Rogue Angel 46: Treasure of Lima (3 page)

Right now, she was going to use that sword to help save Manuel’s life.

Annja wedged the blade deep between the stalactite and one of the rocks behind it, wiggling it around to get it as deep as possible. When she was satisfied, she put her hands on the hilt and pushed down with all she had.

The tempered steel of the blade bent slightly, but not so much that Annja was worried about it breaking. She began to apply more pressure, forcing the blade downward, hoping that it would be enough.

She felt the stalactite shift slightly.

Got you!
she thought and then really leaned into it, forcing all of her body weight down onto that point of the system.

The stone rocked once, twice and then rolled off Manuel’s leg as if it had never been trapped in the first place.

Annja wanted to shout for joy.

That was when her internal alarm bells went off for the second time that day.

This time, she didn’t stop to think. She didn’t stop to analyze the consequences or the possible repercussions of her actions; she just moved, throwing herself bodily over Manuel’s injured form as she released her sword back into the otherwhere. She landed across him just as the ground beneath them began to buck and shake, tossing them about in a terrifying reminder of Mother Nature’s strength and her casual indifferences to the creatures that called her home. Annja gripped Manuel tightly, not wanting the two of them to become separated in the maelstrom.

While still fairly powerful, this latest aftershock was weaker than the previous two and was over almost before it had begun. When it had passed, Annja found herself pressed up against the wall of the cenote, still holding tightly to Manuel. Their masks were close enough together that she could see him watching her through the glass.

You okay?
she signed.

He nodded, then pointed upward.

This time she obeyed. Still holding on to him, she kicked for the surface.

* * *

A
RESCUE
TEAM
from the resort was waiting for them when they surfaced, summoned by a call for help on Steve and Julie’s cell phone.

The water level was substantially lower when they surfaced than it had been at the start of the dive, so Annja had to wait for new ropes to be tied off and thrown down to them before she could get them out of the water. She tied one rope around Manuel, secured another around herself and then gave the line a sharp tug to indicate that they were ready. Minutes later the ropes were pulled taut and the two of them began rising into the air.

Annja helped Manuel spit out his regulator and remove his mask, before doing the same herself. When she was finished, she looked up to find him watching her, an unusual expression on his face.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, concerned.

He continued to stare at her, then seemed to find his courage.

“Down there, in the water,” he asked, “was that a sword?”

Annja’s pulse kicked up a notch. How much had he seen?

“A what?” she asked, buying time.

“A sword.”

The hesitation in his voice told her that even if he had seen her conjure her sword out of thin air, his rational side was trying to find some other explanation for it all.

Annja laughed. “A sword? What would I be doing with a sword in the middle of a cave dive?”

He frowned. “It sounds silly, I know, but I could have sworn...”

“Silly, yes, but not entirely unexpected. You were banged up pretty good down there, after all.” She grinned, as if to show she didn’t think ill of him for seeing things, and breathed a sigh of relief when rescue workers reached them.

Ten minutes later a doctor had pronounced them fit to travel and they were loaded into a waiting SUV. The quake had been worse deep underground than it had been topside; there were a few buildings with minor damage to them and a fair number of palms that had been uprooted, but the general area appeared under control. Since the resort was on the way to the hospital, the driver stopped long enough to let Annja and the other guests get out before continuing on to the hospital with Manuel and a few others who had suffered minor injuries in the quake.

As she was getting out of the truck, Manuel reached out and caught her arm. “Thanks for saving my life,” he told her. “I owe you one.”

“Nonsense,” she said. “You would have done the same for me. That’s why they call it buddy diving, right?”

“Right, but still, the least you can do is let me buy you a drink.”

She agreed and they made plans to meet later that evening, provided Manuel was allowed to come back from the hospital. As the truck drove away from the resort, Annja grinned.

Once again, her intuition had been right.

Annja stayed behind to assist with unloading the dive equipment from the truck since Manuel couldn’t do it, then helped the rest of the crew purge and refill the tanks with clean air so that they’d be ready for the next group in the morning.

She was standing in the shade at the back of the dive shack, hanging the neoprene wet suits that had been used during the afternoon’s adventure, when she spotted a blond-haired woman talking earnestly with two members of the Policía Turística, or Tourism Police. Officers from that particular branch of the Ministerio de Seguridad Pública, or Ministry of Public Safety, were in charge of ensuring the safety and well-being of those who travelled through Costa Rica, whether for business or pleasure.

It wasn’t the officers’ presence that caught her attention; their deep blue uniforms were a common sight at resorts like this, for it was in the government’s best interests to protect the tourist trade as much as possible, given that it accounted for over 20 percent of the foreign exchange within the country. No, it was a combination of the earnestness with which the woman was speaking to them matched with their seeming indifference that made her pause as her gaze traveled over them.

The woman looked to be in her early thirties. She was tall, probably close to six feet, and had blond hair, which she wore pulled back in a ponytail in much the same way that Annja wore hers while on a dig. She was dressed in a tank top and shorts, with hiking boots on her feet.

