River of Death

CHAPTER EIGHT

Sweat-soaked and stumbling, mostly from near exhaustion, the heavily laden party of nine made their painfully slow way through the afternoon gloom of the rainforest. Even at high noon there was never more than half-light in its depths. The crowns of the great liana-festooned trees stretched out and intertwined a hundred feet or more above the ground, effectively blocking out the sunlight. Progress was not slow because they had to hack their way with machetes through the dense undergrowth, because of dense undergrowth there was none. For plants to grow at ground-level, sunshine is essential. Jungle, in the true African sense of the term, did not exist. The progress was slow primarily because there was as much swampland as there was firm ground and quicksands were an ever-present peril. A man could step confidently on to what appeared to be an inviting stretch of greensward and on his second step find himself shoulder deep in a swamp. For safe locomotion in.the forest, a probe, in the form of a hacked-off and trimmed branch, was essential. For every mile covered as the crow flew, it was not uncommon to have to traverse five miles. That, and the time it took to locate patches of firm ground, made for time-consuming, frustrating and exhausting travel.

Smith, in particular, was making heavy weather of it. His clothes were so saturated with sweat that he might well have just been dragged from the river. His legs had gone rubbery and he was gasping for breath.

Smith said: 'What the hell are you trying to prove, Hamilton? How tough you are and how out of condition we city dwellers are? God's sake, man, a break. An hour wouldn't kill us, would it?'

'No. But the Horena might.'

'But you said their territory was on the right bank.'

'That's what I believe. But don't forget: we killed six of their men. Great lads for revenge, the Horena. I wouldn't put it past them to have crossed the river and be following us. There could be a hundred of them within a hundred yards of here, just waiting to get within blowpipe range, and we wouldn't know a thing about it until too late.'

Smith, it appeared, was possessed of reserves of strength and endurance of which he had been unaware. He hurried on.

Towards evening, they reached a small and largely swampy clearing. Most of the party were now shambling, not walking.

'Enough,' Hamilton said. 'We'll make camp.'

With the approach of dusk the forest appeared to come alive. All around them was sound. Mainly, it carme from birds — parrots, macaws, parakeets. But there was animal life too. Monkeys screeched, bull-frogs barked and now and again the deeply muffled roar of a jaguar came at them from the depths of the forest.

Everywhere there were creepers, vines, parasitic orchids and there, in the clearing, exotic flowers of almost every conceivable colour. The air was damp and fetid, a miasmic smell all-prevalent, the heat overpowering and leaden and enervating, the floor underfoot almost an unbroken expanse of thick, clinging, evil-smelling mud.

Everyone, even Hamilton, sank gratefully to what few patches of dry ground they could find. Over the river, not much higher than the tree-tops, several birds, with huge wing-spreads, seemed suspended against the sky, for their wings were motionless. They looked evil, sinister.

Maria said: 'What are those horrible-looking creatures?'

'Urubus,' Hamilton said. 'Amazonian vultures. They seem to be looking for something.'

Maria shuddered. Everybody gazed unhappily at the vultures.

'A poor choice, I suppose,' Hamilton said. 'The cooking-pots, head-hunters or-the vultures. And speaking of cooking-pots, some fresh meat might help. Curassow — a kind of wild turkey — armadillo, wild boar, all very tasty. Navarro?'

Ramon said: 'I’il come too.'

'You stay, Ramon. A little more thoughtfumess, please. Someone has to look after these poor souls.'

Tracy said: 'To keep an eye on us, you mean.'

'I don't see what mischief you can get up to here.'

'Your haversack.'

'I don't understand.'

Tracy said deliberately: 'Heffner appeared to find something there just before you murdered him.'

Ramon said: 'Before Mr Heffner met his.unfortunate end is what Mr Tracy means.'

Hamilton eyed Tracy thoughtfully then turned away into the forest, Navarro following. Less than two hundred yards from the camp Hamilton put a restraining hand on Navarro's arm and pointed ahead. Not forty yards away was a quiexada., that most savage of all the world's wild boars. They are so devoid of fear that they have been known to invade towns in herds, driving the citizens into their houses.

'Supper,' Hamilton said.

Navarro nodded arid raised his rifle. One single shot was all that Navarro would ever need. They began to make their way towards the dead animal then halted abruptly. A herd of perhaps three dozen quiexada had suddenly appeared from the forest. They halted, pawed the ground, then came on again. There was no mistaking their intention.

