King Solomon's Curse

9

Nina did not sleep well. The night had come alive with the chirps and rattles of countless nocturnal creatures, and the cracks in the hotel’s walls let many of them pay her a personal visit. But it was Eddie’s presence that had kept her awake the most, still angry about their argument. She understood full well why he had insisted on staying, and even saw his point to a degree — which only made her mood worse.

Her husband was still asleep. Brushing away several creepy-crawlies, she rose and quietly left the room. ‘Morning,’ said Howie from a wicker chair as she entered the run-down lobby.

‘You’re up early.’

‘Doing my yoga.’ He munched an energy bar. ‘You might want to skip the breakfast buffet. I saw a bug the size of a phone checking it out.’

‘Maybe just a coffee, then,’ she replied. ‘Who else is awake?’

‘The local guys are all outside. I think they’re loading the boats.’

She went to see what Fortune and his men were doing. It was past dawn, but heavy clouds blocked out the sun, the gloom rendering Nakola even more miserable than she had imagined. She saw their vehicles had been moved to the bank of a sluggish river. ‘Good morning!’ called Fortune from the water’s edge.

‘Hi,’ she replied. He, Paris and the three porters were indeed loading the crew’s gear into a pair of boats. Both craft were eight-seaters powered by outboard motors, the free spaces crammed with cargo. ‘You sure everything will fit?’

‘Yeah, yeah,’ Paris assured her. ‘No problem.’

‘I should probably tell you that Eddie’s decided he’s coming with us.’

He regarded the boats. ‘Huh. Okay. Problem.’ He started to haul items back ashore.

Fortune raised his eyebrows. ‘He is?’

‘Yeah, thanks to those guys at the checkpoint. I told him we’d be fine with you guys watching out for us, but he wouldn’t listen.’

She had half-expected the African to be offended by her husband’s lack of faith in him, but it was not the case. ‘Do you trust Eddie?’ he asked.

‘Yeah, of course I do,’ she answered, surprised.

‘So do I. He is a very good man to have at your side when there is danger.’

‘You think there’ll be danger?’

He smiled. ‘We are going into unexplored jungle. There is always danger!’

By the time Paris had repositioned enough items to free an extra seat, the other expedition members had arrived — along with several interested villagers. Rivero recorded the proceedings with his Handicam. ‘Ay up,’ said Eddie, greeting his Congolese companions. ‘You got room for an extra one?’

‘You are always welcome,’ Fortune told him. ‘And we will get paid whether or not you are here!’

‘Wait, now he’s coming into the jungle too?’ Fisher complained to Nina. ‘Don’t you think you should have asked me first?’

‘You’re welcome to tell him he can’t come,’ she replied.

The director turned to Eddie as if to do just that, but the Yorkshireman’s folded arms and unblinking stare deterred him. ‘Well, he’s… not eating our food,’ he said instead, rejoining the camera crew.

The group’s remaining items were placed aboard. While Paris and the three porters checked that everything was secured, one of the villagers, an elderly man with a straggly grey beard, approached and spoke in French. Nina had some fluency in the language, but his heavy accent made it hard to understand. ‘What did he say?’ she asked Fortune.

He gave her a look of both intrigue and mild concern. ‘He wants to know if we are looking for the City of the Damned.’

She was shocked. ‘He’s heard of it? Ask him what he knows!’

Rivero hurriedly moved in to record the discussion. ‘He says it is a legend,’ Fortune reported at last. ‘He does not know where it is, only that it is supposed to be out there in the jungle.’ He glanced upriver. ‘But nobody ever goes to look for it.’

‘Why not?’ Fisher demanded.

Another exchange, the villager shaking his hands as if to disassociate himself from the very idea. ‘He says there is a curse,’ said Fortune. ‘A sickness, a… a “bad feeling”, that poisons even the trees.’

Lydia responded with alarm. ‘A sickness? Great, I hope all those shots I had will cover it.’

Fisher was much more enthused. ‘A curse? That’s great, it’s a good hook. The Curse of Solomon, there’s our series title.’

‘I think that’s a Clive Cussler book,’ Eddie noted.

