The Deadly Curse of Toco-Rey (10 page)

She could see Dr. Basehart through the window. Apparently he was used to jungle noises. He didn't seem bothered, but just continued cleaning off his work counter. It looked like he might be closing things up for the night. He'd opened a folding partition and was putting some small jars away on a shelf behind it.

Wait a minute. What's that in the room behind
the partition?
She only caught a glimpse of it before he closed the partition again, but it looked like . . .

CREAK! She flinched, shaking. It was the door to Dr. Basehart's trailer. He was stepping outside. She froze, her mind racing.
What if he sees me back
here?

Click. Dr. Basehart turned out the lights of the lab trailer and closed the trailer door behind him. Maybe he was turning in for the night. Yes, she could hear his footsteps crossing the open space between the three trailers, and then the door to his living trailer squeaked open.

The door slammed shut, and everything went quiet again.

Her heart was still racing—but beginning to slow down. He was gone. She was alone now, hiding in the close, shadowy confines behind his lab.

And she was thinking—not that she
wanted
to think it; it just occurred to her—that if she wanted to, she could take a look inside that trailer. She might be able to figure out what he was working on. She could also take a peek behind that partition. If nothing else, she could have a look at the bug he'd found in her nose,
if
there really was one. She even remembered that Dr. Basehart kept a flashlight by the door.

Stepping carefully and silently, she peeked around the corner of the lab trailer to be sure he was really gone for the night. She could see one light still on in his living trailer, but then it winked out. Armond Basehart had to be calling it a night.

The thought of taking a look inside the lab trailer became more than a thought; it became a plan.

She built up her courage, drew a deep breath, and then moved like a cat around the lab trailer to its door. It creaked a bit when she opened it, but she got inside without drawing anyone's attention.

Dr. Basehart's emergency flashlight was on a little holder next to the door. She clicked it on, keeping the beam low so it wouldn't be seen, and went to the counter where Dr. Basehart had been working so intently.

The samples were still there, all very orderly: slime from the pit; some other slime she had not seen before; the smear from her nose, still under the microscope; her blood, now distributed into several small vials for testing; and . . .

What is this?
She hadn't noticed the glass jar before. Sealed with a lid, it contained a piece of cloth. Somehow it looked familiar. She gave the jar a few turns so she could view it from every side—gray cloth, with a green, chalky dust on it.

Then she remembered. The rag from the Corys' video! She recalled the images of John Cory using this rag to wipe the golden artifacts from Kachi-Tochetin's tomb. Why would Dr. Basehart want to keep it in a jar?

Oh, wait a minute. She remembered the very first carvy she and her father and brother had seen; it had been hiding in the Corys' tent under a rag just like this one. Maybe that was the connection; Dr. Basehart seemed to want a sample of anything a carvy might touch.

The microscope had its own lamp to illuminate the slide. She found the little switch and clicked it on. Then she peered through the eyepiece and slowly turned the focus wheel.

What in the world? This was no bug. Maybe it was dust, like Dr. Basehart had said. But it was the weirdest looking dust she'd ever seen: thousands of little fuzzy balls—they looked like cockle burrs, or chestnut husks, or sea urchins—with sharp quills sticking out all over them. They looked absolutely wicked.

These
were in her
nose
? She shuddered at the thought and clicked off the microscope. She had to know more.

With the flashlight beam low, she moved silently to the partition that divided the trailer in half.

Maybe there was nothing important back there after all, but just the fact that Dr. Basehart kept it closed all the time was reason enough for her to want to open it.

She placed her hand on the small plastic handle and slowly drew the partition to the side.

Something glimmered in the beam of her flashlight.

She gasped, her hand over her mouth, frozen in terror and disbelief as a horrible revelation streamed into her mind.

What to do? Where to go?

She had to get out of there. She had to find her father and brother.

She clicked off the flashlight, slipped it back into its little holder, and stole out the trailer door.
Dad,
Jay, where are you?