Only on the riversides do Amazonian trees have breaches, for only there can they get sunlight. Hamilton and Navarro reached the lowermost branches of the nearest tree a short distance ahead of the boars, which proceeded to encircle the tree and then, as if in response to some unseen signal, began to use their vicious tusks to savage the roots of the tree. The roots of the Amazonian trees, like those of the giant sequoia of California, are extremely long — and extremely shallow.

'I would say they have done this sort of thing before,' Navarro said. 'How long is this going to take, do you think?'

'Not long at all.'

Hamilton sighted his pistol and shot a quiexada that seemed to be more industrious than its companions. The dead animal toppled into the river. Within seconds, the smooth surface of the river was disturbed by a myriad ripples and there came the high-pitched, spine-chilling buzzing whine as the needle teeth of the voracious piranha proceeded to strip the quiexada to the bone.

Navarro cleared his throat and said: 'Perhaps you should have shot one not quite so close to the river.'

Hamilton said: 'Quiexada to one side, piranha to the other. You don't by any chance see a constrictor lurking in the branches above?'

Involuntarily, Navarro glanced upwards, then down at the boars which had redoubled their efforts. Both men started firing and within seconds a dozen quiexada lay dead.

Navarro said: 'Next time I go boar-hunting — if there is a next time — I shall bring a sub-machine-gun with me. My magazine is empty.'

'Mine too.'

The sight of their dead companions seemed only to increase the blood lust of the boars. They tore at the roots with savage frenzy — and, already, several of the roots had been severed.

Navarro said: 'Senor Hamilton, either Fm shaking or this tree is becoming rather — what is the word for it?'

'Wobbly?'

'Wobbly.'

'I don't think. I know.'

A rifle shot rang out and a boar dropped dead. Hamilton and Navarro swung round to look back the way they had come. Ramon, who seemed to be carrying a pack of some sort on his back, was less than forty yards away and was prudently standing by a low-branched tree. He fired steadily and with deadly accuracy. Suddenly an empty click was heard. Hamilton and Navarro looked at each other thoughtfully, but Ramon remained unperturbed. He reached into his pocket, extracted another magazine clip, fitted it and resumed firing. Three more shots and it finally dawned on the quiexada that they were on to a hiding to nothing. Those that remained turned and ran off into the forest.

The three men walked back towards the camp, dragging a quiexada behind them. Ramon said: 'I heard the shooting so I came. Of course, I brought plenty of spare ammunition with me.' Deadpan, he patted a bulging pocket, then shrugged apologetically. 'All my fault. I should never have let you go alone. One has to be a man of the forest —'

'Oh, shut up,' Hamilton said. 'Thoughtful of you to bring my rucksack along with you.'

Ramon said pontifically: 'One should not expose the weak-minded to temptation.'

'Do be quiet,' Navarro said. He turned to Hamilton. 'God only knows he was insufferable enough before. But now, after this —'

The cooking fire burned in the near darkness and boar steaks sizzled in a glowing bed of coals.

Smith said: 'I appreciate the necessity for all the shots. But if the Horena are around — well, that must have attracted the attention of everyone within miles.'

'No worry,' Hamilton said. 'No Horena will ever attack at night. If he dies at night his soul will wander for ever in the hereafter. His gods must see him die.' He prodded a steak with his sheath knife. 'I would say those are just about ready.' Ready or not, the steaks were dispatched with every sign of gusto and when they were finished Hamilton said: 'Better if it had hung a week, but tasty, tasty. Bed. We leave at dawn. I'll keep the first watch.'

They prepared for sleep, some lying on waterproof sheets, others in lightweight hammocks slung between trees at the edge of the clearing. Hamilton flung some fuel on the fire and kept on flinging it until it flared up so brightly that the flames were almost ten feet high. Machete in hand, Hamilton departed to obtain some more fuel and returned with an armful of branches most of which he cast on the already blazing fire.

Smith said: 'Well, granted, granted, you know how to make bonfires. But what's it all in aid of?'

'Safety measures. Keeps the creepy-erawlies at bay. Wild animals fear fire.' He was to be proved half right, half wrong.

He was on his third fuel-hunting trip and was returning to camp when he heard the piercing scream of fear. He dropped the fuel and ran into the brightly lit clearing. He knew the high-pitched scream could only have come from Maria and as he closed on her hammock the reason for her terror was obvious: a giant anaconda, at least thirty feet in length and with its tail still anchored to one of the trees that supported Maria's hammock, had one of its deadly coils wrapped round the base of her hammock. She was in no way pinned down, just too paralysed with fear to move. The anaconda's vast jaws were agape.

