

### GOLDEN DISK OF THE SUN

Book One of The Star Walkers Trilogy

Michael Cole

Published by Foremost Press at Smashwords

Copyright 2012 Michael Cole

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PROLOGUE

Eladio heard the mosquito buzz by his ear. Under normal circumstances he would have brushed the bothersome insect away, but today he didn't dare move. He knew the puma was close by. Although he'd laid the trap for the big cat carefully, he instinctively perceived that any movement on his part could scare the animal away. Uncomfortable sitting in his lofty perch nestled between two tree limbs, Eladio thought back to what his father had told him. It was two weeks ago on his fourteenth birthday that his father had taken him aside. "Eladio, my son. It's time for you to become a man. You must follow the ways of our village and kill a puma. Once you do this, you will skin the cat and wear his fur to keep you warm."

Eladio recalled asking, "How do I do this, Father? The puma is very swift, and I have no way to protect myself from its deadly fangs and claws."

"Man is smarter than the most cunning of animals, even the puma," his father had answered. "You will dig a pit. In that pit you shall place bamboo. Use your knife to make the points sharp. Then kill a tapir. Drain its blood over the leaves of the fern branches that you will use to camouflage your trap. In time, the puma will come. Remember, you must be patient and sit very still or else you will fail—and if you don't come back to our village wearing the fur of a warrior, you won't become a man."

Eladio had followed his father's instructions. He was much more afraid of not accomplishing his task than he was of the puma's teeth and claws. He'd sat in the fern tree for almost two days. Although his muscles ached from misuse, he was afraid to stretch them. If he made the slightest sound, the puma might not come, and then he would have to return to his village in shame.

Eladio was glad it started raining again. The rain was insurance against the puma picking up his scent. He swore to himself. The mosquito was now feasting on his blood. Very carefully he pried the vermin off his cheek, grinding it to a pulp between his fingers.

Listening for any unusual sounds, Eladio heard the raindrops as they splattered against the dense vegetation of the Amazon jungle. Then a different sound caused his heart to skip a beat—the rustling of leaves. He knew it had to be the puma. Afraid if he breathed he'd give himself away, Eladio closed his eyes, clenched his teeth, and waited. He could only hope the cat's hunger would win out over its instinctive, cautious nature.

The silence was broken as the puma fell into the pit, its growl barely audible as the dying cat attempted to extricate himself from the sharp bamboo spikes penetrating its flesh. Within a few minutes the rustling stopped, and the only sound Eladio heard was the rain. His father had warned him that pumas often hunted in pairs. Remembering the words of caution, Eladio sat in the tree for another two hours waiting for dawn.

In this part of the rain forest, a perpetual gloom existed. This was because the sun couldn't penetrate through the thick canopy of trees. Eladio could see little more at midday than at dawn, because in the Amazon the dense, swirling fog enveloped the jungle like a shroud.

Climbing down from the fern tree, Eladio cautiously approached the trap. He was relieved when he saw the dead puma, its magnificent torso impaled by several pieces of bamboo. Once he removed the carcass from its deadly hold, Eladio took the task of skinning the hide. It was then he saw the half-exposed object buried in the dirt. Curious, Eladio used his knife to dig around the object so as not to damage it. To his amazement, he found a small, sealed aryballos. The vessel's shape reminded him of a type of squash his father grew in the vegetable garden; however, the relief decoration and the writing were unfamiliar. He luxuriated in the knowledge that his father would be proud of him. Not only would he be returning to his village a man, but he'd also bring something of value to the household, something that could be traded.

It took two days for Eladio to descend from the steep Pico do Papagaio Mountain, the highest peak in the state of Pernambuco in Brazil. Once he was within earshot of the people in his village, he wrapped the puma's hide around his shoulders, oblivious to its stench. Hacking his way through the dense vegetation with a machete, Eladio approached his father's hut with pride.

When his younger brothers and sisters saw the fierce-looking head of the cat resting benignly on Eladio's shoulders, they screamed with delight. His mother was not as pleased. "Get that animal off you and let its hide cure. It stinks." With his ego slightly bruised, Eladio walked outside to look for his father, knowing he would be proud of him.

That evening his father let him sit with the other men around the fire. Pride showed on Eladio's face as the elders passed around the aryballos. His father told and retold Eladio's story to anyone willing to listen. Each time the story was repeated, it was embellished upon with such ardor that Eladio himself began believing in his mighty prowess. If one were to believe the tale, Eladio had seized the ancient artifact from a sorcerer who had attempted to cast an evil spell on the boy. After slaying the magician with his machete, Eladio had purportedly placed the man's soul inside the gourd-like jar, sealing it. Of course, no one bothered to ask the all-important question as to how a fourteen-year-old could have single-handedly accomplished such a feat.

After all the villagers had seen and held the aryballos, Eladio's father instructed him to take a raft to the town of Belem de Paro and trade it for something more useful. "Shouldn't we open it first to see what's inside?" Eladio asked.

"To open it would only diminish the value of the object. If you look closely at the jar, you will see that it has a picture of the Star Walkers."

"Didn't you say they were gods? And that they descended from the sky long, long ago—even before Great Grandfather was born?"

"Yes, my son. I have been told they built fabulous cities deep within the Amazon, cities that have been lost to the jungle."

Eladio traced one of his fingers over the image. "I think you are right, Father. Maybe I should leave it alone."

Looking at his son, Eladio's father smiled. "Besides, we wouldn't want the evil soul of the sorcerer to escape, would we?"

Later, Eladio managed to convince a merchant in Belem de Paro to trade a blanket and some corn seeds for the aryballos. He knew the blanket would please his mother, and the corn seeds could always be used in the family's garden.

* * *

Eladio swatted at the bothersome insect, but his reflexes were much too slow for the mosquito. He could remember a time when his eyes were much sharper than they were now. Sitting cross-legged by the embers of a dying fire, Eladio pulled the tattered puma hide closer to his body in order to ward off the morning cold. Although it was now threadbare, it still managed to keep the chill off his old bones.

The young boy sitting by Eladio's side tugged on his wrinkled hand. "Tell me what happened then, great warrior. Did anyone let the evil spirit out of the sealed jar?"

Eladio looked fondly into the inquisitive face of his great grandson, wondering where the time had gone. "This I do not know. I remember my father telling me about the strange picture-writing on the aryballos. He said it was the language of the Star Walkers."

"Who are the Star Walkers?" asked the boy.

"You mean to tell me your father has never told you about the Star Walkers?"

The young boy's eyes became wide. "No, please tell me about them."

Eladio wrapped a portion of the puma's hide around the shivering boy. "One day, many, many years ago, the Star Walkers came. They arrived from the sky on shimmering golden ships. Like gods they descended upon our land. They were the ones who gave our ancestors the wisdom of the ancients. Had it not been for them, we wouldn't have the potions and elixirs to cure the sick."

"Did you see them, Great Grandfather?" asked the boy.

"No, my son. Neither did my father or his father before him. As I said, this all happened a very long time ago. But I did see a picture of them. It was on the water jar. You see, many, many years ago our tribe lived in the city of Akakor. Right before the Star Walkers came, the city was destroyed by a powerful earthquake. Many died. Had it not been for the Star Walkers, we, the Ugha Mongulala, would not have survived."

The boy nestled closer to Eladio. "Do you think Father will let me hunt for the puma?"

"Yes. Soon the time will come when it will be your turn to venture into the jungle for your own hide. Then, you too will become a brave warrior."

The boy looked up into Eladio's wrinkled face. "Maybe I will capture an evil spirit and become famous like you."

* * *

The ancient aryballos passed from hand to hand many times. Eventually, it fell off a barge into the Amazon River. Because the aryballos was buoyant, it bobbed up and down the watercourse. Eventually it came to rest on the shore among a pile of debris close to the city of Manaus, Brazil. It lay there half-buried for several centuries. It would still be there had it not been for an occurrence of fate.

CHAPTER 1

Eric Shade wondered if he had made the right decision. Four months earlier, he had been an assistant professor of South American history at the University of New York. And now he was unemployed, sitting in a bar in Manaus, nursing a beer. It had all happened so suddenly.

A colleague of his father's had sent him a telegram informing him that his father had left Manaus on a quest to find a lost city in the Amazon and was never heard from again. A hard punch to the stomach would have been much less painful.

Eric worshipped his father. Jonathan Shade was dedicated to two things: archeology and his son. When Eric graduated from high school, he joined his father on an expedition to look for lost cities in the Amazon. After spending almost a year in the jungle, they had found Ingregil. Eric would never forget the day because had it not been for a fluky occurrence, they might not have come across the ancient ruins. His father had been wielding a machete, trying to clear a path in the jungle, when his blade hit a section of a stone pillar that had been totally obscured by vines. The dense vegetation had literally swallowed the city, but, nonetheless, there it was. The discovery had made headlines, probably because for the first time archeologists could actually prove that South America had a past, a past much older than anyone had ever imagined.

From that point on, Eric decided he wanted to be an explorer just like his father. But that was not to be. Jonathan Shade had insisted Eric attend the University of New York. They argued. At that time in his life all he wanted to do was see some of the world so he joined the Army. Because he was an outstanding soldier, one of his company commanders recommended he attend officer candidate school. As a second lieutenant, Eric opted to join U.S. Army's Special Operations Forces, and eventually became a Green Beret. He was assigned to an elite unit nicknamed the "Night Stalkers." Time and time again, Eric proved himself as a soldier. He attended flight school, became a helicopter pilot, and flew his fellow Green Berets to strategic "hot spots" in various parts of the Islamic world. When Eric completed his tour of duty, mainly to please his father, he attended the University of New York. Much to his surprise, he enjoyed the world of academia, became an outstanding student, and in time, received a doctorate in South American history.

An argument on the other side of the bar brought Eric out of his reverie. "Don't talk to me about how tough life is around here. How'd you like to skipper a barge up and down the Amazon River? A couple of months ago, my first mate stuck his hand in that river. When he took it out, all that was left were a few pieces of flesh hanging from his bones."

"You really are a pussy, you know that?" a Caucasian man wearing a tattered baseball cap responded. "You should have warned your first mate that there are thousands of piranhas in that damned river. They swim in schools, you know."

They were on their feet ready to trade blows when a waiter walked up to them with a couple of beers. After placing them on the table, he said, "You two better knock it off. We don't allow fighting in here."

The two men quieted down, and Eric's thoughts drifted back to his father. In addition to being an exceptionally good field archeologist, Jonathan Shade was also an excellent tracker and guide. His father was very capable of taking care of himself, particularly in the Amazon. That's why Eric was convinced he must have encountered foul play.

Upon hearing the news, Eric hadn't think. He'd just acted. He could have requested an emergency leave, but no. Like a fool, he had left the chairman of his department a note and took the first plane to Manaus. Now, here he was, sitting in a bar, almost broke. Eric had gone through most of his savings looking for his father, but it was as if Jonathan Shade had never existed.

Eric's thoughts were shattered by the sound of glass breaking. The noise caused a roomful of people to stop talking. The man holding the broken bottle wore a baseball cap. He waved it menacingly at a mestizo who was sitting in a chair several tables away. "You son-of-a-bitch," Baseball Cap said. "Come any closer and I'll ram this piece of glass up your ass!"

A bruiser the size of a freight train stood up. "What do you think you're going to do, cut me?" the man said in broken Portuguese. "I'll take that bottle away from you and slit your throat with it." Appearing out of nowhere two other mestizos sidled up next to Freight Train.

Baseball Cap picked up a chair and held it as a shield to ward off a possible attack. "Come on, motherfuckers," he shouted. "I'll cut out your tongues!" A scuffle ensued and within seconds two of the three mestizos had Baseball Cap down on the beer-stained floor.

Freight Train took out a switchblade, and when he pressed the button a long, tapered knife suddenly appeared. Placing a smile on his face, he took a few tentative steps toward Baseball Cap. "I'm going to carve your heart out," he said, raising the knife.

The blood coursed faster in Eric's veins. He only had a second to decide. Is Freight Train posturing or is he planning on using the knife? Without any regard for his own safety, Eric flew off the bar stool and kicked Freight Train's arm with his boot, sending the menacing blade flying through the air. Freight Train let out an expletive and sprung toward Eric, who simply lifted up his knee and hit the man in the groin. Freight Train grabbed his crotch and yelled out in pain. That enabled Baseball Cap to ward off the other two mestizos.

"Do you have a death wish or something?" Eric asked Baseball Cap. "These guys are apt to cut off your balls and stuff them in your mouth."

"Not without a fight they won't," Baseball Cap replied.

What's your name?" Eric asked of the man who had been foolish enough to piss off the mestizos.

"Chris Bordeaux. What's yours?"

"Eric. Eric Shade. I think it would be a good idea if we left this place. Don't you?"

Chris nodded, then shook Eric's hand. "Thanks for helping me."

"You are quite welcome."

"Can I buy you a beer?"

Eric glanced around the room. "Yes, but not here. By the looks we're getting, I think it would be wise for us to leave while we still can."

Chris laughed a throaty laugh. "Good idea. My place isn't far from here. How about we go there?"

CHAPTER 2

Eric liked Chris. The younger man had come to Manaus from Le Havre, France. To hear Chris tell the story, it was either escape to South America or be nabbed by the gendarmes. He had read about Manaus; the Brazilian city was far enough away where he could start a new life. That was three years ago. In those days, Chris didn't speak Portuguese, but then a person didn't have to speak the language to obtain a job as a dockworker. The only requirement was a strong back.

Chris told Eric that he led a relatively simple life. He would work at the docks Monday through Friday and on weekends would spend his hard-earned cash at a few of his favorite watering spots. By Monday, he was out of money so he would hit the docks to earn more. It was a cycle he hoped to break.

That evening, Chris laid a sleeping bag out on the couch and suggested Eric crash at his place. Upon Chris's invitation, the next day Eric took the few belongings from the hotel where he'd been staying and moved in with Chris. The place was just a shack, but it beat sleeping on a park bench, which is what Eric anticipated he would have had to do when his money ran out. The two decided to team up and work together as guides. Eric spent the little money he had left on some advertising and within a few days they had several tours lined up. It turned out to be a good partnership. Chris helped Eric guide tourists into the Amazon while Eric reciprocated by keeping Chris out of trouble.

Occasionally, the two would end up at one of the local bars. Eric drank less because the initial shock of losing his father had worn off, and Chris didn't brawl quite as much because Eric wouldn't let him. Chris looked upon Eric as an older brother he'd never had, and Eric enjoyed looking out for the younger man.

* * *

Sweat pummeled off Eric's forehead as he strained to apply additional pressure on the man seated across from him. Just when it looked like the arm-wrestling match would turn out to be a tie, Eric's opponent's arm hit the surface of the table with such force that it knocked a couple of beer bottles to the floor. Eric peered into the eyes of his challenger. "Looks to me like you'll be buying the next round."

"Shall we have another go at it?" the man asked. "I'm game if you are."

"Perhaps some other time." Eric chastised himself. Why is it that I always have to try and prove I'm just as strong or stronger than men half my age? Eric gravitated toward the bar where he overheard Chris spinning a yarn to a wide-eyed mestizo.

"It was late afternoon when I saw the creature," Chris said. "It was thirty meters long. Largest damn anaconda I've ever seen."

"No kidding?" the mestizo replied, wide-eyed. "So what did you do?"

Chris drained his beer. "I took out my machete and hacked the sucker into little pieces."

"Come on, Chris. Let's go," Eric said. "You've told enough stories for one night. We have to lead a group into the jungle tomorrow, or have you forgotten?"

Chris turned to flag down the bartender. "Just one more. Then we'll go."

Eric grabbed ahold of Chris and gently pried him off the barstool. "I've heard that from you before. Then, before you know it, one beer turns into two, then three. That's when you start drinking tequila 'shooters.' After a few shooters, you'll end up picking a fight, a fight I usually have to break up. Come on. We are leaving now."

Once they were outside in the parking lot, Eric helped Chris into the passenger side of the jeep. "Look at you. You're so drunk you can't even drive."

As he drove along a winding, rutted road, Eric reflected on his current situation. Since Manaus was but a stone's throw from the Amazon River, the location provided him and Chris with an ample supply of tourists who wanted to experience the full flavor of the jungle the dangerous way, which was by land. Acting as tour guides for rich Americans, the two managed to scratch out a living from nature lovers, treasure hunters, and a few people who were passionate about climbing mountain peaks. However, after working with Chris for three months as a tour guide, Eric didn't feel as if he was getting anywhere. The two often heard stories about lost gold, abandoned silver mines, and ancient cities, but as much as they would have liked to have spent some time chasing some of those myths, their financial situation prohibited them from doing so.

Eric also had to remind himself that he had a doctorate degree, and as much as he enjoyed his life, he had to think of the future. He was thirty-nine years old. Somehow, he couldn't picture himself being a guide in the Amazon and arm-wrestling people for beers twenty years from now. He often thought about writing a book, but then decided against it. What would he write? A book about how dummies could survive in the Amazon?

Eric believed he had made a mistake to chuck the world of academia for this place, but at least he could look at himself in the mirror and say he had tried to find his father. The last time he had spoken to Jonathan Shade, his father told him to stick with teaching. "It may be less glamorous than searching for lost cities in the jungle, but believe me, it pays a heck of a lot better—and it's safer." Of course, the problem was that Eric no longer had a teaching job, and he wasn't overly optimistic about finding one in Manaus. Maybe if his field had been math or science, but there were almost as many history professors as there were fish vendors who lined the marketplace every morning to sell their catch. What he was doing with Chris was treading water at best.

In the meantime, it didn't cost a thing to dream. "If my father and I could find Ingregil, I bet the two of us could find Akakor," he'd often say to Chris. In truth, Eric didn't have his father's optimism. Over the last couple of centuries, scores of people had looked for the lost city. Of the many who had entered the Amazon to search for it, few had come out alive. He prayed that hadn't happened to his father.

Now that Eric had experienced the full flavor of the jungle by moving to Manaus, he didn't think he would ever leave the Amazon. The power, majesty, and energy of the primeval rain forest were impossible to fathom. The air was so heavy with moisture, the humidity so overpowering that a perpetual fog enveloped the surroundings. Sometimes it was so thick that a person could almost feel it. There is a stillness to the Amazon that is difficult to describe. The first thing one notices upon entering the jungle is that there is absolutely no wind. It's hard to conceptualize the sheer proliferation of plant and animal life that exists in this tropical wonder. One of the reasons Eric respected the jungle was because it was by far the largest bio-diversified ecosystem on the planet. It was also an abominable place, dripping with maleficence, the home of malaria as well as other deadly diseases, some so obscure that there simply was no cure. If you were unlucky enough to be bitten by some of the rarer poisonous insects, it was a sure bet you would either become violently ill or die without an antidote.

There were flies that actually caused people to lose their sight—and there were other perils: fierce tribes, dangerous animals, and exotic reptiles. The rain forest had varying degrees of temperatures. It was often above a hundred degrees close to the canopy where the sun shined, but at ground level, surrounded by dappled shades of green of every color, the temperature was often well below eighty degrees. This was because less than ten percent of sunlight ever reached the forest floor.

Eric knew the emerald canopy of the Amazon was one of the most hostile places on earth, nonetheless, he was drawn to it and its secrets. He believed most of the stories he'd heard about the place: remains of ancient civilizations that possessed an advanced technology linked to the origins of mankind. Strange tribes, refugees from an older civilization who had auburn-colored hair. White-skinned people who some Indians believe are the progeny of the Star Walkers. Unusual bright lights, which the Indians claim have burned continually for generations. And, of course, there was gold, literally tons of it.

Too tired to take off his clothes, Eric flopped on Chris's couch. He figured the money the two would earn from the college students would enable them to pursue a lead he had recently received from an old mestizo. A man in a bar he and Chris had met a week ago told him he had come across the ruins of an old temple about a mile west of the Purus River. He was certain an ancient city lay close by, buried beneath the rubble. Eric wondered if it could be Akakor. Most mainstream archeologists didn't believe the city had ever existed, but then what did they know? The idiots thought Ingregil was nothing more than a figment of someone's overactive imagination until he and his father had proved them wrong. Even if his father hadn't gone to Akakor, if he could find the fabled city, maybe he could make a name for himself in the world of academia. And if that were to happen, a teaching job would be easier to find. All he needed was money, but at the rate he and Chris were going, he doubted if he would have more than a living wage anytime soon.

Eric closed his eyes. He knew dawn would come soon enough and with it another day of babysitting a group of neophytes in the jungle, a jungle that could very well be his home for quite some time.

CHAPTER 3

The sound of the phone distracted Catalina Rivera from the article she was reading. She picked up the receiver just before the answering machine took the call.

"It's Marcelo, honey."

There was an imperceptible intake of breath. "Granddad, is everything all right?" she asked in impeccable Portuguese.

"Fine, just fine. Listen, I called to tell you that a friend of mine, a dealer in South American antiquities, has just acquired a rather remarkable artifact. I thought Phillip might be interested so I gave him your phone number as well as your email address. His name is Arcell Duvant. You can trust him—even if he is French."

Catalina laughed. Although her grandfather was eighty-four, he still had a sense of humor. Normally, Catalina didn't buy from dealers. This was because they usually sold at retail prices. She much preferred the auction houses because if one didn't get into a bidding war, that's where the good deals were. "Sure, Granddad. What is it?"

"It's an aryballos."

"I don't think Phillip will be interested in a water jar. They are rather common, you know."

"This one isn't. I told Arcell to email you some pictures. Take a look at them, and if you're interested, give him a call."

After Catalina jotted down Arcell's telephone number, and answered Marcelo's questions about what the weather was like in Los Angeles, a topic of conversation that for some reason always interested him, she ended the call.

Later that afternoon, she went to her computer and found a message from Arcell. She opened the attachment and immediately became intrigued with what she saw. It was an elegant-looking terracotta receptacle of Inca Imperial style. Although it had the shape of an aryballos, she figured it was much too small to be one. The other unusual thing was the vessel was sealed. It appeared to be in remarkable condition, but then she really couldn't tell how old it was from the pictures. The face of it was tattooed with geometrical motifs as well as with winged jaguars. She could also see some unusual calligraphy on the jar's neck. She tried to read the writing, but it was too faint.

She immediately called Arcell. "How did you acquire it?" was the first question she asked.

"An Indian from a local village near Manaus found it in the jungle half-buried in sediment close to the Amazon River."

Typically, an aryballos would not pique her curiosity, but there was an element of mystery to this one she just couldn't ignore. Why in the world would anyone want to seal an aryballos? And then there was the question of provenance. It looked like an Inca artifact, but if it was, how did the object get that far from Peru?

"Do you know how old it is?" she asked.

"I would say late fifteenth or early sixteenth century, but I can't be sure."

"If it's that old, I'm going to have a difficult time getting it through customs."

"No, you won't," Arcell assured her. "A customs officer isn't going to give it a second look. It resembles a jug of wine. Could very well be one for that matter. All they'll want to know is what you paid for it. I'll give you a bill of sale, and if you pay customs their standard rate of—"

Catalina cut him off. "Okay, Arcell. I get the picture. I'm not going to lie to you. The artifact piques my curiosity, but I would only be prepared to make you an offer if my employer would want to add it to his collection. I'll show him the photographs, and if he's interested, I'll call you back."

"Don't wait too long. I have a couple of people who have expressed a desire to purchase it."

A typical ploy if I ever did hear one, Catalina thought. She went back to her computer to study the photographs with a magnifying glass. She scrutinized the intricate pictographic detail inscribed on the artifact. Intrigued, she flipped to the next frame. There was something peculiar about one of the illustrations on the aryballos. At first, she couldn't put her finger on it, but then it came to her. What would a scarab, which was Egypt's symbol for immortality, be doing on a South American artifact? She was surprised that an aryballos, even one as unusual-looking as this one, would rivet her attention. It was as if some mysterious force was drawing her into the jar. She was about to make a closer inspection of the ancient writing when she happened to glance at her watch.

Where did the time go? Phillip will be here at any moment, and I'm not even dressed. She sometimes wished he wouldn't be such a stickler for punctuality. Oh, what the hell. Why should I be worried if I'm a little late? I'm doing this for him anyway.

Even though she knew Phillip would be fuming, Catalina went back to her computer. She did manage to identify some of the writing. Some of it was Proto-Quechua, which was the forerunner to the Quechua language spoken by some ten million people in South America. Other portions of the script had sustained some water damage so on first inspection, she could only make out a few words. " _Derrotero_." Catalina rolled the word on her lips, her Spanish fluent. She gave the word some thought. I know what that means.

