Viper's Nest
Authors: Isla Whitcroft
Isla Whitcroft is a journalist who writes for national newspapers including the
Daily Mail
, the
Mail on Sunday
and
The Times
. She lives in Northamptonshire with
her husband and three children.
For my first and dearly loved friend Joanna Sparks (1964 – 1973). The happiest girl I ever knew. Best friends forever!
First published in Great Britain in 2012
by Piccadilly Press Ltd,
5 Castle Road, London NW1 8PR
www.piccadillypress.co.uk
Text copyright © Isla Whitcroft, 2012
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means electronic, mechanical,
photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior permission of the copyright owner.
The right of Isla Whitcroft to be identified as Author of this work has been asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act, 1988
A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library
ISBN: 978 1 84812 243 7 (paperback)
eISBN: 978 1 84812 244 4
Printed and bound by CPI Group (UK) Ltd, Croydon, CR0 4YY
Croydon, CR1 4PD
Cover design by Simon Davis
Cover illustration by Sue Hellard
All characters appearing in this work are fictitious.
Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
ONTENTS
P
ROLOGUE
The hot Mexican wind blew in angrily from the ocean, sweeping over the low valley, then up the mountain ranges and on to the inland rainforests.
By the time it reached the ancient ruins, the wind was almost at gale force – whipping through the surrounding jungle and howling round the towering pyramids and the crumbling stone
shelters, up to where the vast stone warriors were standing proud, their flat, expressionless faces and smooth bodies glinting in the fractious moonlight as they had done for over a thousand
years.
A large wooden hut stood a few metres away from the site, almost engulfed by the jungle on three sides, close to a small river which was usually placid and calm, but was currently a frenzy of
foam and raging water. Inside the hut, lying on narrow bunk beds, four members of the University of California archaeological student team were trying hard to snatch some sleep.
But it wasn’t just the raging wind that was keeping them awake. There was another reason too. Each one of them was struggling to control their feelings of excitement, the realisation that,
against all the odds, a bunch of students had cracked a conundrum that had eluded the finest brains in archaeology for the best part of one hundred years.
‘You awake, sis?’ A pale face framed by short, dark, curly hair appeared over the top bunk and peered down into the gloom below her. ‘Sis?’ she said more urgently and
then, spotting the headphones wire, grinned to herself.
She picked up her pillow and, aiming carefully, threw it down to the bunk below, chuckling to herself as her twin sister sat up with a snort of annoyance.
‘That’ll teach you to ignore me,’ Jade whispered, dodging as her twin retaliated with a pillow of her own. ‘What’s the point of having a twin if you can’t
talk to them in the middle of the night?’
There was silence for a few seconds and then the girl on the lower bunk whispered, ‘What time do you think the professor will get here?’
‘Dunno.’ Her twin was uncharacteristically non-committal. ‘But when she does arrive, once she’s checked everything out, then we’ll know for sure.’ She tried
hard to keep her excited voice low. ‘Just think, this time tomorrow we could be in the papers all over the world. Famous! On TV, radio – maybe they’ll even make a film about us.
The four students who changed the history of the world. We’ll be known as the Famous Four. With you the most famous of all. Better get yourself an agent!’
Amber giggled, then dropped her voice even further. ‘Honestly, Jade, you do get carried away. But still, it is amazing. To see what I saw. The first people in what, over a thousand years?
Incredible.’
‘What are you guys rabbiting on about?’ A Scandinavian accent came floating through the thin plywood partition. ‘Keep it down, huh? We all need to get at least a few
hours’ sleep.’
‘Sorry, Stefan,’ the girls said as one, then lay back down on their pillows.
‘Try counting ancient treasures,’ Jade whispered, making Amber smile in the darkness. ‘Get in some practice for the real thing.’
But sleep still eluded Amber, her exhaustion not enough to quell the flurry of images in her head. She could see herself a few days earlier, out for an early morning stroll into the fringes of
the jungle by the ruin. She had heard an outraged hiss and rattle, and she had known immediately what it was. Her heart had started thumping and she’d forced herself to remember the wildlife
training she had sat through on her arrival at the site.
‘Retreat quietly and gently,’ Thor had told her. Although he was an archaeology student too, he was also a bit of a wildlife expert. ‘Snakes are rarely aggressive unless they
feel threatened.’
Amber had pushed herself sideways through the scrubby bush, retreating as quietly and quickly as she could from the deadly viper. Then, as she made her escape, her foot had slipped down into the
ground. Her leg and suddenly half her body disappeared into a widening, crumbling hole that seemed to tunnel right back under the base of an ancient wall.
