The Inca Prophecy (43 page)

Aleta nodded, her heart already racing. ‘This may come as a surprise to you, but this is not what I do for a living.’

O’Connor nodded, aware of the enormity of the responsibility he had placed on her. ‘Pull this cord twice when you hear them approaching. We’ll make a Navy Seal of you yet!’

Aleta shook her head, but she was determined not to fail.

O’Connor checked Aleta’s and Huayta’s positions to ensure they couldn’t be seen from the track. Satisfied, he set up the trip flare, placed the detonators in the Claymores, took up his own position and settled down to wait. The faint sounds from the radio at the campsite wafted through the cool jungle air. Skilled in close-quarter urban guerrilla tactics and jungle warfare, O’Connor had been trained to use his five senses, and even at this distance he could detect the faint smell of smoke from the campfire. Wiley’s gorillas, he hoped, would not suspect anything this far from the camp. Suddenly there was a movement behind him. The rustling sound was close, and O’Connor switched on his red-filter torch and slowly got to his feet.

Even in the soft filtered light, he immediately recognised the snake. The head was broad and the scales rough. Black triangular blotches ran the length of its thick, brown body. O’Connor judged it to be over three metres long, and he knew that a bite would be fatal. The largest pit viper in the world, a South American bushmaster, had chosen this moment to go hunting. Its long fangs were like hypodermic needles, injecting into its victims copious quantities of venom that destroyed red blood cells, causing haemorrhaging and, ultimately, the destruction of the body’s organs. O’Connor took a deep breath. He decided against using his silencer, and stamped his foot. Snakes, he knew, were deaf, but most avoided contact with humans and would move away from ground vibrations. O’Connor watched the snake slide down on to the track as he felt two tugs on Aleta’s communication cord. He cursed the timing of the reptile before giving the cord to Huayta
two sharp pulls. There was movement further down the path, and the occasional swish of a machete blade. Wiley’s assets were approaching and the snake had stopped in the middle of the track, threatening to force the assassination team off the path and expose the presence of the Claymore mines before the flare was tripped.

Aleta willed herself to stay calm. She quietly eased the Socimi’s safety catch off and waited, her heart pounding. First one shadowy figure, then another passed her position. They were so close she could almost lean out and touch them. Aleta felt sure she could be seen, but reminded herself that O’Connor knew what he was doing.

Wiley’s men passed silently in front of O’Connor’s position. The deadly snake had slithered into the undergrowth and the assassins were moving easily on the jungle track, two metres apart, each carrying an M4A1 carbine used by the Special Operations Group. O’Connor counted seven men when the leader hit the trip-flare wire, which detonated in a flash of light. O’Connor pressed the Claymore triggers and the mines exploded with a deafening roar. From either end of the ambush, Huayta and Aleta opened fire, each emptying a full magazine. When the shooting stopped one gunman moaned and moved amongst the carnage on the path, and O’Connor fired. An eerie silence descended on the jungle, only to be shattered by a burst of fire from further down the track. Aleta screamed and fell back into the foliage. One of the gunmen had been trailing behind and was short of the killing ground when the mines exploded. The man fired again at Aleta, orange flashes giving away his position. O’Connor steadied his arm and fired back, and the jungle fell quiet.

O’Connor ran down the track to Aleta. ‘Where are you hit?’ he asked when he reached her. She was lying on the ground, her face
pale, blood streaked across her forearm.

‘I’m okay. It just grazed my wrist,’ she said, smiling wanly.

‘Stay down,’ he said, after he’d inspected the wound. ‘We’ll dress that in a moment. I need to be sure no one else is lurking around out there.’

O’Connor worked his way stealthily past the body of the last gunman, checking for any movement, but the track was clear. By the time he returned, Huayta was moving the bodies off the track.

‘No point in burying them,’ O’Connor said, as they checked pockets and collected the weapons and ammunition. ‘They’ll be dug up and eaten anyway.’

‘Just one wallet. The rest are clean,’ said Huayta.

‘There’s always one who breaks the rules. He might give us a lead on the rest, though.’