Just then, the doorbell buzzed. She didn't have to be a mind reader to know it was Phillip. "The door is unlocked," she shouted. "Fix yourself a drink if you like. I'll be down in a jiffy."

"Please hurry," he shouted back, "or we'll be late for our dinner reservation."

Catalina wondered what Phillip's reaction would be if she told him she wasn't in the mood to go out to dinner. She much preferred to stay home and examine the pictures Arcell had sent, but she was afraid to disappoint him. As good as Phillip was to her, she didn't like it when he made her march to his clock. At times like these, she felt trapped. When am I going to become my own woman?

Catalina had been relying on Phillip Nash for so long that she wondered if she was even capable of striking off on her own. At age twenty-eight, it seemed no matter what she did, she still needed his approval. Theirs was a strange relationship. Although she had known Phillip for over eight years, and he showered her with nothing but kindness, she couldn't understand why he was always so formal.

When Catalina finished fussing with her hair, she reached into her jewelry box and extracted a stunning five-carat emerald ring with channel cut diamonds. As she admired it sparkling on her finger, she thought back to the day Phillip had presented it to her. Catalina had just completed the arduous job of cataloging and displaying his collected works of South American antiquities. She could still hear his words: "This ring is just a small token of my appreciation for your devoted work on my artifacts."

The sound of Phillip's voice snapped her back to the present. "Are you coming or not?"

"Give me a moment." Catalina squeezed into her dress, then took one last look at her reflection in the mirror. She had accentuated her large, oval green eyes with a touch of black mascara. Her high cheekbones had received just enough rouge to make her ivory-colored skin appear translucent. Satisfied that her shoulder-length black hair had been combed to perfection, she headed down the stairs.

On impulse, she thought of making a copy of Arcell's file for Phillip in order to get his opinion, but then thought better of it. Phillip Nash was the sort of man who rewarded assertiveness. By the same token, she'd seen him dress down people who were unsure of themselves or their convictions. Besides, if Catalina needed his opinion, she could ask for it tomorrow. It was Friday night, and she and Phillip always dined out on Fridays.

Phillip was standing in the foyer, tapping his fingers on the wooden balustrade. She wasn't surprised to see an annoyed look on his face. His black hair was slicked straight back, and his navy blue worsted suit hung perfectly on his slender but muscled build. It sometimes annoyed Catalina that everything about Phillip's outer appearance conveyed perfection. She wondered what he would do if she walked over to him and messed up his hair.

His voice betrayed his annoyance. "You know how I hate to be kept waiting, Catalina. I really feel you are being inconsiderate when you choose to be somewhat less than punctual."

Oh no, she thought. He's not going to give me that lecture again, or is he? "I'm really sorry, Phillip. An antiquities dealer has offered to sell me an artifact, and I was examining some of the pictures." She was angry with herself that she felt obligated to add, "Will you forgive me?"

"Well, since you were looking out for my best interests, I won't nag you any more than I already have."

She wondered why Phillip always had to convey a sense of urgency. It didn't much matter if they were going out to dinner, to a concert, or simply for a horseback ride, he was always in a rush. She couldn't remember a time when the two of them spent a carefree night. Everything they did together had to be planned. It was times like this that she felt trapped. Catalina had been relying on Phillip far too long. As good as he is to me, I need to start a life of my own. Granted, she was well educated and could probably find work, but was she socially prepared to be out in a world away from him? Catalina decided it wouldn't be worth it to make a scene. She would have dinner with him, and then hurry back to her place so that she could continue to study the photographs Arcell had sent her.

CHAPTER 4

Eric Shade was accustomed to taking the lead. Chris was a good twelve years younger, but Eric was stronger. That was probably because he was used to arm wrestling mestizos for beers and hiking long distances; however, the rigorous trek through the rain forest combined with the steep climb to the plateau had left the raconteur guide short of breath. He cursed, knowing that if he had quit smoking years ago, he wouldn't be having this problem. Realizing that if he didn't pick up the pace, Chris and the others would soon catch up. Eric lengthened his stride. At least he was still comforted with the knowledge that he was still able to outdistance his younger partner.

When he and his father had been in the Amazon searching for Ingregil, Eric had become knowledgeable about the jungle and its perils. Chris, although born and raised in France, had lived in Brazil long enough to also become familiar with the Amazon. That's why the two made such a good team. A mirror image of Eric in his youth, Chris was not only his partner, but also his best friend. At times, when they didn't have clients, the two would go off into the Amazon in search of tunnel entrances, which one day they hoped to explore.

There were numerous stories of the gold the Incas had supposedly hidden out of Pizarro's reach in the myriad of tunnels that exist in South America. At first, Eric had scoffed at searching for Inca gold in Brazil because he wasn't convinced the tunnels stretched that far north. But that was before the Brazilian government had declassified some information their ground-penetrating radar had gathered. Even with the facts staring him in the face, it was difficult for Eric to believe the government's claim that some of the tunnels ran for hundreds of kilometers all the way from Peru to Mato Grosso, Brazil. This information and his passion for adventure rekindled his quest in searching for treasure. The problem was he and Chris had an insurmountable amount of ground to cover. Also, what made the search dangerous was that many sections of the Amazon were inhabited by hostile Indians who had never come face to face with a white man before.

Eric stopped. He picked up a tarantula larger than a dinner plate and placed it on a low-growing liana vine, thinking the harmless insect had probably fallen off a bromeliad plant. "Lucky for you, I was the one who ran into you," he said. "If one of those young eager-beaver tourists had spotted you, you'd be flatter than a pancake by now."

Talk about luck. Eric decided it must have been God's will for him to meet up with Chris. Prior to forming their partnership, Chris worked as a deckhand on one of the barges that navigated the tributaries of the Amazon River. When Chris decided to quit the backbreaking job of loading and unloading everything from vegetables to horse manure, he settled on the outskirts of Manaus. Passionate in his belief that one day he would find an enormous gold cache, he never tired of searching for treasure.

Chris had booked a guided tour for them with a group of juveniles whose parents apparently had money. Eric had chastised him because he didn't like to take teenagers into the Amazon. They were risk takers, probably because at their age they believed they were invincible. But then neither of them could afford to be too choosy.

The two enjoyed their work, at least most of the time, because they were free to make their own decisions. In other words, they liked the idea of not having to work for a large tour guide company where they would have to abide to a bunch of regulations.

Both men knew of Atahualpa's treasure as the quasi-incredible story had been told and retold for generations. Intended as barter for the life of a god-king, twenty tons of smelted bullion had been offered for the Inca king's release. When the Spaniards murdered Atahualpa, who at the time was the supreme ruler of the Incas, the bounty had been spirited away from the gold-greedy Spaniards. Many believed the loot had been hidden somewhere in the Llanganates Mountains. Others felt the thousand or so men had carted some of the treasure into a maze of tunnels that led from Peru to Brazil.

Chris was convinced that sooner or later the two would find enough gold so that they could live a life of leisure. Eric wasn't as optimistic. He knew numerous expeditions had ended in failure, mostly because of the dangers the Amazon imposed. Nonetheless, Chris refused to give up his dream of chasing myths, for to do so would mean he would have to resign himself to working the rest of his life, and that was something he was not prepared to do. It wasn't that Eric didn't want to find the proverbial pot of gold. He was just more realistic than his partner.

Eric swore. His mind willed him on, but his legs commanded he take a break. He sighed with relief when he saw the entourage behind him signal for a rest stop. Once Chris reached him, he pulled him aside. "I'm getting too old for this."

Chris laughed. "No, you aren't. I'm truly amazed at your endurance." Chris kicked a piece of dung off his boot. "Seriously, did you know they tell stories about you? Some Indians say you eat fried scorpions and wrestle alligators for the sport of it. A lot of natives around here are afraid of you. Prior to us teaming up, they thought you were loco to venture into the Amazon by yourself. but they respect your bravery."

"Hell, I'm not loco. But it's true. Before I met you, I'd go traipsing off into the jungle by myself to look for my father."

Chris nodded his head. "I totally understand. Had it been my father, I probably would have done the same thing."

Just like Jonathan Shade, many had gone off into the Amazon never to be seen or heard from again. Eric knew the Indians thought he had made a pact with Satan because that was the only rationale they could think of for him to still be alive. He stood up and brushed the dust off his pants. "Come on, buddy. We'd better join the rest of the juvenile delinquents before one of them gets lost or worse."

They continued to hack their way through the dense undergrowth, Eric pointing out some of the unusual flora along the way. With only an hour or so of daylight left, Chris suggested setting up camp for the night. Once the tents were up, one of the young men sauntered over to Eric. Wanting to impress his friends who were within earshot, he said, "There is still plenty of daylight left, Dr. Shade. We paid you to be our guide, and with or without you, I aim to get my money's worth. I think I'll do some exploring on my own."

Chris started to say something, but Eric silenced him with a wave of his hand. He placed his arm on the young man's shoulder and raised his voice a notch so the others could hear. "What's your name?"

"Tom Spear."

"How old are you, Tommy?"

Caught off guard, the boy removed Eric's arm. "I'm eighteen if you must know, and my name is Tom, not Tommy. Why?"

"I was younger than you when I first came to this place, but my youthful exuberance never clouded my judgment. Let me give you a piece of advice. Stick close to either Chris or me if you want to leave this place in one piece. If you wander off alone, you won't live long enough to see dawn break tomorrow. The Amazon can be very misleading. It's beautiful and dangerous in the daytime, but at night it transforms into a downright nightmare, so alien and unforgiving that you'd be lucky to survive through the night. You see, my boy, there are some nasty things out there that hunt in the evening."

Tom's cheeks were now glowing from embarrassment, but he struggled to maintain his cocky demeanor. "Like what, for instance?"

"Snakes, and crocodiles large enough to swallow you whole, and if you're lucky enough to get past those creatures, a puma or a cougar could be waiting. Of course, I doubt if they would ever track you down, because chances are you would most likely perish in a bog."

Eric continued his tirade, "Do you know what a bog is, sonny?" When Tom didn't reply, Eric said, "Since you've never been in the Amazon before, you wouldn't know. One minute you are walking on solid ground, and the next you're buried up to your neck in quicksand. You wouldn't even have time to pee in your pants before the ground sucked you under as if you never existed. You say you want to get your money's worth? Next time, go to a zoo. At least you'd be able to see the animals there in some semblance of safety. I say this because here in this place, if you go wandering off you'd end up being some creature's meal!"

Chris interceded on the boy's behalf. "Come on, Eric, you've made your point. I think Tom understands now."

Ignoring his partner, Eric continued, "Do me a favor. Wait till you get home. Then you can impress all your friends with your bravery, but as long as you are on this tour, you'll do exactly as Chris and I say. Do I make myself clear?"

Leaving Tom Spear speechless, Eric walked away. He needed a cigarette, but he didn't have any because he'd quit smoking.

"You were pretty hard on him, you know," Chris said.

"I probably was, but he pissed me off. Besides, I managed to accomplish my objective."

"And what was that?"

"All of these young people think they're invincible. I should know. I used to be just like them. We haven't reached the rough country yet. Maybe the rest of them will heed my warning. So far we've been lucky. No one has been killed or seriously injured on one of our treks through fantasyland. Tom will probably live to do something foolish, but at least it's not going to happen on our watch."

"You are right. They are naive. Do you remember on one of our first tours, I sat down on an anthill without knowing it? Shit, those Amazonian insects damned near chomped the flesh off my butt!"

Eric laughed. "Of course, I remember. I had to pour a bottle of whisky over your ass. Damned shame, too, but I did manage to drown the buggers."

Now it was Chris's turn to laugh. "All you did was swear for the remainder of the trip. It's the only time I've been with you when you ended up without any booze in your flask."

Eric turned serious. "I rarely take a drink when I'm in the Amazon. You of all people know that. I carry the flask just in case."

"What do you mean just in case? In case of what?"

Eric replied with a straight face, "I don't carry painkillers or any kind of anesthetic. A bottle of whisky will dull a person's senses. You know, in the event I had to use my machete to take off someone's arm or leg. As you know, gangrene kills quicker than many of the varmints that live in the rain forest."

Chris gave Eric a dubious look. "Are you serious or are you just kidding?"

Instead of providing his partner with an answer, Eric said, "We'd better finish setting up camp. I wouldn't want to do it in the dark. I'll take the first watch. You take the second." Then the humor returned. "If I were you, I'd keep an eye on this bunch. I wouldn't want them to scare any of the animals."

CHAPTER 5

The chauffeur stopped the Rolls in front of the elegant Beverly Wilshire Hotel. Walking through its revolving door, Phillip and Catalina entered a dramatic foyer. With her on his arm, he reveled in the admiring looks she was receiving. It always pleased him that people considered her to be striking. Because it was important for him that others perceived her to be beautiful, he took great pains to personally select all of her clothes. That way he made sure she had the right colors and the right cut to show off her svelte figure. It pleased him that she was wearing the emerald ring he had given her for doing such a remarkable job on his collection. He mentally approved of her lipstick shade, thinking the color complemented her ivory complexion.

Catalina was tall and graceful just like his mother. Phillip liked tall women because they always stood out in a crowd. Watching Catalina, he reflected on his family. Even though the automobile accident that tragically ended the lives of his wealthy parents had occurred years ago, he still lived with the pain. The only people he had ever had any feelings for were his mother and father—and now, Catalina.

* * *

The glass elevator whisked them to the restaurant, which was located on the sixteenth floor of the hotel. Catalina looked out at the expansive view of the city. From her vantage point, she could see dozens of buildings dominating the Wilshire skyline. They reminded her of chess pieces placed on a board made of concrete.

Phillip looked admiringly at her. "You look especially beautiful tonight. The dress is quite chic, and it suits you."

Catalina seemed to be somewhere else. Finally, she thanked him for the compliment. She was thinking of her father, and wished he could see her in the red velvet dress and expensive shoes. Her parents, both missionaries and highly dedicated to God, had gone to Africa when she was sixteen. They would have taken her with them, but she wanted to stay in Manaus so she could graduate with the rest of her class. Besides, she didn't want to go to Africa. Marcelo had taken her in, and she had remained with him until the day of the dreadful accident. She had been quite content living with him in Manaus. Had it not been for Phillip's chauffeur, she would have most likely joined her parents, but that was not to be.

His voice brought her back to the present. "You look pensive tonight. Is something the matter?"

"No," she lied. "I was just thinking how your taste in clothes is above reproach."

"Come to think of it, I do remember buying the dress, but I've never seen you wear it before."

"That's because I never have." Even after all this time, Catalina still had a problem getting accustomed to Phillip's extravagant gifts. Once or twice a month he'd buy her something, a dress or a piece of expensive jewelry. In the beginning of their strange relationship, she'd admonish him. "I can't even wear the clothes and jewelry I already have," she'd say. "I certainly don't need anything more. Why spend your money foolishly?" But later, once she got to know him, she realized the gifts he gave her brought him more pleasure than it did her.

As they walked into the elegant restaurant, Catalina barely noticed the maître d' fawning over Phillip as he escorted them to the best table in the house. Over the years, she had become accustomed to the special treatment he always received. Her mind drifted to the days when she was a teen in Manaus, a city that catered to tourists and shippers. She would go to the market place at six in the morning to accomplish as much as possible before the devastating heat began. She could still recall the nauseous smell of dead fish and chickens and the sides of beef tilting precariously toward rot in the still air. It was certainly a far cry from the antiseptic-looking markets she frequented in L.A. where refrigerated foodstuffs had labels with expiration dates.

The world she had come from and the world she lived in now were light-years apart, and the main thing that separated the two was money. Manaus had no future for her, only a past. Los Angeles, which was her world now, brought Catalina the assurance of a tomorrow.

"Shall I order for you?" Phillip asked.

She wondered what he would say if for once in her life, she told him she wanted to order something herself. "If you like," she said, which was the standard pat answer she always gave him.

After their pre-dinner cocktails arrived, Phillip asked, "How was your day?"

Catalina told Phillip about Marcelo's call and shared with him some of her thoughts about the aryballos. "I've examined the pictures, and I'd say it's in better than average condition, particularly for its age. Under normal circumstances, I wouldn't entertain the thought of acquiring it for your collection, but there are things about it that intrigue me."

Phillip gave the waiter their order. "What's so special about a water jar?"

"Well, for one thing, it's adorned with colorful motifs, and for a water jar, I consider that to be highly unusual. It's also sealed. That definitely adds an air of mystery to it. Why would anyone want to seal an aryballos?"

Phillip took a sip of his martini. "Have you determined its age?"

"If I were to base its age solely on the writing, I'd guess the artifact was made around the time Pizarro conquered the Inca Empire. As you know, Quechua is a bastard-text. It's really nothing more than an assimilation of Spanish and Portuguese words and a variety of local Indian terms. What makes this particular aryballos so unusual is that among a few Quechua words, I've isolated a much older language. I'm referring to ancient Topuku pictographs. No one has used Topuku to communicate for at least twelve hundred years!"

"Is it really that unusual to have someone write over an older script?"

"No, but I don't think that's really the case here. I got the impression that whoever wrote on that jar deliberately interspersed Quechua writing with the much older Topuku symbols. What I don't understand is why someone would have taken such elaborate pains to do this. There is something else, which I find to be quite intriguing. I thought I was familiar with all of the ancient South American symbols, but there is at least one picture on the jar I've never seen."

"Oh, really? Why don't you describe it to me?"

"The rendition is quite small so I couldn't make out any of their facial characteristics, but it's definitely an image of three men. They appear to have beards and are wearing robes."

"Sounds rather mysterious. Maybe after you have had a chance to study the image more carefully, you'll be able to identify it," Phillip volunteered.

Once their steaks arrived, Phillip cut his meat with precision, treating his knife much like a surgeon would handle a scalpel. "But getting back to the Topuku. Like you said, why would someone who had knowledge of Quechua use the much more cumbersome and less reliable Topuku?"

Catalina waited for the waiter to finish pouring wine into her glass before continuing. "Exactly my point. The only thing I can think of is whoever wrote on the jar was trying to convey a message, a message he didn't want just anyone to be able to read."

"Were you able to make out any of the writing?"

"So far only the word, derrotero. The literal translation means a guide text—or a set of instructions, maybe even directions. That's what makes me think that whoever wrote it purposely tried to make the message difficult to decipher."

Phillip's thin lips formed into a smile. "I knew your doctorate degree would pay off sooner or later. Do you think you'll be able to translate the inscription?"

Distracted, Catalina watched Phillip eat his food. After examining each piece of meat, he would chew it ever so cautiously. It was as if he expected to find nails in his filet mignon. "I'm sorry, Phillip. What did you say?"

"I asked if you thought you could figure out what any of the other words mean."

"No. At least not from the photographs I received. I'd have to physically examine the aryballos before I could determine what some of the other writing means, and even then there would be no guarantee."

"Why don't you purchase the artifact and be done with it? You are about due to pay Marcelo a visit. Even if the writing is illegible, you could unseal it. There might be some clues inside."

"There is not an item in your collection that isn't of museum quality. From what I could see, much of the script has been eradicated, probably because it had been exposed to the elements for a long period of time. I am certain the dealer is going to ask a lot of money for it. Why pay top dollar for something you wouldn't want to display?"

Phillip signaled the waiter for the check. "I have a solution. Tell the dealer you are interested, but that you personally need to inspect the merchandise. If you feel there is something there, buy the thing. If not, then you really haven't lost anything."

Both relieved and excited about the aryballos, Catalina played to Phillip's ego. "Why didn't I think of that?"

Phillip reached across the table and gently squeezed Catalina's hand. "Because you have me to do your thinking for you, my dear."

CHAPTER 6

Relaxing in the plane's first class seat, Catalina wondered why Phillip had been so demonstrative the night she had dinner with him. It was so out of character for him to reach across the table to squeeze her hand. She thought he had been acting a little strange around her lately, but she brushed it off as just another one of his idiosyncrasies.

Catalina knew she should be thankful for the attention he gave her, but then at times her desire for freedom of self-expression made her feel like running away. What is wrong with me? Why can't I just be grateful for all the things he does for me?

Her thoughts returned to that first day they met. She had just turned nineteen; he was eleven years older. Had it not been for the accident, their paths would have never crossed. She had gone out of the house to the pharmacy to fill a prescription for Marcelo. On her way back she had sought shelter from the rain underneath a store's canopy. This had not been one of those tropical showers that come and go swiftly. She waited for about fifteen minutes for the rain to stop. When it didn't, she started across the street to seek shelter in a coffee shop. That's when it happened.

There had been a flash flood, the torrent of rain so strong that even the gutters overflowed. Visibility was poor. Her mind had been elsewhere, and she wasn't watching where she was going when the limo screeched around the corner. The chauffeur didn't spot her until the very last moment. The right front fender made contact with her knee, pummeling her to the ground with such force that her arms hadn't had a chance to react quickly enough to break her fall. Lying in the road, she had felt as if she'd entered another dimension, a place that had no time. Everything was taking place in slow motion, like a tape recorder working at half-speed; the concerned look of the limo's occupant, the paramedics hovering over her, their lifting her on to a gurney, she remembered those things. They placed her in an ambulance. She lost consciousness just as the sirens had started to wail.

When she finally came to, she had been surprised to find herself in a hospital bed. Phillip and Marcelo were the first people she saw. When the doctor told her the extent of her injuries, she had cried. She'd suffered a concussion and a broken jaw, but it was her shattered leg that concerned the doctor the most. It hung above her bed in a cast suspended by wires and pulleys. She had overheard the doctor telling Marcelo there was a good chance she would end up walking with a limp. It was like a death sentence. To be a cripple at her age meant she probably would never find a husband, certainly not a good provider.

That's when Phillip had come to her rescue. He felt so responsible for her injuries that he convinced Marcelo to let her travel with him to Los Angeles where a team of specialists would make her whole again. He had a plane standing by, and when he asked her if she would be willing to go, Catalina recalled how foolish she must have sounded trying to speak through clenched teeth. All she was able to do was mumble an incomprehensible, "Thank you." She spent two months in the hospital convalescing. A team of surgeons had replaced her shin bone as well as her knee. They repaired the damage by surgically implanting several prosthetic devices. It took several operations. With the exception of a couple of thin scars, no one would have known she had surgery. After eight months of prescribed therapy as well as rigorous daily exercise, she was able to walk unassisted without a limp.

During her hospital stay, Phillip had come to visit her at least once a day to inquire about her health. He read to her, and brought her all kinds of gifts. And then there were the flowers. Other than at a flower shop, she had never seen so many bouquets. The entire hospital room was filled with roses. She thought it was wasteful for any one person to have so many so she gave most of them away to the nurses who distributed them throughout the ward.

When she had first met him, Phillip had been her "Prince Charming." Knowing that he was considerably older didn't make him any less attractive. Maybe it was his premature graying hair, which gave him a distinguished look, or possibly it was his poise and self-assurance. He had "movie star" good looks, that's how handsome he was; a perfectly proportioned nose, a set of high cheekbones and thick, graying dark hair. For as long as she knew him, she had never seen him out of control.

In retrospect, she now realized she would have gravitated to just about anyone who would have paid the least bit of attention to her. In those days, she had been such a gangly teenager that people never bothered giving her a second look. And here was a suave, good-looking man who doted over her, pampered her, and catered to her every whim.

Once she had fully recovered, Catalina thought Phillip would put her on a plane to Manaus, but that didn't happen. The day she was released from the hospital was the day Phillip had taken control of her life.

* * *

The aircraft's change in altitude and the whine of its wing flaps indicated she would be landing soon. As she buckled her seat belt, she again wondered if she had made the right decision. At first she had agreed to stay with Phillip until she found a job, but a job never materialized because Phillip had encouraged her to go to school. She had taken a couple of courses at a local junior college and was surprised when she received high marks. Once Phillip discovered she had an interest in archeology, he pulled a few strings and got her admitted to the University of Southern California. He paid her tuition, bought her beautiful clothes, and had been her one and only companion.

For the first time in her life, Catalina was able to conceptualize what money could buy. She loved the comfort and security that Phillip's wealth provided. In the beginning of their strange relationship, Catalina had every intention of paying Phillip back the money he'd spent on her education. She rationalized that once she earned a B.A. degree, she would get a job and become self-sufficient, but somehow that had gone by the wayside. By the time she had graduated, she had become quite interested in Phillip's collection of South American artifacts. He insisted she stay in school and once she obtained her doctorate degree, he ensconced her in a condo and hired her to oversee and expand his collection. "You'll be my director of acquisitions," he had said. "Your job will be to purchase the finest quality pieces of South American antiquities. You know me well enough by now. I want only the best. You also know what my collection lacks."

