Ramsey's Gold

Chapter Forty-Two

Spencer and Drake moved Allie and the rest of the camp just inside the cavern mouth, seeing no reason to pitch tents outside as yet more rain drizzled at the opening. The three of them sat out of the rain and dined on a celebratory slab of fish Spencer returned with on the end of his spear after a twenty-minute hiatus. They sat with full stomachs, watching the last of the day’s light drain from the ashen sky, minds racing over the successful conclusion of the quest of a lifetime. Drake had changed his dressing and was relieved to see that he was still clear of infection, and decided that he might just make it after all. Allie’s shoulder looked battered but was also free of the redness and puffiness that would have signaled a problem, for which they were all grateful.

“You think the ore is down there with all the gold?” Spencer asked, his AK lying next to him like a sleeping lover.

“Who knows? Although I have a hard time imagining Palenko dropping his most valuable possession into a well.”

“Then where do you think it is?” Allie asked.

Drake shook his head. “I have no idea. But if I were him, I’d have wanted it close at hand.”

“I agree he’d have kept it nearby. Maybe where he could stare at it when he felt down.”

“Assuming that it’s not so radioactive it would fry your skin off,” Allie said.

Spencer frowned. “Did the CIA goons go into any detail about the ore’s properties?”

“No. Just that Palenko thought it could power or destroy the planet, depending on how it was put to use.”

“This from a guy who looked worse than Keith Richards,” Allie said.

“My guess is that it would have to be really radioactive, then, don’t you think?” Spencer asked.

Drake shrugged. “Could be. Or it could be that Palenko devised some process using it, like cold fusion. It’s all guesswork. The only thing that matters from our standpoint is that the CIA thinks it’s important.”

A surge in the downpour splattered against the wet blanket of leaves just beyond the entrance, the water running down the slight slope, away from the gap, the sound now as familiar as the sound of their own breathing. Spencer turned on his flashlight and leaned back against the cave wall after checking to ensure there were no critters nearby waiting to sting or bite him. Allie retired to her tent, and after giving her two more pills, Drake returned and sat next to him.

“So what are you going to do with all the money?” Spencer asked, his voice fatigued.

“I don’t know. What about you?”

“Depends on how much it is.”

“It’ll be a lot,” Drake assured him.

“I kind of figured when I saw the emeralds on the rim.”

“Yeah. Just those alone, you could retire on.”

Spencer laughed. “Maybe I’ll buy an island someplace quiet.”

“If it isn’t quiet before you buy it, you can make it that way after.”

“But no white mud smeared all over me.”

“Not that there’s anything wrong with that.”

They both chuckled, and Drake patted his rifle. “You sleep. I’ll take the first watch. No way I’m getting any rest after today.”

“Is it because you’ve got a few thousand dead Incas watching your back?”

“Nah. Like you said. They’re dead. It’s the living that you have to worry about.” Drake lifted the rifle and laid it across his lap, his legs extended out in front of him, and exhaled noisily. “This wasn’t worth the price. My dad. Jack. Makes you wonder whether there’s a curse or something.”

Spencer spat into the night. “The curse is called greed. Greed killed them, whether it’s for money or for the power of Palenko’s technology. I’ve been around long enough so I don’t believe in curses. There’s no need for them. Humans create enough misery without involving the supernatural. Look at Palenko. He wound up butchering children to feed his craziness, and the natives he recruited helped him. Curse? Nope. Just human nature.”

Spencer crawled into his tent and zipped up the mosquito netting, and Drake settled in, watching the entrance, his weapon by his side, a round chambered and the safety off.

At some point in the early morning hours, Spencer awoke and took over guard duty, and Drake gratefully slept. His dreams were unsettled, visions of a dark hall full of parading skeletons, their bony fingers grabbing at him as he was carried aloft toward the black pool, Palenko’s maniacal grin drooling blood as he danced by the rim, his feet shredded from the emeralds. The mad Russian howled, baying at an unseen moon, and then skeletal hands pushed Drake closer and closer to the edge, until he was staring down into the void…

Drake bolted awake, gasping, sweat beading down his face as dawn’s first rays filtered through the cave opening. Spencer was nowhere to be seen, and there was no sound from Allie’s tent. Drake felt for his rifle and clambered out of the tent. Water dripped from the edge of the cave mouth, residue from the night’s rain, but there was no drizzle outside. He stepped into the faint light and looked around the clearing for any sign of Spencer, but saw nothing.

“I got us breakfast,” Spencer called from the edge of the tree line, and emerged carrying one of the crossbows and a fish, at least six pounds. “Like shooting fish in a barrel. It’s amazing the amount of life in the Amazon. We’ll never starve here, that’s for sure.”

Spencer prepared the meal over the dwindling gas of the stove after checking Allie’s dressing again and changing it. She looked stronger than the previous day and had a healthy appetite. They took their time eating together as they discussed their next move.