Dr. Basehart's trailer was still dark. There was no visible activity. She hurried toward her trailer, constantly looking over her shoulder. If she could just get back there and try to act normal—

BUMP! She leaped with a start. The gasp she drew in could have inflated a blimp. She tried not to scream but a small squeak escaped her throat. She'd bumped into someone or some . . .
thing.
It hollered, just as startled as she was, and started stumbling in the dark, trying to recover.

“Shhh!!!” she shushed it.

The wide and startled eyes of her brother gawked back at her. “Lila! What are you doing here?”

She waved her hands to shush him and hissed, “Will you be quiet? You'll wake everybody up!”

“You're all right?” he whispered back, touching her to be sure she was real. “You're still green.”

“I'm okay,” she answered. Then she started tugging him toward Dr. Basehart's lab. “Come on! I've got to show you something!”

“But Dad's in trouble! The Kachakas have him!”

“We're
all
in trouble!”

They stole quickly into the lab trailer. Lila got the flashlight and then drew back the partition.

Jay took one look into the room beyond and then moaned. “You're right. We're all in trouble.”

On two wide shelves against the rear wall were the golden vase, cups, jewelry, figurines—everything— from the Corys' video.

“What are we going to do?” Lila wondered.

CLICK! The sound of the light switch and the sudden flood of light made them gasp and jump and spin around.

There in the doorway, with one hand on the light switch and a gun in the other, was Dr. Armond Basehart. “I thought I heard some noise over here. Looks like I've found two little mice sticking their noses where they don't belong.” He got a cunning gleam in his eye. “You've asked a very astute question, Miss Cooper. Now that you know our little secret, just what
are
we going to do?”

EIGHT

D
r. Basehart stepped into the trailer and then beckoned to someone outside. Immediately, Tomás climbed through the door, eyeing the kids grimly, ready to do his boss's bidding.

“So I guess you've figured it out by now,” Dr. Basehart said resignedly. “There never was a raid on the Corys' camp. I may as well tell you, the Kachakas can give quite a show of strength and they are excellent hunters, but when it comes to violent raids and murder . . .” He just shook his head.

“So what really happened to the Corys?” Lila asked.

“The same thing that happened to you. The ‘Curse of Toco-Rey.' They went crazy, tore up their own camp, and then ran into the jungle like animals. As your brother can tell you, one of them is dead, his bones picked clean by the carvies.”

“But what about those graves?” Jay asked.

“Fake, just like the poison darts you found.” Dr. Basehart chuckled. “Well,
one
grave is genuine, as was the blood you found in the tent. Another worker of mine, Chico Valles, was killed by a crazed Cory. We buried him, then created two mock graves so we could tell our little story about a Kachaka attack.”

“But why?” Lila wondered.

Dr. Basehart's eyes narrowed. “To settle the whole matter before anyone like you came along and started to ask questions. You and your family were brought here to find the treasure room of Kachi-Tochetin. What happened to the Corys was to be none of your concern.”

“But . . .” Lila couldn't fathom Dr. Basehart's callousness. “But these are people, human beings, in trouble! We can't just let them die!”

Dr. Basehart brushed her off. “A few human lives are a small price to pay for what we've discovered.”

She became indignant. “No! Listen. If you've found a cure for the curse, then you've got to use it to save them!”

“They are beyond saving, my dear.”

“
I
got better!” Then she added, “And I think you know how!”

He weighed that for a moment. “I might. One more experiment would resolve a few problems, though.” He shot a glance at Tomás. “Bring the explosives. We'll do this quickly.”

Dr. Cooper knew he could not hurry through the swamp if he wanted to get through it at all. So despite the agony of not knowing the fate of his children for a few additional moments, he carefully retraced the Corys' trail markers and picked his way through. Once on solid ground again, he barreled down the trail through the entangling jungle, his arms protecting his face. His legs grabbed distance in long, powerful strides.

When he reached the Corys' devastated campsite he raced right past it, barely giving it a glance. He had to get to the compound. He had to find his kids.