It was not Hamilton's first anaconda and he had a nodding respect for them but no more. A full-grown specimen can swallow a 15 o-pound prey in its entirety. But while they could be endlessly patient, even cunning, in waiting for their next meal to come along, they were extremely slow-witted in action. While Maria continued to scream in the same mindless terror, he approached within feet of the fearsome head. No more than any other creature on earth could an anaconda withstand three Luger bullets in the head: it died immediately, but even in its death the coil slipped over the girl's ankles and continued to contract. Hamilton struggled to pull the slimy coil free but was brushed aside by Ramon who carefully placed two rifle bullets into the upper centre of the coil, severing the main spinal nerve. The anaconda at once went limp.

Hamilton carried her across to his groundsheet close by the fire. She was in a state of mild shock. Keep a shocked patient warm, Hamilton had often heard, and the thought had no sooner occurred to him than Ramon knelt alongside, a sleeping-bag in his hands. Together they eased the girl inside, zipped up the bag and sat to wait. Navarro came to join them and jerked a thumb in the direction of an apparently sleeping Smith.

'Observe our gallant hero,' he said. 'Asleep? He's wide awake. Has been all the time. I watched him.'

Ramon said complainingly: 'You might have come and watched us.'

'When you and Senor Hamilton can't take care of a simple-minded reptile like that it's time for us all to retire. I saw his face and he was terrified, seemed quite unable to move: not, I am sure, that he wanted to move or had any intention of moving. Has the girl been hurt?'

'Not physically,' Hamilton said. 'I'm afraid this is basically my fault. I had a big fire going to frighten off wild animals. Well, anacondas are also wild creatures and as frightened of fire as any other. This one just wanted out: it was the devil's bad luck that it was roosting in the tree that helped support Maria's hammock. I'm pretty sure she would have come to no harm. The reptile was simply easing its way down the tree. Apart from the fact that its belly is swollen and obviously would not be requiring another meal for a fortnight, it probably had a much greater matter on its mind, such as getting the hell out of here. All very unfortunate but no harm done.'

'Perhaps,' Ramon said. 'I hope.'

'You hope?' Hamilton said.

'Trauma,' Ramon said. 'How deep does a trauma lie? This has been a traumatic experience. But I think that's only a side issue. I have the feeling that her whole life has been a traumatic experience.'

'You plunging into the deep waters of psychology, psychiatry or what-have-you, Ramon?' Hamilton didn't smile as he spoke.

'I agree with Ramon,' Navarro said. 'Twins, you know,' he added apologetically. 'Something is wrong or not what it appears to be. Her actions, her behaviour, the way she talks and smiles — I find it hard to believe that this is a bad person, a common whore. Smith, we know, is a bad person. She doesn't care for him, any fool can see that. So what goes on?'

'Well, — ' Hamilton said judicially, 'he's got a lot to offer —'

'Ignore Senor Hamilton,' Ramon said. 'He's just trying to provoke us.'

Navarro nodded in agreement then said: 'I think she is a prisoner in some way or another.'

'Possibly,' Hamilton said. 'Possibly. Has it occurred to either of you that he might be in some way her prisoner, without ever knowing it?'

Navarro looked at Ramon, then accusingly at Hamilton. 'There you go again, Senor Hamilton. You know something that we don't know and you're not telling us.'

'I know nothing that you don't know and far be it from me to suggest that I look more closely and, perhaps, think a little more deeply. But, then, you are young.'

'Young?' Navarro was indignant. 'Neither of us, Senor Hamilton, will ever see thirty again.'

'That's what I meant.' He put his fingers to his lips. Beside him, Maria was stirring. She opened her eyes, still huge with fear and horror. Hamilton touched her gently on the shoulder.

'It's all right now,' he said gently. 'It's all over.'

'That horrible, ghastly head.' Her voice was no more than a husky whisper and she was shaking. Ramon rose and walked away. 'That awful snake —'

'The snake is dead,' Hamilton said. 'And you are unharmed. We promise you, no harm will come to you.'

She lay there breathing shallowly, her eyes closed. She opened them again when Ramon returned and knelt by her side. He had an aluminium cup in one hand, a bottle in the other.

Hamilton said: 'And what do we have here?'