She had been expanding upon Phillip's collection for the better part of two years and now, at twenty-eight, she was flying to Manaus to take a look at an old aryballos that had piqued her interest.

CHAPTER 7

The first thing Catalina did upon arriving in Manaus was visit her grandfather. She loved Marcelo dearly. Here he was, in his mid-eighties and as spry as ever—that is, if he was telling her the truth about his age. She didn't remember her grandmother as she died when she was just a little girl. For the last several years she had been trying to talk Marcelo into leaving Manaus and come live with her in Los Angeles. Today was no exception. "Just think, you wouldn't have to ask me about the weather anymore. I'd buy you your own television set so you could listen to the weather broadcast every day."

Marcelo kissed her fondly on the cheek. "You don't want an old man like me around. I would only be in the way."

"We've had this conversation before," Catalina said sternly. "I only see you a couple of times a year. Come on. Come back with me. Would you, please?"

Marcelo winked. "What about my friends? Did I tell you I have a new girlfriend? She is younger than me. She says she is seventy-five, but she's older. She lies about her age just like I do."

"Oh, Granddad. You are impossible, but I love you." Catalina reflected on the two-bedroom house Marcelo owned. It was half the size of her condo, but it had been her home for the better part of three years. Although it had been adequate, she was glad she no longer lived in Manaus. Phillip's cosmopolitan style of life was broadening her horizons—at least that's what she kept telling herself.

Marcelo took her to see Arcell who told her he had no objection to letting her have the aryballos for a couple of days providing she returned it in good condition.

She immediately took it to Marcelo's place and sat in her old room with a strong light and a magnifying glass for most of the night. After examining it, she came to the conclusion that it was in much better condition than the photographs had revealed. She picked up the aryballos by its gourd-like stem and shook it gently. Nothing. Should she assume it was empty? No. There has to be something in it or why else would it be sealed?

Although some of the anthropomorphic design had faded, she could spot a definite logic to the Topuku caricatures lining its sides. Although Catalina couldn't make out all of the writing, she was definitely left with the impression that whoever had scribed the pictographs was telling a story, a story she was determined to unravel.

Two days later, she returned the aryballos to Arcell. This time, she purposely avoided taking Marcelo with her. Because Arcell was her grandfather's friend, she didn't want Marcelo to be there when she negotiated price. Although she couldn't be certain, she felt the ancient water jar contained a secret. Why else would the word "derrotero" appear? She thought a guide text could be a map, but a map to what?

Catalina hoped her facial expression didn't convey her inner excitement at the prospect of purchasing it. She set the artifact on Arcell's counter. "How much do you want for it?"

"Well, being that Marcelo is your grandfather, I think ten thousand euros would be a fair price."

Catalina was certain that Marcelo had told her Phillip was rich. Intuitively, she felt Arcell was going to milk as much money out of the artifact as he could. "It's not made of gold, you know. In fact, it's not even in pristine condition. Ten thousand euros is simply out of the question. I'll give you four thousand and not a penny more."

Arcell appeared to mull over her offer. "You must admit it's somewhat unusual to find one this ornate. Also it's sealed. I could come down to eight thousand."

Catalina was qualified to appraise South American artifacts. She knew eight thousand euros was simply an outrageous price. Although Phillip would never question the sum, it was a professional challenge for her to obtain the artifact at a market price, especially since it wouldn't be the finest piece of terracotta in his collection. Feigning disinterest, she turned away from Arcell and headed for the door. She prayed that her ploy would prompt the dealer to come closer to her offer.

"Six thousand then. It's certainly worth six thousand euros," she heard him say.

Catalina reached for the knob. "That's not going to happen. The receptacle may be old, but age in and of itself doesn't determine value." She opened the door and was about to walk out when she heard Arcell's pleading voice.

"Wait! Five thousand. Have a heart, will you? I know it's worth at least that much."

Catalina removed her smile before turning to face him. "I'll give you four thousand five hundred for it, Arcell. And only because you are my grandfather's friend."

* * *

Her heart was racing with excitement when she left Arcell's shop with the aryballos. She couldn't wait to call Phillip to tell him of her purchase. Catalina was anxious to break the seal, but decided to wait till she returned to L.A. She also vowed to spend whatever time it would take to figure out the meaning of some of the Topuku pictographs that were on the jar.

CHAPTER 8

Eric Shade was bored. It had been raining the entire week since he and Chris had returned from the Amazon. The hikers they had guided safely through the jungle had paid their bill, and although Eric had looked forward to a few days' rest, he certainly hadn't expected to have to hang around Chris's shack for this long, waiting for the weather to clear.

"Will you quit pacing, for Christ's sake!" Chris admonished him. "You're like a caged animal. Relax, will you? Go read a book or something."

Eric grabbed a beer out of the refrigerator and plopped down on a rickety chaise lounge. "If this damn rain would only stop. I hate being cooped up in the house."

"I wish it would stop, too," Chris said. "I'd like to hitch a ride on a barge that's heading toward the Purus River. I heard a mestizo say there were ruins of an ancient temple in the jungle a mile east of the Amazon River. Maybe we could—"

Eric cut him off. "I know why you want to go there. You're still looking for a pot of gold in the proverbial rainbow. It takes money to search for ancient relics in the jungle, money we don't have. We'll soon be entering the off-season for tourists. We have to make enough to live through some upcoming dry months."

"You're right, Eric. You're always right. But one of these days . . ."

"I know, Chris. One of these days I hope to save up enough money so I can continue to search for my father."

"He's been gone for months, Eric. Do you really think he's still alive?"

"It's a long shot, but I have to give it one more try."

"Where will you look?" Chris asked.

"I'm sure he's somewhere in Mato Grosso."

"Ninety percent of Mato Grosso is nothing but jungle. You're talking about thousands of square miles. Hell, Eric. You could spend a lifetime there, and you'd never find him."

"I know," Eric replied. "I thought I'd head toward Roncador Mountain. There are a number of tunnels in that region. Maybe he entered one of them."

"You aren't going there alone. You and I climbed that mountain several times. It would be suicidal to attempt a solo climb. Besides, you've heard the stories same as I. People who have entered some of those tunnels have never been heard from since."

Eric was only too aware of the dangers involved. "What I would like to know is why the Murcego Indians had taken such an interest in guarding one of them."

"Are you referring to the Bat Indians?" Chris asked.

Eric shook his head. "The Murcego's earned the nickname because they are nocturnal—just like bats. Those Indians may be small, but they are supposed to be fierce as hell."

"I know, I know," Chris said. "But if I became frightened of every yarn that's been told about the strange things that happen in Brazil, I probably would never venture out of bed."

"Your point is well taken," Eric replied. "But you must admit some strange occurrences have been reported in and around the mountain. Some even say you can hear choral singing coming from one of those tunnels."

Chris laughed. "Come on, Eric. Choral singing? That's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard."

"Think what you like," Eric replied. "All I know is it would be just like my father to enter one of those tunnels." Eric glanced at Chris. "I can't go there alone. But if you were to come with me, maybe with your help, I'll find him—that is, if that's where he went."

Chris turned serious. "When are you going to face reality, Eric? Your father is gone. Are you going to spend the rest of your life searching for a dead man?"

Eric drained his beer and walked over to the refrigerator to grab another. "I know the situation seems hopeless, but I at least have to try. You don't have to come with me, you know."

Chris's voice softened. "It's not that I mind helping you look for him. It's just that you have no clues. We'd be better off if we were to follow the Amazon River upstream and talk to villagers along the way. Someone may recall seeing a white man that fits his description. I have a hard time believing he would have gone to that mountain by himself."

"You don't know my father," Eric said. "The man is absolutely fearless."

"Colonel Fawcett was fearless, too. And look where that got him." Chris countered.

Eric knew the story well. Percy Fawcett considered himself to be invincible. The English adventurer had explored many areas of South America where no white man had even been. Eventually he disappeared forever into the wilderness. "You make perfect sense, but then why argue about it? We can't do a damn thing anyway, at least not until we latch on to some money."

* * *

In the late afternoon of the fourth day, the rain clouds dissipated, and the sun came out just long enough to set in the western sky. The evening was pleasant so Chris and Eric sat outside. They gazed at the multitude of stars, small twinkling jewels that dominated the entire sky. Eric was the first to break the silence. "Have you ever heard of the Star Walkers?"

"No. Not really. Who are they?"

"That's a question I've been asking myself off and on for quite some time. Most Indians living in South America believe that thousands of years ago, a group of gods descended from the sky. They supposedly came from the constellation of Orion shortly after the last deluge to impart their ancient wisdom to the Ugha Mongulala, a tribe of Indians who lived long, long ago."

"You said deluge. What kind of a deluge?"

Eric resettled himself on the chaise lounge. "Roncador is an active volcano. Did you know that?" He didn't wait for Chris to reply. "Geologists claim it erupted some thirteen thousand years ago. Legend has it that a group of white-skinned men in long flowing robes lived in a subterranean city nearby. As you can well imagine, when the earth shook, and day turned to night, there came from the crevasses in the ground deadly gases. Blinded, asphyxiated, and maddened beyond human endurance, the people that lived above ground fled. It was said those who did not escape were either burned, or engulfed in the yawning earth, but not the Star Walkers."

"Do you believe in the myth?" Chris asked.

"I'm not sure I do. Lewis Spence, an expert on ancient history of South America, claims there were survivors of this holocaust and that evidence of them has come to light from time to time over the years. Reports of strange, pale-skinned guardians of subterranean cities abound. The question is: were they some unknown race that lived in Brazil thousands of years ago or were they descendents of the Star Walkers who initially had come to earth from the stars, or so the story goes." Eric turned to face Chris. "Do you remember my telling you that my father took me on a quest to find the lost city of Ingregil?"

"Yes. In fact, I recall you saying the two of you found an unusual statue there."

Eric nodded. "Actually they were three statues in one. The men definitely had Caucasian features. I'm sure of it. They wore long flowing robes. My father was convinced the statues were a facsimile of the Star Walkers. It's been years since I've seen those statues, yet when I close my eyes, I can see the three figures just as clearly as I see you. They were carved out of a solid piece of granite, three men, or maybe I should say gods. Their facial characteristics weren't Indian. They had high cheekbones like the Greeks and sculpted noses like the Romans. The one in the middle held a staff. Now I ask you, how could ancient artisans create figures so unlike themselves unless they had actually seen the men they depicted?"

Chris was hanging on Eric's every word. "Maybe they were conquistadors . . . if the city was built in the sixteenth century. As you know, the Spaniards were in South America at about that time."

"You forget I used to teach South American history," Eric said. "The first white man to reach a South American shoreline was Christopher Columbus. This took place at the end of the fifteenth century at a time when he made his third voyage to the Americas. If my memory serves me correctly, the conquests of Pizarro and Cortés took place much later. Also, for the record, Ingregil was not built by the Incas. Archeologists have determined the city was built at a time when Jesus Christ was preaching in Jerusalem. Now you tell me how a group of indigenous Indians could have possibly known what white men looked like in the days when Jesus was alive."

"Your point is well taken," Chris said. "Both of us have seen some strange things in the jungle. So what's your theory? Do you think they were ancient aliens? Did they come from another world?"

"To be honest, I'm not discounting the possibility, particularly since I'm convinced someone must have imparted a great deal of knowledge to the ancient Indian tribes who lived in South America several thousand years ago. All you have to do is visit a couple of Mayan ruins. The Aztec, Mayan and Inca architecture speaks for itself. I am convinced the primitive Indians had to have had some help in building their fabulous cities."

"You mean like Ingregil?" Chris asked.

Eric nodded his head. "That's why my father went into the jungle to try and find the lost city of Akakor. You see, the Ugha Mongulala Indians were supposed to have occupied that city and others like it. Father wanted to find irrefutable evidence that the Star Walkers had really existed. Unlike the Indians, my father didn't believe they were gods."

"Who did he think they were?" Chris asked.

"He wasn't sure whether the Star Walkers were from this world or some other, but he was convinced they must have possessed extraordinary powers. Actually, father's hypothesis makes sense. According to legend, the Star Walkers could perform superhuman feats. That's why the ancient Indians believed them to be gods. But in reality, they might not have been gods at all. Maybe they just possessed a technology far superior to the times that made those Indians think they were gods."

Chris walked over to the refrigerator to help himself to another beer. "If your father didn't think the Star Walkers were gods, then he must have believed they were biological entities from another world."

"I never told anyone this, but Jonathan Shade was often ridiculed or scoffed by a number of scholars. And I know why. I'm the kind of guy who has to see it, smell it, and then touch it before I'll make the claim that it exists. But not my father. That's because he always worked outside of the box." Eric paused. "Actually, my father's premise wasn't all that far-fetched. You see, Chris, in many ways it's easier to believe that these so called Star Walkers weren't gods at all, but a race of people either from this planet or some other who were much more advanced technologically than we are today. In fact, I recall a story that makes my point:

"In World War II an American fighter pilot crash-landed in a Brazilian rain forest where he was discovered by an isolated tribe of natives. Impressed by his descent from the sky, these primitive Indians elevated him to the status of a god. They even created a religion around him. The proof of their religion consisted of a series of artifacts hanging from tree branches, including items such as a broken plane engine, a cigarette lighter, and a rusting pocketknife. To an educated man, these artifacts are not proof of the religion itself, but rather proof of an actual event that had occurred and was misrepresented."

"I see what you're saying," Chris said. "Any sufficiently advanced technology can be perceived as a miracle—and people in those days thought only gods could perform miracles."

"That's exactly my point! If these so called Star Walkers had really existed, what do you think happened to them?" Eric asked a rhetorical question that he answered himself. "No one really knows. Some say they left this world because they became disenchanted with the frailties and weaknesses of mankind. Others claim they are still here and live deep beneath the earth. The truth of the matter is at this point it's all pure conjecture. As I told you earlier. I have to see it before I believe it."

"Well, one certainly can't knock success," Chris said. "You and your father found Ingregil."

"Yes, but that happened a long time ago. My father knew how to speak Quechua. Not only could he read Korubu, but he could also read and write in a number of other native languages. He used to listen for hours to the stories the natives would tell him. What he loved to do more than anything else was chase myths. If an Indian were to tell him the Star Walkers were actually the three wise men who followed a moving star to the birthplace of Jesus, he'd probably believe the story."

Chris's eyes widened. "Really?"

"No. Talk about being gullible!" Eric stood up. "I don't know about you, but I'm going to catch some shut-eye."

CHAPTER 9

Phillip Nash was a creature of habit. On the day before Catalina was to arrive from Manaus, he woke up from his afternoon nap at precisely four o'clock. After throwing on a pair of shorts and a tee shirt, he ran five miles in the hilly terrain that surrounded his Bel Aire two-acre estate. After his run, he headed for the steam room.

Phillip was a rich man, and he owed a large portion of his wealth to his parents. When they died, they left him twenty million dollars plus fifteen acres of prime oceanfront property north of Malibu, California. In time, he received clearance from the coastal commission to subdivide the land into half-acre parcels. He could have sold the land to developers, but decided to improve the property himself. He hired an architect and a contractor, built thirty luxurious oceanfront residences, and sold them when real estate values were at an all-time high. He took the profit plus his initial investment and purchased oil leases. By the time he was thirty, Phillip's net worth was well over one hundred million dollars. Since he had so much money that he no longer had to worry about finances, he placed all of it in a trust, and drew two million dollars a year, which was all he needed in order to maintain his extravagant lifestyle. That's when he became interested in South American artifacts.

Phillip thought it ironic that even with all of his wealth, he was unable to have a normal sex life. While still a teenager, he discovered he was unlike other boys. In the beginning the doctors had told him he was suffering from post-traumatic stress. They had assured him that over a period of time, once the vivid recollection of his parents' death was a fading memory, he would be able to function normally. After he had completed college, he spent a fortune on psychiatrists and when they couldn't help him, he purchased every aphrodisiac he could lay his hands on, but nothing worked.

He never forgot the humiliation he experienced during his last year of high school. His classmates told him that one of the most beautiful girls at the school had a crush on him. He finally decided to ask her out. On their first two dates, they talked and laughed and had a great time. On their third date, she asked Phillip if he wanted to come by her house and take a dip in the pool. When he went over, she told him her parents had left for the weekend. "Why don't you go out to the cabana and put on your swimsuit," she had said coyly. "I'll meet you there in a few minutes."

Phillip recalled the events that had taken place as if it had happened yesterday. He watched her from the cabana spring off the diving board in the nude. She waved to him when she surfaced. "Come on in, the water is great." When he hesitated, she came over and stood stark naked in front of him, dripping wet. When he just stood there not knowing what to do, she took him by the hand and led him back inside the cabana. "Take off your trunks," she had said. "They'll only be in the way." When he didn't respond, she had reached into his swimsuit and began to play with his penis. When he didn't get an erection, she accused him of being gay. Word got around quickly that he couldn't "get it up," with a girl, and he quickly became the laughingstock of the entire school. The experience had devastated him. That was the first and last time Phillip had ever been out on a date.

When he entered college, he chose not to make friends, rationalizing that if he acted aloof and unapproachable, no one would ever suspect he had a problem. Over the years, he had developed an impenetrable façade, which he used as a defense mechanism. In the beginning, Phillip had to work at being unpleasant. At first, he found it difficult to be rude, but in time, it became second nature to him. Having friends would mean he would have to share feelings and emotions, and this was something he was not willing to do, preferring to live the life of a recluse.

Phillip employed a large staff, which included a number of gardeners, a cook, a couple of maids, and a chauffeur. With the exception of his personal butler, no one stayed with him longer than a year. Because he didn't associate with women, he was always afraid one of the help would come to the erroneous conclusion that he was gay. He would give them a monetary incentive to seek employment elsewhere.

But that was before he met Catalina. He wasn't sure if Catalina was a blessing or a curse. Maybe a little of both.

In the beginning, when Phillip had started to collect South American relics, his purchases had been modest, particularly when one considered his enormous wealth. However, money had not been the issue. It was his distrust of people that had made him cautious. He was always afraid of getting ripped off. Once Catalina received her doctorate, she had quickly shown an aptitude for buying artifacts at or below market prices. Once he trusted her instincts, he let her purchase exorbitantly expensive one-of-a-kind items.

He still marveled at what she had managed to accomplish. Although most of his possessions were of museum quality, prior to her involvement, there had been little if any semblance of order to his artifacts. Within a short period of time, Catalina had re-arranged his entire inventory. She catalogued and displayed textiles, ceramics, militaristic, and religious objects as well as important Spanish documents that related to the conquest of the Inca Empire.

Once Phillip discovered how indispensable she was, he hired her to work for him. By giving Catalina a job, he rationalized that this would be a way to hold on to her, and Phillip was certain of only one thing. He would never let her go.

As he was getting dressed, he looked out of his bedroom window and saw a young bird that had apparently fallen out of its nest onto a ledge. It stretched its wings to fly, but either it was too afraid or unable to. For some reason, the injured sparrow reminded Phillip of the day his limousine had run over Catalina. He'd never stopped blaming himself for the accident. To this day, he wished he could take back the words he had spoken to the chauffer:

"Hurry, will you? I don't want to be late for my appointment."

"But, sir. The road is wet and visibility is poor."

Phillip recalled how angry he had become. "I don't pay you to think. I pay you to follow my wishes. Step on it!"

No sooner had the chauffeur obeyed than he felt the big car swerve. He had even heard the thud when Catalina's body connected with the limousine's right bumper. He had immediately jumped out of the car into the pouring rain. The scene before him was indelibly seared into his memory. The image of the bleeding, semi-conscious girl still haunted him to this very day. He quickly saw the futility of trying to staunch the blood flowing from her mouth. He waited at the scene until an ambulance and the police arrived. They asked some questions and then told him he could go. He was due to fly back to L.A., but his conscience bothered him so much that he cancelled the flight. Phillip went to the hospital. It was there that he met Marcelo, the girl's grandfather. He told Marcelo it was his driver who had hit her. He remembered sitting in the hospital with Marcelo waiting to hear what the doctors had to say. He was relieved when they told him she would live; however, they made it clear that her injuries were extensive.

After seeing Catalina, he talked Marcelo in to allowing him to fly her to a hospital in Los Angeles where he had assured him that she would receive the best of care. Marcelo came, too. He stayed for a while, but once he was convinced Phillip's doctors would nurse her back to health, he returned to Manaus.

Phillip picked up Catalina's picture, which was prominently displayed on his bureau. He had taken it shortly after she graduated from college. He ran his fingers over the frame. She was as tall as his mother had been. He didn't think the picture did justice to her eyes. They were emerald green, the same color as his mother's. Her jet-black hair was naturally full of curl. She was the only woman he knew who didn't require makeup. Her complexion was the color of fine bone china, the contrast of the purity of her skin and her dark hair made her appear all the more striking.

At first he had sensed Catalina would welcome his advances. He was definitely attracted to her, but his fear of not being able to perform and of the scorn that would accompany it caused him to shy away from a romantic relationship. The memory of ridicule still fresh in his mind, he vowed he would never again place himself in a position where his vulnerability could be used against him.

Phillip called for his chauffeur. Within minutes he entered the sleek, black Rolls. "Drive me to Cartier's and hurry," he told the driver. As the car sped toward the famous jewelry store, Phillip replayed what he would say to Catalina the following evening. He'd been toying with the idea of proposing marriage, but thus far, hadn't broached the subject. The more he thought about it the more convinced he became it wasn't such a bad idea. Lean and muscular at thirty-eight, Phillip was as fit as a man ten years his junior. He knew he would have to tell her the truth about his condition, but if she cared for him, and he felt sure she did, would it really matter? Hopefully, the lack of a physical union wouldn't make that much difference. Maybe she could help him overcome his impotency, and in the meantime her acceptance of a marriage proposal would be the only gratification he would require.

When he walked into one of the most exclusive jewelry stores in Los Angeles, Phillip noted the time. It was four minutes to six.

"I'm closing, sir," said the man behind the counter. "I was just getting ready to lock up."

"What time do you have?" Phillip asked sternly.

"Six o'clock."

"My watch is extremely accurate, and I'll have you know it's not six yet."

The clerk gave Phillip a phony smile. "I'm sorry, sir. My mistake. What can I do for you?"

As usual, Phillip was direct. "I want to buy an engagement ring."

"Certainly, sir. I've put away most of the inventory that had been on display. May I ask what you'd like to spend?"

"Price is of no concern. I want to buy something extraordinary, not the stuff you normally keep behind the counter. I want to purchase the most expensive diamond engagement ring you have."

The shopkeeper began to stammer. "Our finer jewelry has been locked in the safe for the night. The safe has a time lock and can't be opened till tomorrow morning. Would it be possible to come back tomorrow?"

Irritated, Phillip said icily, "You didn't answer my question."

Well, the most expensive diamond in Cartier's inventory retails for two million six hundred thousand dollars. It's six carats and virtually flawless, a very rare diamond indeed. We have loose diamonds at our New York store that are more expensive, but the ring would have to be made to order. If you want one of those, it would take a minimum of . . ."

"I'll take the one you just mentioned. Someone will call you with a ring size in the morning. Have it ready for me by tomorrow afternoon." Pulling out his checkbook, Phillip glanced at the clerk whose mouth was wide open. "What's the total with tax?"

"Don't you want to see the stone first? What if you don't like it?"

"I'm not buying it to wear on my finger. Besides, what's not to like about a two million six hundred thousand dollar ring?"

CHAPTER 10

Since Phillip was already a patron and benefactor of the Getty Museum in L.A., Catalina placed his name on the shipping label and sent the aryballos to the museum. She did this for two reasons. She was afraid if she took it with her on the plane, she might damage it. Also, she didn't want to have to lie to a custom's official if he were to ask her questions about the artifact. Catalina rationalized she wasn't exactly being dishonest sending it to the museum since Phillip had stipulated that upon his death, most of his South American artifacts were to go to the Getty.

On the return flight, Catalina could hardly wait to unseal the aryballos, hoping Phillip would be just as pleased with the purchase as she was. Ah, Phillip. I wish he wouldn't make life so complicated. When they first met, he was thirty, she only nineteen. Although nothing had ever been said, Phillip, always the gentleman, had maintained his distance. In the beginning, he had acted more as a surrogate older brother, always tending to her needs. In those days she didn't realize to what extent he controlled and manipulated her. Catalina was very much aware that, with the exception of Phillip, her life was devoid of people. Once she started college, she'd asked Phillip if a male classmate from school could visit, and although he hadn't verbalized any objections, his facial expression showed his displeasure. She never asked him again.