Nina irritably shushed him as Fortune recounted the old man’s words. ‘He says that no one who has ever gone to search for the city has returned.’

‘Sounds about par for the course,’ said Eddie.

‘You still sure you want to come?’ Nina asked him.

‘If soldiers turned back every time they had a bad feeling, they’d never leave the barracks. So yeah, I’m still coming with you.’

‘Just checking. Fortune, does he know anything else?’

The Congolese questioned the villager further. ‘Sadly, no. But he wishes us good luck.’ The old man gave her a smile that was not especially reassuring.

She noticed that Rivero was holding his camera on her, hoping for a quotable line. ‘Let’s hope we’re the first to come back, then,’ was the best she could manage as she tied her hair into a ponytail, ready to begin.

Half an hour later, the expedition set out.

Nina sat at the lead vessel’s bow, watching the jungle rise around them. Nakola was on the edge of the Congo basin, and from here on the region became much wetter. The river was unusual in that it eventually drained into Lake Edward to the east rather than the mighty Congo itself, which suggested it could have been used both by Solomon and the empire of Sheba to reach Zhakana, but it also meant they were travelling against the current. With both boats fully loaded, they wouldn’t make much speed on the outward journey.

Fortunately, the waters were placid and slow-moving. She took out a GPS handset to check their position. ‘If the lost city’s where the map room said, then it’s thirty-two kilometres in that direction.’ She pointed ahead, slightly off the present path of the river.

Eddie looked across at the nearest shore to judge their speed. ‘We’re doing maybe five kph. That’s, er…’

‘Six and a half hours to get there,’ she told him, doing the mental arithmetic in a blink.

‘If the river’s straight. Which it isn’t. And if there aren’t any waterfalls. Which there probably are. We’ll be lucky to get there before nightfall.’

Lydia and Fisher were on the row behind. ‘Only thirty-two kays?’ said the former. ‘Can’t believe it hasn’t been found if it’s so close.’

‘You can pass thirty-two feet from something in jungle like this and never see it,’ Nina replied. ‘There’s a reason the Atlantean temple in Brazil and the city of Paititi in Venezuela were lost for so long.’

Fisher took out a laminated chart. ‘I had a satellite map made before we left Israel,’ he said, unfolding it. Wemba, sitting on the next row back, peered at it with interest. A bright yellow line showed the route to take at each of the numerous forks where tributaries merged. ‘The river definitely isn’t straight, but it looks pretty easy to navigate.’

Eddie glanced back. ‘Were the satellite photos taken at the same time of year as now?’

‘I don’t know, but we’re almost at the equator, aren’t we? It shouldn’t make a difference.’

‘You still get seasons at the equator. If you’re in the jungle, they’re basically wet, and really wet. What’s a river on your map might be a lake now — or it might be dry land.’

‘At least if we get lost, Howie can send up the drone to see which way to go,’ said Lydia, swatting in irritation at insects.

‘How long do its batteries last?’ Eddie asked.

‘We’ve got plenty of spares and everything we need to keep it charged up, don’t worry,’ Fisher said. ‘Same for all our gear. Cameras, mics, laptops — they won’t run out of juice.’

‘You brought bloody laptops into the jungle? We’re not at Starbucks.’

‘Actually, we do our preliminary editing and sound mixing on them in the field,’ said the director, becoming defensive. ‘The drone’s even controlled from one. Plus, we need them to back up all our media every day. If a camera gets damaged or, God forbid, lost out here, we can’t exactly go back and reshoot anything.’

Eddie shrugged. ‘That’s a lot of stuff that might go wrong or break.’ He turned away, shaking his head. ‘Bet it’s not even bloody waterproofed,’ he whispered to Nina.

‘They do know what they’re doing,’ she said with a little smile. ‘Believe it or not.’

Fortune guided the boat onwards, Paris at the tiller of the second behind them. The vegetation grew thicker, drooping branches dipping into the water like grasping hands. Before long, it became impossible to make out the surrounding terrain beyond the dense green curtains. The air filled with the rich, cloying scent of rot, dead flora and fauna alike rapidly decaying in the warm, humid environment. ‘Ah. There’s a smell I haven’t missed,’ said Nina, wrinkling her nose.