“I’m going to call my friend at the museum, if that’s okay. I don’t see any point in delaying that, do you?” Spencer asked.

“Other than bringing the CIA down on us? None at all,” Drake said.

“It’ll probably take him some time to figure out how to set up a team to verify the find and record it. He’ll know the best way to approach it. In the meanwhile, we can keep searching for Palenko’s ore. I’ll tell him that the find’s sensitive, and to only share the information with trusted friends. He’ll read between the lines. He’s very discreet.”

“How do you know him?”

“We were roommates in college. In New York. He’s the original reason I wound up in Peru, in fact. I helped break up a smuggling ring that was trafficking in pre-Columbian artifacts. It’s a long story, but it ended well.”

Drake nodded. “Then you can level with him?”

“Absolutely. I trust him like a brother.”

“Hopefully the satellite phone still has a charge.”

“I already checked. It’s low, but it’s got enough to last a few more days.”

“Do me a favor, Spencer. Don’t give him the exact coordinates until he confirms he has the group ready to move. Call me suspicious, but I don’t want anyone dropping in unexpectedly, you know?”

“I’m way ahead of you. I like breathing, too. Gotten kind of used to it.”

“Exactly.”

“What about arranging for some transport for Allie?” Drake asked, eyeing her.

“I’ll tell them we have an injury that will need to be air evacuated when they arrive.”

“Are you in that big a hurry to get rid of me?” she teased.

Drake offered a smile and a shrug. “More fish for us.”

Spencer’s friend, Jorge Esquival, was excited by the news that Paititi had been discovered on Peruvian soil. After a hurried discussion, he agreed to assemble an international team of archeologists to explore the site as soon as possible, and to put into motion preparations for the official registering of the site, listing Drake Ramsey as the discoverer, with Allie getting a co-discovery credit.

Jorge was puzzled that he didn’t recognize Drake’s name. “Drake Ramsey? Who is he? I’ve never…is he an archeologist? Physical anthropologist?” Jorge asked.

“No. He’s…an adventurer and explorer. One I’m sure you’ll be hearing a lot more about,” Spencer said, and Drake felt himself blushing as he listened in.

“Ah. Very well then. Nationality?”

“American.”

“Well, my friend, you’re right that his name will be recognized after this. It’s the biggest find in South American history. Maybe world history, if the legends of the treasure’s value are correct.”

“I’d say they are.” Spencer briefly told him about the statue and the emeralds, as well as the mass crypts.

“Truly remarkable. I can’t wait to see it. I’ll start contacting colleagues as soon as I hang up. How can I reach you when I have everything arranged?”

“I’ll call you in a day or so to coordinate. This phone’s low on juice, so I want to leave it off until I need it.”

“Okay. I suspect those I call will jump at the chance to be first on the ground for a find like this. I’ll tell them to hop on planes.”

“Please do. And also get some scuba gear and some industrial diving equipment.”

“The treasure’s underwater?”

“Assume that’s the case. You’ll want enough gear to allow divers to work around the clock. And Jorge? We’re talking big pieces, so think block and tackle.”

“I see. Very well. All quite mysterious, but that’s fitting given Paititi’s history. I’ll do as you ask.”

“And remember. Keep it confidential.”

“Will do. Although I intend to call in a favor once the team’s assembled. I know the president of Peru, and for news of this magnitude, I want him on our side. I’ll arrange for a meeting and fill him in. That will prevent any underlings from scheming to cut in on the find.”

“Good idea. And thanks, Jorge. I owe you one.”

“Sounds like you’ll be in a position to pay off all your debts soon enough, amigo.”

“That’s good to hear. What do you think Ramsey will see as a finder’s fee for the discovery?”

“I should think…perhaps ten percent of the value would be in keeping with other finds like this. Would that be acceptable? I’ll discuss it with the president and get his approval.”

Spencer looked at Drake. “Ten percent?” he repeated. Drake and Allie nodded, and Drake gave him an okay sign. “That would work. More than enough to go around, right?”

“If this is as large as legend suggests, yes, more than adequate to start one’s own country.”

“All right. Again, many thanks, Jorge. I’ll buy the first drink.”

“And the second, and the third…”

“Deal.”

Spencer hung up and powered the phone off. He returned it to his backpack and spoke to Drake.

“So what now, Mr. Ramsey, sir?”

Drake ignored him. “We need to concentrate on finding the ore. Sounds like we’ve got a couple of days, tops, before all hell breaks loose.”

“Yeah. And you become a rich celebrity.”

“You too. You’ll wind up bathing in pink champagne, or whatever, too.”

“That’s going to be my plan,” Allie said.

Spencer rolled his eyes. “Unfortunately, we have to live to spend it. Any ideas on where to start looking for the ore?”