'The finest cognac,' Ramon replied. 'As is only to be expected. Smith's private supplies.'

'I don't like brandy,' she said.

'Ramon is right. You'd better like it. You need it.'

Ramon poured a generous measure. She tasted it, coughed, screwed her eyes shut and emptied the cup in two gulps.

'Good girl,' Hamilton said.

'Awful,' she said. She looked at Ramon. 'But thank you. I feel better already.' She glanced across the clearing and fear touched her eyes again. 'That hammock —'

'You're not going back to that hammock,'

Hamilton said. 'It's safe enough now, of course, it was just sheer bad luck that the anaconda was up the tree when your hammock was slung, but we can understand your not wanting to go back there. You're in Ramon's sleeping-bag and on a ground-sheet. You'll stay just where you are. We'll keep a big fire going all night and one of the three of us will keep an eye on you till the morning. Come the dawn, I promise you not even a mosquito will have come near you.'

Slowly she looked at the three men in turn then said huskily: 'You are all very kind to me.' She tried to smile but it was only a try. 'Damsel in distress. Is that it?'

'Perhaps there's a little bit more to it than that,' Hamilton said. 'But now's not the time to talk about it. Just you try to sleep — I'm sure Ramon will give you a night-cap to help you on your way. Oh, hell.'

Smith, who obviously felt that he had maintained his distance long enough, was approaching, his whole attitude manifesting his resentment of Maria's close proximity to the three men. As he dropped to his knees beside her, Hamilton rose, looked at him, turned and walked away, the twins following.

Ramon said: 'Senor Hamilton.Quiexada, piranha, anaconda, a sick girl and a villain. To pick so divine a resting spot in such unique company is a gift not given to many.'

Hamilton just looked at him and moved off into the forest to retrieve his load of firewood.

Early in the morning Hamilton led the others in single file through the rain-forest and across firm ground, firm because the terrain was gently rising and the water table was now well below them. After about two hours' walking Hamilton stopped and waited until the others gathered round him.

'From here on,' Hamilton said, 'no talking. Not one word. And watch where you put your feet. I don't want to hear as much as the crackle of a broken twig. Understood?' He looked at Maria, who looked pale and exhausted, not so much from the rigours of the walk, for there had been none, but because she had not slept at all: the previous night's experience, as Ramon had said, had been something more than traumatic. 'It's not much further. Half an hour, at most, then we'll have a rest and carry on during the afternoon.'

'I’m all right,' she said. 'It's just that I'm beginning to hate this rain-forest. I suppose you'll be telling me again that no-one asked me to come.'

'A snake on every tree, is that it?' She nodded. 'No more worry,' Hamilton said. 'You'll never again spend a night in the forest. That's another promise.'

Tracy said slowly: 'I take it that that can mean only one thing. I take it that we'll be in the Lost City tonight.'

'If things go as I hope, yes.'

'You know where you are?' 'Yes.'

'You've known ever since we left the hovercraft.'

'True. How did you know?'

'Because you haven't used your compass since.'

Half an hour later, exactly as he had forecast, Hamilton, finger to his lips, stopped and waited for the others to come up to him. When he spoke, it was in a whisper.

'On your lives. Not a sound. Stay hidden until I tell you otherwise. On your hands and knees then lie prone until I give the word.'

And so on hands and knees they advanced in total silence. Hamilton dropped forward and eased himself slowly ahead, using elbows and toes. He stopped again and waited until the others had joined him. He pointed forward, through the trees. Irr a lush green valley below them they could see an Indian village. There were dozens of large huts and, in the centre, a very large communal hut, which looked as if it could accommodate at least two hundred people with ease. The place seemed to be deserted until suddenly a small copper-coloured child appeared carrying a flint axe and a nut which he placed on a flat stone and proceeded to belabour. It was like a scene from the Stone Age, from the dawn of prehistory. A laughing woman, statuesque and also copper-coloured, emerged from the same hut and picked up the child.

In slow wonderment, Tracy said: 'That colour? That appearance? Those aren't Indians.'

'Keep your voice down,' Hamilton said urgently. 'They're Indians all right but they do not come from the Amazon basin. They come from the Pacific.'

Tracy stared at him, still in wonderment, and shook his head.

Suddenly people, scores of them, began to emerge from the communal hut. That they were not Amazonian Indians was obvious from the fact that there were as many women as men among them: normally, in the Amazonian basin, women are banned from the meeting places of elders and warriors. All were of the same copper colour, all possessed of a proud, almost regal bearing. They began to disperse towards their huts.