Catalina tried to recall when their relationship had started to change. She guessed it was after she had completed her doctorate degree. That's when Phillip seemed to take a great deal of pleasure in showing her off. Even though she would have been quite happy wearing a pair of jeans, he insisted she wear the latest fashions and started to buy her chic clothes from the smart dress shops that lined Rodeo Drive. They would go to the theater, the symphony, fine restaurants, and, once in a while, to a party that one of the many charities he donated to would sponsor.

She wasn't naive enough to think that people didn't talk, but their relationship had always been platonic. In the beginning, Catalina had been disappointed that Phillip had never made any romantic overtures toward her, but as she matured, she suspected he had only wanted to convey to others the impression that he was sleeping with her. But if that were the case, why didn't he? As generous and considerate as he was, he often left her with the impression that she was nothing more than one of his many acquisitions. Even though he'd shower her with expensive gifts, there was always this undercurrent of emotional detachment. For the life of her, she couldn't understand why.

It was shortly after Phillip had frowned on her having male companions that he hired a private masseuse. She could still visualize the young Italian. His fingers were long and delicate much like a woman's, and they performed miracles on her body, relaxing her totally. When Phillip hadn't made any advances, she'd fantasized about having a relationship with a man closer to her own age. Catalina recalled when she was a junior in college, an attractive classmate struck up a conversation with her. She had agreed to have a cup of coffee with him after class, but when he asked her out, she'd lied, telling him she was already spoken for. She instinctively knew that although Phillip was not interested in her romantically, he wasn't about to share her with anyone else. Catalina was certain that had Phillip discovered she was dating someone, he would have felt betrayed.

Often times she was lonely and yearned for the companionship of people her own age, but it was a small price to pay for the security Phillip provided her. She knew her situation could not go on like this indefinitely, but she wasn't ready to take steps to change it.

When her plane touched down at Los Angeles International Airport, she was pleased to see Phillip's chauffeur waiting for her. It was just like him to be so considerate. Eager to delve into the mystery surrounding the aryballos, she called the museum to see if the package had arrived. She wasn't surprised that after her call had been transferred to three people, she was no closer to receiving an answer.

"I'd like you to stop by the Getty," she told the driver. Finally, after what seemed like an interminable amount of time, one of the assistant curators whom she had met at a party found it in the mail room. "I hope this is what you were looking for," he said, handing her the familiar package which she had wrapped herself. It took all the willpower she could muster not to unwrap it right then and there, but she decided it would be best to break the seal of the aryballos in the privacy of her home.

Ensconced in the back seat of Phillip's Rolls, Catalina felt the car's soft glove-like leather as its new car smell permeated the air. She never ceased to be amazed at the limo's quiet ride. No. She was not ready to give this up. The luxuriously appointed sedan glided silently through traffic, and soon the massive wrought iron gates to Phillip's property parted, allowing the Rolls to enter.

A multitude of flowers lined the serpentine drive leading to the mansion; hundreds of marigolds, snapdragons, and daffodils in a myriad of colors were in full bloom. It appeared as if nature had just performed one of its miracles when in reality Phillip's gardeners had planted the flowers to the exact specifications of a landscape architect. Phillip never left anything to chance. His house reminded her of an Italian villa she'd once seen in a travel brochure. There was a majestic fountain in the middle of the circular drive, and beneath the fountain, dozens of large koi were swimming lazily in a circular pond.

Phillip came out personally to greet her. As he approached, she kissed him on the cheek. Instead of reciprocating with his customary peck, he gave her a hug.

"Where is the butler?" she asked.

"There was a family emergency. The agency sent over a replacement, but he didn't work out. Harry will be back in a couple of days, so in the meantime we'll just have to rough it."

Catalina could picture Harry's replacement doing something trivial that had most likely annoyed Phillip, and with Phillip Nash, no one received a second chance. "Don't worry, I'll cook for you," she said.

"Will you? Aren't you the dear." Leading her back to the house, he asked, "How about if the two of us go riding? I think Mistanesian missed you. He looked so forlorn when I was at the stables."

"Oh, I was kind of looking forward to solving the mystery of the aryballos."

"By the way, how did that go?"

"I think Marcelo led me to something special. Would you like to see it?"

"There's plenty of time for that. Let's not waste a beautiful day."

Disappointed, Catalina knew better than to argue. Phillip would just resort to pouting until he got his way.

"Oh, all right. I'll ride with you, but only if you promise you'll let me work this afternoon."

Phillip beamed. "You have a deal. By the way, I've made plans for us to go out to dinner. You'll need to be ready by six."

Catalina had hoped to grab something quick so she could continue working on the aryballos. "Why don't we have a pizza delivered?" When she saw the look of disdain on his face, she realized the suggestion had been a bad idea.

"I don't much care for pizza. Too many calories. Besides, I've planned a wonderful evening for us. Do you mind?"

She didn't dare disappoint him. "Of course not. If you want to go out to eat, then that's what we'll do."

Satisfied, Phillip said, "Why don't you go put on some riding clothes, and I'll meet you at the stables."

Phillip had converted the guesthouse into a private suite for Catalina. Although it had all the conveniences of her condo, she only used it as an office. He had remodeled the living room into a studio, which contained a computer, a library, and a large workbench that she used to piece together pottery shards.

Once she was in her studio, she removed the aryballos from its shipping crate and placed it on the workbench. Again, it took all the willpower she could muster to turn away from it. Rummaging through the closet, she found a riding outfit she had never worn before. Knowing there wouldn't be time for a shower, she slipped out of her clothes, put it on and rushed to the stables.

Phillip had surprised her with Mistanesian. They'd been to a horse show where she'd seen the beautiful Arabian mare. All she'd done was comment on the animal's grace. Several weeks later he had presented her with the mare for her birthday. It even had little red bows tied to its mane.

They began riding in silence. Then, Phillip asked, "Want to race to the end of the trail?"

Without waiting for her to reply, he snapped his whip against the horse's flank and galloped away. Catalina could never refuse a challenge. "You're on." They raced neck and neck when Catalina consciously shortened her grip on the reigns. The action hadn't been noticeable to Phillip as he inched past her by less than a horse's head. Catalina could see it pleased him to win, but she was angry with herself for allowing him to do so.

* * *

When Catalina returned from her ride, she handed Mistanesian to one of the grooms. "Brush her down, will you, Charlie?"

"Sure thing, Miss Catalina. Don't you worry none. I'll take care of the filly."

Catalina headed toward her studio. She glanced at the aryballos. Although she was eager to break the seal, the archeologist in her prevailed. What's your rush? The aryballos isn't going anywhere. As she studied the artifact with a magnifying glass, she spotted another Quechua word she recognized. Writing "Verde" on her notepad, she placed an equals sign to the side of it and followed up with an English translation. Verde means green, but what does that have to do with derrotero?

Because Verde appeared after the word derrotero, Catalina completed the translation as, "instructions green." No. That doesn't sound right. Reversing the order of the words, she wrote, "green instructions." That sounds better. The word verde still didn't register with her. She also didn't understand why it had been capitalized. Examining the older Tokupu text, she jotted down what two of the words stood for. She was fairly certain that Latacunga and Ambato were ancient towns, but she wasn't sure of their location.

Catalina glanced at her watch. It was almost three. She decided it would be best to take the aryballos to her condo where she could study it at her leisure. She laughed at the thought. Leisure, my foot! Phillip said six o'clock. At most I'll only have a couple of hours to work on it before he calls on me. She wished she had more time to research the mysterious artifact, but that was not to be. The minute she unlocked the front door to her condo, she unraveled a large map of South America. Catalina wondered why anyone would find it significant to mention two obscure towns, villages really. She couldn't find Latacunga or Ambato on the map and was beginning to think they never existed. Nonetheless, she tried to connect their significance to the two words she had translated earlier, namely "green instructions."

She had wanted to share this moment with Phillip, but unable to wait any longer, she took a pocketknife and, ever so carefully, broke the artifact's seal. She had been right. There was no liquid inside. Of course, the aryballos was small and at most couldn't have contained more than a liter of fluid. Placing the aryballos on its side, she somehow managed to worm a small pair of pincers into the container. It was slow going because she had to be careful not to tear whatever was in the jar. Finally, the pincers found some cords which she gingerly pulled from the jug.

Her heart gave a lurch. "This just can't be!" she exclaimed out loud. To the Incas the color of the cords was significant in that it represented the item to be inventoried. Red equated to the "number of warriors" in a particular locale and yellow stood for "gold." There were numerous knots tied to the yellow cords. Could her eyes have betrayed her? It finally came to her. She was actually holding a quipu, a mnemonic system the Incas had developed. They used it much like the Chinese use an abacus for counting. Her instincts told her this was no ordinary quipu. She remembered from her studies that the closer the knot was to the top of the cord, the higher its number. Once she counted all the knots, her excitement mounted. With trembling hands and her heart imploding in her chest, she extracted a crinkled piece of parchment from the ancient jar. Examining it carefully, she marveled at its remarkable condition. Under normal circumstances, parchment yellowed with age, but this one looked almost new. She couldn't believe that as old as it was, the jar's seal hadn't cracked. If it had not been airtight, it would have been impossible to read the message.

She jumped when her cell phone rang. "It's me, Catalina. I just wanted to let you know I'm in the car and on my way. I should be in front of your place in another twenty to twenty-two minutes."

Catalina had been tempted to feign sickness, but then thought better of it. Trying to keep the irritation out of her voice, she said, "I'll be ready by the time you get here." Curse him anyway, she thought. It's just like him to give me the time of his arrival to the nearest two minutes. Why in hell does he have to be so precise?

She was confronted with a choice. If she stopped what she was doing, she could take a quick shower, change clothes and be ready by the time Phillip arrived. Or, she could spend a few more minutes on the aryballos. Even though she knew she'd incur Phillip's wrath if she was late, Catalina decided to spend another five minutes with the artifact.

Returning to the task at hand, she was now convinced the word, "derrotero," which she had translated to mean "guide text," in reality meant directions. The possibilities raced through her mind. She scanned the rest of the parchment quickly. Someone named Valverde had signed it. Suddenly it dawned on her, now fairly certain there was no mistake. If she was right, people would murder for what she had in front of her. Taking a deep breath, she exhaled. "It's the original Derrotero de Valverde!"

No longer able to contain her excitement, she rummaged in the far corner of her room, desperately searching for a reference book that was somewhere on the floor in one of the stacks of books she had been meaning to place on a shelf. She was going to be hopelessly late because Phillip would be ringing her doorbell at any moment, but she just had to validate her find. If she was right, what she had discovered inside the aryballos could change the course of her life forever!

CHAPTER 11

Phillip Nash was as nervous as a schoolboy. He'd been planning this evening ever since Catalina had flown to Manaus. Wanting to make it really special, he'd rented a private jet to fly them to San Francisco. Even he had flinched at the exorbitant cost. They were to have dinner at Robaire's, a classy French restaurant he'd discovered on his last trip to the romantic city. After dinner there were tickets to _Beach Blanket Babylon_ , the most popular political satire in town. He'd remembered Catalina telling him she wanted to see it.

He opened the safe, removed the jewelry box containing the engagement ring he had purchased, and placed it in his suit pocket. He could have spent a lot less money for a ring of that size, but it wouldn't have been perfect. The thought of Catalina wearing a diamond with a flaw was abhorrent to him.

Phillip smiled to himself. All Catalina knew was they were going to go out to dinner as they always did on Fridays, but she had no clue as to where. The jet he had rented was waiting for them on the tarmac at Long Beach airport. He had specifically chosen that particular airfield because it was much smaller than L.A. International, which made it easier to get in and out of. He figured the flight to San Francisco would come as a complete surprise. His driver pulled up in front of Catalina's condo. Phillip checked the time. It had taken twenty-one minutes exactly to drive from his place to hers.

He decided to call a second time. With an aircraft that was costing him close to two thousand dollars an hour, he figured he'd better make sure she was ready. The one thing that bothered him most about Catalina was her inobservance of time. He prided himself on being punctual while being on time simply was not in her nature. He sometimes wondered if it was just Catalina or if all women were that way.

* * *

In her rush to find the reference book, Catalina knocked over a small terracotta statue she had acquired for Phillip just two weeks before. She picked it up, placed it in her purse, and hoped she would remember to give it to him later that evening. Scanning for the reference book one more time, she finally found it. Just as she grabbed the volume, she heard the phone ring. Damnit. That had to be Phillip!

Catalina placed the book aside. Instead of answering the phone, she quickly ran down the stairs, unlocked the front door, and disappeared into her upstairs bathroom. Minutes later, still dripping wet, she could hear Phillip's voice from the foyer. "Catalina, are you upstairs?"

"I'm almost ready. Fix yourself a drink if you like. I'll be down in a jiffy."

"We don't have time for me to have a drink," he said curtly.

Catalina literally jumped into her dress, took a comb to her hair, threw a pair of earrings in her purse, squeezed into a pair of pumps and started down the stairs.

She saw him pacing in the foyer. He was impeccably dressed in a tuxedo. Damn. It was a good thing she decided to wear a long dress, the one he gave her several months ago, which she had been meaning to wear.

* * *

Phillip loved the way Catalina always paused and rested her hand on the balustrade before walking down the stairs of her two-story residence. He admired the green velvet dress she wore, the one he had made especially for her by a famous couture in Paris. He could see she had chosen a pair of gold pointed shoes, the ones he thought were so fashionable. She was wearing her hair loose, which made her look even younger than she was. He immediately noticed the brooch. Decorated with diamonds and pearls, it had been his mother's. She wore only the slightest amount of makeup, but her eyebrows were accentuated, which gave her almond-shaped eyes a Eurasian appearance.

As Catalina approached him, Phillip took her hand. He imagined what the ring would look like on her finger. He envisioned her look of surprise once he presented her with the sparkling jewel. She reached into her purse and extracted the terracotta statue. "I've been meaning to give this to you. I purchased it at one of Christie's auctions two weeks ago and had forgotten all about it."

Phillip's eyes were on her and not on the statue. "I would prefer not to deal with it right now. The limo is waiting. Shall we go?"

"Where are you taking me?"

"It's a surprise."

"Listen, Phillip. I have to tell you what I found out about the—"

Phillip's voice had a tone to it that a parent would typically use on a child. "Can't we talk about it later? I told you I have a special evening planned, and it's really important we get under way."

As usual, Catalina acquiesced. She gave him that mischievous little-girl look, which he adored. "Won't you give me a small hint?"

"I'll tell you later. Right now we must get in the car, or we'll be late for our dinner reservation."

Once she was inside Phillip's limo, she tried to contain her exuberance. The special evening you have planned won't hold a candle to what I'm about to tell you, she thought. At first, she had been eager to tell Phillip about her amazing discovery and was disappointed when he had cut her off. She could tell he was excited and wondered why the chauffeur was driving along the tarmac of an airport. When she stepped out of the Rolls, she was surprised to see a private jet waiting for them. As Phillip guided her toward the plane, her eyes focused on the red carpet that trailed up the ramp of the sleek-looking aircraft. No sooner was she ensconced in a plush leather seat, than a flight attendant approached. "Would you care for some champagne and caviar, Miss Rivera?"

Before Catalina had a chance to respond, Phillip asked for a bottle of Rene Lalou.

"Certainly, sir. I'll be back in a moment." When the attendant returned, she placed two crystal glasses and some caviar on a tray next to their seats.

Catalina marveled at Phillip's thoroughness. He knew Rene Lalou was her favorite champagne, and she knew how difficult it was to find. Toasting Phillip with her glass, she leaned her head back in the seat. Here she was drinking her favorite champagne, savoring Beluga caviar, and still not knowing why. "What's the occasion? I know you said you had a surprise, but I thought we were going out to dine?"

Phillip smiled like a Cheshire cat. "We are, my dear. We're having dinner in San Francisco. I've made reservations for us at Robaire's. I know how much you enjoy French food. You'll love the place."

Knowing Phillip as well as she did, Catalina envisioned that he must be up to something or why else would he charter a jet to fly them five hundred miles just to have dinner? However, once the plane left the ground, she relaxed. She tried to broach the subject of the aryballos once more, but Phillip appeared disinterested and into his own thoughts. Because the dialogue was one-sided, she decided it would be best to remain silent. Phillip was usually quite interested in what she had to say so she was now convinced he had something special in store for her.

Instead, of conversing with Phillip, her thoughts drifted back to Valverde's derrotero. There was no question in her mind that the derrotero and the quipu inside the aryballos were genuine. If she could follow the directions, she was certain the ancient guide text would lead her to a fabulous hoard of treasure.

* * *

Phillip, who normally had no trouble maintaining his composure, tried to keep his hands from shaking while using his fork to remove a piece of lamb from a bone shank. They were finishing their wine, opting to pass on dessert, when he reached into his suit pocket and felt around for the small box containing the ring. Should I bring out the box and just hand it to her? Or should I tell her what the ring is for and then wait and see if she will accept it? This was not working out the way he had imagined. He had practiced over and over again what he was going to say. He'd planned to tell her about his sexual dysfunction. After all, how could he propose without letting her know the truth? It would be immoral not to disclose his impotency, but no matter how much he wanted to, he didn't think he'd be able to get the words out of his mouth. Not only was Phillip unable to share with her his deepest and darkest secret, but he also found himself unable to speak. He finally decided to just give her the ring. "Close your eyes and give me your left hand."

* * *

Catalina felt Phillip place a ring on her finger. His voice sounded unsteady. "You can open your eyes now."

The diamond was so large that all she could do was gape at it.

"It's real, Catalina. Not only is it real, but it's also perfect, just like you."

She tried to speak, but no words would come. She never suspected Phillip had any romantic inclinations toward her. Now she knew why he had been acting so peculiar as of late. Had he told her how he felt years ago, she would have rushed into his arms, eager at the chance to be his wife, but not now. Marrying Phillip would be like marrying an older brother. Catalina genuinely cared for him, but the spark, the chemistry, the sexual attraction was no longer there. She owed him. Owed him a lot, and there would never be a way for her to repay him for his kindness and generosity. If he had not taken her in, she would have been living a humdrum existence in Manaus with her grandfather. Of course, she could have opted to go live with her parents in Africa, but she wasn't cut out for missionary work. Phillip had opened her eyes to a beautiful world, a world she would have never been able to fully experience. Although their relationship had been platonic, he was the only man in her life. Her initial reaction was to tell him an engagement was out of the question because she didn't love him—at least not the way he loved her. Instead, all she could say in a feeble voice was, "I can't accept this, Phillip. It's much too expensive."

"Nonsense. It looks wonderful on your finger."

She had to force the words out of her mouth. "A ring like this usually symbolizes a betrothal. Are you proposing to me?"

The involuntary muscle beneath Phillip's right eye began to quiver. "We've been together for eight years. In the beginning our age difference mattered, but that shouldn't be a problem now. I care for you, Catalina, and I want you to be my wife."

Catalina struggled to find the right words, words that he wouldn't construe as hurtful. "You're right. We have been together for quite some time. You must know I have the deepest affection for you. If you hadn't come along, my life would have been very different. If your driver hadn't run me over, I'd probably still be living with Marcelo, working as a waitress in some coffee shop in Manaus. You gave me an education. I have a career, a job I love, but marriage?" Her hands were trembling. "That's an awfully big step, Phillip. For you as well as for me. It's not a decision that should be made lightly."

"Believe me, I have given it a lot of thought. I know I'm ready, but if you'd prefer to wait, I understand. I wouldn't mind a long engagement."

Catalina saw the pleading look in his eyes. It was so out of character for him to show this vulnerability. She wanted to take the ring off her finger, but he had made it extremely difficult for her to do so. She wanted to say no, but she couldn't get the two-letter word out of her mouth. Knowing Phillip was waiting for a reply, she chose her words carefully. "Besides Marcelo and my parents, you're the only living person who cares for me. You are my one and only friend and companion. Had it not been for you, I probably would've married some dockworker in Manaus. You gave me a new life, a life I never dreamed existed. You've also provided me with an education and security I've never had. I owe you everything. The only affection you have ever shown me was a peck on the cheek. You have never given me any indication that you thought of me in romantic terms. I guess I'm just in shock."

Phillip took her hand in his. "I've wanted to tell you how I've felt for quite some time. I guess I just didn't know how to go about it."

The situation had now become awkward—for him as well as for her. "I'm not going to lie to you, Phillip. When you first took me in, I developed a big crush on you. But that was a long time ago." She knew she owed it to him to tell the truth, but the words did not come easily. "I don't love you. At least not in the way you'd want me to."

The silence between them lingered far too long. Finally, Phillip said, "I admire your honesty. I'm not really sure what love is because I've never experienced it. All I know is, you are the only person I've ever cared for. I know that without you, life would just be an empty shell, a vacuum, I wouldn't be able to endure. I need you more than you will ever know."

Phillip's words frightened Catalina. She didn't understand how he could have kept his feelings bottled up inside him for so many years. She weighed her response carefully. If she accepted his proposal, she would be compromising her chances of finding true love, but she also wondered if it would be possible to love Phillip the way she had when he had first taken her in. "If you're willing to accept me, knowing what I just told you, I'll wear the ring, but first you must make me a promise."

Catalina heard him sigh in relief. "What do you want me to do?"

"I only ask that you don't press me. Now that I know how you feel, who knows? Maybe in time I'll be able to think of you in romantic terms. If that happens, then maybe we can get married."

* * *

Phillip had mixed emotions. On the one hand, he'd been relieved that Catalina hadn't rejected him. He was also ashamed because he hadn't told her the whole truth. In a way, a long engagement would work to his advantage. Now he could take his time telling her about his problem. Phillip vowed to renew his visits with the psychiatrist. It had been a few years since any of the experts had tried to help him with his impotency. Maybe some new technique had been developed that would assist him in overcoming his fear of intercourse.

Leaving the restaurant, he decided it would be best to forgo the theater. He was emotionally drained. Catalina looked tired, too. On their flight home, he recalled that earlier she had been eager to talk about the water jar. "You had mentioned you discovered something of interest about the aryballos. Do you wish to talk about it now?"

* * *

The only thing Catalina wanted to do was go to bed. The flight to and from San Francisco had been exhausting, and Phillip's marriage proposal had added a new wrinkle to their relationship. She regretted the decision she had made the minute they had left the restaurant. She shouldn't have accepted the ring. Her exuberance to talk about the aryballos had been dampened by Phillip's proposal. The hour was late and she felt her discovery could wait until later. Besides, she wanted to re-examine the parchment to make certain she hadn't made a mistake.

"I may have made an astonishing discovery, but I need to check on a few things first. Thank you for a wonderful evening, Phillip. It's been a long day, and if you don't mind, I'd like to get some sleep."

"I understand. Why don't you have breakfast with me tomorrow? The cook won't be here so maybe you could make us an omelet? You can bring the terracotta statue with you, and we can talk about the aryballos. Would ten o'clock suit you?"

Phillip's driver opened the door for her, and she headed toward her condo. No sooner had she inserted the key in the lock than the tears came. Still sobbing, she slid the ring Phillip had given her off her finger and placed it in her jewelry box. Unfortunately, that changed nothing. An agreement was an agreement, and she would keep her word. She had promised Phillip she would wear the ring as long as he didn't push her for a marriage commitment, and that's what she would do.

Catalina felt she had to talk to someone. Marcelo. She needed his advice. Much to her surprise, he was ecstatic. "I think that's wonderful. Phillip is handsome, and he is also very, very rich. You should be happy. There are millions of women out there who would like to be in your shoes."

"Then you don't think he is too old for me?"

"Nonsense. An eleven-year difference isn't that much. Your grandmother was fifteen years younger than me."

"But I don't love him."

"There are many kinds of love. I know from experience that passion does not last forever, particularly in a marriage. Think very carefully about your decision, my precious one."

CHAPTER 12

Eric woke up at the crack of dawn. When he opened the door to Chris's room, he saw that his friend was still sleeping. The rain had started again. He could hear the drops pelting the green foliage surrounding the shack he and Chris called home. His thoughts gravitated toward last night's conversation about the Star Walkers. Since he had some time on his hands, he went online to see what other information he could find about the mythological gods. There were no direct references; however, he did find a site that referred to the Popol Vuh, an ancient Guatemalan manuscript, which mentioned a land to the east that was now a sea. Could they have meant Atlantis? The book was clear on one thing. A white race called the "fathers of the people" had come after enduring a great catastrophe. He felt it was a far stretch to conclude the Star Walkers came from Atlantis. First off, he doubted the place had ever existed. And even if it had, he didn't believe the Atlantians were the ones who had imparted their ancient knowledge to the natives, who at one time lived in the now dead cities that lay in unexplored sections of Brazil.