As the woman spoke, she gestured generously with her hands. From Annja’s perspective, she seemed to be making some rather emphatic statements, if her hand motions were any indication of her words. Each time she did so, however, the police would simply shake their heads and shrug, as if saying,
Sorry, I can’t help you.

Annja found herself wondering what was going on, but before she could wander over and satisfy her curiosity, the woman threw up her hands in disgust and stalked off. The police watched her a minute and then went their own way, the incident no doubt already forgotten in their minds.

It should have been the same for Annja. After all, she had enough to deal with in the wake of the afternoon’s events, but something kept bringing the woman to mind long after she had disappeared from view.

Something was wrong there. Annja could feel it in her bones.

4

Annja was just finishing her dinner when she glanced across the restaurant and saw the same blond-haired woman she’d seen earlier now sitting off by herself at a corner table. She didn’t think anything of it at first, but something about the woman’s posture, the way she was holding herself, brought Annja’s attention back to her again and the second time Annja realized what her intuition was trying to tell her. The woman was crying.

Leave it alone,
she told herself.
It’s none of your business. Probably nothing worse than a marital spat or boyfriend trouble.

But the memory of the woman talking to the police officers earlier in the day would not leave her, nor the knowledge that more than one tourist had met a bitter end far from home while vacationing somewhere they considered safe.

Annja watched the woman for a few seconds and then made up her mind. She stood and walked across the room, not quite sure what it was she was going to say until she was next to the woman’s table and found the words flowing out of her mouth.

“Excuse me, but are you all right?”

The woman started and looked up to find Annja standing there. “I’m sorry...what?” she said as she wiped at the tears on her face and looked around for a few seconds in confusion.

When the woman’s attention came back to her, Annja smiled reassuringly. “I asked if you are all right.”

The woman nodded her head. “I’m fine. Fine.”

Right.

Annja didn’t need any supernatural help in hearing the lie in the woman’s words; one look was all it took.
You’ve come this far,
she thought.
Why stop now?

“May I sit down?” she asked.

Annja didn’t wait for an answer; she just pulled out a nearby chair and sat. She smiled at the woman again, to show she wasn’t a threat, and said, “I was sitting over there—” she nodded toward her table across the room “—and couldn’t help but notice that you were upset. I know what it’s like to be in a foreign country alone, so I thought I’d come over and be certain that you were okay.” She put out her hand. “I’m Annja.”

“Claire,” the blonde said, wiping at her face again with her left hand even as she shook Annja’s with her right. “Claire Knowles.”

“So let me ask you again. Are you all right? Were you or someone you know injured in the quake earlier?”

Claire shook her head. “No, nothing like that. Really, I’m fine.”

The woman’s remark was accompanied by a smile as fake as a three-dollar bill. Annja didn’t say anything in response; she just looked at the woman and waited.

Claire’s smile faltered. “Actually, no. No, I’m not all right.”

Annja felt a whisper of excitement run through her veins. She’d come over here on a whim, following nothing more than a fluttering sensation in her gut that told her there was something going on, something that she should be involved with, and now that sensation was sparking to life, confirming her hunch.

“It’s my husband,” Claire said. “He’s gone missing.”

A thousand different questions ran through Annja’s mind. She went with the obvious one.

“Have you gone to the police?”

“Yes, but they said they couldn’t do anything.”

Annja frowned.
Odd.

“Perhaps you’d better start at the beginning.”

Claire smiled weakly in her direction. “I think you’re right.”

She composed herself and then began her tale.

“My husband, Dr. Richard Knowles, and I came down here three weeks ago as part of an investigative expedition. Richard is head of the Antiquities Department at the University of Chicago.” Claire paused, looked down and then said, “Antiquities is the branch of science that studies—”

Annja interrupted, “I know what the antiquities department does,” she said with a smile. “Go on.”

“Right. Sorry. Well, Richard’s been interested in this region of the world and its unique history for a long time. He’s an expert on the ancient cultures of Central and South America, particularly the Inca. Are you familiar with them, as well?”

Annja nodded.

Claire went on.

“A few years ago my husband became fascinated with a particular legend involving a large treasure that went missing in the final days of the Peruvian revolt.”

“The lost Treasure of Lima!” Annja exclaimed.

Claire looked at her with surprise. “Yes, that’s the one. You’re familiar with the legend?”

Annja grinned sheepishly. “I’m a bit of a fan when it comes to stories of lost artifacts and ancient civilizations. The Treasure of Lima is perhaps one of the most notorious in this part of the world.”

The other woman laughed. “I understand. Richard’s like that, too.”

“Don’t tell me he came looking for it.”

“He did indeed. Like many people before him, Richard believed that the treasure was hidden on Cocos Island, about three hundred miles west of here. He was able to persuade the Costa Rican government to authorize an expedition and to let him try to find the gold.”

Annja was surprised. Cocos Island was not only a Costa Rican national park, but it was also a UNESCO World Heritage site, which meant just about everything on the island was protected. She knew people who had been trying to obtain permission to explore the island for years, decades even, without success.