Smith touched Hamilton on the arm and said in a low voice: 'Who are those people?'

'The Muscias.' Smith turned pale.

'Goddamned Muscias!' he said in a vicious whisper. 'What the hell are you playing at? Head-hunters, you said. Head-shrinkers! Cannibals! I'm off!'

'Off where, you clown? You've got no place left to run to. Stay here. Don't, don't, don't show yourselves.'

The advice was probably superfluous. No-one, clearly, had the slightest intention of showing himself.

Hamilton rose and walked confidently into the clearing. He had gone at least ten paces before he was noticed. There was a sudden silence, the babble of voices ceased, then the chatter redoubled in volume. An exceptionally tall Indian, old and with his forearms almost covered in what were unquestionably gold bracelets, gazed for some seconds then ran forward. He and Hamilton embraced each other.

The old man, who was surely the chief, and Hamilton engaged in an animated, if incomprehensible, conversation. The chief, with an expression of incredulity on his face, repeatedly shook his head. Just as firmly Hamilton nodded his. Suddenly, Hamilton extended his right arm and made a semi-circular motion, bringing his arm to a sudden halt. The chief looked long at him, seized him by the arms, smiled and nodded his head. He turned and spoke rapidly to his — people.

Tracy said: 'I'd say those two people have met somewhere before.'

The chief finished addressing his people, all of whom had now gathered in the clearing, and spoke again to Hamilton, who nodded and turned.

Hamilton shouted to his waiting companions: 'You can come now. Keep your hands well away from any weapon.'

Not quite dazedly, but not understanding what was happening, the other eight members of the party entered the clearing.

Hamilton said: 'This is Chief Corumba.' He introduced each of the eight in turn. The chief gravely acknowledged each introduction, shaking each in turn by hand.

Hiller said: 'But Indians don't shake hands.'

'This Indian does.'

Maria touched Hamilton on the arm. 'But those savage head-hunters —'

'These are the kindliest, most gentle, most peaceable people on earth. In their language they do not have a word for war because they do not know what war is. They are a lost children from a lost age and the people who built the Lost City.'

Serrano said: 'And I thought I knew more about the tribes of the Mato Grosso than any man alive.'

'And so you may, Serrano, so you may. If, that is to say, I can take the word of Colonel Diaz.'

'Colonel Diaz?' Smith said. He was clearly floundering in deep water. 'Who's Colonel Diaz?'

'A friend of mine.'

Tracy said: 'But their ferocious reputation —'

'A fiction invented by Dr Hannibal Huston, the man who found these lost people. He thought that such a reputation might ensure them — what shall we say? — a little privacy.'

'Huston?' Hiller said. 'Huston? You — you found Huston?'

'Years ago.'

'But you've only been in the Mato Grosso for four months.'

'I have known it for many years. Remember in the Hotel de Paris in Romono you mentioned my search for the golden people? I forgot to mention that I also met them years ago. Here they are. The Children of the Sun.'

Maria said: 'And Dr Huston is still in the Lost City?'

'He's still there. Come, I believe these good people want to offer us some hospitality. First, however, I owe you a small explanation about them.'

'High time, too,' Smith said. 'Why all the dramatic, stealthy approach to them?'

'Because if we had approached as a group they would have run away. They have every good reason to fear those from the outside world. We, ironically known as the civilizados — in practically everything that matters they're a damned sight more civilised than we are — bring them so-called.progress, which harms them, so-called change, which harms them, so-called civilisation, which harms them even more, and disease, which kills them. These people have no natural resistance to measles, or influenza. Either of those are to them what bubonic plague was to Europeans and Asiatics in the Middle Ages. Half a tribe can be wiped out in a fortnight. The same thing happened to the people of Tierra del Fuego. Well-meaning missionaries gave them simple clothes, primarily so that the women could cover their nakedness. The blankets came from a hospital where there had been a measles epidemic. Most of the people were wiped out.'

Tracy said: 'But our presence here. Surely that endangers them?'