Eric had heard too many tales about the Star Walkers to discount their existence; a group of strange white people with symmetrical Greek features who wore black flowing robes. It had been said they once lived in the Brazilian highlands commonly referred to as Mato Grosso beyond the headwaters of the Xingu River. No one knew where they came from. They appeared as missionaries right after a horrific volcanic devastation. The chief among them was unquestionably Viracocha, the feathered serpent god. Some called him the god of thunder and the sky. Eric believed Viracocha to be one of the greatest mysteries of ancient American cultures. He was called Kukulkan by the Mayans, Quetzalcoatl by the Aztecs, and Viracocha by the Incas. One story in particular mentioned that Viracocha made several visits to Brazil. Was it possible that one of the three statues he had seen at Ingregil was that of Viracocha?

Here he was a professor of South American history yet he knew so little of Brazil's ancient past, a past he was certain had actually existed. There were numerous reports of strange pale-skinned men who came and went out of the tunnels in and around Muela Del Diablo, a mountain that had always fascinated his father. Could they have been the descendents of the Star Walkers? Or were they men of Spanish ancestry?

Eric was sure of only one thing. No one knew for certain who the precursors were to the Incas or how the Incas had come to power. They just seemed to surface out of nowhere. Although there were numerous myths that told of an ancient race who lived in the vicinity of Peru thousands of years before the Incas, no conclusive scientific evidence had been found to support the claim that a pre-Inca civilization had ever existed. As with all ancient civilizations, legends of old stone carvings and monuments spoke of gods who came from the skies; in Egypt, Mesopotamia, as well as the Americas. Although the monuments and their depictions differed, there was a commonality to the manner by which the Egyptian and South American pyramids had been constructed. No mortar was used and no two stones were alike, yet these ancient sites were built with such precision that some say it would not be possible to duplicate the structures in today's modern world.

Eric wondered who could have provided this knowledge to these primitive civilizations? Could it have been the Star Walkers? He was certain the orientation of Indian structures and the direction of roads aligned to the sun and the stars was no coincidence. The connection of ancient cities such as Ingregil to the heavens, better known as ethnocartography was an undeniable fact. However, the idea that beings from another world had come from the stars to impart upon mankind their knowledge and wisdom seemed rather far-fetched. Still, he couldn't come up with a terrestrial hypothesis.

He eventually found a link that led to Colonel Percy Fawcett, the famous adventurer who, like his father, had spent a great deal of time in the Amazon in the hope of clearing up some of Brazil's mysteries. Eric was skimming an article about Fawcett when Chris peered over his shoulder. "Are you reading about Fawcett again? You've read and reread the same articles at least a dozen times. What is it about the man that fascinates you?"

"Percy Fawcett and my father were cast from the same mold. Like my father, Fawcett was on a mission to discover Brazil's mysterious past."

"Believe it or not, I've done some research on my own about Fawcett," Chris said. "The man had a lot of nerve, that's for sure. In his lifetime, he explored sections of the Amazon that no white man had even set foot in."

Eric nodded. "If you heard of him, then you know he disappeared somewhere in the Amazon just like my father. Some say it was in the Brazilian jungle near Cuiaba. In the course of his extensive explorations, Fawcett discovered many mysterious things. He claimed he had seen strange bright lights in the ruins of dead cities, which the Indians say have been burning continuously and unattended for many generations. It is believed this eternal cold light energy was also found in ancient Roman and Egyptian tombs." Eric turned away from his computer. "You know, Chris, my father was also highly opinionated just like Fawcett. Had they lived at the same time, I'm certain they would've been good friends."

Chris pulled up a chair next to Eric. "Well, this is all fascinating stuff, but what you need to do is decide whether you are going to continue to look for your father. If you want my advice, I'd let it go."

Eric appeared not to have heard Chris. "I don't know if I've ever mentioned this to you before, but my father often told me he wanted to search for the fabled city of Akakor. Although Fawcett never mentioned Akakor by name, my father was convinced that was the city he had set out to find."

"There is something I've been meaning to ask you," Chris said. "Your father entered the Amazon without giving anyone any idea where he was going. Why would he do such a thing?"

"Probably because he wanted to avoid being ridiculed. You see, most mainstream archeologists claim Akakor never existed. But like Fawcett, my father believed the city was somewhere in Brazil. And like Fawcett, he believed the reason Akakor hadn't been found was because the jungle had encroached upon its ruins. Father claimed he spoke to an old Indian who told him the ancient city exists in the upper reaches of Mato Grosso. I think he went there to look for it. The problem is, I don't have a single tangible lead and I'm not prepared to search ten thousand square miles of jungle in the hope of finding him."

Chris glanced out the window. "It stopped raining. Want to go run? I need some exercise."

"No," Eric said. "I'm not in the mood, but don't let me stop you."

When Chris left the house, Eric shut off the computer, but his thoughts were still of his father. Like Fawcett, Jonathan Shade knew the Amazon as well as anyone. His father never entered the jungle without a sextant and a chronometer. Those two instruments would've helped him find his position in relation to longitude and latitude.

Eric hadn't wanted to admit to Chris the utter futility of the situation. How could the two of them ever hope to find his father when over the years an estimated one hundred would-be rescuers had died searching for Fawcett? The hardest part about his father's disappearance was not knowing what had become of him. Did he die from an illness he contracted in the jungle? Did a group of unfriendly natives kill him? Or did he perish in some tunnel from which he couldn't find a way out? Eric was certain of one thing. Unless someone provided unequivocal proof that his father was dead, he would continue to search for him.

CHAPTER 13

As Catalina readied for bed, she reflected on Phillip's proposal and her acceptance. His intentions had thrown her totally off guard. She feared she had made a mistake in taking the ring. It's just that he looked so vulnerable, even pathetic, waiting for her reply. Feeling obligated to Phillip was not a reason to marry him; however, now that she had given him an answer, right or wrong, she was going to stick with her decision. Knowing Phillip and the difficulty he had in showing affection, she would have to work at changing the chemistry of their relationship. She had to find a way to loosen him up. He was much too stodgy and set in his ways. She vowed to assert herself more now that he had revealed his true feelings.

She tried to imagine what it would be like being married to him. Would things really change that much? With the exception of a physical relationship, she saw nothing new on the horizon. He was such a creature of habit. To Phillip, routine and the familiarity of his surroundings were of the utmost importance while she yearned for some excitement in her life.

Unable to sleep, Catalina picked up the aryballos and re-examined the quipu, hoping this would force Phillip and her situation out of her mind. In the cords that made up the quipu, there were ten knots in each set. She counted four sets on each string, and there were six strings. She held her breath, stunned at the amount of gold the quipu had revealed.

Finding the hoard would definitely make someone rich, very rich.

* * *

Catalina woke up surprised to discover the quipu still in her hand. She needed to get moving, knowing Phillip would be sitting in the cabana by the pool expecting her to be there at precisely ten o'clock. For the first time since she had known Phillip, Catalina felt uncomfortable at the thought of being alone with him.

The minute she entered the cabana, she realized her fears had been unfounded. Phillip was reading the _Wall Street Journal_ as usual, drinking a cup of coffee.

She walked over and gave him a peck on the cheek. "Sorry to be late. Want me to fix us some breakfast?"

"The cook showed up a day earlier than I expected. It'll be ready in a few minutes." Phillip made the statement without bothering to lower the paper. Nothing had changed.

He was buttering his toast when she broached the subject of the aryballos. She was bursting to tell him what she had discovered. "Would you like to know what I've found out about the water jar I purchased?"

"By all means."

"Have you ever heard about the vast amount of gold Francisco Pizarro was supposed to receive for the release of the Inca god-king, Atahualpa?"

"I recall reading something about it, but I don't remember the specifics. Besides, isn't it just a myth?"

"No. I've read enough about the treasure to know it's real. Even the history books mention its existence."

"What does that have to do with the aryballos?"

"Does the name Valverde ring a bell?"

Phillip seemed to ponder Catalina's question. "No. Not really."

"Until now, I wasn't sure if the man had really existed, but I'm getting ahead of myself. Maybe it would be better if I started from the beginning." Catalina lowered her voice as if it mattered that the cook would hear her. "When the conquistadors captured the Inca ruler, Atahualpa, they held him for ransom. The gold-crazed Spaniards demanded a fortune in gold for his release. In order to secure his freedom, Atahualpa charged an Inca general by the name of Ruminahui with the responsibility of ransacking all the gold his soldiers could find. A number of forges worked for months to reduce the gold creations of master craftsmen to mere lumps of metal. Even Atahualpa's gold litter was smelted."

Phillip shook his head in disbelief. "If that's true, then it's a shame. As you know, the Incas were marvelous craftsmen."

"I've also read that the Incas were in such a rush to deliver the gold to Pizarro, that they didn't get a chance to smelt all of it. If this is true, some of their gold artifacts may still be intact."

Shoving his breakfast aside, Phillip said, "Then the objects would be priceless." He riveted his eyes on Catalina. "Please go on with your story."

"A trade was to be made. Pizarro agreed to free Atahualpa in exchange for a roomful of gold. However, before the ransom was delivered, Pizarro had him garroted."

"Jesus, what a way to die."

"It was a lot better than being burned at the stake."

"What do you mean?"

"The history books tell us Atahualpa made a deal with the Spaniards. They promised not to set a torch to him providing he agreed to be baptized. You see, the Incas believed that death by fire condemned the soul to eternal damnation."

"So what happened?"

"After the baptism, they killed him. When Pizarro didn't fulfill his promise to free their king, the Incas realized the conquistadors couldn't be trusted. Ruminahui vowed the two-timing greedy Spaniards would never lay their hands on the gold."

Staring at Catalina with unblinking eyes, Phillip leaned slightly forward, waiting for her next words. "Then what happened?"

"Shortly after Pizarro killed Atahualpa, the gold ransom mysteriously disappeared. This is where Valverde comes in. Legend has it that a Spanish soldier by the name of Valverde periodically ventured off into the Amazon only to reappear with gold bullion—lots of it. Over the years he had become extremely wealthy or so the story would make us believe. It's been said when Valverde was on his deathbed, he wrote a derrotero, a guide text if you will. He forwarded it to the king of Spain."

"What did the king do?"

"The king didn't waste any time sending a 'cedula real,' which is a royal decree, to the corregidors of Latacunga and Ambato to recover—" Catalina stopped in mid-sentence. Now she remembered! "Those were the two towns mentioned on the aryballos."

The involuntary muscle below Phillip's right eye began to twitch. Still paying attention to Catalina's story, he shifted his chair closer to her. "To recover what?"

"The treasure," Catalina said. She had seldom seen Phillip so animated. His interest ignited a surge of melodrama in her voice.

"The rest of the story gets a little fuzzy. Supposedly, the king of Spain asked a monk by the name of Father Longo to lead an expedition to recover the gold. According to the legend, Father Longo recruited a group of men and headed out for the Llanganates Mountains, but before they found the treasure, the monk disappeared, never to be heard from again."

"What makes you think you have the derrotero that Valverde wrote?"

"Because he signed it."

"My other question deals with the treasure's location. From what you said so far, the bulk of the treasure is most likely in the Llanganates Mountains. That's the most inhospitable place on earth. Even though I'm a pretty good mountain climber, there's no way I'd venture up those slopes."

"Most of the treasure's probably there, but part of it, the part Valverde had apparently found, is in Brazil! You see, I didn't piece that part of the puzzle until last night." She took the quipu out of her purse and handed it to him. "This is how much gold was taken from Peru to Brazil, more specifically to the Devil's Dimple in Mato Grosso."

"What in the hell is the Devil's Dimple?" Phillip asked.

"Geographically speaking, it's Roncador Mountain, but the Indians call it Muela Del Diablo, which in Spanish means the Devil's Dimple. It's a volcano that's supposed to be a bitch to climb."

She handed Phillip a blown-up version of a photograph she had taken of one of the pictures on the aryballos. "This, Phillip, is the Golden Disk of the Sun. Until I came across the aryballos, I always thought it was just a myth, a bedtime story that was told to children."

"You've obviously taken quite a bit of time to study the aryballos. What is the Golden Disk of the Sun?"

"Of all the objects the Incas owned, they coveted a golden mirror the most. Legend has it that it's a mirror made of pure gold. It was said to contain magical qualities which only Atahualpa's queen knew how to use. The tale is similar to Snow White's story. In it, the queen saw the fate of her king. The mirror told her that whether the ransom was paid or not, Atahualpa would perish. Realizing her husband and the empire were doomed, she decided never to reveal the secret of where the mirror was to be hidden for fear the gold-crazed Spaniards would steal it!"

"So what are you telling me?" Phillip asked.

"Valverde must have found the mirror! That, as well as a hoard of gold. I haven't completed translating all of his directions, but they appear to be fairly specific. Don't you see? The Golden Disk of the Sun is in Brazil!" Catalina could no longer keep the excitement out of her voice. "The whole thing makes perfect sense. The Incas must have carted the mirror and some of the gold through a maze of tunnels to Brazil, more specifically to the northern part of Mato Grosso where that mountain is. It would've been a long journey, but I'm sure the Incas felt the mirror would be safer there than in Peru. Also, it would've been easier to haul to Brazil than up the treacherous slope of the Llanganates."

Phillip got up from the table. "Come walk with me."

They were at the back of the house in the rose garden before she said anything. "I feel confident that in time, I will eventually be able to make some sense out of the derrotero. How would you feel about hiring a couple of guides to help us search for the treasure?"

Phillip gave Catalina an incredulous look. "You're not serious, are you?"

"I'm dead serious. If you and I were to find all that gold, we—"

Phillip cut her off. "I already have more money than I could ever spend."

"But what if we were to find some ancient artifacts? Think of what they might do for your collection."

Phillip began to pace up and down the cobblestone walkway. "I don't know, Catalina. I just don't know. The jungle is really no place for a woman. It's too dangerous."

Catalina tried to suppress her indignation. "I was born and raised in Manaus, remember? I'm a lot tougher than you think."

Upon re-entering the house, Phillip said. "You really want to go to look for that treasure, don't you?"

"Yes, I do. Just think what would happen if we found the Golden Disk of the Sun? Our names would be recorded alongside of Carter in the history books. The discovery would equal King Tutankhamun's find! I could call Marcelo and ask him if he can recommend some English-speaking guides."

* * *

Phillip had to admit that finding an ancient golden relic appealed to him. However, he did not particularly want to leave the comforts of his mansion and go traipsing off into the Amazon.

Catalina gave him an imploring look. "Please. This would mean so much to me."

He couldn't remember the last time Catalina had actually asked him for something. He knew it would be difficult to deny her, but he didn't want to give her a commitment. At least not yet.

"Why don't you fly to Manaus and talk to Marcelo? See what he has to say."

Catalina rushed over to him and gave him a hug. "Does that mean we can go?"

An inner voice told Phillip this was not a good idea. He hoped Marcelo would talk some sense into Catalina. "As I said, go to Manaus, talk to Marcelo, and check things out. Then we'll decide."

CHAPTER 14

The first thing Catalina did was pay a visit to Marcelo. When she asked him what he thought about her going into the jungle to search for treasure, his eyes lit up.

"I wish I was young enough to go with you."

"Do me a favor," Catalina said. "Email Phillip and tell him you think it's a wonderful idea."

A day later, Marcelo had found a couple of bilingual-speaking guides. After checking on their references, he told Catalina about them.

"You mean one of them speaks English, Portuguese, and also Quechua?"

"That's what he said. He also indicated that he's familiar with the area you want to explore."

* * *

Eric Shade swatted at the fly on his nose. The insect had been hovering around him disturbing his nap. Finally, he mustered enough energy to lift himself out of his chair and go in search of a flyswatter.

Chris, who was sitting in front of the computer, said, "Oh, I'm glad you're awake. We just received an inquiry from a prospective client who lives in Los Angeles, California. She's an archeologist."

"What does she want?"

"She said she'd like to talk to us about guiding her and her fiancé to Muela Del Diablo."

Eric thought it unusual for someone to want to fly all the way from Los Angeles just to talk about hiring a couple of guides. "I thought we made a decision not to guide people up that mountain. It's no place for tourists."

"I don't think she is a tourist. Her grandfather lives here in Manaus. Apparently he was the one who recommended us."

"Why do they want to go there?"

"She wouldn't say. When I quoted her our per diem rate, she sent me an email to let me know that money would not be an issue. She wants to fly out here and meet with us as soon as possible. What do you think?"

Eric shook his head. "Those mountain climbers are insane." He thought for a moment. "Did you remember to double our fee? If we have to lead them up a mountain, particularly that one, I want us to charge twice our standard per diem rate."

"I told her it would cost five hundred euros a day for the two of us. I also informed her she would have to commit to a minimum of ten days. Do the math, Eric. We're talking five thousand euros."

"If they agreed to pay us five thousand euros, they must have more money than they know what to do with. Either that or they have a pretty damn good reason as to why they want to climb that mountain."

Chris shrugged his shoulders. "How do you know they are mountain climbers? The woman never said she was."

"Why else would anyone want to go there?"

"You have a point." Chris looked up from the computer. "Well, do you want to meet with her or not?"

Eric didn't particularly care to scale Muela Del Diablo. He had been up that mountain before, and it was a difficult climb. But then it wasn't every day that they were offered an opportunity to earn five thousand euros.

They were getting rather low on finances. Five thousand euros would last them a good six months. They wouldn't have to worry about making a living when the rains came. "Tell the lady we'll meet with her. What do we have to lose?"

* * *

The young man at the car rental agency had been nice enough to draw Catalina a map of how to get to Jamaal, the small village not far from Manaus where Eric and Chris lived. She figured she would go meet the guides, spend a few more days with Marcelo and then fly home.

Once she passed the city limits of Manaus, Catalina came to a virtual standstill. She quickly realized the futility of honking her horn. That was because no one seemed to pay the least bit of attention. She had to share the dirt road with trucks, bicycles, and handcarts, not to mention livestock. All competed for the right of way. There were no signal lights or stop signs at any of the intersections. People earned the right of way by being aggressive. Occasionally, she would have to wait for some farmer to herd his goats or cows across the road, which inevitably brought all traffic to a screeching halt. After an exhausting drive, she finally managed to find the home where the two guides lived—if one could call it a home.

As Catalina approached the ramshackled house, she saw a man working outside repairing a fence. "Hi, my name is Catalina Rivera. Are you Chris Bordeaux?"

"No, I'm his partner. Chris is in the village buying supplies." Eric extended a calloused hand. "The name is Shade, Eric Shade. You must be the climber who wants to scale the Snorer."

A puzzled expression appeared on Catalina's face. "The Snorer? I thought I made it clear in my email that my fiancé and I want you to take us to Muela Del Diablo."

"Snorer, Bluster's Mountain, Muela Del Diablo are all nicknames for Roncador Mountain. It just depends on who you talk to."

Shaking Eric's hand, Catalina looked into a piercing set of blue eyes. He was tall, well over six feet she assumed. She figured he had a dozen years on her, but he was in great shape. He was definitely a man's man. His black, curly hair was in disarray, and he had a five-o'clock shadow. His nose was slightly crooked, and there was a scar beneath his right eye, but everything seemed to fit. Eric Shade didn't have Phillip's finely chiseled features, but he possessed a ruggedness about him, which she found appealing. There was a definite sexuality there that made her heart beat a little faster. That was something she had never experienced with Phillip or anyone else for that matter.

"What makes you think I'm a mountain climber?" she asked.

"Why else would anyone want to journey to the land of no return?"

"Why do you call it that?"

"The Indians coined the phrase because many people who venture into that part of the Amazon are never seen or heard from again. Some say the mountain is haunted by evil spirits. It has been said strange choral sounds can be heard from one of its many tunnels." Eric was quick to add, "Personally, I think it's probably the wind."

Catalina's eyebrows shot up. "I live in L.A. now, but I'm originally from Manaus. I thought I had heard all the stories about strange occurrences in Mato Grosso, but I must say I've never heard that outlandish tale before."

Eric opened the front door and guided Catalina to one of two chairs in the room. "There are many rumors of bizarre events in that part of the Amazon. Who's to say what's true and what isn't? Some believe the mountain is possessed with a vicious persona that breaks the will and spirit of the strongest of men. The locals won't go near the place."

Catalina glanced around the room. It was obvious two bachelors lived in the tiny bungalow. The place was a mess. There were a few empty beer cans on the table, and flies hovered around a partially eaten sandwich. "We didn't want to hire Indian guides. That's why I am here. We'd much prefer to deal with an English-speaking person such as you. Does Chris Bordeaux speak English?"

"Not only does he speak English, but he also speaks Portuguese and French. If you're not a mountain climber, why do you want to go there?"

"I never said I wasn't a mountain climber. My fiancé and I both climb, but that's not why I am here. I believe I already told you my grandfather lives in Manaus. He has done some checking. It seems you and Bordeaux have excellent references."

Eric laughed good-naturedly. "No one else would be crazy enough to guide people to that godforsaken place. But you still haven't answered my question. Why go there if mountain climbing is not your objective?"

Catalina liked Eric's laugh. She admired a man who had enough confidence to make fun of himself. Phillip never did. "My fiancé and I want to search for an Inca relic. I'm convinced I have something in my possession that would lead us to the Golden Disk of the Sun. Have you ever heard of the derrotero that Valverde wrote?"

"Don't tell me you came all this way in the hope of finding gold by following Valverde's instructions. Were you aware that copies of his derrotero have been circulating around these parts for years? Hell, I think I even have one here someplace. I've seen a number of fakes and every one of them is different." Eric paused, then said, "Wait a minute. Didn't you say you wanted Chris and me to take you and your fiancé to Muela Del Diablo? Atahualpa's treasure is in the Llanganates. Those mountains aren't in Mato Grosso. They're in Peru!"

Catalina never realized there were copies. "The bulk of the treasure probably is somewhere in Peru, but not the Golden Disk of the Sun. The Incas hid it in a tunnel inside Muela Del Diablo. Furthermore, my derrotero is not a fake!" She reached into her purse and handed Eric a copy. "The original is locked in a safe. As you can see, I've omitted the last couple of lines for obvious reasons."

* * *

Eric perused the document. At first he was skeptical, but after scrutinizing the derrotero and listening to Catalina's story as to how she'd acquired it, he began to think differently. Maybe it was genuine. The derrotero he and Chris had was obviously a fake; however, this one had a ring of authenticity to it. He based his conclusion that Catalina's could be genuine by the way it was written.

Valverde had been a Spanish foot soldier of low rank. Eric was aware that most conquistadors didn't know how to read or write, and those who did, were by no means fluent in either Spanish or Quechua. The derrotero could be real because there were numerous grammatical mistakes, misspelled words, and punctuation marks that were out of place while the grammar in his fake derrotero had been perfect. Also, all the fake derroteros he'd seen indicated Atahualpa's treasure was in Peru. He figured it was certainly possible that the Incas could have taken the mirror and a portion of the gold to Brazil.

"You've read this, I assume?" he asked her.

"I've been able to make sense out of some of it, but I am having difficulty with a number of the words. I'm not that fluent in either Spanish or Quechua, not to mention Topuku."

Eric smiled. "Valverde wasn't all that good either. In fact, after looking at this, I'm beginning to wonder if he was delirious when he wrote it."

"Why do you say that?"

"Well, for one thing his Spanish was deplorable, but he also used an assimilation of Indian words for certain landmarks. Names have changed over the last five hundred years. It will definitely be a challenge to make sense out of what he wrote. Only a few conquistadors knew how to write, and those who did weren't able to write well. That's why some of them created a hybrid text; words that are part Indian, part Spanish, and part something else."

"How do you know so much about this particular style of writing?" Catalina asked.

"I used to teach South American history."

"At a local high school?"

"At the University of New York.

"I'm surprised."

"Surprised that I can read this text or that I was a university professor?" Eric watched as Catalina's face turned red from embarrassment.

"You have to admit you don't look the type."

"Oh? Do you stereotype professors into looking a certain way?" He laughed to let her know he was having a little fun with her.

"No. Not really, but it's just that—"

"I know," he interrupted. "You probably think that no one in their right mind would trade a New York lifestyle for this shack."

Catalina was quick to regain her composure. "I've only just met you, but one thing I am sure of. There is absolutely nothing wrong with your mind."

"I think the locals around here would disagree. You should hear some of the stories they tell about me."

Changing the subject, Eric continued, "Do you mind if I ask you a question?" Without waiting for her to respond, Eric plunged right in. "What makes you want to go chasing after treasure in a place like Muela Del Diablo, particularly when you appear to be a lady of means?"

