“She also said you can go back to bed and stay in a hot tent all day,” Rachel reminded her brother.
“I’m not that sick.” Eric moaned and rubbed his stomach. “I’m only partially sick.”
“So to review,” I said, “you’re fit enough to eat and do whatever fun stuff we do, but you’re too sick to do any archaeological work—like digging.”
“Exactly!” Eric shouted, beginning to pile food onto his plate. “And that includes doing homework, by the way. I shouldn’t do anything that might overwork my brain and make me delusional again.”
“I think you mean delirious,” Anna corrected.
“See,” Eric whined, “all this heavy thinking is already confusing me.”
Bruno joined us ten minutes later and explained that our team and the American team—Ben’s original team—would have another orientation lecture right after breakfast. We put our trays away when we were done eating and went back to our table. All the other teams dispersed, heading to the dig site to do stuff, but we had to wait patiently for another boring lecture.
Rachel suddenly elbowed Ben. “Look,” she said, “it’s the police.”
We all watched as four very serious-looking Panamanian police officers approached the dining tent. Three stayed outside while the fourth came into the tent to fetch Bruno and the other team leaders. The officer approached our table and explained in broken English that the police wanted to meet with all the archaeologists and team leaders, and Bruno should follow him to the artifact storage tent.
“Please wait here,” Bruno said to us. “Perhaps you can begin on the book assignments while I’m gone.”
When the adults had left, I looked around to see if anyone could hear us. It was safe. The American team was several tables away and already engrossed in their work binders.
I turned to Anna. “I wonder if we should have told your dad what we saw last night.”
“Never mind Bruno,” Eric said. “Tell me what I missed.”
Anna ignored Eric and frowned. “Then I will be in trouble for lying to him. Papa doesn’t like lies.”
Eric tried again. “What did you guys see?”
Ben ignored Eric too. “But there’s not that much to tell, Cody. We saw some people digging holes—that’s all.”
Rachel added, “If we start blabbing now, the camp director might restrict our movements or assign us a chaperone, and then we really wouldn’t be able to do any more investigating. Plus, Anna might get grounded for lying. Don’t forget, she was lying to cover for us.”
“Can someone please tell me what the heck happened last night?” Eric begged.
So we did. It took about fifteen minutes of explaining and re-explaining, but in the end I think Eric had the whole story.
“So whatever they were trying to bury over there,” Eric said, “Captain Pescada and Elvis are in on it.”
“For sure,” Ben said.
“And it looked to you guys like they were digging lots of holes to find the perfect spot to bury something.” Eric continued to summarize our adventure. “And those holes were being dug near the same stone petroforms we have at home.”
“Do you think those are the same people who stole the crystal skulls from the camp?” Anna asked.
I shrugged.
“At first,” Rachel said, “we were absolutely convinced they took them. But now... now I’m not so sure.”
“And what’s with that yacht that was spying on the Balboa?” Eric said. “Could the people on that boat be involved in the skull theft too?”
Ben and Rachel shrugged.
We tossed around various crazy theories for almost an hour, until Bruno finally returned. He was with the assistant camp director.
“I’m sorry, children,” Bruno said, standing over our table. “But we will have to postpone this morning’s archaeological work in the dig. The police want to conduct a thorough search of the tent city, and they have asked that the team leaders accompany the investigators.”
“What are we supposed to do all morning?” Eric asked, sliding the salt and pepper shakers back and forth on the table.
“After you complete Assignment #1 and #2 in your workbooks,” Bruno said, “I suppose you are free to do what you like.” He looked at the assistant camp director for confirmation.
The man nodded. “If you enjoy canoeing,” he said, “you may take the camp canoes out on Lake Gatun. There is a nice little beach around the point, to the northwest. But don’t forget to wear the life vests provided.”
“Right,” Bruno said. “And please stay away from the canal traffic and Mr. Anton Zola’s yacht—he values his privacy.”
“What?!” I cried. “He’s here?!”
Chapter 8
THE ASSISTANT CAMP director frowned at my rudeness and moved on to speak with the American team.
“Mr. Zola’s in Panama?” Eric said, thumping the pepper on the table.
Bruno frowned. “Did I not mention Mr. Zola?”
“You told us he might be spying on you,” Rachel said, “but you never said he was going to be here.”
“No,” Eric said, “we would have remembered that.”
“But I must have told you,” Bruno said. “In Sultana. After meeting with your parents.”
We shook our heads vigorously. No way!
Bruno now looked like he might throw up. He stared at his daughter for support. “Did I not tell you that another set of pillars might be in the area?”
“Yes, Papa,” she said, “you told us about the pillars.”
“And did I not mention Mr. Zola could be here too?”
“No, Papa.”
“I’m... I’m sorry,” Bruno said, sounding truly sorry. “I meant to tell you he might be here. I suppose I forgot.”
“It’s okay,” Rachel said.
“Yeah, it’s not really that big a deal,” I lied. “It was just a surprise—that’s all.”