O’Connor bandaged Aleta’s wrist and they gathered up the weapons and ammunition and headed back towards the camp. Not wishing to be mistaken for one of Wiley’s men, O’Connor stopped about a hundred metres away, allowing Huayta to call reassuringly in Quechua. When they got back, Juan Carlos had still not reappeared.

‘The track on this ridgeline hasn’t been used for a very long time, but the traces are still there to follow. Compared to some of the jungle we’ve had to hack our way through, it won’t be so bad,’ O’Connor observed as they prepared to break camp early. They had less than half a day before the sun would reach its zenith.

‘Your observations are accurate,’ Huayta replied. ‘Occasionally, a shaman may have used this track, but it hasn’t seen any significant traffic for centuries.’

‘Are we getting close?’ Aleta asked, shouldering her pack and looking towards the mountain in the distance. The jungle-clad peak was shrouded in mists.

O’Connor consulted his compass. ‘If the coordinates in the cipher are right, we have less than 20 kilometres to go,’ he said, picking up one of the carbines they’d captured the night before.

‘What about the rest of Wiley’s thugs?’

‘We can only assume they’re still with the helicopter. We eliminated eight men last night, but that leaves a possible two still out there. This morning, I’ll lead.’ O’Connor called over the young boy Huayta had assigned as the new tail-end Charlie. ‘Keep a sharp eye to the rear, Fernando. Juan Carlos may not be far behind.’

O’Connor headed out. They passed the ambush position where the trees and foliage were scarred from the Claymore explosions and the submachine-gun fire. The area where they’d moved the bodies had already been disturbed, and O’Connor knew it wouldn’t be long before only the bones remained. He stuck to the path along the ridgeline and they climbed steadily, breasting one false crest after another. Despite the mists, he was sweating profusely. The path dropped sharply towards a hidden valley, and O’Connor led the way down.

Two hours later, they reached a fast-running stream, gurgling and tumbling over rocks worn smooth by the ages. Renzo moved forward and tugged O’Connor’s arm.

‘Fernando says there’s movement behind us.’

O’Connor moved to the rear of the column and slid behind the cover of a tree, just before a bend in the track. He slung his carbine, cocked his Glock and waited.

Minutes later, Juan Carlos appeared around the bend, moving cautiously, and O’Connor stepped on to the trail.

‘Take off your pack,’ he ordered.

‘I’m fine,’ Juan Carlos replied.

O’Connor pointed his Glock at Juan Carlos’ head. ‘Take it off!’

The colour drained from the man’s face as Aleta joined them, Socimi submachine gun at the ready. He did as he was told.

‘Face down on the ground,’ O’Connor ordered, grabbing the pack and shoving it towards Aleta.

It didn’t take long for Aleta to find an Iridium satellite phone with three spare batteries, hidden in a secret compartment. O’Connor checked the call log. Since they’d left Itahuania, Juan Carlos had made two calls a day, all to the same number.

‘No prizes for guessing who owns the receiving phone,’ O’Connor muttered. He took a length of cord from his own pack and bound Juan Carlos’ wrists tightly, and heaved him into the buttress roots of the ceiba tree.

‘I apologise,’ Huayta said quietly. ‘I feel responsible – and betrayed,’ he added, a look of deep concern on his wizened face.

‘The bad apple in the barrel,’ said O’Connor, ‘but if we’re going to beat the zenith, we’ve got to keep moving, even if Wiley’s assets aren’t far behind.’

After another two hours, O’Connor called a halt and dropped to one knee. Beneath the decaying leaves and other detritus that formed the jungle carpet, O’Connor had spotted something
unusual in the half-light. He reached for his machete and scraped away the leaves, revealing a series of ancient stones.

‘We’re getting close. The compass coordinates are within a hundred metres.’

‘Be careful,’ was all Huayta said.

O’Connor looked at his watch, unsure that being careful was an option. There was less than an hour to go until the zenith. They moved on, with Aleta close behind, the rest of the group following. The stones were just visible beneath the leaves. O’Connor followed them, hacking his way through vines and dense undergrowth, until they suddenly came upon a small clearing, crossed by the path. He took a step forward but something jagged against his leg.