Hidden behind the Corys' sagging tent, Armond Basehart held Jay while Tomás held Lila, their hands over the kids' mouths so they could not cry out. Once he was sure Dr. Cooper was far past, Dr. Basehart prodded the kids with his gun—“Okay, let's go”—and they headed up the same trail their father had come down.

Dr. Cooper pulled his gun as he reached the compound, his eyes alert for trouble. Dawn was approaching. The compound was quiet. There was a light on in Basehart's lab trailer.

Taking cautious, silent steps and pointing his gun skyward, he approached the door of the trailer. Through a window he could see a man bent over the work counter, tinkering with samples and looking through the microscope. Dr. Cooper put his hand on the door handle, then jerked the door open suddenly, aiming his gun inside. “Don't move!”

The man complied and became very still.

“Put your hands on the counter where I can see them.”

The man placed both of his hands on the counter, then said pleasantly, “Dr. Cooper. I've been expecting you.”

Dr. Cooper stepped through the door, still aiming the gun. “I've been expecting you too, Mr. Stern.”

“May I turn around and face you?”

“Hands in the air, please.”

The man raised his hands and turned around. It was Mr. Stern from the museum, all right, dressed in jungle fatigues instead of a fancy suit but still the dapper, gray-haired gentleman. “So it seems you've figured out our little ruse.”

“I've learned that the Kachakas know nothing of any raid on the Cory camp. They think the Corys are ghosts from the tomb. They've never even seen the treasure and the poison darts they use are quite different from the fake ones your people planted at the Corys' camp—better, actually.”

Mr. Stern was impressed. “Very observant. But here's something else for you to note.” He nodded toward the clothing Lila had left on the couch. “As you can see, we have your children, so I have plenty of advantage. That gun won't do you much good. You're a reasonable man. Perhaps you'd like to have a discussion instead of a shoot-out?”

Dr. Cooper kept the gun in his hand. “Fine. Let's discuss my children.”

Mr. Stern liked that response. “Certainly. Armond Basehart has them. You'll be glad to know that they are both alive and well, and Lila
is
recovering from her illness. Tomás and Juan found her in the ruins and brought her here where Basehart had a chance to run some tests. Thanks to your daughter, we've made some exciting discoveries.”

Dr. Cooper tightened his grip on the gun he was aiming at Mr. Stern. “Where are they?”

Mr. Stern smiled, amused. “Now doctor, you know I can't give up my advantage. We haven't had our discussion yet.” He looked at his raised hands. “And may I put down my hands?”

Jacob Cooper considered, then replied, “Cross your arms in front of you—and start explaining what you're really up to.”

Mr. Stern crossed his arms and relaxed against the counter. “All right. First of all, my name isn't Stern, and second, I don't work for the Langley Art Museum. I have a few friends there who helped me set up our meeting in the museum's work room, but that was purely for the sake of appearances. My real name is—” He stopped himself and smiled. “Well, let me just tell you the name I use in my profession. In all your visits to the Middle East, you've no doubt heard the name Manasseh.”

Dr. Cooper had heard the name. “The international weapons dealer?”

The man known as Manasseh nodded. “A supplier of weapons of all kinds to terrorists, revolutionaries, or anyone who wants to start a war. If you have the right kind of money, I don't care whose side you're on.”

Dr. Cooper knew he was facing a man with no trace of conscience. “So what do you want with me and my children?”

“Oh, exactly what I hired you for: to pick up where the Corys left off and find the treasure room of Kachi-Tochetin.”

Dr. Cooper was puzzled. “What would a weapons dealer want with ancient artifacts?”

Manasseh laughed. “Not the artifacts, doctor! The
curse
guarding them!”

“
What?
”

Manasseh's eyes sparkled with devious delight. “Imagine entire armies stricken with madness— turning into raving animals, turning and attacking each other instead of the enemy, generals going out of their minds! Whoever possessed such a wonderful biological weapon could win a war without firing a shot!”

Dr. Cooper quickly scanned the work counter behind Manasseh. “So that's what Armond Basehart was working on all this time?”