“How on earth did he manage that?” she asked.

Claire waved her hand as if shooing away a fly. “It had something to do with convincing the authorities that he wouldn’t be doing any damage to the local environment because he would be using a new kind of ground-mapping radar program. Don’t ask me to explain it—way beyond my meager science capabilities—but it basically allows them to explore likely places where the treasure might have been buried without disturbing so much as the top soil in any way. Completely non-damaging to the local plant and wildlife.”

Clever man, Annja thought. She’d used such technology in the past and it
was
non-damaging to the environment. Until you started digging to recover what the radar found, that is.

“The expedition got under way without difficulty. They made landfall around midafternoon the first day and camped just off the beach near Chatham Bay. At dawn they headed inland, following what Richard believed to have been the route the pirates, thieves, whatever you want to call them, had taken when they secreted the treasure there originally.”

Claire paused. Her expression drifted inward. Annja had seen that look before; her companion was reliving some painful experience from the past. To break the spell, Annja reached forward and touched her wrist.

“What happened?” she asked when Claire started and came back to herself.

“The morning of the third day, Richard called by satellite phone to tell me that they’d found a sea chest that had been partially exposed during a rockslide. The chest contained a number of clerical vestments and a handful of gold and silver chalices. Richard was convinced that it was a part of the missing treasure, since much of it had come from churches across Peru, and told me that they would be staying in that location for another day or two while they investigated further. He agreed to call me later that day to let me know what they had found. He never called.”

“How long has it been since you’ve heard from him?”

Claire bit her lip nervously, then said, “A week.”

Annja sat back, her thoughts churning furiously. A week was a long time to be out of touch. If something had happened, it might already be too late for help to do any good....

“Did he have any other communication equipment with him besides the satellite phone?”

“Richard is a firm believer in redundancy. Besides the two satellite phones, they also had a standard wireless-radio set. They were also testing one of those new solar-powered laptops.”

Annja smiled reassuringly, but inside she wasn’t happy. If Dr. Knowles had followed standard procedure, he would have distributed the communications equipment among several people in the group. That way they wouldn’t lose their ability to communicate with the outside world if one of them were lost to injury or accident. Of course, there was the chance that he hadn’t followed the usual procedures, but everything she’d heard so far made him sound like a very careful man.

“I saw you speaking with the police earlier this afternoon. Was that about Richard?”

“Yes. I have men and equipment lined up and ready to make the trip to Cocos Island, but trying to get official permission to go is like pulling teeth. My permits are all tied up with red tape and it looks like it will be weeks before it gets all sorted out. I thought the police might be able to help me make my case, but they’ve been unwilling to interfere in what they see as a noncriminal matter.”

Bureaucratic red tape was something Annja was intimately familiar with. Claire was right; it could take weeks before it was resolved. If her husband was in danger or, heaven forbid, seriously injured, help would arrive far too late to do him any good. They needed to act now.

“It seems fate has put us together for a reason, Claire,” Annja said. She explained about her background in archaeology, starting with her first dig at Hadrian’s Wall in England, and her history of finding objects and civilizations that most thought to be myth or legend. She told Claire about her work with
Chasing History’s Monsters
and how that had brought her in touch with quite a few people over the years.

“I’m sure that my contacts in the Costa Rican government can help expedite your paperwork, but it’s likely that one of the requirements of doing so will be my presence as part of the expedition.”

Claire eyed her steadily. “Just what is this going to cost me?”

“Ten percent of the salvage if the treasure is recovered. Basic expenses—food, transportation, any gear I might need—if it isn’t.”

It was a fair deal, Annja thought. International law required them to turn the treasure over to its rightful owners—either the Peruvian government or the Costa Rican government, depending on how you looked at it—in exchange for a 20 percent salvage fee. Treasure hunters had been estimating the value of the loot at something in the neighborhood of sixty million dollars, but Annja knew those estimates were always pure guesswork.
More important,
she thought,
it gives me the chance to take part in one of the biggest treasure hunts of the twenty-first century.

Claire paused, appeared to think it over and then stuck out her hand. “Deal,” she said. “I’ll have my attorney draw up a contract to that effect. With my husband missing, I’ll use my power of attorney to retroactively agree on his behalf. If he’s found the treasure, you’ll be a rich woman.”

Annja took Claire’s hand in her own and shook on their agreement.

“My priority is finding your husband,” she said. “We can worry about the lost Treasure of Lima later.”

She glanced around, spotted a waiter and waved him over.

“It’s not too late to make a few calls this evening, so I’ll do so and get back to you in the morning if I hear anything. Here’s my cell number,” she said, grabbing a paper napkin from the waiter as he arrived and writing her number on it for Claire. “Call me if you hear anything new.”

Claire took the napkin with a bit of a self-deprecatory laugh. “I can’t believe I started to explain to you the role of an antiquities department,” she said. “How ridiculous.”

Annja shrugged it off. “No problem. It’s actually nice not to be recognized for a change,” she said with a laugh. “Don’t worry. We’ll find out what happened to your husband. I promise.”