'No. Almost half the Muscias were destroyed by measles or influenza or a combination of both. These people here are the survivors, having acquired natural immunity the hard way. As I said, it was Dr Huston who found them. Although mainly famous as an explorer, his real life's work lay elsewhere. He was one of the original sertanistas — men wise in jungle ways — and a founder member of the FUNAI, the National Foundation for the Indian, people who dedicate their lives to protecting the Indians and rendering them harmless to civilizados. "Pacification" is the term generally used but in truth what they mainly required was protection against the civilizados. Sure, many of the tribes were genuinely savage — well, not so many, there are less than two hundred thousand pure-blood Indians left — but their savagery sprang from fear and very understandably so. Even in modern times, those civilised gentlemen from the outer world, and by no means all Brazilians, either, have machine-gunned them, dynamited them from the air and given them poisoned food.'

'This is all news to me,' Smith said, 'and I've lived in this country for many years. Frankly, I find it very hard to believe.'

'Serrano will confirm it.'

'I confirm it. I take it that you, too, are a sertanista.'

'Yes. Not always a very happy job. We have our failures. The Chapate and the Horena, as you've seen, are not too keen on the idea of co-operation with the outside world. And, inevitably, we bring disease as we did here. Come along, Chief Corumba is summoning us to eat. It may taste a little odd, but I can assure you that no harm will come to any of you.'

One hour later the visitors were still seated around a rough wooden table outside the communal hut. Before them lay the remains of an excellent if rather exotic meal — game, fish, fruit and other unknown delicacies concerning the nature of which it had been thought more prudent not to ask: all had been washed down with cachassa, a rather potent brew. At the end, Hamilton thanked Chief Corumba on behalf of all of them and turned to the others. 'I think it's time we were on our way.' Tracy said: 'One thing intrigues me. I've never seen so many gold ornaments in my life.' 'I thought that might intrigue you.' 'Where do these people come from?' 'They don't know themselves. A lost people who have lost everything and that includes their history. It was Dr Huston's theory that they are the descendants of the Quimbaya, an ancient tribe from the Cauca or Magdalena valleys in the western Andes of Colombia.'

Smith stared at him. 'So what in God's name are they doing here?'

'Nobody knows. Huston thinks they left their homeland all those hundreds of years ago. He thinks they may have fled to the east, found the head-waters of the Amazon, come all the way down until they reached the Rio Tocantis, turned up that until they came to the Araguaia, then up the Rio da Morte. Again, who knows? Stranger migrations have happened. It could have taken them generations: they were weighed down with many possessions. I believe it. Wait till you see the Lost City and you'll understand why I do believe it.'

Smith said: 'How far away is this damned city?'

'Five hours. Six.'

'Five hours!'

'And easy going. Uphill, but no swamps, no quicksands.' He turned to Chief Corumba, who smiled and again warmly embraced Hamilton.

'Wishing us good luck?' Smith said.

'Among quite a few other things. I'll have a longer chat with him tomorrow.'

'Tomorrow!'

'Why ever not?'

Smith, Tracy and Hiller exchanged flickering glances. None of the three said anything.

Just before they walked away Hamilton spoke-quietly to Maria. 'Stay behind with these people. They will look after you, I promise. Where we're going is no place for a lady.'

'I'm coming.'

'Suit yourself. There's an excellent chance you'll be dead by nightfall.'

'You don't much care for me, do you?'

'Enough to ask you to stay behind.'

In the late afternoon Hamilton and his party were still making their way towards the Lost City. The going underfoot was excellent, dry, leafy and springy.

Unfortunately for people like Smith, the incline was fairly severe and the heat was, of course, as always oppressive.

Hamilton said: 'I think we'll have a half-hour break here. We're ahead of time — we can't move in until it's dark. Besides, some of you may think you've earned a rest.'

'Too bloody right, we have,' Smith said. 'How much longer do you intend to crucify us?'

He sank wearily to the ground and mopped his streaming face with a bandana. He was not the only one co do so. With the exception of Hamilton and the twins, everyone seemed to be suffering from a shortage of breath and leaden, aching legs. Hamilton had, indeed, been setting a brisk pace.

'You've done very well, all of you,' Hamilton said. 'Mind you, you might have done even better if you hadn't guzzled and drunk like pigs down in the village. We've climbed almost two thousand feet since leaving there.'

Smith said: 'How — much — longer?'

'From here to the top? Another half hour. No more. I'm afraid we'll have to do a bit more climbing after that — downhill, mind you, but a pretty steep downhill.'

'Half an hour,' Smith said. 'Nothing.'

'Wait until you start going down.'

'The last lap,' Hamilton said. 'We are ten yards from the brink of a ravine. Anyone who hasn't a head for heights had better say so now.'