‘Easy to see who’s in the jungle for the first time,’ Eddie remarked, checking on the documentary crew. Most were reacting far more expressively to the scent, Howie the only one who appeared unperturbed. ‘The kid doesn’t seem to mind it.’

‘Maybe it smells like his dorm room.’ They both grinned.

The boats continued on up the snaking river. An hour passed, two, more, the unchanging view and the plodding chug of the outboards as wearing as the incessant attention of insects. Nina checked the GPS again. ‘Halfway there,’ she announced.

‘We should stop for a break soon,’ said Eddie. ‘Dunno about you, but I could use a piss.’

‘Charming,’ Lydia muttered behind him.

Nina looked at her watch. ‘It’s past noon, so we should eat too.’ She searched the banks for somewhere to put ashore. ‘If you see any—’

‘Hold it,’ Eddie interrupted, raising a hand.

Fortune immediately dropped the outboard’s throttle to idle, Paris following suit in the other boat. ‘What is it?’ the Congolese asked.

‘Rough water ahead. You see it?’

‘Yes, I do. Waterfall?’

‘Probably. Stop the engines so we can hear.’

Fortune shut down his outboard, as did Paris. With the boats silenced, a new sound became audible over the chitterings of bugs and birds: a deep, hissing rumble. ‘Definitely a waterfall,’ said Nina.

‘Going up or down?’ asked Rivero from the other boat.

The question drew him mocking looks. ‘We’re going upriver, and water flows downhill — what do you think?’ said Fisher, smirking.

The tubby cameraman huffed. ‘All right, Jeez. I’m not a hydrologist.’

‘Fortune, we’d better take a look and hope there’s an easy way we can get to the top of it,’ said Eddie.

‘When you say, “get to the top”,’ Fisher said uncertainly, ‘I’m assuming you mean on land.’

‘No, we’re going to flip up it like a salmon. Course I bloody do!’

‘You’ve seen the movie Fitzcarraldo, right?’ Nina asked. With every member of the documentary crew either a film school graduate or having ambitions of working in Hollywood, she was not surprised that they had, or at least pretended to have done so. ‘We’ll have to pull the boats up to the top of the waterfall.’

‘Sure, that’ll be easy,’ said Lydia, unimpressed.

‘Six to a boat, should be doable,’ Eddie told her. ‘So long as we can find a slope that’s not too steep.’

The engines started up again, Paris and Fortune bringing the boats side by side. It did not take long before the rumble of falling water became audible even over the outboards. Rounding a bend, the source of the noise came into sight. Fisher shouted across to the other boat. ‘Jay! You getting that?’

Rivero already had his camera rolling. ‘You bet,’ he replied. He stood for a better view, only for Paris to yell for him to sit again as the boat rocked.

The waterfall was not especially high, around forty feet, but was near-vertical where the upper river cascaded over a cliff. A white mist masked the churning waters at its base. ‘Okay,’ said Nina, ‘it’s very pretty, but how are we going to get up it?’

Eddie was already searching the shores, Fortune and Paris doing the same. ‘Over there!’ the latter shouted, pointing to the right.

Treetops beyond the bank swept up to meet the canopy on the cliff. ‘It’s shallow enough to climb,’ the Englishman decided.

‘We can land there,’ said Fortune, indicating a small muddy cove. He turned the tiller, Paris swinging his own craft to follow.

The water downriver of the falls was choppy, but both boats made it to land without being swamped, to the camera crew’s great relief. Fortune deliberately ran the bow aground, Eddie jumping out and grabbing a rope to hitch it to a tree. The second boat pulled up alongside. ‘Okay, unload everything, then we’ll drag it out of the river,’ said Eddie. The cargo was extracted, then he, Nina, Fortune, Wemba and — with a little reluctance — Fisher pulled the vessel on to the shore. Lydia eventually offered half-hearted assistance under Nina’s pointed gaze. Those aboard Paris’s boat followed suit, both vessels soon sitting beached on the bank.

‘Well, that was the easy part,’ said the Yorkshireman, surveying the waterfall. ‘Now we’ve got to get them up there!’