Eric resumed playing with the salt and pepper—sliding the containers from hand to hand. “Considering what you told us, I’d be surprised if he wasn’t responsible for stealing those artifacts.”
Bruno shook his head. “I don’t believe so.”
“But then why is he here?” Eric asked.
“The company he owns, Zola Global, is a major financier of the canal expansion,” Bruno said. “The project will cost five billion dollars and he is investing one billion.”
Ben was trying hard to make sense of everything he heard. “So that guy in the fancy boat—this Mr. Zola dude—is here to keep an eye on the canal expansion work.”
“Yes,” Bruno said. “The expansion project is just as complex as the original canal excavation. It is reasonable to think that he would want to ensure the project remains on schedule.”
“So he’s probably not too happy,” I said, “about the delay caused by the discovery of the skulls.”
“Not at all,” Bruno said. “When he first heard that crystal skull fragments were discovered, he was the one who ordered all work to be stopped so that the site could be properly examined.”
I looked at Rachel.
Rachel went, “Hmmm...”
Bruno shuffled from foot to foot and looked relieved when the assistant camp director came back to our table to fetch him. Bruno waved goodbye and left the dining tent with the assistant camp director.
“I’m guessing,” Ben said when we were alone again, “that you guys are suspicious of Mr. Zola.”
I nodded.
“I’d bet anything,” Eric said, banging the salt into the pepper shaker, “that he’s somehow involved in this crazy skull business.”
“Yes,” Anna agreed. “It’s much too much of a coincidence that he is here at the same time that two important artifacts are stolen.”
“
Anyone who prowls around at night with a infrared night vision light is a shady character, as far as I’m concerned,” Ben added.
I didn’t say anything, but I thought Ben’s comment was kind of funny, because that’s exactly what we were doing last night.
“That’s for sure,” Eric said. “He’s definitely on Lake Gatun for more than just watching bulldozers push mud around—he’s up to something.”
I sat quietly, listening to my friends and watching Eric play with the salt and pepper. Then it suddenly hit me. “Wait a minute!” I cried.
“What’s up?” Eric asked.
“I think we got it all wrong—we have it backwards.”
“How do you mean?” Anna asked.
I grabbed the salt and pepper shakers from Eric and asked Ben to pass me another pepper shaker from his end of the table. “What if,” I said, making a triangle on the table with the three shakers, “the people we saw last night weren’t burying a treasure? What if they were looking for a treasure?”
“Sure,” Ben said, “that’s possible. They were digging lots of holes.”
“Let’s pretend these are the three pillars on the other side of the canal.” I pointed at the shakers. “And—”
“But there were only two pillars,” Ben said.
“Exactly,” I said. “But we have similar stones in Canada, and there are three pillars in the formation. The centre of the three stones was used by ancient people as an astronomical marker.”
“Kind of like Stonehenge?” Ben said.
I nodded. “Now, what if a hundred years ago, or a thousand years ago, or even ten thousand years ago someone wanted to bury something—something super important? Even if you had no idea what the pillars’ purpose was, you could use the stones to help mark the spot—to help you find the location again. Right?”
“Yes,” Rachel hissed.
“Of course,” Anna said.
Eric frowned and ran his fingers through his blonde hair. “So how does that help us?” he asked. “You said those guys dug tons of holes and found nothing.”
I grinned. “That’s because they didn’t know where to look.”
“And you do?” Ben said.
“If you knew the centre of those three astronomical markers was somehow very important,” I said, “where would you bury a treasure—a treasure that you or someone else could find again?”
Ben pointed to the centre of the triangle formed by the three shakers. “I suppose I would bury something right here.”
I pulled the salt shaker away from the two pepper shakers. “I think those guys are digging hundreds of holes because they don’t know there were three pillars originally.”
“Of course,” Anna said. “They know that something is buried near the stones, but they don’t know exactly where. They’re just guessing.”
“And they’re guessing,” I said, “because they don’t know that there used to be three markers and one of them vanished. It probably slid down the hill, or got buried in a landslide, or whatever.”
“If you’re right,” Rachel said, “the thing they’re looking for can only be hidden in one of two locations.”
“How do you figure that?” Eric challenged.
Rachel took my salt shaker and placed it on the table to form a triangle again. “If the third pillar was here, then they should dig here.” She pointed at the centre of the three shakers.
Ben lifted the same shaker from the table and formed a new triangle. “And if the stone used to be here, then that’s where they should dig.”
Rachel clapped her hands together. “That’s brilliant, Cody. That has to be it.”
“I know it looks like the theft of the skulls from Camp Gatun is linked to what’s happening across the canal,” I said. “But whatever they’re digging for by the pillars may have nothing to do with those artifacts.”
“How about this for a theory,” Rachel said. “What if sneaky Mr. Zola, or one of his henchmen, stole those broken crystal skulls from the camp and buried them across the canal? He probably knows there were three pillars, so maybe he instructed his men to stash them in the centre—the centre formed by the three pillars. And what if Captain Pescada saw Mr. Zola or his men near the pillars with shovels? The captain could be digging around because he’s curious to see what Mr. Zola hid.”
