The Inca Temple

by Preston W Child

  "Good."

  Anabia went back to the map and measured. From the first door, he placed the string and arranged along the circle. The tip of the string went past the next gap in the circle, with about two inches. Anabia decided they'd have to do with estimates. It was the closest to the accuracy they'd achieve with the crude measurements.

  He calculated that from one door to the next, it was about ten inches on the map. He decided each inch translated to one foot. That made the distances between the doors about ten feet or ten meters.

  Anabia rose up from the map, rope hanging from his hand. He peered at the darkness, down the corridor. He glanced at the map again.

  He asked Reno, "Are you sure about where you said we are on the map?"

  "Huh?"

  "Look at the map again. Where are we?"

  Reno grimaced. He crouched on the floor and perused the map. He bent his head this and that way. He sighed.

  He bobbed his head. "Yes, here." He pointed again at the same point on the map like before.

  "How'd you know for sure?"

  "Because I'm Inca. I know how we build. First door faces east." He turned back the way the team came in. "That is east, that way. We come in, we curve, and we are here—"

  Then he touched around the map again.

  "Or we are near here, halfway."

  "Show me again."

  He showed Anabia again. Reno touched a point on the circle near the middle of it.

  Anabia looked at the faces surrounding him. "If he is right, and my calculations are right, we are near the next door." He pointed at the next door to the left of the circle. "This one here."

  Olivia checked with Frank Miller. The billionaire nodded.

  "Let's move."

  "Olivia, wait."

  The team turned to Lawrence Diggs. He was holding a small plastic bags. He looked at Miller. "We forgot something?"

  "Oh yeah," said Miller.

  Diggs handed each member a micro-receiver earbud transmitter. Diggs said just in case something happened and they get separated. But until then, he'll leave the devices inactive.

  "Good thing I got an extra," said Diggs. He handed it to Reno, who stared at the device in open-mouthed wonder.

  "Go on, try it."

  He tried it on. A sheepish grin crossed his face. Diggs gave him a thumbs-up. There were three lamps. Anabia carried one, Liam another, and Olivia, the third one. Diggs carried in a bag with all the weapons they might need. Reno walked beside Olivia, enjoying her almost non-existent perfume. Olivia was acutely aware of his presence for reasons she found quite obvious. Girl, when was the last time you got laid?

  They walked some distance before Anabia's pace dropped. He shone the light forward, raising his hand as though doing so somehow threw the illumination farther than average. He stopped walking. He went close to the wall and shined the lamp on it.

  "I don't understand…"

  Olivia came near, too. "What're you talking about?"

  "We ought to see some door now."

  "What if it's not supposed to be a door?"

  "At least something. But here there's nothing, not even a groove in the wall—"

  Anabia broke off. He pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. He asked for the map again. Not because he wanted to see something, but just to see if a clue or an idea might jump at him from the map. That was the problem. The map lacked details to the point of exhaustion.

  Olivia asked, "What are you looking for? Talk to me."

  "I don't. I swear I'm lost right now, by my calculations, and I know it was just a wild guess. But there ought to be a door or opening right"—Anabia stabbed a forefinger in the direction of the wall—"there!"

  "Calm down, Anabia. We can solve this thing," Olivia said.

  She went to the wall. She handed her light to Reno, who set it down and came closer with his own. Olivia felt around the wall with her hands. There were a plethora of markings, tiny symbols, and it was a universe of hieroglyphs.

  "Wait."

  She stepped back. There was a pattern. There was a thin line running through the symbols in places when examined from a distance, the pattern was visible.

  "Anabia?"

  "What?"

  "There's something here."

  She went back to the wall. She saw what must be letters, then a defined space beside these letters, like a box, a groove.

  "Reno? Can you read these words?"

  Reno peered at the letters and shook his head. "Ancient language. Nobody speaks it anymore, only very aged people know it. I know one old man who knows it."

  Olivia looked at the lad. "Who?"

  "They call him, Roddy. Roddy at the antique shop."

  "Oh shit."