While the others ate, Eddie and Fortune scouted ahead, finding a relatively easy route up the slope to a stretch of riverbank safely clear of the waterfall’s quickening current. With six people carrying each boat, it took a little more than an hour to heave them up the hill.

‘Fitzcarraldo would be proud,’ said the sweating Nina as the craft were laid down beside the river. She took a GPS reading. ‘Only fifteen kilometres to go.’

‘Sunset is in less than four hours,’ Fortune cautioned. ‘We may not make it before dark.’

‘Let’s hope there aren’t any more waterfalls, then.’

‘Yeah, let’s,’ griped Lydia.

Everyone returned to the lower river to retrieve their cargo. Another half-hour passed before they returned and everything was reloaded. ‘Okay, where’s Jay?’ asked Fisher, looking around.

‘Oh, for fuck’s sake,’ Eddie said in dismay as he spotted the cameraman balancing precariously on a large boulder in the rushing river, filming the waterfall. ‘Why do people with cameras always have a death wish?’

‘That’s how they win awards — if they survive,’ the director joked. ‘Jay! We’re leaving!’ Rivero turned, wobbling alarmingly before catching himself and hopping back to shore.

This time there was little ceremony as the boats finally set out, just a tired desire to reach their destination. Once clear of the falls, their passage became as monotonous as before, the unbroken walls of trees along the flat, swampy land on each side almost claustrophobic. Conversation dried up in the muggy heat. Nina eventually broke the silence as she checked the GPS. ‘Three kilometres. Will we get there before sunset?’

‘I am not sure,’ Fortune replied.

‘I’ve got an idea,’ said Fisher, wiping sweat from his face. ‘We can send up the drone and see what’s ahead.’

‘How high can it go?’ Eddie asked.

‘In theory, over half a mile. I don’t think Howie’s ever taken it that high, though. But it’ll easily clear the trees.’

Everyone looked to Nina. ‘Sounds good to me,’ she said.

‘I almost thought you’d consider that cheating,’ said Lydia.

‘Why? I used technology to work out Zhakana’s location, so I’ve got no problem with using it in the field. Just because I like to be hands-on at a site doesn’t mean I have to grope around in the dark.’

‘We can land at that bank,’ said Fortune, pointing to a flat, marshy area within one of the river’s meanders.

‘Then let’s do it,’ said Fisher. He called to the second boat. ‘Howie! We’re going to stop. Get the drone ready.’ The production assistant gave him a thumbs-up.

They made landfall, mooring the boats. While Howie prepared the drone, everyone else gratefully took the opportunity to stretch their legs. ‘Don’t go too far,’ Paris cautioned as the group dispersed.

Nina went with Fisher to the second boat to speak to Howie, but saw Kimba having trouble getting out of the craft. ‘You okay, Masson?’ she asked, helping him on to land.

‘Yes, thank you,’ he replied. He was obviously experiencing discomfort, but trying to hide it behind a smile. ‘My leg.’ He patted his left thigh just below the hip. ‘I was beaten by a soldier when I was a boy. If I move, it is okay. If I am still for too long… it hurts.’

‘I’m sorry.’

‘Why? You did not beat me!’ Another smile, but this one was genuine. He rolled his hips, then took a few steps. ‘Already it is better. Thank you again, Dr Wilde.’

‘Call me Nina,’ she said, smiling back.

‘Okay, dudes, the drone’s ready,’ Howie announced. He placed the little aircraft on level ground, then opened one of the team’s slim laptops and plugged in a compact antenna dongle. After a few seconds, a window appeared showing the feed from the drone’s main camera — which from its current low angle was a comical view of Rivero standing nearby. ‘There’s a shot for the gag reel.’

‘Gag is right,’ offered Lydia as the unwitting cameraman tugged at his cargo shorts to adjust his underwear. ‘Can you change the channel?’

Howie snickered, then waggled his fingers. ‘Okay. Fly, my pretty!’

Rather than use a joystick, he worked the keyboard with the skill of a lifelong videogamer. The quadcopter’s rotors buzzed, lifting it into the air with hummingbird speed. ‘Where are we going?’ he asked.

‘West,’ said Nina. ‘There should be higher ground three kilometres away.’

