The Source

by Michael Cordy

  33

  Iquitos

  The remote capital of the Department of Lareto is unique. Linked to the outside world only by air and river, Iquitos is the world's only large city totally surrounded by jungle and unreachable by road.

  Founded as a Jesuit mission in the 1750s, a century after Falcon had written the Voynich, Iquitos had to fend off constant attacks from Indian tribes who didn't wish to be converted. The tiny settlement survived and grew slowly until by the 1870s it had 1,500 inhabitants. Then came the great rubber boom and the population increased sixteen-fold. While the barons became fabulously rich, the rubber tappers, mainly local Indians, suffered virtual enslavement. During the Second World War the rubber market collapsed. Then, in the 1960s, a second boom revitalized the area, this time in oil. Iquitos was now a thriving frontier town, violent but prosperous, attracting oilmen, adventurers and tourists alike.

  When the Discovery pulled alongside the other boats in Puerto Masusa, a couple of kilometres north of the city centre, Ross saw the influence of oil everywhere. Small children ran around in grubby oil-company T-shirts playing with logo-stamped tennis balls. A huge poster by the docks depicted a lush, idyllic jungle scene, complete with bright parrots, flowers and a cooling spring – not an ugly oil rig, pipeline or sump in sight. Beneath it was a discreet oil-company logo and the tag line Ayudamos Perú a utilizar sus recursos naturales. Helping Peru use its natural resources.

  When the boat had docked, Hackett asked the group to gather in the galley. 'After what happened I realize some of you'll be nervous about going on. Iquitos is the last outpost of civilization from where you can board a plane back to Lima. Here, we'll take on final supplies and then we'll be on our own, in virgin jungle, for the next month or so. Once we leave no one will be able to return unless we all do. If you want to bail out, now's the time to do it.'

  As Ross heard these words, his anxiety peaked. This was the point of no return, his last chance to fly back to Lauren. He looked around the group but no one raised a hand.

  Except Juarez.

  Hackett glared at him. 'We need you, Juarez. You're the only one of us who knows the jungle.'

  'But why should I come with you, Señor Hackett?' Juarez asked. 'It is dangerous. People have tried to kill us. I don't even know what you're looking for.'

  'The ruins of a lost civilization,' said Hackett.

  'But I don't like ruins,' Juarez said mournfully.

  'We're looking for gold,' Zeb said. 'Treasure.'

  'How much?' asked Mendoza. He was rubbing his temples as if he was in pain.

  'We don't know,' Ross said carefully. 'We're not sure what we'll find.'

  'But you guys think there's something?' Mendoza said.

  'I know it,' said Sister Chantal.

  'That's good enough for me,' said Mendoza, shooting Juarez a meaningful look.

  'Come on, Juarez,' said Zeb, with her most winning smile. 'You're a fit young man. You surely can't be scared when a girl like me and an old lady like Sister Chantal are prepared to go.'

  Juarez reddened and shuffled uncomfortably in his chair. 'I'm not scared. I just want to know why I should go.'

  'For glory and gold,' said Hackett. 'Come on, Juarez. You've always said you wanted to leave the jungle and visit the great cities of Europe and America. Well, with this gold, you could go to New York, Paris, London, wherever you want.'

  'I only go if we share everything equally,' said Juarez.

  'Agreed,' confirmed Ross, wondering how these people were going to react when they eventually discovered they hadn't been looking for gold but for a garden, which probably didn't exist. Sister Chantal didn't seem to worry about this, but he did. At that moment his GPS-enabled phone rang. When he heard his father's voice his pulse quickened. He walked out on deck. 'Hi, Dad. How's Lauren?'

  'Stable. Her mother thought she saw something last night but it was nothing. I rang to ask about you. How's it going in Peru?'

  'Early days,' said Ross. He decided against telling him about the attack. 'We're just about to head off into the jungle proper. The boat's got a radio but it'll be difficult to keep in touch.'

  His father laughed. 'That may be no bad thing, son. Might stop you calling in every day.' He paused, as if hearing Ross's indecision. 'Son, whatever you think about what you're doing in Peru, you've got to choose. Either come home now and accept whatever happens, or commit to finding the garden. There can't be any half-measures. If you stay, you'll come home knowing you did all you could. If you don't you'll never find peace.'

  As Ross put away the phone, he knew his father was right. Zeb and Sister Chantal came out on deck. 'How's Lauren?' asked Zeb. 'If you need to go back,' she checked her watch, 'we can be home by this time tomorrow.'

  Sister Chantal said nothing.

  'Is there a problem?' said Hackett, strolling out to join them. 'Bad news from home?'

  'My wife's not been well.'

  'So what the hell are you doing in the Amazon hunting treasure?'

  'It's a long story, Nigel.'

  Hackett hesitated, clearly balancing the desire to know more with his natural courtesy. 'I hope she'll be okay. Juarez and I are going ashore for supplies. We'll set off again in about six hours.' He looked meaningfully at Ross. 'You okay with that?'