  —

  Pietro Oscar could not believe his ears when the Chief of Police Armando Suarez told him the Americans who were lodging in the Beetle Hotel were missing.

  "How did you let that happen?"

  The chief shrugged. "We will get the Americans."

  "How? Do you know where they've gone?"

  "No, I don't."

  "You fool! You are an idiot! You fool!" Pietro fumed. “If you weren't a police officer that I need, I would shoot you where you sit now, you know. But don't get comfortable. Before this ends, I may still shoot you. Or I'll have someone do it for me!"

  The chief sighed. The chief told Pietro things would not have to get to that. Hopefully, he knows someone who might know where the Americans have gone.

  "And you better hope they have not gone up to the hill!"

  When his temper simmered down, Pietro asked who the chief had in mind.

  "Old Roddy. The woman visited him before they disappeared—"

  Pietro flew into another rage. "Are you fucking serious! Old Roddy is the only bloke who knows how to read the wall! And you let her talk to him!?"

  The police chief stammered.

  "What? Those Americans are packing the gold this minute! My gold!"

  "We could ask him."

  "Ask who?"

  "Old Roddy. We could ask if he told her anything—"

  Pietro jumped from his chair. "Come on! Let's go!"

  —

  Now Pietro could not believe his eyes when they arrived at the police station.

  Agent Seth Kowalski was in the holding cell, having a real hearty talk with old Rodriguez. It was a small one-bed-one-toilet cell. Grey walls and a tiny close to the ceiling. It was baking hot as well.

  "What the hell is he doing here?" Pietro bawled at no one in particular.

  Kowalski smiled his weird row of teeth.

  "I'm some kind of a cop myself, Pietro. But you are just a gangster."

  "What are you doing here?"

  "Just doing my job is all."

  Pietro tried to breathe. He looked at Suarez. He dismissed him with a shake of the head. Kowalski chuckled, amused. Rodriguez stared at the spectacle before him in stupid wonder. He even stole a moment to share in Kowalski's cheer.

  Kowalski strutted out of the cell.

  "Pietro, still asking all the questions, which is why all the answers elude you."

  "The Americans are missing," Pietro bristled.

  "Yes, which is why I came to see Mr. Rodriguez here. The woman was with him earlier on. But he didn't tell her anything she didn't already know—"

  "What did she ask you?" Pietro pelted Roddy.

  "She just asked about the girl, Tami."

  "Yes, she is here. I had her arrested—"

  "You did? And how did you expect to get the treasure you sought?"

  "What are you saying to me? I can't just let these people run around town, have meetings, and take my gold!"

  If his face betrayed his struggle to remain calm, Kowalski could hardly tell. The oppressive heat was in the air. He felt it leave his nose in hot gusts. Somehow, Pietro's stupid lack of sense was a part of this town's problem. Kowalski couldn't see how that was so, but he could tell results better than the scientific reactions that caused them. He was i
nto effects more than causes. Pietro was a cause. A counterproductive cause.

  Kowalski stood in front of the gangster. He was a full one foot shorter than Pietro, but his height had never constituted a problem for him.

  "If you are not careful, you'd never smell an ounce of that gold." Kowalski gritted at him. "You had your chance. You could have negotiated this ownership you claim. Now, where are you on your claims? The woman beat you to it! She's up there, filling up a truck with gold as we speak."

  Pietro glared at the man. He'd like to have him arrested, but the CIA was not an agency to cross. Anger burned behind his eyes. Arms writhed beside his body. He grabbed at the air.

  "By God, I'm going to get them all! Every single one! I will break and squeeze them and throw them into the wind. They will blow away!"

  Pietro stormed out of the place with his goons.

  —

  Minutes after, detective José Hanna was on a corner street with the hills of Machu Picchu behind it. Five trucks, packed with thugs bearing guns, raised dust on their way out to the mountains. The procession was led by a jeep with Pietro Oscar in the front, grumpy faced.

  José smiled and jumped into a taxi back to the police station.