Catalina's eyes gravitated toward her engagement ring. "Oh, you mean because of this?"

"If it's real, and I assume it is, I'd get it off your finger. There are people around here who would kill you for a lot less."

Catalina removed the ring and placed it in her purse. She then took out a small package wrapped in newspaper. Unfolding it, she handed him the quipu. "Since you're a professor of South American history, I have to assume you know how to read one of these."

Eric took his time examining the yellow cords and knots. "How did you manage to get ahold of this?"

"It was sealed inside an ancient aryballos along with the derrotero."

Eric nodded his head in understanding. "You've just answered my question as to why you want to hire Chris and me. According to the quipu, there are a thousand pounds of gold buried inside that mountain." He gave the quipu back to Catalina. "This is all well and good, but I don't think either you or your fiancé realize how difficult the terrain is in that part of the country. The rain forest is virtually impenetrable. Not only would we have to do a lot of climbing, but we would also have to use machetes to hack our way through some pretty dense underbrush. That's exhausting work. Not only are there no trails, but the mountain is full of crevices and gorges. Also the ledges are composed of shale. Just when you think you've found some firm ground, you find yourself in danger of falling off a precipice."

He gazed intently at Catalina. "You look like you are in pretty good shape, but there aren't many climbers who are mentally prepared to scale Muela Del Diablo."

Catalina bristled. "I've climbed some steep mountains before. And I'm not afraid of high places. I was born and raised in Manaus, remember? I know how tough the Amazon can be."

"Okay, what about your boyfriend?"

"Phillip is probably in better physical condition than you are. He's a fanatic when it comes to working out."

"Okay, I'll take your word for it. If Chris and I were to agree to take you and your fiancé to Muela Del Diablo, and we lead you to the gold, what will our share be?"

"You mean above and beyond your normal fee?" Catalina quickly added, "I want to remind you that I have the derrotero."

"Which you admitted, you couldn't read," Eric countered.

Catalina thought for a moment. "What would you consider a fair split?"

Eric's brows furrowed. "We are going to a very dangerous place. I also don't think you realize what it's going to take to find the treasure. If you and your fiancé were to make a go of it on your own, you'd be dead before you reached the foothills of that mountain. You have no idea what's in store. We are going to have to skirt knife-like ridges that fall away to forty-five degree slopes. We'll need to traverse jungle-choked canyons and chasms where literally no white men have ever been. If you were to hire local Indians to show you the way, sooner or later they would steal you blind and abandon you. As I said earlier, legitimate Indian guides won't go near the place."

Eric paused to allow Catalina to digest this information. "To make matters worse, it rains almost every day. The temperature at night drops to thirty degrees. You end up being either wet or shivering most of the time. What I'm describing to you is typical for the region. Pray we don't run into any really bad weather. Sometimes you are immobilized by freezing fogs. The mountain itself is unpredictable. I was there once with my father when his compass needle went wild. We never did find out what made it go crazy."

He looked straight at her. "What you have to do is make a decision as to whom to trust. Since your grandfather recommended Chris and me, I believe you've already made that choice or you wouldn't have flown all the way from Los Angeles to meet with us. Am I right?"

Eric Shade surprised Catalina. When he first introduced himself, she thought him to be a little rough around the edges, but the more they talked, the more she began to realize that underneath his rugged outward appearance there was a very shrewd mind.

It was time to strike an agreement. "What would you consider a fair split? What would you and Chris want?"

"I'd have to check with Chris. If we were to find that treasure—and that's a big if—I would ask the Brazilian government for a ten percent finder's fee."

Catalina hadn't given a finder's fee any thought. "What if they didn't agree to pay it?"

"Then we wouldn't reveal the location of our find."

"Okay, getting back to your compensation. Assuming the Brazilian government would agree to pay a ten percent finder's fee. How much of that would you want?"

Eric appeared to ponder the question. "I'd want a quarter of whatever they paid us."

"What about Chris?"

"I can't speak for him, but I'll ask him once he gets home."

Catalina decided that without Eric Shade, she and Phillip wouldn't stand a chance of finding the Golden Disk of the Sun. Eric had convinced her that without a pair of knowledgeable, trustworthy guides, their search would be in vain. She handed Eric her card. "Either call me on my cell or send me an email once you find out from Chris what he wants. If his request is reasonable, I'll talk to Phillip Nash, my fiancé. He is the one who would be financing the expedition."

CHAPTER 15

Catalina left some photographs she had taken of the aryballos with Eric Shade. The agreement was for her to contact him as soon as he let her know what Chris wanted in terms of financial compensation. If Phillip agreed to hire the two guides, she would then email a copy of the complete derrotero so Eric could study it before departing for Muela Del Diablo. She had a good feeling about Eric Shade. Of course, there was always the risk he would leave to search for the treasure without her, but then again if he wasn't honest, now would be the time to find out.

As she flew over Manaus, Catalina glanced out of the plane's window. Like a snake without a head, the Amazon River spread out below her. The river's tributaries looked like the branches of some gigantic dead tree that had fallen to the ground. Beneath her lay the vast green canopy of the rain forest. At the height she was flying, the Amazon appeared peaceful, but she knew it was a violent place, full of living creatures whose only objective was to survive.

She recalled what Eric had told her about Muela Del Diablo. He said the Indians who lived within the proximity of the mountain were a superstitious lot, and to this day they firmly believe that years ago the volcano received human sacrifices. In order to appease the gods, the natives would toss a virgin into the volcanic crater that's been dormant for centuries. She had asked him if he thought the legend had any truth to it.

"Who knows?" he'd replied. "Indians have been known to make human sacrifices, but throwing virgins into a crater? That seems a little far-fetched to me."

She closed her eyes and envisioned the four of them searching for the treasure. Her biggest concern was whether Phillip and Eric would get along. She guessed Phillip might be able to manipulate Eric's younger partner because Chris might be impressed with his money. Eric, however, was another matter. He didn't seem to be the type to tolerate Phillip's condescending attitude. She wished Phillip wouldn't treat everyone like hired help. She finally decided not to concern herself with variables beyond her control. After all, Eric and Phillip were grown rational men, or so she hoped.

* * *

Eric had the photographs of the aryballos spread out before him on the table. He was impressed with the finely etched symbols. Most were simple astrological shapes; a few were of jaguars and snakes. Below a facsimile of a condor, he saw the well-known cross, which the Incas called Qhapaq Nan or a Chakana. With a magnifying glass he studied the geometrical design of the highly complex, mystifying symbol: a circle with a square inside it. The inner square was aligned with vertices, right at the circle's midpoint. Then, inside the second square, there was another smaller circle, and inside that circle was another square.

Eric marveled at the extraordinary craftsmanship of the Chakana. The symbol described the walking path the Inca god, Viracocha, took on his way to heaven centuries ago. He was aware that the ancient pre-Inca temples and pyramids were all aligned perfectly with the Chakana. What boggled his mind was how a simple people with virtually no mathematical skills could have designed such a sophisticated geometric model. Was this further proof that the Star Walkers had been involved? Was the ancient Inca god, Viracocha, a Star Walker?

Eric was puzzling over the symbol when suddenly his heart went to his throat. There, in plain sight, were the figures he had seen before. Their features were partially obscured due to the wear and tear of the aryballos, but there were three of them; all three had beards and appeared to be wearing robes. He instantly associated the drawing with the three statues he saw at Ingregil. Although this was only the second time he had seen the figures in nearly twenty years, they had made a lasting impression on him. Again, he wondered if they were of this world or some other. But what puzzled him more than anything was why they were pictured on the aryballos.

* * *

Catalina and Phillip were dining at Phillip's favorite restaurant. As usual, Phillip ordered for them. Earlier, Eric had emailed to Catalina Chris's monetary requests. She decided this would be as good a time as any to bring the matter up with Phillip. She held off until the waiter had brought them their pre-dinner cocktails.

"I know I told you this when you called, but I believe Eric Shade would be a reliable guide."

Phillip took a sip of his martini. "Not as dry as I would have liked it to be, but it will do. I'm sorry, Catalina. What did you say?"

"I was quite impressed with Shade's knowledge of the Amazon. In addition to their per diem rates, this is what they want. Eric Shade wants a quarter share of any finder's fee the Brazilian government may give us. Chris Bordeaux would rather receive fifty thousand euros in lieu of the finder's fee. Apparently the government is slow to act, and he is eager to start college and buy the house he is renting."

"I don't foresee that as a problem. If we actually find the gold, particularly the mirror, the fifty thousand euros he's asking for would be chump change. However, paying twenty-five percent of the finder's fee to Shade seems rather steep, don't you think?"

Catalina did not want to disclose to Phillip the difficulties Eric Shade had said they would encounter in their quest for the treasure. "Not really. If they lead us to the Golden Disk of the Sun, I think they would be entitled to it."

"You are still determined to go search for that mirror in the Amazon, aren't you?"

"I am. You said you would come. You aren't changing your mind, are you?"

Phillip hesitated before answering. "As I recall, I told you I would think about it."

Catalina tried to keep the emotion out of her voice. "I really want you to come with me, but if you . . ."

"Don't even think about entering the Amazon with two strange men!" A look of exasperation crossed Phillip's face. "I'll go, but I certainly am not wild about it."

Catalina reached across the table and took hold of Phillip's hand. "Does that mean I can call them back and finalize the arrangements?"

"I am doing this mainly for you, Catalina. You know that, don't you?" Then he added, "Are you sure we need those guides? We've both climbed mountains before."

Catalina could tell Phillip's ego was doing the talking. "I know. You've told me you are a very capable climber, but this place is different. I've told you the stories about that mountain—most people won't go near the place."

Phillip said, "The idea that it's haunted is pure nonsense."

"Maybe so," Catalina retorted, "but Eric Shade and Chris Bordeaux are familiar with the terrain. They also know how to handle themselves in the Amazon. Why put ourselves at risk? Weren't you the one who told me to get the best guides money could buy?"

Phillip remained silent for a while. Then, he asked, "Do you really trust them?"

"I only met Dr. Shade, the older of the two partners. I have a good sense about him. I don't believe he would steer us wrong. Would you believe he used to teach South American history at N.Y.U.? But that's not what is really important. He was once a Green Beret with the Special Forces. Besides being familiar with the area, Shade knows all about survival techniques and also speaks Quechua, Spanish, Portuguese—and English."

"Oh, all right. Have it your way. When would you like to leave?"

Catalina thought it advisable to give Phillip a say in the matter. "Dr. Shade said we can go anytime you like, but the weather is less likely to be nasty if we were to leave next month."

"Okay. What do we need to bring with us?"

"Shade said he would give me a list of the kind of clothes we need. He and his partner would furnish all the equipment and supplies, but we would need to pay for them, of course. If it's all right with you, I'll send him a check as well as a copy of Valverde's instructions. He told me he wanted to study the derrotero so he could formulate the best route to take."

"What's to prevent him from grabbing the gold for himself?" Phillip asked. "We can put something in the contract to discourage that, can't we?"

Phillip was beginning to irritate Catalina. "Marcelo told me their references checked out. Either we trust him, or we don't go. What's it going to be, Phillip?"

Phillip threw his hands up in the air. "Whatever you want to do, Catalina. I just hope the trip won't be too dangerous for you."

Who are you kidding? I grew up in Manaus. I've been in the jungle dozens of times. You're the one who should worry about the dangers of the Amazon. Catalina was tempted to verbalize these thoughts, but instead, she placated his ego. "Don't worry, Phillip. I'll be fine. After all, I'll have you, and I know you would never let anything happen to me."

CHAPTER 16

No sooner had they entered Manaus than Phillip began to complain. The hotel where they were staying had mixed up their reservations with someone else. It meant Phillip and Catalina would have to stay in less expensive rooms.

She tried to smooth things over. "It's not that big of a deal. It will only be for one night. We're meeting our two guides at the airport in Manaus. Shade rented a Bonanza and in the morning we're flying to the city of Confresa. We'll spend the night there. Shade has made provisions to rent a couple of jeeps. He told me we would need a vehicle with four-wheel drive. Apparently the dirt road that leads to Cerro Negro is not in the best shape. After that, we'll need to forge our own path through the jungle. In the instructions, Shade said Valverde mentions a volcanic chimney that leads to a grotto. He said once we find it, we will be close to the treasure."

"Sounds like you are on top of it," Phillip mumbled. "Let's go eat. I'm famished."

* * *

Phillip and Catalina sat inside a coffee shop at the Eduardo Gomes International Airport waiting for Chris and Eric to arrive. Annoyed, Phillip glanced at his watch. "They're already ten minutes late. The plane leaves in another twenty minutes. They better get here soon."

"Don't worry; they will be here." Phillip's insistence on punctuality irritated Catalina. She couldn't resist adding, "Besides, it's not as if the plane is going to leave without us. The four of us are its only passengers."

"That's not the point. It's important to be punctual. You of all people should—"

"Hi there, you must be Miss Rivera." The person who cut Phillip off in mid-sentence was a tall, and deeply tanned young man in his mid-twenties. "I'm Chris Bordeaux." Chris extended his hand first to Catalina and then to Phillip. "And you must be Mr. Nash. I'm glad to make your acquaintance."

Instead of shaking hands with Chris, Phillip mumbled a hello.

"Eric will be along in a few minutes," Chris said. "He's loading all the gear on the plane."

Catalina offered Chris a seat. "Would you like some coffee?"

"No thanks. I'm fine. Oh, here he is now."

As soon as Eric spotted Chris, he approached their table. "I'd like to introduce you to Phillip Nash," Catalina said.

Phillip stood. Barely acknowledging Eric, he said. "Now that we are all here, can we go?"

* * *

Eric Shade had a knack of assessing people quickly. The minute he laid eyes on Phillip, he knew it would only be a question of time before they ended up bucking heads.

Phillip had a look of superiority that Eric had seen before. He was not bad looking, and apparently very rich. Eric knew the type. He would want to run things.

Phillip was the first to walk away from the table. "I have to use the restroom. Don't wait for me. I'll join you on the tarmac in a few minutes."

Once he was out of earshot, Eric said, "Friendly guy, isn't he?"

Catalina's cheeks flushed. "He is really not that bad once you get to know him."

Eric wanted to tell Catalina he had no interest whatsoever in getting to know Phillip Nash, but he held his tongue. He forced himself to keep any further opinions to himself. There was time enough. Once they were on his turf, he would set this Phillip Nash straight.

They boarded the Bonanza. Phillip, whose seat was next to Catalina's, looked around for a flight attendant. "I think I need a glass of champagne. Would you like one, Catalina?"

Before Catalina could answer, Eric butted in, "This is a private charter, and there is no flight attendant nor is there any champagne. I have a flask on me." Eric extended it to Phillip. "Care for a shot of whiskey?"

Phillip winced. "No. I don't believe I do."

Eric took a swig from his flask, threw his head back and laughed. "Are you sure? I don't think you want to be sober where we're going."

CHAPTER 17

Once they landed in Confresa, Eric and Chris picked up the two jeeps that were already on the tarmac. Upon transferring their gear from the plane to the jeeps, Eric said, "We'll take the jeeps as far as Cerro Negro. That's a small village about sixty kilometers from here. It's the last civilized place we'll see until we return from Muela Del Diablo."

Eric glanced at Phillip. "You and your fiancée can follow Chris and me. Once we get to Cerro Negro, we'll have to do without the jeeps. I hired an Indian I know to keep an eye on them. We need to travel light, so I hope you didn't bring more than one pair of extra clothes. You'll always be able to wash them—either in a river or a lake. Since Chris and I are used to lugging a heavy load, we will be carrying most of the supplies in our packs: ropes, carabineers, flashlights, and a first aid kit." Pointing at Phillip's shorts, Eric added, "I'm afraid those will have to go."

A sneer appeared on Phillip's face. "I don't need you to dictate to me what I can and cannot wear. I'm not some neophyte, you know. I've been in the jungle before."

Chris shot Eric a look; less than this had set him off in the past. Instead, Eric surprised him. He calmly walked up to Phillip, and in a barely audible voice, said, "Let's get something straight. You are not on an African safari where someone is hovering nearby, catering to your every need. You are paying me to keep you safe, to keep you alive. Believe me, after one day of trudging through the rain forest in those shorts, you would be done for. The insects would literally eat you alive, not to mention the leeches. Just to let you know, those parasites carry all kinds of infection. You wouldn't go a mile before some creature would crawl up your ass."

Eric turned away only to face Phillip again. "I may only be a guide, but when I'm your guide, you need to look at me much as you would a ship's captain. Either you are going to do exactly as I say, or you can go look for that mirror yourself."

Phillip just stood there, his face drained of color.

After a few minutes, Eric said, "Make up your mind, Nash. What's it going to be?"

Catalina knew Phillip was not accustomed to being spoken to in that tone of voice. She saw the involuntary muscle in his right cheek twitch, a sure warning sign. Please God, she thought, don't let this be a tug of war for dominance. Not wanting the two men to get off on the wrong foot, she pulled Phillip aside and tried to smooth things over.

"Eric is just looking out for our best interests. I know you are still upset over last night's accommodations, but please don't take things out on our guide." Picking up Phillip's backpack, she placed it in their jeep. "Would you like me to drive?"

Phillip ignored Catalina's question. Instead, he continued to glare at Eric. "All right, Shade. I'll do as you say, but only because Catalina thinks you and Chris are the best men for the job."

* * *

The dirt road leading to Cerro Negro was narrow and winding, and to make matters worse, it was full of chuckholes just as Eric had warned them it would be.

Catalina drove while Phillip complained about the road. For the third time he looked at his watch. "We've been on this stupid cart path that Shade calls a road for almost two hours, and we've only gone thirty kilometers. I don't know if I can take another two hours of this. Why the hell doesn't the Brazilian government build some decent roads?"

Catalina ignored Phillip, knowing he didn't really expect an answer. She was more interested in looking at the scenery than listening to him complain. The sounds of the jungle and density of the foliage fascinated her. She recalled Eric telling her that over the centuries people have tried to overcome the dominance of the jungle. He'd said no matter how much of the jungle was cleared for habitation, sooner or later the Amazon always reclaimed the land.

Catalina was pleased she had chosen Eric and Chris as their guides. They seemed experienced and knowledgeable. If anyone could lead them safely in and out of Muela Del Diablo, it would be them. She hated to admit it, but she was glad Eric had stood up to Phillip. It was the first time she had ever heard anyone speak harshly to him. His constant complaining created no sympathy in her. Here they were, starting out on an adventure of a lifetime and all he could think of was how bad the road was.

Phillip's next comment placed her on the defensive. "Where is your engagement ring?"

"Eric strongly recommended I leave it at home. He said there are Indians in Brazil who will kill a person for such a ring."

Phillip mumbled an expletive under his breath. "He's really starting to get on my nerves. Did you hear how he talked to me earlier? I'm not a child who has to be told what to do. You'd think I didn't know how to handle myself in the wilds. I've been on three African safaris. I guarantee you the jungle in Africa is every bit as inhospitable as the Amazon."

Catalina wanted to tell him he had it coming. She wanted to tell him to crawl out of his introverted shell and start interacting with people in a pleasant way. Instead, she merely said, "His main concern is making sure we leave the Amazon in one piece. If we want him to lead us to the treasure, we have to do what he says."

"Bull," Phillip retorted. "He could care less about me. He has you and only you on his mind. Don't think I can't tell. It's obvious—the way he looks at you. He practically devours you with his eyes!"

Surprised by Phillip's comment, Catalina countered, "I don't know what you are talking about. He has absolutely no romantic interest in me whatsoever."

"Give me a break. I may be somewhat naive in these matters, but I can read his body language loud and clear."

"I truly think you are imagining things."

"Maybe I am, but I still don't like him, and nothing you say is going to change my mind."

Catalina knew it would be counterproductive to continue the conversation. "Just please try to get along with him. Promise me?"

"Oh, all right, but he'd better not get in my way."

* * *

Chris was driving the lead jeep. "Are they still behind us? I don't see them in my rearview mirror."

"They're there all right. Where else would they be? This is the only road that leads to Cerro Negro."

"I can't believe our luck," Chris said. "Just based on the per diem rate of pay, even if we don't find that mirror, we should earn around two thousand five hundred, maybe as much as three thousand euros a piece. That will be more money than I've ever had at one time."

"That's because there aren't any bars where we are going," Eric joked.

"Did she give you the derrotero?" Chris asked.

"Yes. Only a copy, but she did include the last set of instructions, which in the beginning were purposely omitted. She told me she brought the original with her. I told her I may want to take a look at it."

"She seems to trust us."

"I sure as hell don't know why. She doesn't really know us. What's to prevent us from stealing the derrotero and killing them both? No one would ever know."

Chris smiled. "Catalina's a good-looking woman, don't you think? I've seen how she looks at you; I think she likes you."

Eric hit Chris playfully on the shoulder. "In my wildest dreams. Why would she be interested in someone like me when she's engaged to that egotistical bastard? You should have seen the rock on her finger when we first met." Eric quickly changed the subject. "And would you please drive slower? You've managed to hit every chuckhole. I need to give my liver a rest."

"I don't think she's one of those spoiled, rich bitches," Chris said. "I mean, she may be rich and all that, but she is nothing like him."

"That's the first intelligent thing you said in the last two hours."

"Hang on." Chris swerved to avoid some deep ruts in the road. Once the driving demanded less of him, he continued the conversation. "I'm excited at the prospect of finding the Golden Disk of the Sun. Aren't you?"

"If I were you, I'd curb your exuberance. We don't really know for sure that her derrotero is genuine. It could be a fake."

Chris took his foot off the accelerator. "What do you mean? I thought you said it was the genuine article."

"I said it appears to be real. Who knows? There are so many of these fake derroteros floating around that the one she has could end up leading us nowhere."

* * *

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity to Catalina, the jeep ahead of them turned onto a secondary road and stopped in front of a church. No sooner had they parked than an Indian walked over to greet Eric.

"Make sure you watch the jeeps, Eduardo," Catalina heard Eric say in fluent Portuguese.

Approaching their jeep, Eric asked, "Does anyone want to change their mind? This is your last chance. Once we enter that jungle, we will become just like the four Musketeers. You know, all for one and one for all."

When neither Phillip or Catalina responded, he motioned toward the back of the jeep. "Okay then. Grab your gear. We walk from here. I hope you took my advice and lightened your load. Every additional pound you carry will come back to haunt you once we start climbing the mountain."

Catalina watched Eric and Chris each place a gun into their shoulder holsters. Eric was also carrying a rifle and a cartridge belt.

Phillip picked up his and Catalina's backpacks. "Let's go. I'm ready."

Eric put out his hand to stop him. "Hold on a sec. I think it's gallant of you to carry Catalina's backpack for her; however, chivalry is something we don't have the luxury of in the Amazon. Everyone, and I mean everyone, pulls his own weight."

While Catalina was strapping on her backpack, Eric pointed to Phillip's pistol. "What do you have there?"

"It's a nine-millimeter German Lugar," Phillip said proudly. "It once belonged to a German general."

Eric handed Phillip a magnum revolver. "I need to remind you that unlike an African safari, you won't have a vehicle to protect you. If you are going to arm yourself, at least do so with something that's a little more effective. If a large animal like a cougar were to attack and you shoot it with that thing, all you'll do is make it mad." Eric took out another magnum revolver and placed it in his holster. "The magnum I just handed to you is an effective weapon. Even if your aim isn't on the mark, it will stop a large animal dead in its tracks."

Eric turned to face Chris. "You take the lead." Then he looked at Phillip. "I want you to follow him. Catalina, you stay in front of me, and I'll bring up the rear. We walk single file. Is that understood?"

Catalina glanced at Phillip, worried how he would react to being the receiver of orders for a change, but, thankfully, he held his tongue.

"One more thing," Eric said. "The lead person will use his machete to cut through the underbrush. All of us will follow in the footsteps of the lead man—or woman. We will rotate positions every fifteen minutes. This means the person using the machete will have forty-five minutes to rest in between the difficult job of cutting a path through the wilderness. I'm going to say this now, because I don't want anyone to complain later. I won't tolerate slackers."

They had walked for about an hour when it started to rain. The downpour was so heavy that by the time Catalina put on her poncho, she got drenched. When it was her turn to use the machete, she found the poncho got in the way—and although it was still raining, she was forced to take it off. She was slashing away at the underbrush when Eric stopped her.

"You're exerting far too much energy," he said. "Let the momentum of your swing do the work for you." He took the machete out of her hands and swung it slowly in a wide arc. "Like this."