  Mendoza appeared suddenly, still rubbing his temples. He walked over to Hackett. 'You got some strong painkillers?'

  'A few in my medical bag. Why?'

  'Bad migraine.'

  'I'll write a prescription. You can pick up some pills in town.' Hackett turned back to Ross. 'Are you in?'

  Both Zeb and Sister Chantal were watching him closely. If Lauren died while he was away he'd feel terrible guilt. But if he went back and she died anyway, which she almost certainly would, he'd feel guilty for not having done everything in his power to save her. He had come this far and had to go on. Even if the garden was a myth, it offered the only chance to save his wife and he had to take it. Unlike Hackett, Mendoza and Juarez, he wasn't seeking mere treasure. He was seeking something far more precious and elusive. Hope. 'I'm in, Nigel,' he said. 'All the way.'

  Six hours later

  Yesterday's flight from Lima to Iquitos had been uneventful, and Torino had spent a comfortable night at the Hotel Eldorado Plaza in the centre of the city. After dismissing his private secretary and the rest of his entourage in Lima, he was travelling alone – except, of course, for his guards. The fewer people who knew of his mission the better. His only concern related to Bazin. He had sent him a number of texts on his satellite phone, but had not yet received a response. He had also heard rumours in town: fishermen had found a half-eaten body in the river south of Iquitos, with a bullet through its head. There was also talk of gunfire and an abandoned dinghy.

  However, as Torino stood on the deck of his requisitioned boat, he refused to worry unduly about his half-brother. If Bazin was dead, he had died performing a service for the Church. And his death had not been in vain: he had put contingencies in place. Torino blinked in the dying sun and raised a pair of binoculars to his eyes. He watched the Discovery leave Puerto Masusa and cruise downriver until it disappeared round the bend of the vast waterway. Then he looked at the palmtop computer Bazin had given him in Lima. The onscreen map showed a dot moving north-east down the Amazon.

  Now four soldiers in jungle fatigues were loading his boat. Three were fair-haired, which, with their height, made them stand out among the smaller, darker locals. Historically, the Swiss Guard were recruited from the German-speaking Swiss cantons. Two passed him with an open case of rifles and ammunition. 'Why are those coming with us?' Torino demanded.

  Fleischer, the sergeant – the Feldwebel – frowned. 'Please, Father General, we're going into the jungle. My orders are to defend you. Guns may not sit well with your sacred office but we need them.'

  'You misunderstand me, Feldwebel. I don't mind you bringing weapons. I'm only concerned to know – is that all you're taking?'

  'I don't understand, Father Gene
ral.'

  Torino thought of the story in the Voynich, and Father Orlando Falcon's testimony in the Inquisition Archives. He considered the treacherous route to the garden's source, the radix, in the forbidden caves, and reflected on how the last conquistadors had been butchered, their blood colouring the stream a deep red. 'Assume you'll be confronted by forces far stronger and fiercer than you expect, Feldwebel. Arm yourselves with the best, most advanced weaponry you can. You must be capable of protecting us against every eventuality.' Then he remembered his agreement with the Holy Father. 'There are at least two more pieces of equipment you will need to bring.' He told Fleischer what they were.

  'But, Father General, this will delay us by a day. Are you sure they're necessary?'

  'I understood from the Holy Father that you were committed to helping me fulfil my mission unquestioningly. Is that your understanding, too, Feldwebel?'

  'Yes, it is, Father General.'

  'Then I suggest you do exactly as I ask. And, trust me, these extra precautions are as much for your benefit as mine.' Torino glanced up at the sun and basked in its warmth. The Lord was smiling down on him. Then his eyes dropped to the screen in his hand, the dot moving north-east. 'Hurry,' he said. 'I want to leave within twenty-four hours.'

  34

  Over the next few days, as the Discovery sailed down the Amazon, Ross became increasingly concerned about Sister Chantal. Since the attack she had been steadily withdrawing into herself. As each day passed, she was increasingly distant and spent more and more time in her cabin.

  Every day they navigated by the compass bearings in Falcon's book, and every night they followed his star charts. On day three, they reached two small headlands that appeared to curve towards each other as they rose above the jungle: Los Cuernos del Toro, the Bull's Horns.

  Here, Falcon's directions instructed them to turn off the reassuring main river into the maze of tributaries. Directly linked to the Amazon, they were large rivers in their own right, and bore signs of man's encroachment. In small villages, which a few years ago would have been untroubled by the modern world, they saw children wearing baseball caps and T-shirts, playing with the ubiquitous oil-company tennis balls. Even further into the forest they saw vast areas being cleared for oil pipelines: men wearing bright yellow hard hats were operating bright yellow earthmovers, cutting swathes through the emerald green jungle, exposing earth as red as a bloody wound.