If anyone didn't have a head for heights he or she wasn't saying so. Hamilton began to crawl forward. The rest followed. Hamilton stopped and motioned to the others to join him.

Hamilton said: 'You see what I see?'

Smith said: 'Jesus!'

Maria said: 'The Lost City!'

Tracy said: 'Shangri-la!'

'El Dorado,' Hamilton said.

'What?' Smith said. 'What was that?'

'Nothing, really. There never was an El Dorado. It means the golden man. New Inca rulers were covered in gold dust and dipped — only temporarily, of course — in a lake. You see that peculiar stepped pyramid with the flat top at the far end?'

The question was really unnecessary. It was the dominant feature of the Lost City.

'That's one of the reasons — there are two others — why Huston thought that the Children of the Sun came from Colombia. It's what you call a ziggurat. Originally it was a temple — tower in Babylonia or Assyria. No traces of those remain in the Old World — the Egyptians built a quite different form of pyramid.'

Tracy said, as if not knowing: 'This is the only one?'

'By no means. You'll find well-preserved examples in Mexico, Guatemala, Bolivia and Peru. But only in Central America and the north-west of South America. But nowhere else in the world — except here.'

Serrano said: 'So they're Andean. You couldn't ask for better proof.'

'You couldn't. But I have it.'

'Complete proof? Total?'

'I'll show you later.' He pointed with outstretched arm. 'You see those steps?'

Stretching from the river to the top of the plateau and hewn from the vertical rock-face, the stone stairway, terrifying to look at even from a distance, angled upwards at 45°.

'Two hundred and forty-eight steps,' Hamilton said, 'each thirty inches wide. Worn, smooth and slippery — and no hand rail.'

Tracy said: 'Who counted them?'

'I did.'

'You mean — '

'Yes. Wouldn't do it again, though. There had been a hand rail once and I'd brought along equipment to rig a rope rail. It's still on the hovercraft — for obvious reasons.'

'Mr Hamilton!' Silver spoke in an urgent whisper. 'Mr Hamilton!'

'What's the excitement about?'

'I saw someone moving in the ruins down there. I swear to it.'

'The pilot's eagle-eye, eh? No need to swear to anything. There are quite a number of people down there. Why do you think I didn't fly in by helicopter?'

Serrano said: 'They are not friends, no?'

'No.' He turned to Smith. 'Speaking of helicopters, I don't have to explain the lay-out of this place to you. You know it already.'

'I don't understand.'

'That film cassette you had Hiller steal for you.'

'I don't know what —'

'I took them a year ago. I left Hiller no option but to steal them. Taken from a helicopter. Not bad for an amateur, were they?'

Smith didn't say whether they were or not. He, Hiller and Tracy had again, momentarily, assumed very odd expressions, mainly of deep unease.

Hamilton said: 'Look to your left there. Just where the river forks to go round the island/

At a distance of about half a mile and about three hundred feet below their present elevation a spidery, sagging, and apparently twisted series of ropes spanned the gorge between the top of the plateau and a point about half-way up the top of the cliff on which they were lying. Immediately below the cliff anchorage a small waterfall arced out into the river.

'A rope bridge,' Hamilton said. 'Well, a liana bridge. Or a straw bridge. Those are normally renewed once a year. This one can't have been renewed for at least five years. Must be in a pretty rotten state by this time.'

'So?' Smith said. The apprehension in his voice was unmistakable.

'So that's the way we go in.'

The silence that followed was long and profound.

At last Serrano said 'Another proof of Andean ancestry, no? I mean, there are no rope bridges in the Mato Grosso — well, there's not one now — nor, as far as I know, anywhere in Brazil. The Indians never learnt how to make them. Why should they have done — they never needed them. But the Incas and their descendants knew how to make them — living in the Andes, they had to know."

'I've seen one,' Hamilton said. 'On the Apurimac river, high up in Peru — about twelve thousand feet. They use six heavy braided straw cables for the main supports — four for the footpaths, two for the hand rails. Smaller ropes for closing in the sides and a bed of twigs spread over the footpath so that only a three-year-old could possibly fall through. Can support scores of people when new. I'm afraid this one is not new.'

A narrow cleft ran down the cliff at an angle of close on 60°. A small stream, probably fed from some spring above, fell, rather than flowed down this cleft, leaping whitely from spur to spur. On one side of this cleft a series of rough steps had been cut, obviously a very long time ago.