It was harder to do than she realized, particularly since she was walking on wet ground, and it was difficult to maintain traction.

After walking for another hour, Eric told the group to take a fifteen-minute breather. Catalina looked toward Muela Del Diablo. "Beautiful, isn't it?"

Eric's voice came from behind her. "It's all of that, but don't let its beauty lull you into complacency. Believe me, sooner or later the mountain will extract a pound of our flesh."

"It looks surrealistic from this distance," Catalina said. "Are those cloud formations?"

"That's condensation," Eric replied. "You're looking at the point of transition between the general coldness of the mountain and the wet heat of the Amazon. It's the shock of these two climates virtually colliding with one another that causes the almost permanent cloudiness around the mountain. The zone where we're heading is called Rio Napo. Of course, it didn't have a name during Valverde's lifetime. As you will probably recall, Valverde's directions stated that a person had to head northeast to the spot where the clouds met the forest. The area where we are heading is covered with trees. Some call it the Virgin Rain Forest, probably because it's the least explored area of the Amazon."

"Speaking of condensation," Phillip asked, "is it ever going to stop raining?"

Eric was curt in his reply, "Don't count on it."

"In the Amazon, there are basically two seasons," Chris elaborated. "There is a rainy season, and a not-so-rainy season."

"Then this must be the rainy season," Phillip grumbled.

Chris shook his head. "Actually, the weather is fairly mild this time of the year."

Eric pointed toward the mountain. "If you think the weather is lousy here, wait till we get closer to where we're going. According to Valverde, we have to climb to a _planalto_ , which, as you know, is a plateau. It is near a ridge that separates the jungle from the rough terrain of the mountain. Once we reach it, we'll start our ascent. Fortunately, we don't have to climb all the way to the top of the mountain. It will be colder where we are heading. That's why I had all of you bring a warm jacket. I know it's a bitch to have to carry the additional weight, but believe me, you'll be glad you did. Regardless of the time of year, bitter winds blow in from the north."

"Now that you've given us all this encouraging news, is there anything else you'd like to add?" Phillip failed to keep the sarcasm out of his voice.

"One more thing," Eric said. "Once we reach an elevation of five thousand feet, I suggest you take the safety off your gun."

"May I ask why?"

"Because that's where the white leopards are. They are extremely difficult to see because they blend in with the snow. There's not a lot for them to eat so we would be fair game. I've encountered several. They'll stalk you and pounce when you least suspect it. Their jaws are lethal. They have a bite strong enough to crush a human skull."

Chris, overhearing Eric's warning, whispered, "Why did you tell him that? You know perfectly well white leopards are an extremely rare species. We might run into a cougar, but a white leopard?"

"I just want the guy to be aware of his surroundings," Eric whispered back. "He has no business being in the Amazon. He should have stayed in Los Angeles where he could sip his martinis. Mark my words, Chris. Phillip Nash is a time bomb waiting to explode!"

CHAPTER 18

Eric decided to quit early as it was their first day in the jungle. He established designated duties to everyone, including Phillip. They all pitched in to clear the campsite of vines and bushes. Eric would hunt for food. Chris would gather enough firewood to last the night, and also help Phillip dig a trench around the perimeter of each tent. Catalina was to put up the pup tents in the evening and dismantle them in the morning. Only Chris and Eric would take turns standing guard. Catalina wondered if they would be able to stay awake after a full day of hacking a trail through the dense underbrush.

Eric handed a pair of gloves to Phillip. "Come with me so I can show you what you need to place in those trenches." It didn't take him long to find what he was looking for. "Do you see this plant with the oval leaves and red fruit the size of plums?"

Phillip walked closer to the plant and then backed away. "It has a very unpleasant smell. What is it?"

"It's a strychnos plant. It's best known for its use in creating poisonous arrows. You see, in large amounts, the alkaloids in the flowers can be deadly to humans. The plant's resin has been used in hand-to-hand combat, by coating fingernails so a scratch on an opponent could prove to be fatal."

"Why are you telling me this?"

"The Amazon is not only infested with scorpions, but it also has spiders that can kill you. Fortunately, insects won't go anywhere near the fruit of this plant, because they don't like the way it smells. What I want you to do is pick some of the fruit, crush it with your feet, and spread it around each trench you and Chris dig. That way none of us will end up with scorpions for bedfellows. Believe me, a sting from a scorpion is—"

Phillip cut Eric off. "I know. A scorpion's sting can be deadly."

Later that day, Eric was able to trap several grouse for dinner. He plucked off their feathers and spitted the birds expertly. He was turning them over a fire when Catalina sat on the ground next to him. "I've never eaten grouse. What do they taste like?"

"A lot like a wild duck, but gamier," Eric replied.

"This is changing the subject, but I was wondering if you had a chance to study the copy of the derrotero?"

"Yes, although I believe Valverde's directions are somewhat misleading."

"Oh, in what way?"

"According to your derrotero, Valverde states we must traverse the Soguillas, which is a series of cliffs that would eventually lead us to the western slope of Muela Del Diablo. My theory is the reason he gave those instructions is because he knew of no other way to reach Yanacocha Lake. If Valverde had actually found the Golden Disk of the Sun using this route, he must have been one hell of a mountain climber. It would be an extremely difficult and dangerous climb to reach the western slope of the mountain that way."

"We all have the proper equipment, and Catalina and I know how to climb, so what's the problem?" Phillip asked.

Eric tried to keep the sarcasm out of his voice, but his look told Catalina he was starting to tire of Phillip Nash. "That mountain is comprised of shale. That and volcanic rock that crumbles to the touch. As an expert climber, you should know that stanchions and carabineers would be of little use. I'm not prepared to risk my life climbing over abrupt ledges and steep inclines to find a gold mirror. It would be suicidal for us to take that route."

"What do you suggest?" Catalina asked.

"We can get to where we need to go by taking a less dangerous, but longer route." Taking a map out, Eric pointed toward the western slope of the mountain. "This is where we need to be. It's a site called Suchu Urcu. We'll have to hack our way through some dense vegetation to get there, but that sure as hell is better than falling off a ledge. It will be slow going, but the ascent will not be nearly as steep. It beats the hell out of having to scale a group of shear cliffs."

Phillip glanced at Catalina. "I'm beginning to think this whole idea of yours was a bad one. We could get killed up there."

Catalina returned Phillip's stare. "Just because we are encountering a few problems doesn't mean my idea was a bad one. You were the one who told me you liked adventure, or did you just say that to impress me?"

Phillip was not accustomed to being challenged by anyone, much less Catalina, who usually acquiesced to his ideas. He needed to save face. "I'm only thinking of you. I just don't think this place is safe enough for a woman, no matter how many precautions we take."

Catalina bristled. "Speak for yourself. I've never been in better physical shape. I can handle the rough terrain so don't worry about me!"

"Did you really think this would be a cakewalk?" Eric addressed the question to Phillip. "If it were that easy, everyone would be heading toward the mountain and its tunnels that are rumored to contain gold. It's because Suchu Urcu is so difficult to reach that hardly anyone ventures to the place."

The involuntary muscle in Phillip's cheek twitched. "I don't really need you to give me a lecture, Shade. I was just thinking of Catalina, that's all."

Not wanting to create a scene, Catalina moved closer to Phillip, and whispered so only he could hear, "You can turn around and go back if you want, but I'm not quitting."

Without saying another word, Phillip stormed into the jungle on the pretense of looking for strychnos plants. Chris scoured the area for more firewood while Eric went back to cooking their dinner. Later, by the time the tents were up, Eric told them the grouse was ready.

"I've lost my appetite," Phillip said and headed for his tent.

Chris came over to stand next to the fire. "I'll have some if you don't mind."

"So will I," Catalina said. "I refuse to let Phillip dampen my good spirits."

With his knife, Eric divided the birds equally among the three of them.

Once Catalina was back in her tent, she had time to reflect on the comments she had made to Phillip. She realized she had most likely embarrassed him in front of Eric and Chris. In retrospect, she knew it had been a mistake. At the first opportunity, she would apologize to him. She was beginning to have second thoughts of continuing with the quest. It wasn't the mountain or the jungle that scared her; it was Phillip. When he was around people, he acted so differently than when just the two of them were together, so condescending and antagonistic.

She was certain of one thing. Phillip had better watch his step around Eric Shade. She sensed the ex-history professor wouldn't tolerate Phillip's foul disposition much longer. Although she was excited at the prospect of finding the treasure, she certainly didn't relish having to spend another seven to ten days in the wilderness with the two of them at each other's throats.

It was now obvious to her it would take a great deal of exertion to go where they were heading. But unlike Phillip, she wasn't one to complain. Catalina was in top physical shape, and with the exception of Chris, she was younger than either Phillip or Eric. If the men could handle themselves in the rough terrain, then so could she!

* * *

Phillip regretted coming to Brazil. For one thing he didn't like Shade. It annoyed him that the guide seemed to relish making him look like a dolt in front of Catalina. He also hadn't imagined the Amazon would be so dangerous. The African safaris were a breeze compared to this trip. In Africa, he was used to having all the creature comforts at his disposal. Also, there were porters to take care of the heavy lifting. This malevolent place was another matter. No amount of money or prestige was worth risking his life. If he could only think of a good excuse to leave, one where he could save face. Feign sickness? Sprain an ankle? He quickly discarded those ideas. Catalina would definitely think less of him, particularly since she was already challenging his authority and masculinity.

He would need to keep a close eye on Shade. It infuriated him that Shade paid needless attention to Catalina. Every time he turned around the two were having a conversation. Although he would never admit it, Phillip knew his limitations. He realized he was out of his element in the Amazon. It was not so much that he minded the physical challenges. It was the unpredictability of the jungle that terrified him. He felt vulnerable—there was nothing he could control. To make matters worse, he was certain Eric Shade knew it, too. He worried he might lose Catalina—that is, unless he could devise some way to discredit the arrogant guide.

* * *

Catalina and Phillip were not the only ones with misgivings. Eric was also worried. The place where they were heading was dangerous enough without having someone like Phillip along. The man had a huge ego, but he sensed it was all talk. The minute they ran into trouble, he was sure Nash would do whatever he had to in order to save his own hide, regardless of the consequences. Why would a beautiful and intelligent woman like Catalina bother giving a man like Phillip the time of day, much less be engaged to the selfish buffoon. His instincts told him that sooner or later Phillip would show his true colors, and that they would be yellow. Eric had a premonition about the trip, a foreboding that it would end badly.

CHAPTER 19

The jungle was completely still when Catalina crawled out of her sleeping bag, stretched and opened her tent flap. She was surprised to see Eric standing by the smoldering fire, craning his head toward the jungle, his rifle at the ready.

"Is something wrong?" she asked.

"We are being followed."

A chill coursed through her. "Oh my God! How do you know? You mean by an animal?"

"There are two of them. Not animals but humans, probably native Indians. I saw their tracks."

"How do you know they are Indians?"

"They weren't wearing shoes."

There was concern in Catalina's voice. "What are you going to do?"

"There isn't much I can do other than keep an eye out. I don't think it's anything to worry about. They are probably curious. Many of them, particularly in this part of the country, have never seen a white man before."

"Are you going to tell Chris and Phillip?" Catalina asked.

"Chris knows. I think it's best if you don't mention this to Phillip though."

"Why? Don't you think he has a right to know?"

Eric thought a moment. He was having a difficult time in finding the right words. "Under normal circumstances, I'd tell him, but he is a frightened man, or haven't you noticed? If I tell him, he might end up shooting an innocent Indian who meant us no harm. That could lead to retaliation from an entire tribe. We wouldn't stand a chance. They would pick us off one by one with poisonous darts."

Catalina nodded in understanding. "I won't say anything. I promise."

"It's time for us to break camp, but before we go, I'd like to show you something." Taking her by the arm, he led her to the edge of a precipice. The fog had just lifted. To Eric's left, several thousand feet below them, was a magnificent waterfall with a rainbow at its crest.

"It's beautiful. It looks like a picture you'd find on a postcard," Catalina said.

"I agree. No matter how many times I visit it, I don't think I'll ever take the beauty of the Amazon for granted." Eric pointed his finger to an area below the waterfall. "The lake you see is called Laguna Anteojos. If you were to throw a tapir into the water, a school of piranhas would pick its carcass clean in a matter of seconds. They are small and all teeth. Some Indian tribes consider them to be a delicacy. Even one of those nasty creatures could rip the flesh off your finger clear to the bone. You can imagine what a large school would do. They could strip a horse down to a skeleton in thirty seconds."

Catalina shivered. "Let's talk about something less menacing if you don't mind."

Several hours later, Eric pointed to another body of water. "If you peer over the ledge, you'll see Lake Gafas."

"Why did they name the lake for a pair of eyeglasses?" Catalina asked.

"It's because of its two parallel water pools. If you look closely, you'll see a knoll that separates the two bodies of water. Do you see it? It kind of looks like a nose."

"Yes, I see. It does look like a pair of glasses."

"Only that slight depression prevents the water from co-mingling with the basin to the left. Give me your hand if you want a better look. The ground here is quite slippery."

"Are you and Eric at the hand-holding stage now?" Phillip's remark cut through Catalina much as a knife. She let go of Eric's hand and backed away from the ledge.

"Eric was just holding on to me so I wouldn't fall," she explained.

Phillip's voice was full of sarcasm. "Would you mind if we spent less time sightseeing and focused more on finding the mirror?"

Eric advanced toward Phillip, his fists clenched.

Without thinking, Catalina grabbed his arm. "Please, don't do it! Phillip is just trying to provoke you."

Phillip's eyebrows shot up. "Just whose side are you on, Catalina?"

"Nobody's taking sides," Eric said. "Let's all take a step backward, shall we? It isn't going to do any of us any good to fight amongst ourselves. We have to conserve our energy if we're to face what's between here and that mountain." Without saying another word, Eric took out his machete and began swinging at the underbrush while Chris waited for Phillip and Catalina to strap their backpacks onto their shoulders.

"Come on," Chris said. "We better get going."

CHAPTER 20

By the third day, Catalina fell into a routine. Whenever they would stop for the night, after she'd complete her assigned job of pitching the tents, she would use her machete to help clear the surrounding ground of capsivella shrubs, which they would later use as fuel for a fire. Phillip, who had been watching Catalina swing her machete, walked up to her. "This isn't your assigned job. Why are you bothering with such backbreaking work?"

"Eric told me in order to survive, we all need to work as a team. I'm glad I can be of some help. I don't know if you've even noticed, but Eric and Chris take turns standing guard at night. If I can take some of the load off their shoulders, I'm going to do it."

"Eric, Eric, Eric. I'm so tired of listening to you talk about the guy."

Exasperated, Catalina retorted, "What is it with you? You've been bad-mouthing him ever since we started out on this expedition. It's almost as though you're purposely trying to get him angry. What did he ever do to you?"

"I just don't care for his know-it-all attitude. He acts superior to the rest of us."

"He knows this place like the back of his hand. I'm sure he feels responsible for the people he guides to this mountain, including us. So far, when he has asked you to do something, it's been for a reason. If you think that's acting superior, you are the one with the problem."

Phillip snapped, "Don't talk to me in that tone of voice. Whose side are you on anyway?"

"I'm not on either side. I'm here because I want to find the Golden Disk of the Sun, and even though we have the derrotero, Eric is the only man who can lead us to it."

"Okay, you've made your point, but have a talk with him, will you? He needs to be more considerate of my wishes. After all, I'm the one who is footing the bill."

Catalina realized she was now seeing the real Phillip, and she did not like what she saw. He had always treated her with the utmost respect. She had never seen his foul moods last this long before. Phillip was a loner. Not once had she met any of his friends. In fact, she didn't think he had any. For as long as she had known him, he had been short with the hired help at times, but she had never seen this ugly side of his personality. Was he always this unpleasant to people he couldn't control? Money usually bought him loyalty, but Catalina knew Phillip could never buy Eric—not for any amount of money.

* * *

By dusk they had reached the mighty Xingu River. Eric told them that according to the derrotero, they would need to follow it for about ten kilometers. From that point on, the ascent would be steeper. By the time Chris had built a fire and had given Phillip a hand with the trenches, Eric walked back into the clearing with a huge carp. "Care to fillet this puppy, Chris?"

"I'm impressed," Catalina said. "Where did you catch it?"

"Up river. Believe it or not, this bugger nearly jumped out of the water onto my hook."

After Chris cleaned the fish, he wrapped it in banana leaves and placed it on top of the fire. Once it was fully cooked, he broke off a piece for Catalina. "I don't have any lemon or butter so we'll just have to do without."

Catalina took a piece with her fingers and placed it in her mouth. "It's absolutely delicious. I've never eaten a fish this tender. I was starving. Thank you."

Without comment, Phillip helped himself to a large portion. Instead of eating with the rest of them by the fire, he headed for his tent.

That evening the night was unusually clear. The fog had dissipated, and the stars were out in all their glory. Looking up at the night sky, Catalina marveled at the contrast the moon made against the pitch-black darkness of the night. It was the first time they'd had an unobstructed view of the heavens. The stars looked like polished jewels that someone had placed on a black velvet canopy. She sat by the fire and watched the blue and yellow flames as they reached upward toward the gigantic trees of the rain forest. Chris and Phillip were in their tents, and Eric was close by, studying the copy of the derrotero Catalina had given him. "Would you like to see the original?" she asked.

"I'd rather take a look at it in broad daylight. It's too hard to make out Valverde's handwriting using the light from the fire. Speaking of the derrotero, I studied the photographs of the aryballos, and I found something very unusual. Did you happen to notice the symbols? One of them was of the Chakana."

"I saw it; however, I didn't take much stock in it. As you know, it's a fairly common icon."

"Yes, but did you happen to notice what was directly beneath it?"

Catalina thought a moment. "As I recall, there was a rendition of three men. Is that what you are referring to?"

"Yes," Eric said. "Someone had created an image of what could be the Star Walkers. As an archeologist, I'm sure you heard of the myth. I was wondering if you've seen a rendition of them on any of the ancient temples or statuary."

"All I know is they were gods who supposedly came from the sky to impart knowledge to an ancient tribe of Indians. But no. I don't have the vaguest idea what they looked like."

"The Indians you are referring to were the Ugha Mongulala," Eric said. "I'm using the past tense because they no longer exist, but what has me baffled is why would someone draw a likeness of the Star Walkers on an aryballos directly beneath the Chakana?"

"I didn't catch the significance," Catalina said. "But now that you brought it up, maybe these so-called Star Walkers gave the mathematical equivalent of pi to the Incas? As you know, that's what the Chakana is."

"Could be. There are clear signs that an incredibly ancient civilization, at least 30,000 and possibly as much as 60,000 years old, once flourished in this region. The evidence suggests that white men of an unfamiliar race had once walked in great numbers in the little-known habitat of central Mato Grosso. Not much is known about these ancient white people of Brazil."

"Are you saying these mysterious white people were the Star Walkers?" Catalina asked.

Eric shrugged his shoulders. "Who knows? The Star Walkers are an enigma. I can't even be certain they existed, but I will tell you what I believe. Someone, whether they were the Star Walkers or another highly advanced civilization, must have been the culture bearers throughout history. Even if we found unequivocal proof that these so-called Star Walkers had once walked among our ancient ancestors, we may never know who they were or where they came from."

Catalina placed her hands closer to the fire. "I find all of this to be quite intriguing. So little is known about pre-Inca civilizations. Some Andean scholars claim the Tiwanaku were the precursors to the Incas."

"Maybe and then again maybe not," Eric said. "They left behind megalithic monuments just like the Incas, that's for sure. It goes without explanation that most ancient structures in South America are creations that defy the laws of physics and mathematics."

"I agree. In my opinion, all the ancient pyramids and temples were built out of reverence for one type of god or another. I wish we had something concrete to go on, so we could solve the puzzle as to how an ancient people came to possess the technology to build them."

"You mentioned the pyramids, which brings up another point," Eric said. "Did you happen to see a rendition of the scarab on the aryballos?"

"I did," came the reply. "You must have gathered it's an Egyptian symbol."

He nodded. "It represents everlasting life. This is further proof that some kind of connection exists between Egypt and South America."

* * *

The more Catalina was around Eric the more she realized what a complicated person he was. He didn't fit into any category. He wasn't the stereotypical academic—even though she assumed he could function in those circles. There was something raw, something primitive about him that defied description. She was glad they were having this discussion because the scientist in her was seeking the same answers.

Catalina saw Eric stiffen. Was it something she said that had made him tense? She was about to ask him what the problem was when he placed a finger to his lips.

Whispering, he said, "I hear something. It's probably nothing, but I want to check it out. I need you to walk normally and fetch Chris. Tell him to bring a gun. Then I want you to move to the far side of the fire. Make sure you stand close to the flames."

Catalina tensed. "I want to go with you."

"No," Eric said through clenched teeth. "You'll be safer by the fire." He shoved a metallic object in her hand. "Here, take this."

Catalina stared at the magnum revolver as if she had never seen a gun before. "What do you want me to do with it?" It was only after she had asked the question that she realized she already knew the answer. "What about you? Aren't you going to need a weapon?"

Eric unsheathed a hunting knife. "This is all I need. It's quieter and just as deadly. If anything stirs out of those bushes, I want you to shoot. The safety is off. Just hold the gun in both hands, cock the hammer, and pull the trigger."

Before she could protest, Eric slithered away and disappeared into the jungle. Catalina looked distastefully at the large gun. She'd fired a .22 pistol before at a target, but never a gun of this caliber—and certainly not at anything living. Afraid, but wanting to follow Eric's wishes, she went to wake up Chris. The minute Catalina relayed Eric's instructions, Chris disappeared.

She grasped the revolver in both hands and cautiously returned to the fire. With each croak of a marsupial frog or a cry of a finch, she tensed and pointed the gun toward that particular sound. Her hands shaking, she realized she would be an easy target for whoever or whatever was out there. Could she pull the trigger if she had to? The few minutes that passed seemed like an eternity. Finally, Eric's voice pierced the air. "It's okay, Catalina. Don't shoot. We're coming out." Prodding Phillip, Eric entered the clearing.

"I really don't see what the fuss is all about," Phillip argued. "All I did was go into the jungle so I could take a leak."

"I want you to know you almost got yourself shot," Eric said gruffly. "I thought I made it quite clear that no one is to leave camp!"

"But I wasn't more than twenty feet from my tent."

"What do I have to do to impress upon you that I don't make needless rules?"

"You didn't really expect me to expose myself in front of Catalina, did you?"

"Come on, Phillip. It would've been pitch-dark ten feet from the fire. You didn't have to leave the campground to have some privacy."

"All right. All right. You've made your point. Now, do you mind if I go back to my tent? I'd like to get some sleep."

When Phillip left, Catalina walked over to Eric and handed him the gun. "I don't know if I could have pulled the trigger."

"Animals aren't the only species that have an instinct for self-preservation. If someone had appeared out of those bushes and went after you, you would have used it all right."

"What made you think the noise wasn't made by an animal?"

Eric placed another capsivella shrub on top of the fire. "I suspected it was Phillip."

"Why?"

"I could hear him. I'm pretty adept at distinguishing sounds in the jungle. If Indians had been stalking us, they wouldn't have made a sound. I didn't think it was a predator because a cougar wouldn't have come that close to the fire."

"If you knew it wasn't a predator or an Indian, then why did you hand me your gun?"

"I was pretty sure it was Phillip; however because a couple of Indians had been following us, I wasn't about to take any chances."

"Couldn't it have been Chris?"

"No. Chris knows better than to go walking around the jungle at night."

"To tell you the truth, I believe Phillip was trying to overhear our conversation."

Eric laughed. "You took the words right out of my mouth, but I didn't want to exacerbate the situation by accusing him of snooping." Eric paused, then added, "I don't want to frighten you unnecessarily, but there are marauding Indians in this part of Mato Grosso. They wouldn't be brave enough to venture near us in the daytime, but they've been known to attack people at night."

"Now you tell me! I'll never be able to sleep."

"You'll be fine. I won't let anything happen to you. Believe me, I'd know if any of those thieves approached our camp. You see, I always sleep with only one eye closed. It's a trick an old Indian taught me."

"Oh, sure, one-eyed Shade."

Eric laughed, then added, "Seriously, don't forget that Chris and I take turns standing guard. Don't worry. You'll be safe as long as you are with us."

Catalina left Eric feeling better, but she now knew the Amazon was certainly no place for neophytes.

CHAPTER 21

It had stopped raining, but the chill factor was up because they were now at a higher altitude. The cold, dry air pierced through Catalina's fur-lined jacked causing her to shiver. She was having difficulty just walking, much less using her machete. At this elevation it was much more difficult to cut through the heavy underbrush that had a stranglehold over the terrain, probably because there was less oxygen.

