led to a large plaza. Its vast paving stones were cracked and uneven where plants and trees had grown through them. To the right a large diamond-shaped area - twenty feet wide - was bordered with heavy stones. The earth within it, covered with vegetation and dark blooms, had sunk many feet below the surrounding stones, giving the impression of a vast pit of flowers.
To the left they saw a stepped pyramid, extravagantly overrun with plants. Each of the three steps was the height of a modern house with a steep staircase carved into the front face, leading to a portal in the top tier. The structure was about sixty feet high and reminded Ross of the Aztec and Mayan pyramids he had seen on the Discovery channel. He couldn't help but be impressed by its scale. Just assembling the massive rocks to form the steps would be an amazing feat with today's technology, let alone at the time it had been built.
'Did you know there are more pyramids in Peru than there are in Egypt?' said Hackett. 'And that stepped ziggurats like this are also found in the Middle East and the Mediterranean?'
'How old is it?'
Hackett was cutting away vines. 'I'd say at least a thousand years old.'
'How the hell did they build it?'
Hackett wiped the sweat from his brow. 'With the one resource they had in abundance. Manpower. Ancient civilizations had no unions, but they did have pulleys, levers and armies of men. Durham Cathedral in northern England and the amazing temple Angkor Wat in Cambodia are both almost a thousand years old. The Colosseum in Rome's almost two thousand, while Stonehenge and the Great Pyramid at Giza are more than four thousand.'
'Check this out, Ross,' shouted Zeb, from across the plaza. She stood at the edge, pointing at a ring of stones that surrounded a stone bowl. In its centre a pillar about four feet high had been carved into the shape of an exotic flower.
the Source (2008) Page 16