‘Get down!’ he yelled, grabbing Aleta and pushing her into the jungle on the side of the track. An ancient mechanism had been set off that released a huge boulder enclosed in a wicker basket. Suspended on vines matted together into ropes, the primeval wrecking ball thundered past their position, brushing the path and missing them by centimetres. Aleta’s eyes were wide with shock.

‘Don’t move,’ O’Connor said calmly, and they waited for the massive boulder to swing backwards and forwards in ever-decreasing arcs, until it came to rest, gently oscillating up and down at the end of the vines.

‘One trap avoided,’ O’Connor said with a grin, helping a shaken Aleta to her feet.

‘But how many more?’ Aleta wondered aloud, gasping for breath.

They cautiously crossed the clearing and pushed along the moss-covered stones, deeper into the jungle, the canopy so dense now, it was almost dark.

‘If the lost city’s here, it’s easy to see why it’s never been spotted by satellite,’ said O’Connor. ‘If it gets any darker we’ll need a torch.’

They reached a point where the track passed a river and suddenly there was a high, moss-covered wall on the other.

‘A wall … And the stones are fitted so tightly together. Inca!’ said Aleta.

‘I think you’re right,’ O’Connor agreed.

Aleta grabbed O’Connor’s arm. ‘What are they?’

O’Connor had already seen them. Ahead two ancient skulls had been mounted on poles either side of the path, their jaws twisted in a deathly grimace.

They continued to follow the archaic wall and suddenly an entrance appeared ahead. The group passed through the archway and Aleta put her hand to her mouth.

‘The Lost City of Paititi!’

Chapter 53

The jungle had long since reclaimed the city, but the dark shapes of the buildings were unmistakable. The stone Plaza de Armas was covered in moss and surrounded by four massive pyramids, each standing sentinel at the compass points. Two stone towers stood between the pyramids, one at either end of the plaza. Beyond the towers and the pyramids, O’Connor could just make out more moss-covered stone buildings, overtaken by vines and jungle undergrowth.

Huayta followed close behind O’Connor and Aleta, his heart racing. He struggled with his emotions, wanting to warn them of what lay ahead, but disciplining himself against such a move. The prophecy, he knew, had to unfold the way his forebears had decreed.

The silence was eerie, and nothing stirred in the ancient city. Suddenly O’Connor caught a movement near the top of one of the pyramids.

‘Get down!’ He pushed Aleta behind an ancient stone altar with a wooden top.

Thwock!
A poison-tipped arrow embedded itself in the wood.

‘The Yaminahua … the protectors of the city,’ Huayta explained. ‘Some of them have never seen a white man.’

‘Well, at least we know we’re in the right place, but I’m betting they’re not in the mood to chat,’ O’Connor said.

Huayta nodded. ‘The only thing they will understand is a show of force on your part. That will alert them to their own prophecy. They’ve been waiting for centuries, and they’ve always known that one day, the chosen ones would come.’

O’Connor took up a position behind the altar and adjusted the sights on his M4AI carbine. An Indian warrior appeared from behind the dark summit of one of the pyramids and O’Connor fired. The Indian’s cry echoed off the walls of the towers as he tumbled down the steps of the pyramid and into the plaza. O’Connor ducked behind the altar as a volley of arrows thundered into the woodwork.

Without warning the air was shattered by the crackle of rifle fire. Huayta’s guides were engaging the Yaminahua tribe from positions on the top of the ancient city walls. The brightly painted bodies of five more Indians tumbled lifeless into the stone plaza. Suddenly, the jungle was filled with the sound of panpipes.

‘Jesus Christ. What the hell is that?’ O’Connor asked Huayta.

‘They’re saluting you,’ Huayta said, smiling broadly. ‘Look!’

O’Connor judged there must have been 300 warriors. They appeared from behind the gloom of the pyramids, dressed in their ceremonial war tunics. Each wore gold amulets and some had golden headbands topped with brightly coloured feathers. The
sound of the panpipes receded and one by one they retreated into the jungle. They had acknowledged O’Connor and Aleta as the chosen people.