He nodded. ‘Let’s see what we got.’ The drone jinked through gaps in the trees before soaring into open sky.

Nina and her companions watched the screen intently. A superimposed heads-up display told them the quadcopter’s altitude and bearing; it quickly rose to five hundred feet, turning west. ‘There’s your higher ground,’ Howie announced. With the lowering sun behind them, the hills and cliffs the drone revealed were mostly silhouetted, looming ominously over the jungle.

‘I can’t make out much detail,’ Nina said. ‘How much closer can you get?’

‘The camera’s got a five-times zoom, so that’ll help,’ the young man replied. ‘And the drone’s got a full charge, so over a mile before having to RTB. Return to base,’ he added, seeing her confusion.

‘Go for it,’ she told him. ‘But head south-west rather than due west — that way, the sun won’t be right behind the hills.’ The drone changed course, the jungle crabbing diagonally past below as it kept its camera fixed on the highlands.

Details appeared in the shadows. ‘That cliff, there,’ said Nina, pointing at a feature on the range’s edge. ‘Can you zoom in on it?’

‘Sure can.’ The image enlarged.

‘It could be the cliff from the map room…’ said Fisher, though with uncertainty.

Nina was more confident. ‘It looks a lot like it,’ she said. ‘There’s too much tree cover to see if there’s anything on top, though.’ The view gradually enlarged over the following minutes, but the jungle remained frustratingly opaque. ‘Dammit, we won’t spot anything from the air,’ she finally had to admit. ‘Not unless we get a lot closer.’

‘Not enough battery left for that,’ Howie said apologetically. ‘Gotta turn back soon.’

Fisher made a frustrated sound. ‘So near, yet so far.’

‘We can reach it in person,’ Nina reminded him. ‘Let’s get back in the boats. We might still make it before sundown.’

She called to Fortune, who in turn shouted for everyone to return. ‘You find it?’ Eddie asked as he reached her.

‘I think we’ve found the right place,’ she said. ‘As for whether there’s anything still there…’

He did a headcount, coming up short. ‘Someone’s missing. Where’s Cretien?’

Paris gestured towards a clump of trees a hundred feet away. ‘He went that way.’

‘I’ll get him. Maybe he’s constipated and stuck mid-dump.’

‘Gross, Eddie,’ Nina said, smiling. Lydia was also disgusted, but without humour.

He grinned, then picked his way across the wet ground towards the trees. ‘Cretien?’ No response. He rounded a trunk — and found the porter hurriedly stuffing something into a pocket. ‘What’re you doing?’

‘I, I…’ Wemba stammered, before a flash of what Eddie could only interpret as cunning crossed his face. ‘I came to smoke, I did not want anyone to see,’ he said, delving back into his pocket and producing a packet of cigarettes. ‘They are not mine, I took them from the baggage.’

‘You stole them, is what you’re saying.’

He nodded, looking down at his feet. ‘Yes, yes. I am sorry.’

Eddie regarded him dubiously. He couldn’t smell cigarette smoke, but there was enough of a breeze to have carried it away, and the Congolese might have flicked the butt into the river when he realised someone was coming. ‘It’s a bad habit, you should give it up,’ he said at last. There was no proof that Wemba had been up to anything worse, and at this early stage of the expedition he didn’t want to rouse any antagonism — especially as Fortune had vouched for him. ‘Just don’t do it again.’

Wemba nodded with vigour. ‘You are right. I am sorry.’

‘Anyway, we’re going. Better get back to the boats.’ He retraced his steps, the other man following.

The drone buzzed back down to a landing as they arrived. While Howie collected it, Fisher flicked through its recorded footage on the laptop, comparing a still frame of the distant cliff to one of the model in the First Temple’s map room. ‘You know, Nina, it actually could be the same place.’

‘We’ll find out soon,’ she said. Eddie reached her. ‘Everything okay?’

‘No problem,’ he said, glancing at Wemba, who avoided his gaze. ‘We ready to go?’

‘Yeah.’ She waited for Howie to return the drone to its case and get back into the boat, then boarded her own. The sun had dropped lower behind the trees, but with so little distance still to go she was sure they could reach their destination before nightfall. ‘Let’s see what’s waiting for us.’