“There’s only one way to resolve this,” Eric said.
I nodded. “We have the whole morning free. I say we go over there and quickly dig two test holes. If I’m wrong, that’s okay, but at least we’ll have tried.”
“And if you are right,” Anna said, “we can clear Uncle Rudi’s name and recover the stolen artifacts, or maybe find some other treasure.”
Eric grinned. “And either way, we’ll be heroes.”
“We even have approval to use the canoes this time,” Ben smiled, “so we don’t have to be sneaky about taking them.”
“All right then,” Eric said, “let’s go for a paddle on the world famous Panama Canal.”
We left our workbooks on the table, walked out of the dining hall, and headed through the tent city toward the dig. On the way we saw five more police officers. They ignored us because they were focused on searching a tent—I think it belonged to the team from Brazil. When we got to our tent, Ben, Rachel, and I ducked in, grabbed our filthy clothes from the night before, and wedged them in Rachel’s backpack. We didn’t need the cops asking why they were so filthy.
On the hike from our tent down to the dock, we passed lots of older kids doing work at various locations around the site. Some were digging or using trowels to carefully scrape away layers of earth. Some were taking photographs or writing notes in journals. And others were using computers and GPS equipment to map out the area.
“I hope no one else is using the canoes,” Eric said when we were halfway through the ancient village.
“Yeah,” Ben said, “I sure don’t feel like swimming to the other side.”
Anna noticed an area that was being excavated by one of the teams, but there was no one around as we neared. She casually grabbed two shovels leaning against a wooden table and continued down the trail with us.
“Good thinking,” I said.
Five minutes later we were staring down the hill at the dock. The Balboa was gone. It wasn’t on our side of the canal and it wasn’t on the other side, so it was likely making another run to Panama City to pick up people or supplies.
“Excellent.” Ben pointed at the canoes. “They’re all still here.”
We dragged two of the four boats down to the water and put on our life jackets.
Eric snapped the clasps on the colourful vest together. “I better sit in the middle and take it easy.” Rachel opened her mouth but Eric stopped her before she could protest. “Remember, Rachel, the nurse said I shouldn’t do anything strenuous because I could get really sick and die.”
Rachel snorted and shook her head, not wanting to start a silly debate with her brother.
“You realize,” Ben said, “that if that yacht is still parked around the corner, they’ll see us paddling to the other side.”
“That’s a risk I’m willing to take,” Rachel said. “I’m never going into that jungle at night again—and I mean never!” She shuddered, probably remembering the leeches.
Rachel and I climbed in one canoe with Eric in the middle, and Anna and Ben hopped into the second boat. A rusty old freighter was about to navigate the tricky turn from the canal onto Lake Gatun, so we paddled a few tight circles close to shore to give it time to get out of the way. The tired old heap was taking forever, so I stopped paddling, pulled out my filthy T-shirt and dirty shorts from the night before, and began rinsing them in the warm water of Lake Gatun. Ben and Rachel saw what I was doing and did the same. By the time the ship had cleared the area, our stuff looked pretty decent again
.
We wrung out the wet clothes as best we could and headed straight across to the jungle on the other side.
“Hey!” Ben shouted when we were half way. “Look!” He used his paddle to point at the shiny, bronze-coloured yacht, still floating where we saw it last night.
Eric took his binoculars from Rachel’s bag and studied the craft. “Wow!” he whispered in awe. “You guys weren’t kidding. That really is a fancy boat.”
“You see anyone on it?” I asked, still paddling slowly.
“There’s no one on the decks, as far as I can see,” Eric said. “But that doesn’t mean anything. Ten people might be watching us right now from behind all those mirrored windows.”
I shuddered at the thought and tried to focus on getting to the other side before another big ship showed up. Our canoe slid up on the far shore a few seconds after Ben and Anna’s.
“We won,” Anna teased.
I laughed and said, “That’s because you weren’t bogged down with a lump of dead weight.”
“I think you mean sick weight,” Eric fired back. “I’m not dead yet.”
We dragged the canoes high up on the muddy bank and left our life jackets on the seats.
“And this is where you saw the Balboa last night?” Anna asked.
Ben nodded. “Yeah, she was tied up right here... to that tree. And we found them digging the holes about ten minutes up the hill.”
Ben and I each grabbed a shovel and led the way into the jungle, the others followed. After fighting through the thick shrubs that lined the shore, we checked ourselves quickly for leeches. The dozen or so we did find were easy to flick off because they never had time to latch and begin sucking our blood.
Beyond the dense trees of the lake front, the jungle opened up. It was a lot less spooky during the day. The sun sparkled through the gaps in the canopy high above us, and dozens of different birds shrieked at us for intruding in their forest. A few monkeys decided to join the protesting birds and howled insults from the branches overhead.
“What a racket!” Ben said.
“SHUT... UP... ALREADY!” Eric yelled at the top of his lungs.
Panama Pursuit Page 9