“I think we work from the sinkhole out. We obviously can’t dive until the team gets here, but we should assume that he stashed it somewhere else. Maybe among the skeletons. Or it’s possible he buried it…”

“When he ran, he stopped in that other clearing. Maybe there was a reason. I’d say we should start there,” Spencer said.

“Okay. Twist my arm. Not that I’m not looking forward to digging through several thousand dead Incas.”

“I thought you might like that suggestion. Come on. Grab your gun. Let’s see whether there’s anything over there. Will you be okay here alone, Allie?”

She waved them away. “Go on. Get out of here. Do what you need to do. I’ve got my boyfriend SIG Sauer to keep me company…”

The search took all morning and yielded nothing, and that afternoon they began on the sinkhole chamber, hunting for anything suspicious or any cavity they might have overlooked the day before. As they were finishing with the largest cavern, Drake cried out. Spencer came running.

“What?”

“Look. You see that?” Drake asked, pointing into the darkness behind a mound of bones.

Spencer squinted and directed his fading flashlight beam where Drake had indicated — a recess in the cave wall a foot off the floor.

“Yeah. It’s a plastic tackle box. Hold my flashlight. I’ll get it.”

Spencer picked up a tibia from one of the skeletons. He got down on his hands and knees and slowly eased the shinbone into the cavity as Drake held the light steady.

A lightning-like blur struck at the bone, nearly jolting it from Spencer’s grip. Spencer pulled back as a triangular brown-scaled head with malevolent black eyes glowered at them from the recess.

“Damn. Viper. Another reminder of why you don’t want to stick your hand in dark holes,” Spencer said. He prodded the snake again. It struck at the bone two more times before slithering off along the wall in search of more tender prey. Spencer leapt to his feet and backed away, as did Drake, and they watched the six-foot-long serpent disappear into the bone garden.

“That was close,” Drake said, shaken.

“The Amazon has a way of reminding you who’s boss, doesn’t it?” Spencer said, his voice even, his composure unruffled by his brush with death.

He got back on his knees and slid the bone under the plastic handle, and pulled the container from its hiding place. It was a dull blue plastic tackle box, no markings, held shut by a single corroded clasp. Drake unsheathed his knife and used the tip to unhook it, and flipped the clasp open. Spencer inched his toe under the lid and kicked it wide, wary lest another surprise await him inside.

They stared at the contents: A single piece of animal hide with unfamiliar symbols on it.

“What do you think? Inca?” Spencer asked.

“Could be. Too bad neither of us can read it, huh?”

“They left that out of my high school curriculum. Obscure pre-Columbian glyphs.”

“You think it could tell us where the ore is?”

“No way of knowing until an expert looks at it.”

“Crap.”

“Close it up. Palenko obviously thought it was important enough to want to protect it from the elements.”

By evening they were dusty from looking through piles of skeletons, and had nothing more to show for it but sore backs and spiderwebs stuck in their hair. The next day brought more of the same, and by nighttime they were both disillusioned, the enormity of the task weighing heavily on them as they ate in silence, mulling over other possible hiding places — assuming Palenko hadn’t tossed the ore into the river or secreted it many miles away. The only positive was that Allie seemed to be recovering, and was strengthening with every passing hour. She’d already begun weaning herself off the morphine as the worst of the pain diminished.

Dusk brought with it the rumble of thunderheads approaching from the west, and they resigned themselves to another rainy night. Darkness descended quickly, and Drake volunteered to take the first watch, his mind too wound up with the puzzle of where the Russian might have hidden his treasure to sleep. Spencer was slumbering in his tent within minutes, the storm’s approaching fury not fazing him. Drake tried to get comfortable on the hard stone floor, his muscles tense, long hours of watching the rain fall his only relief from the tedious duty.

A flash of lightning lit the grotto and the gray stone of the altar seemed to glow for a split second against the inky backdrop of the jungle before fading into darkness, followed by explosive thunder. Drake shifted, his head still sore, his calf aching dully, and resigned himself to a long, wet night. When the rain came, it arrived in heavy sheets, drops the size of golf balls pummeling the ground. Another tree of lightning seared the night sky, and looking out of the cave, Drake was suddenly seized by a conviction so strong it was like a physical assault.

He contemplated going into the downpour with his machete, but decided to wait for morning. If his intuition was right, they’d have plenty of time before the team was in the air. He sighed, a feeling of peace settling upon him as he peered into the gloom. He absently fingered the hilt of his father’s knife and watched the celestial pyrotechnics as he waited for the new day to arrive, and with it, the end of his odyssey.

Because he knew where Palenko had hidden his ore.

He was suddenly as sure of it as he was of his last name.

Tomorrow, the last puzzle piece would fall into place and the jungle would reveal its final secret.