  —

  Tami Capaldi was sitting on the small bug-infested bed, head bowed as if in prayer when José arrived.

  He tapped the metal bars. The woman raised her slowly. When she saw it was Tami, she went back to her sorry pose; head down, palms together in her thighs.

  "Lemme alone."

  José said, "I want to help you. Why don't you want to let me?"

  "No one can help me."

  "Your friends have gone up to the mountains."

  Tami looked up at him sharply. New hope lit her face. She smiled and went back to keeping her face away. She pulled the string around her ponytail, and her long black hair fell and concealed her face. But her neck was visible, and José wondered what it was like to caress the smooth skin there.

  José took a cigarette from a crumpled pack and lit it. "Maybe you'd like to smoke?"

  No response.

  "Do you think she will find the said gold?"

  Tami grinned. She came strutting to the bars. Hips swayed, perfect legs stood before the detective. She looked up in his face.

  "Olivia will find the gold, yes. She will take it. And may God help whoever stands in her way."

  José frowned and blew smoke. "You speak like she's some immortal. She's just a woman. Pietro and his thugs are on their way up there as we speak—"

  "Then, may God help Pietro."

  "There's just four of them." José shrugged. "Pietro has an army, guns, and—"

  "And that infantile anger of his, but Olivia and her team are professionals. She's beaten tougher opponents. She beat the CIA once."

  She shook her head.

  "Just watch what happens."

  José considered her face. He sighed. "Alright, I'm going to take your word for it. I'll be going up there to see if I can find the professor. Let me know if you need anything."

  Tami went back to sit in her bed.

  "I'm fine all by myself."

  Detective José started walking away. Smoke trailed him.

  "Detective?"

  "Yeah."

  "Stop thinking about touching me."

  —

  Olivia had a moment of panic. Rodriguez must have been taken from his antique shop by their rival, the same person who was trying to have them killed. They took Tami Capaldi because she knew something about this place, not just on account of the artifact he stole from the shop.

  Olivia grabbed Reno's hand. "Tell me about this Pietro again. What is he like? Does he have powerful friends?"

  "Pietro is powerful."

  Diggs piped in, "What we are trying to ask you is, can Pietro have someone killed in another country just to stop them from coming here?"

  Reno frowned, perhaps confused by the question or by the thought of what the crime Lord of Apachia and Cusco was capable of.

  "Pietro is an evil man. He once had one of his bootlegger boys burnt alive in the market square. And I heard he killed his own father."

  "Fucker," Diggs whispered.

  Olivia looked at her team, eyes wide. "It was him, though I'm sure he's had help with trying to kill us. But it's him, and he's coming—"

  "We don't know that, Olivia. Why don't we relax and—"

  "No, Frank! We can't relax. That murderer is on his way."

  Frank looked around. "Alright, let's figure these writings out, or we break down wall after wall."

  "I got some explosives," said Diggs.

  "No explosives."

  They looked at Reno. He approached the wall, lamp forward. He looked at that niche in the wall and said, "Inca doors, there are two boxes on both sides. You see two boxes, it is a door. And I think you press at once."

  They found the two niches in the wall, just like Reno predicted. Two men on both sides, Liam and Diggs. Something breathtaking happened to the hole in the middle. It was nothing like Olivia, nor the others, had ever seen. And at that moment, she let the urge to kiss a man take over her body. She pulled young Reno to herself and kissed him on the cheek.

  The walls seemed to collapse and reshuffle in that singular area between the boxes. Like a great mechanism coming to life, it rumbled, spewing dust like a diesel engine would after being out of use for a long time.

  The column of stones rolled away on an unseen pivot. The wall belched cool but faintly fetid air. Olivia heard someone whisper, "Wow." She supposed it was Liam Murphy, the only man on the team with the quickest mouth.

  She heard a gun cock behind her; it was Diggs. He brushed past her and squeezed through the opening. The man had gotten bulkier since the last time in Rome. He pointed a torch left and right. Then he looked behind him.

  "Looks alright here," he said. "That smell, though."