Forgetting the tropical rattlesnake, she had sprinted back to camp, grabbing a couple of torches and a startled Stefan, and within minutes the pair were through the hole and into a damp tunnel,
marvelling as it opened into a wide stone passageway.
As the light from their torches played on the stone walls, they saw them – ancient wall daubings, the colours still clear and rich, telling stories of the artists and their daily lives.
The scenes were filled with hunting, sailing and children playing.
As always when she saw such drawings for the first time, Amber found tears clouding her eyes. Even in the midst of the grind of ancient daily life – the hunger, the disease, the murderous
rituals – someone had still found time to create art.
‘Awesome,’ Stefan had breathed. He was by far the most experienced of the team, already on his doctorate in ancient Mexican history and the only one of them qualified to lead a dig.
‘Well done, Amber. A-grades all round, huh? These are as clear as any on this entire site.’ He moved the torchlight systematically from one end of the wall to another. ‘These ones
look different though . . .’
Stefan and Amber moved towards some other paintings – small sketches, little more than stick drawings. Wordlessly, they examined them in minute detail. There was no mistaking their
message. The story they were telling was mind-blowing, earth-changing – almost too much to take in.
Stefan straightened up and looked at Amber, and for a few seconds their eyes locked together in shock, recognition and amazement.
‘I’ll call the professor,’ said Stefan flatly. ‘She needs to see these as soon as possible.’
Amber nodded. ‘I can hardly believe what I’m seeing. Do you think they’re for real? Can they
really
be suggesting what they seem to be?’
Stefan shrugged, but his green eyes were wide, his face pale in the torchlight. He looked, thought Amber, as shocked as she felt.
‘I can’t see why or how they would be fakes,’ he said, ‘but we’ll have to leave that up to the prof. But either way, we – or rather you, Amber – have
found something really special.’
But Amber wasn’t listening any more. Something about the sketches wasn’t quite right – something in the composition, the dynamics of the artwork was bothering her.
Amber dropped to her knees, bringing the torch close up to the warriors. That was it! The arrows, already unleashed into the air, were all pointing, not at the enemy and their snake-headed
sailing ships, but to another invisible target. Trance-like, she followed their trajectory, tracing it over the cold wall with her fingers, oblivious to the icy water that was dripping on to her
head from the stone-cold roof above.
Then she understood. The perspective was different to the usual style of artwork. The arrows were pointing
out
of the painting and away to the other side of the passageway. They were a
message – a signpost.
Stefan was looking over her shoulder now and she heard him take a deep breath. He had spotted it too and his torch swung round in the direction that the arrows were pointing. The beam fell on
what looked like the entrance to a tunnel in the wall.
But now their luck was running out. Not far inside the opening, stones and debris blocked the entrance, if that’s what it was, completely.
For a few seconds the two of them stood there in silence, playing their torches up and down in a vain search for a way through.
‘It’s no good. We’ll have to go back and get help. It’s probably a dead end anyway,’ Amber said, remembering other false and blocked trails that she had already
experienced in her time here. ‘Or if anything was there, it was probably looted years ago. Like most of the stuff around here.’
‘Look at this, Ambs!’ The excitement in Stefan’s voice made her jump. ‘Up here – look! There’s a gap. It’s tiny, but it’s there.’ Stefan
shone his torch through the hole and stood still for what seemed like an eternity.
Finally he turned towards Amber and his entire face was lit up by a smile that was triumphant, awed, humble and thrilled. ‘It’s all here, Amber. It’s here. Just like the
painting showed us – and more!’
As they walked back out of the tunnel and into the fresh air, Amber had been too overcome to speak. But Stefan was already back in practical mode, taking charge of the
situation.
‘We can’t breathe a word of this to anyone,’ he said gravely. ‘Not to the guards and certainly not to any of the tourists. We have to wait until the prof arrives to take
over.’ Stefan stopped and turned to Amber, who gazed back at him, trying to take in what he was saying. ‘This has to be managed properly, by the ancient history experts, maybe even the
Mexican government. Certainly not by us. I’ve got some experience, but this is way out of my league.’ He gave a wry smile. ‘They send four students to work on a very standard dig,
not expecting them to find anything at all. And then this!’
Above them, the morning sun was already throwing out heat strong enough to make the grass they were walking through warm to the touch.
‘Actually, Amber, I think it’s best we just keep it between us four,’ he went on. ‘Don’t tell anyone else, not family, not friends. The fewer people know about this
the better. Agreed?’