Hamilton and the others started to descend. It was a fairly arduous descent but not really either difficult or dangerous as Hamilton had taken the precaution of binding together a series of tough lianas, anchoring one end to a tree and letting the rest fall down the cleft.

At the foot of the cleft, just above where the waterfall arced out above the river, a platform, about eight feet by eight, had been quarried out of the cliff-face. Hamilton was already standing there. One by one he was joined by the others.

Hamilton moved to examine a stone bollard and an iron post that had been hammered into the platform. Three now threadbare lianas were attached to both. Hamilton produced his sheath knife and scraped at the iron post. Thick brown flakes were shaved away.

'Keep your voices down,' Hamilton said. 'Rusty, isn't it?' He turned away to look over the gorge. The others did the same. The straw bridge was very flimsy and clearly venerable. Both the hand supports and the footpath were severely frayed. Several of the straw ropes appeared to have rotted and fallen away.

Hamilton said: 'Not in the best condition, wouldn't you say?'

Smith, his eyes wide, was obviously appalled, 'Good God in heaven. That's suicide. Only a madman would go on it. Do you expect me to risk my life on that?'

'Of course not. Why on earth should you? You're only here for the story, for the pictures. You'd be crazy to risk your life just for that. Tell you what. Give me your camera and I'll take the pictures for you. And don't forget — the people over there may not be welcoming trespassers.'

Smith was silent for some time, then said: 'I'm a man who sees things through to the end.'

'Maybe the end is closer than you think. It's dark enough now. I'm going first.'

Navarro said: 'Senor Hamilton. 1 am much lighter — '

'Thank you. But that's just the point. I'm a heavy man and I'm carrying a heavy pack. If it takes my weight — well, you should all be okay.'

Ramon said: 'A thought occurs to me.'

'And to me.' He moved towards the straw bridge.

'What was that meant to mean?' Maria said.

'He thinks, perhaps, that they will have a welcome mat out over there.'

'Oh. A guard.'

Hamilton moved steadily across the straw bridge. That is, he made steady progress. The bridge itself was shockingly unsteady, swaying from side to side. Hamilton was now more than half-way across. The bridge sagged so badly in the middle that he had to haul himself up a fairly steep incline. But he was experiencing no great difficulty. He arrived safely on a platform similar to the one he had left on the other side of the gorge. He crouched low, for the platform was only a few feet lower than the plateau. Cautiously, he lifted his head.

There was, indeed, a guard, but he was not taking his duties too seriously. He was smoking a cigarette and, of all things, relaxing in a deck chair. Hamilton's bent arm was raised to shoulder level. His handkerchief-wrapped hand held the blade of his heavy sheath knife. The guard drew deeply on his cigarette, clearly illuminating his face. He made no sound as the haft of the knife struck him between the eyes, just tipped to one side and fell out of his chair.

Hamilton turned and flashed his torch three times. Within minutes he was joined one by one by eight people who had not enjoyed their passage across the rope bridge.

Hamilton said: 'Let's go and see the boss man.' He could find his way blindfolded and led them silently through the ancient ruins. Shortly he stopped and pointed.

There was a large and fairly new wooden hall with lights showing. The sound of voices carried.

'Barracks,' Hamilton said. 'Mess hall and sleeping accommodation. Guards.'

Tracy said: 'Guards? Why?'

'Guilty conscience somewhere.'

'What's that noise?' Smith said.

'Generator.'

'Where do we go from here?'

'There.' Hamilton pointed again. At the foot of the giant ziggurat was another but much smaller wooden building. Lights also shone from that building.

'That's where the guilty conscience lives.' Hamilton was silent for a few moments. 'The man |j, who every night feels dead feet trampling over his grave.'

Silver said: 'Mr Hamilton —'

'Nothing, nothing. Ramon, Navarro. I wonder if you see what I see?'

'Yes, indeed,' Ramon said. 'There are two men standing in the shadow of that porch.'

Hamilton seemed to ponder for a few moments. 'I wonder what they could be doing there?'

'We'll go and ask them.'

Ramon and Navarro melted into the shadows.

Smith said: 'Who are these two? Your assistants, I mean. They are not Brazilian.'

'No.'

'European?'

'Yes.'

Ramon and Navarro returned as silently and unobtrusively as they had left.

'Well,' Hamilton said. 'What did they say?'

'Not a great deal,' Navarro said. 'I think they may tell us when they wake up.'