  'Bastards,' said Zeb. 'Can't they see what they're doing? Why is everybody in the oil business so fucking short-sighted?'

  'Because the world needs oil,' retorted Ross. 'Almost everything we use – everything you use, Zeb – comes from petroleum products. Shampoo, toothpaste, lip balm, non-stick frying-pans, CDs and DVDs, golf balls, not to mention everything made from any type of plastic.'

  'But what about the consequences? When will the world decide that the remaining jungle is more precious than oil?'

  He couldn't answer that. If Lauren could see this she would be as horrified as Zeb was. It shocked him, too. He knew that man had eroded a vast proportion of rainforest in the last few years; he had read the statistics. But seeing it at close quarters, how efficiently their machines cut through the trees, made him understand why Sister Chantal had been so concerned about preserving the garden. How much longer would it be before those yellow earthmovers reached it? Assuming, of course, it existed.

  Eventually they found themselves in virgin forest, and as the boat wound through the narrowing waterways Juarez called from the wheelhouse: 'Don't swim in the water here.'

  'Why?' asked Zeb. 'Piranha?'

  'Worse. Candiru.'

  'What?'

  Hackett grimaced. 'Tiny catfish. They're really nasty creatures, especially if you're a bloke. That's why I put condoms on your list.'

  'I don't understand,' said Ross.

  'A candiru will swim up the urethra, open the spines on its head like an umbrella and anchor itself halfway up the penis, blocking it so you can't piss. Forget the horrific pain. Without surgery – major surgery – your bladder will burst and you'll die. Not a nice way to go.'

  Unconsciously Ross crossed his legs – as did every man on board.

  As they moved deeper into the maze, the back of his neck tingled, as if unseen eyes were watching him constantly from the jungle. Not one pair but thousands. He flapped at flies and mosquitoes the size of small birds, all apparently immune to insect repellent. A brace of blind river dolphins passed the boat. He saw a giant anaconda make its way lazily through the water and slither up the riverbank, its scales glistening in the sunlight before it disappeared into the jungle. He checked his phone. No signal. His father couldn't contact him if Lauren's condition changed. He felt a sudden surge of anxiety, followed by a strange elation. He had no choice now but to focus on the job in hand. Nevertheless, this beautiful, dangerous paradise would be an easy and inhospitable place to get lost.

  Suddenly he was acutely aware of the importance of Falcon's directions and found himself looking for Sister Chantal. Though she hadn't helped much so far, they would need her to clarify the more cryptic directions. Mendoza lounged on the shaded part of the deck, holding his head, Zeb was reading in the galley, Hackett and Juarez were at the helm. It was almost four in the afternoon. Sister Chantal liked a siesta after lunch but she was usually around by three.

  Zeb glanced up from her book. 'What is it?'

  'Have you seen Sister Chantal?'

  'She's probably in her cabin. Why?'

  He lowered his voice. 'I want to ask her about the directions.'

  'I'll come with you.'

  Zeb knocked on Sister Chantal's door and heard, 'Is it time?' She opened the door to reveal the blinds drawn, the cabin in half-darkness and Sister Chantal lying on the bed. Her eyes were closed. 'Is it time?' the nun asked again, apparently half-asleep or in a trance. 'Is my burden to be lifted?'

  'It's okay, Sister. We'll come back later. Sorry we disturbed you.'

  35

  The following morning, the Discovery reached another of the landmarks featured in Falcon's book. Zeb looked at the distinctive sugarloaf-shaped mound, rising above the skyline of forest trees, and consulted her compass. 'We should head in that direction,' she said, pointing to a channel where the water was rougher.

  Juarez ran to the front of the boat and used a long pole to sound the depth of the swirling river. 'Okay, Señor Hackett,' he shouted to the wheelhouse, then pointed downriver to where the water frothed white. 'Mind the rocks.'

  Ross studied the geological map on his palmtop computer and felt a frisson: they were entering a part of the jungle where the on-screen information was extrapolated but not known. They were now in true terra incognita where the earth's crust was probably ancient pre- Cambrian rock, unchanged for billions of years. The model supported his hypothesis for Falcon's garden and gave him hope.

  Zeb came over to him and pulled him away from the others. 'From here this river gets more and more wild until it comes to what Falcon warns is La Boca del Inferno, the Mouth of Hell. He's written PELIGRO, danger, then told us to rush into the Mouth of Hell to pass beyond El Velo de la Luz, the Veil of Light, whatever that means. Perhaps the Mouth of Hell is a waterfall.' She thumbed through the translation. 'Yes, he talks about one here.'

  Ross nodded. 'But what's the Veil of Light? We've got to warn Hackett.'

  Hackett and the others agreed that the Mouth of Hell probably was a waterfall.

  'What do we do about it?' asked Mendoza.

  'Go carefully,' said Hackett, grimly. 'And where's Sister Chantal? I haven't seen her all day.'

  'She's tired,' said Zeb. 'Catching up on some rest.'