  One after the other, the others joined him. Frank Miller spat a thick glob on the floor; Olivia noted the diameter of the wall. It was at least two feet thick of the ancient stone. Breaking through each circle of the wall was out of the question. She mentioned this alternative to the team. Liam scoffed.

  "What's the point of it all?" he asked.

  "What?"

  "This whole temple. Why hide treasure in a temple?"

  Reno said, "It's not just a temple, it was many things. The rich and powerful come here to have a good time. There were women too—"

  Liam quacked laughter. "Uhuh."

  Reno smiled with him. "There is a story about a man who his wife divorces him, and he comes to hide his gold here, lots of it, so he doesn't have to give his wife her share."

  "Are you serious, Inca men had to do that too?" Liam asked.

  Reno nodded, his face suddenly hard.

  "I hear something—"

  They stopped walking. The duo had been following Dr. Anabia Nassif. He was murmuring to himself. The lamp he carried swung from side to side, throwing its shine every which way.

  "What did you hear?" Olivia whispered.

  Reno walked back, pointed his lamp at the open hatch in the wall almost ten feet away. The dark gape of the open column yawned tauntingly.

  "People are coming," he whispered without turning. "Plenty people are coming."

  Olivia heard guns cocking. She heard the radio in her left ear hiss with static, coming to life. Diggs' voice in her head said, "Guys, we have to keep moving forward."

  Olivia stumbled into Anabia.

  "Doctor, where's the next door?"

  "Just right ahead."

  Anabia stopped before the wall, more than fifteen feet away from it. He shone his lamp on the wall, looking for a box, but there was none. The floor suddenly dipped, it was an inconsiderable change, but it was there for sure, and Olivia soon saw it too.

  Meanwhile, the noise of the impending trouble tore at the darkness around them. The sounds came and went, thick and present. Olivia sent the light of her lamp up to the roof. There were small hol
es up there. She brought the light down to the floor and saw the same indentures in the dust-covered floor. She stepped back from the holes.

  "People, there's something here…"

  Anabia was saying, "I can't find anything here—"

  "Guys?" Olivia called again.

  They crowded around her. She showed them in the light the holes up on the roof. Reno brushed the thick dust on the floor with his hands. The holes were about five inches in diameter, the same with the ones in the roof, and they were arranged haphazardly.

  A new thought occurred to Olivia.

  "What if there is not supposed to be a pattern to this temple, guys? What if there were, the only people who knew are long gone, and the codes can't be broken?"

  "Then what?" Miller asked.

  "Death. Maybe there's just death here, and maybe some luck."

  They all looked at Olivia in shock. Olivia turned to Reno. "Maybe there are no demons here. Maybe the temple was designed to keep the gold in here, kill anyone who tried to steal its treasure—"

  "Come on, Olivia," Anabia said. "Look at this place. It feels of design, an enigma, yes, but great design. We just need to crack it—"

  "It's a temple, Anabia. A temple. There's no cracking it. It's designed to keep the treasure in."

  Miller put a hand on her shoulder. He looked in her eyes.

  "What makes you think this?"

  "The holes, look at them, I think they'd—" She stopped herself. The irrationality of her thoughts hit her. Olivia was not a religious person, but she believed in the superstitions of people. Patrick Coleman was in here somewhere—trapped, dead, vaporized.

  "Where is Coleman?"

  Miller said no one knows. Olivia pushed his hands away. "He holds the key. If we find him, we will find a way out of here. Or maybe he's dead." She turned to Reno. "If we find your friend, I hope he's still alive."

  They heard footfalls. For the third time, Olivia noted the lack of echoes. The footfalls occurred in the air; they did not travel through the air.

  "What do we do?" she asked Anabia.

  "We stay and defend ourselves, or we run," he said.

  Lights appeared through the open door far away. Guns and feet followed, and a spattering of Spanish invectives. The raucous voice of Pietro boomed. Lights streaked across the floor, and there was a moment of unsure silence when the two groups beheld each other the first time.