Walking single file, they trudged toward Muela Del Diablo's northwestern slope. By that afternoon, they had managed to hack their way up an incline to an area Eric called the espadaña: a reed-like grass that grows to twice the height of a man. Eric told them that because of the wet, tropical climate, the espadaña flourished in large quantities in certain sections of the Amazon. "Be careful not to fall into it," Eric warned. "Don't even touch it!"

"How come? Is it poisonous or something?" Catalina asked.

"It's not poisonous, but it has razor-sharp edges. I saw a man fall into that stuff once."

"What happened?"

"He bled out before anyone could help him."

Catalina shivered again, but this time it wasn't from the biting wind. Fortunately it wasn't her turn to wield the machete, nonetheless, she took great pains to stay as far away from the espadaña as possible.

Finally, they approached a ravine where rubber and mahogany trees grew side by side among some giant ferns. Eric called for a much-needed break. He approached Catalina who was running in place trying to stay warm. He pointed upward past the jungle-choked terrain. "Do you see those dark spots that look like blotches?"

"Are they caves?" Catalina asked.

Eric shook his head. "No. They are tunnel openings. Muela Del Diablo is riddled with them. I entered one the last time I was here. It led deep inside the mountain. Unfortunately, I didn't have time to explore it fully. One of these days, I'm going back to have another look." Eric lowered his hand. "Those tunnels were built by someone for a reason so there has to be an explanation for their existence." He began to walk toward Chris who was standing near Phillip. "Are you two ready to do some more climbing?"

"I'll lead the way," Catalina said.

They had been forging their way up the slope single file when Catalina let out a piercing shriek. She had been walking on what appeared to be solid ground when suddenly it turned into a quivering mass of unstable soil. Panic-stricken, she began to sink slowly into the dirt. Instinctively, she reached out and grabbed a nearby capsivella shrub. The bush helped her gain some leverage, but no sooner had she tried to climb out of the muck than she uprooted the plant. Sinking fast, she let out a second yell. Keep calm, keep calm, she kept reminding herself. She desperately tried to reach firmer ground, but all she could do was flail her arms. She knew Phillip had been walking behind her. Doesn't he hear? The earth looked like a mass of jelly, which made her realize that unless someone reached out to help her, she was going to be buried alive.

Phillip stood motionless, paralyzed by fear. She was facing him now, only her neck above ground. She took what would be most likely a last breath of air, lifted her chin, and waited for the inevitable to happen.

She saw Eric appear with a rope tied around his waist. He shoved Phillip aside, threw one end of the rope to Chris and shouted, "Wrap it around your arm and whatever you do, don't let go!"

Using both of his hands, he formed a cradle and gently held Catalina's head. Knowing full well that it would only be a question of time when the weight of her body would suck her head beneath the sand, he said in as calm a voice as he could muster, "Raise your arms. You have to lift one of them."

Catalina strained with all her might. She knew Eric needed some leverage if he was going to extricate her from the quicksand. She managed to bring her right arm to her waist. Then, using all of her strength, she raised it above ground.

As soon as Eric spotted Catalina's hand, he grabbed hold of it. "Pull, Chris. Pull as hard as you can."

Inch by inch, Eric dragged Catalina from the deathlike grip of the bog. Had it not been for all of his arm wrestling, he didn't think he would have been able to save her. Finally, with Chris's help, he pulled her completely out of the quagmire.

Catalina, who wasn't aware she had been holding her breath, exhaled a mouthful of air. She was shaking and sobbing hysterically. Finally, she managed to gain control of her emotions. "What happened?"

"You stepped into a bog," Eric said. "I didn't think there were any on this mountain, but that just goes to show you that in the Amazon, one can never take anything for granted."

Phillip, who was still standing where Eric had shoved him, went on the attack. "What the hell were you thinking of? We almost lost Catalina. I am paying you and Chris big bucks to prevent just such a thing from happening."

"I blame myself for not exercising more caution," Eric said. "The problem with quicksand is you never realize you are in it until it's too late. I'm going to tie my climbing rope around the three of you and connect one end to my waist. That way, if something happens, at least we'll be able to help one another."

"No way!" Phillip retorted. "Catalina and I are out of here."

Catalina had always known Phillip had his faults, but she would have never guessed him to be a coward. She decided now was not the time to comment on his remark. Instead, she looked at Eric. "You saved my life. You know that, don't you?"

Phillip's cheek twitched violently. "Did you hear what I said? I have all the money I require—enough for both of us. There is no reason for either of us to risk our lives over a mirror that probably doesn't even exist!"

Tired of listening to Phillip's litanies, Eric interrupted, "It's not up to you to decide whether we leave or stay. We all have a vested interest in this place—you, Catalina, Chris, and me." He turned to face the others. "Do you want to talk about it more, or are you ready to take a vote?"

Phillip was the first to speak. "I've already said my piece. But since I'm the one providing the money, I don't see why anyone else should have a say."

Catalina forced herself to remain calm as she was still shivering from fright. "Eric did tell us this would be a dangerous place, but I never thought I'd be staring death in the face."

"We can quit if you like," Eric said. "Chris and I could always come back later to look for the gold. If we found it, I'd honor our agreement."

Phillip spit out the words, "Not with the derrotero you won't. Valverde's instructions belong to me!" Grabbing Catalina, he pulled her away from Eric. "This is between Catalina and me."

Eric took a step forward, fists clenched.

"Wait," Catalina urged. "Phillip is right. This is between the two of us."

Eric continued to glare at Phillip. Then he shrugged his shoulders and walked away, leaving the two of them alone.

In that moment, Catalina knew she had made a mistake in agreeing to marry Phillip. Until now she had always considered him to be her protector. She hated to admit it, but ever since she met Phillip, she had allowed him to control her, maybe manipulate was a better word. Now she realized she had been a fool to accept the diamond ring. Her fear of dying wasn't as strong as her regret that she had never had the chance of experiencing true love. She no longer placed Phillip on a pedestal. The man who presumably loved her and wanted to spend the rest of his life with her had failed her when she desperately needed him.

Catalina thought of Eric. He hardly knew her, yet he risked his own life to save her. When Catalina spoke, she felt as if someone else was doing the talking. "If I decide to quit, I'll give Eric the derrotero, even though it's not really mine to give. Valverde apparently braved these mountains. If he had known that someone like you had his instructions, he'd probably wish he'd never put them down in writing."

Phillip's cheek began to twitch. "How can you say these things after all I've done for you? I nursed you back to health—or have you forgotten? I've taken care of you for so many years. A college education, clothes, jewelry—anything you wanted." He placed his hand on Catalina's shoulder, but she yanked it away.

"No, Phillip. You didn't give me what I desired. You've given me material possessions because it pleased you to do so. One of the reasons you took me in was because of the guilt you've always had for running me over. I never asked anything from you. I haven't been out with another man since I met you. Although you never showed any romantic interest toward me until recently, you've always made me feel guilty whenever I mentioned someone else."

"I've never said you couldn't see other people."

"Not in so many words you didn't, but you are good at conveying displeasure in other ways. You've always disapproved of my having friends, male or female."

Phillip began talking faster. It was as if he wanted to unburden himself of all the things he had wanted to tell her. "That's because I've always loved you—always wanted you, but I knew I couldn't have you."

Catalina backed farther away. "What are you saying? At one point I longed to be in your arms. I wanted you to hold me, to caress me, to make love to me." Catalina's eyes welled up with tears. All of her pent-up emotions poured out. "I don't believe you've ever desired me, at least not physically. Have you?"

Phillip's cry of pain pierced the air. "I've always wanted you!" He realized he had been shouting so he lowered his voice. "I dreamed and hoped that someday I could make love to you, but you see, I'm—" He stopped in mid-sentence.

"You're what, Phillip? Tell me. Why haven't you shown any real affection for me?"

"Because I was afraid."

"Afraid of what? I know now you're scared of physical danger. Are you an emotional coward as well?"

Phillip's voice was laced with pain. "All right. If you really must know. It's because . . . It's because . . . I wasn't sure if I could please you."

In all the years Catalina had known Phillip, she had never seen him act so indecisively. "What are you trying to say? For once in your life, level with me."

"I was ridiculed once by a girl, and I couldn't bear the thought of you making fun of me."

"Now you are talking in riddles. Why would I make fun of you?"

"It's because . . . well, it's because . . . I'm impotent!"

Although the word came out as a whisper, it cut the air like a knife.

"Impotent? You're impotent?"

Phillip's face turned red. "Would you lower your voice, please?"

Ignoring Phillip's request, Catalina continued, "Why didn't you tell me?"

"I tried to tell you so many times, but I just couldn't."

"Why couldn't you?"

"I was afraid you would laugh at me."

Catalina tried to find her voice. "You're pathetic. Do you know that? You asked me to marry you, and you didn't even have the guts to tell me you were impotent."

"I was too ashamed."

"You don't know what shame is. Don't you realize you've brought all this upon yourself? Don't you know if you'd have had the courage to tell me about your problem when we first met, things might have worked out differently? I would have been patient, and with love and understanding we could have worked our way through the situation."

"It's not too late, Catalina. We can still try. I promise you I will do whatever you say." He reached for her.

"Don't you dare touch me! You disgust me." She was trembling as she turned her back on him and walked away, surprised she had spoken to him so harshly.

Soon Eric approached her. "Are you all right?"

Catalina nodded. "I'm fine. I've decided to continue our search. I, for one, am not willing to quit. I don't know what Phillip wants to do nor do I care, but I'm determined to find the treasure. Are you still willing to guide me to it?"

"If that's what you want. We had better camp here for the night, under the circumstances." Eric smiled. "The mountain will still be there tomorrow."

* * *

Catalina sat by the fire reflecting on what had happened earlier that day. Shivering from the cold, she was thankful the rain had stopped. Ever since her confrontation with Phillip, they avoided one another. Feeling a jacket being draped across her shoulders, she turned, pleased that it was Eric.

"I thought you might need this," he said. "It's an old army jacket of mine. It'll keep you warm." He sat next to her and pulled out a flask. "Care for a shot?"

Accepting the flask gratefully, she took a swallow. Coughing, she spit out most of the liquor.

"Is it that bad?" Eric laughed.

"This stuff is absolutely horrible! How can you drink it?"

"It's a brew the Indians make. The couple of Indians who live behind Chris's house distill it themselves. The first few sips are kind of rough, but a person gets used to it after a while."

There was an awkward moment of silence between them. Catalina handed Eric his flask back. "I guess you got an earful, didn't you?"

"I'm glad you finally came to your senses. I could tell that man was trouble the minute I laid eyes on him."

Catalina warmed her hands over the fire. "Do you know where he is?"

"He went to his tent. If I had known what I know now about Phillip Nash, I would never have agreed to take this job."

"He's a little misguided, Eric. That's all."

"I'm telling you, he is dangerous. If he wants to quit, Chris could probably take him back and join us later. In the meantime, I had Chris take his gun while he was sleeping so as to remove the bullets. He'll never know it's empty unless he pulls the trigger."

"What if he's attacked by a wild animal and needs to protect himself?"

"You still care for him, don't you?"

"Not in the way you think, but even with everything that has transpired, I can't just turn my back on him."

Eric took Catalina's hand in his. She found his nearness disconcerting. Something deep within her stirred an emotion she had never felt before. She leaned against him, putting her head on his shoulder. They sat that way in silence, content. Finally, she removed her hand from his. "I guess its time for me to turn in. Again, I can't thank you enough for saving my life."

With the moment broken, Eric laughed good-naturedly. "Think nothing of it. It's all in a day's work." As she turned to leave, he touched her arm tenderly. "You don't have to worry, Catalina. You can rely on me."

CHAPTER 22

As Catalina crawled into her tent, she couldn't get Eric out of her mind. She saw him as the antithesis of Phillip, whose inferior qualities had finally surfaced. Eric seemed to be a man who believed in living life to the fullest, his passion for adventure and zest for life contagious. He created rules for the benefit of others while Phillip was much more self-serving. Even though Catalina believed she was the only person Phillip had ever cared for, she now realized how his emotional scars had damaged and influenced his character. She also recognized that he basically didn't trust or feel comfortable around people. Over the years, her association with him had made her a recluse as well.

When she was with Phillip, she always felt as if he was putting on a show. His personality was like a storefront window. In the beginning, a person was tempted to buy what was in the showcase, but upon closer examination, the merchandise lost its luster. He had a way of twisting things she would say in order to make her feel guilty when, in reality, she had done nothing wrong. And how could he have proposed without telling her of his problem? What other skeletons might he still have stored in his closet? Because he hadn't disclosed to her such an important issue, she didn't think she could ever trust him again, much less love him. It was ironic that in all the years she'd known Phillip, his true character hadn't surfaced until they left civilization. The man was more afraid of the Amazon than she had ever been.

Catalina felt drawn to Eric because he didn't have a hidden agenda. He never tried to give the impression he was anything other than what he really was. True, he was a little rough around the edges, but at least he didn't try to mask his faults, nor did he put on any false pretenses. With Eric, what she saw was what she got. She admired his determination to find the Golden Disk of the Sun, not so much because it could make him wealthy, but because to him, it was a challenge. She felt he repeatedly braved the dangers of the rain forest to prove to himself that he possessed the intellect and physical endurance to conquer nature's threats. There was something about him she found invigorating. Whenever she was near him, Catalina felt alive.

The rain pelted her small tent with such force that she was afraid the weight of the water would collapse the canvas. When she opened the flap, she saw Eric standing guard over a smoldering fire. The rain, which was coming down in sheets, ran off his poncho onto the ground.

She closed her eyes and fantasized about making love to him. What would it be like to have him hold me tightly in his muscled arms. To have him kiss and caress me? Could two people who lived such totally different lives ever find a common ground? Whatever happens, I am thankful he has helped me see Phillip in a much clearer light.

* * *

The rain pelted Eric's poncho, but he didn't mind. The inconvenience it caused was offset by the fact he didn't have to contend with a multitude of insects. He glanced at his watch. It would soon be Chris's turn to stand guard. He took a pull on his flask, the alcohol warming his insides. Eric thought about Phillip. He'd come to the conclusion that Phillip Nash was unraveling. He was definitely losing his grip. With every passing day, the man became more bitter and withdrawn, but today proved to be disastrous for him, and almost catastrophic for Catalina. If she had died, a young beautiful woman like that, I would have to live with the guilt for the rest of my life.

Eric was glad Phillip had been exposed not only as a coward, but also as someone who was unable to perform under pressure. He was certain Phillip had lost not only his self-respect, but Catalina's respect as well. Eric was now much more leery of the man. He knew from experience that irrational, desperate men like Phillip often acted in an unpredictable manner; a dangerous thing to do in the Amazon.

When Eric first met Phillip, he wondered what an attractive, vivacious woman like Catalina could ever see in someone as stodgy and so full of himself. He was aware Phillip had a lot of money, but he didn't get the impression Catalina stayed with him for his wealth. So what was the draw? Under normal circumstances, he would have made a play for her, but Phillip's possessiveness and jealous nature made him cautious and apprehensive. The last thing he wanted was a major confrontation. Maybe in a bar in Manaus, but certainly not on the edge of a precipice climbing Muela Del Diablo. He decided the only thing he could do was give Catalina some space and bide his time.

* * *

Phillip was restless. He could hear the rain hit the sagging canvas of his tent, the rivulets forming a puddle next to his sleeping bag. He was devastated over Catalina's last words: "Don't you dare touch me! You disgust me."

How could he have been so stupid as to blurt out the truth? Talk about lousy timing! He'd cringed when the shocked look on Catalina's face had turned to disgust. When she had accused him of being an emotional coward, he had wanted to let her feel the pain and humiliation that he'd lived with for so many years. Today, Catalina had penetrated his façade of self-assurance, the false bravado, only to discover that he was full of fear and self-doubt. For the first time, he sensed her disappointment in him.

Lying on his back, he cursed out loud, regretting the day he'd agreed they search for the Golden Disk of the Sun. Ever since he'd laid eyes on Shade, he had known there would be friction between them. It irked him that the guide had absolutely no humility. Phillip had discovered early in life that most people were in awe of his wealth. It gave him power; it set him apart from the crowd. But Eric, the pompous ass, could have cared less. He wasn't in the least bit impressed. In fact, he was of the opinion that Eric Shade didn't much care whether he had money or not.

Phillip felt the tarantula before he saw it. He watched as the large, hairy creature crawled up his sleeping bag toward his chest. Earlier, he had found one in front of his tent. He'd drawn his gun ready to put a bullet in the ugly-looking creature, but Eric had stopped him. "Tarrantulas are not dangerous to humans. They are an integral part of the Amazon's ecological environment," he'd said. "Fortunately for us, they keep the insect population under control."

But Eric Shade was not here. Slowly taking his gun from its holster, Phillip waited for the hairy creature to crawl closer. In one swift movement, he knocked it to the ground. His aim had been perfect. The butt of his pistol connected with the tarantula, squashing it. He scooped the dead spider out of his tent. This is what I think of you and your ecological system, Dr. Eric Shade.

Not only did he dislike Shade personally, but as much as he hated to admit it, he was also jealous of him. From the very beginning, he had sensed a chemistry between Eric and Catalina. There was a synergy there he just couldn't describe. The more they were together, the more Catalina seemed to look toward Shade rather than to him for advice. Phillip blamed Shade for making him feel incompetent in Catalina's eyes, but he felt confident that once they returned to California, the two would continue as before.

He didn't think Catalina, who had grown accustomed to the finer things life had to offer, would forgo her comfortable and secure environment for a penniless ex-history professor like Shade. So he had to keep him penniless and the way to do it was to make certain they never found the Golden Disk of the Sun. Without the gold or the finder's fee the government would pay, Shade would receive no fortune, and Catalina would still need him; while with it, he would be certain to lose her.

His mind raced. Catalina had told him that at some point in time, Shade wanted to see the actual derrotero. The best way to thwart the search for the treasure would be for him to get ahold of it. He knew Catalina kept it in a waterproof wallet which she wore around her waist. All he had to do was take it from her. It wouldn't even be stealing because the derrotero belonged to him. That settled, he rolled over and went to sleep.

When he woke the next morning, he could no longer hear the rain. As he crawled out of his tent, he saw Shade approaching. "Okay, Phillip. Break camp. We have some serious walking to do."

He smiled inwardly. Just you wait, Eric Shade. You're about to get your comeuppance.

CHAPTER 23

While Chris was repacking some of their supplies, Eric approached Catalina with his copy of the derrotero in hand. "I want to read this to you: _'Momentos antes que usted alcanza las Colinas de las montanas usted vendra sobre un lago grande.'_ "

"I don't speak Spanish well," Catalina said, "but doesn't that mean, 'Just before you reach the foothills of the mountains, you will come upon a large lake'?"

Eric carefully folded the derrotero and put it back into his pocket. "Your Spanish is better than you think. I'm certain Valverde meant the mountain's plateau and not the foothills. Hell, we were in the foothills three days ago. Just another example of faulty grammar I would say; however, Valverde is right about the lake. I'm certain he was referring to Rio Topo. If we're lucky, we might reach it by nightfall."

"Is there a problem?" Catalina asked.

"No. No problem," Eric replied. "I just wanted to make sure we're on track. We are heading west, and that's where the lake is."

Once they broke camp, Eric gathered them together. "By this afternoon, we will leave the bank of the Xingu River. By this evening, if we're lucky, we should reach a lake Valverde referred to as a large body of water. That's because in those days it hadn't been given a name. I'm sure he was referring to Rio Topo. There is no other lake of any size that I'm aware of between here and the crest of the mountain. It's a lake that divides the southern slope of Muela Del Diablo from a broad valley. The area we are about to enter is often referred to as the border between the livable and the unlivable world." Eric added, "Before we can get there, we'll have to overcome two major obstacles. The giant espadaña grass is so thick in these parts that sometimes you can't even see the light of day. Remember what I told you. The blades are razor-sharp so proceed with caution. We'll walk single file. Whoever is at the lead, make sure you cut a wide path. Give yourself plenty of elbow room."

"What's the other obstacle?" Catalina asked.

"As we approach the western slope, we'll have to climb several rocky ledges. Don't let their looks fool you. They aren't too steep, but nevertheless they are treacherous to cross. The region is barren. It's a wasteland in the middle of the Amazon where nothing grows. The ground is mostly composed of dry, brittle volcanic rock, which crumbles easily. Because it breaks apart under pressure, it makes walking dangerous. The ledges have been known to collapse underfoot causing slides."

A pained expression appeared on Catalina's face. "If these ledges are that dangerous, can't we take a safer route?"

"As I told you before, the only other way to get to the western slope of the mountain would be to climb a sheer cliff. The route I'm suggesting is much, much safer. Once we're there, we should be in the area I referred to earlier."

"I take it you mean Suchu Urcu," Catalina said. "How are you going to know when we've reached it?"

"There are some ruins there. It might have been a city at one time. Valverde said to look for some broken columns and a large stone wall. I've been to the ruins once so I don't think we will have any trouble finding them—even though only a small portion of the wall exists. As I recall, broken columns were scattered everywhere. Since some of the writing on the copy of the derrotero is smudged, from that point on, I'm going to have to rely on the original."

* * *

Once they crossed the espadaña, they entered a different world. Barren as a desert, the rocky terrain loomed before them. Where only a few minutes ago vines and heavy vegetation had impeded their climb, nothing but a vast, desolate stretch of rocks lined the infertile slope.

"I'll go first," Eric said. "Have you ever seen a war movie where a point man searches for land mines while the rest of the platoon walks directly behind?"

Catalina laughed. "Are you telling me there are land mines, too?"

Eric chuckled. "No. That's one thing we don't have to worry about. In order to minimize the chances of anyone getting hurt, you need to follow in my footsteps. Phillip will walk behind you, and Chris will take up the rear. If I slip, don't try to help me as you might cause a slide, which could endanger not only you but Phillip and Chris as well."

Catalina glanced at Phillip. Ever since their argument, he had been avoiding her gaze. At least he had stopped heckling Eric, but she still felt as if she were walking on eggshells around the two men.

They walked carefully in Eric's footsteps for an hour or so when Eric signaled it was time to take a break. He was drinking water from his canteen, when Catalina walked up to him. As she wiped the beads of perspiration from her forehead, she asked, "It's obvious Chris worships you. He appears to be quite familiar with this mountain, yet he seems to hang on to your every word."

"It's probably because I saved his life once. In fact, if I remember correctly, it was right around this area."

"What happened?"

"It was getting dark. We'd taken a break, exhausted from wielding our machetes. He sat down on a rock similar to the one you are sitting on. Suddenly, I heard him yell. He complained of a searing pain. Without realizing it, he had sat down on a coiled snake. Naturally the snake showed its displeasure by injecting its poisonous venom into his buttocks."

"What did you do?"

"The first thing I did was cut the snake's head off with my machete. Then I made two perpendicular cuts on his rear end and sucked the poison out. Let me tell you, it was not pleasant. Now whenever I get angry at him, I tell him that I kissed his ass once, and that's enough for a lifetime."

Catalina laughed. "I never know when you are serious or just pulling my leg."

Eric walked in front of Catalina. "Follow me. We'd better get a move on, or Phillip will start complaining again."

She walked up to face him and looked straight into his eyes. "The hell with Phillip."

There was a moment of silence. Then he squeezed her hand. "We'd better go. They're waiting for us."

Walking single file, they followed Eric to the slide area. Catalina hadn't gone more than a few feet when she heard Phillip's voice behind her. "Don't worry. If you slip, I won't let you fall."

She was aware this was Phillip's attempt to get back into her good graces. As far as she was concerned, he had already shown his true colors. She couldn't resist saying, "Didn't you hear what Eric said? If you try to help me, you could cause the entire shelf to buckle." She regretted saying the words as soon as they left her mouth. As long as they were together in the wilderness, she saw no point in making a thorny situation even more difficult. "I thank you for your offer, though," she added. She heard Phillip grumbling. Just the mere mention of Eric's name was enough to set him off.

Their climb wasn't steep, just tedious. Watching Eric, Catalina made every effort to step directly where he trod; however, because the shale kept crumbling beneath her boots, it made walking difficult. Eric was nearly to the top of a ridge when his foot slipped. Flailing his arms, he struggled to maintain his balance. Instinctively, Catalina grabbed him just before he toppled over. She placed her arms around his waist and held on for dear life. Her action did break his fall; however, loose rocks and shale started to tumble downward, which caused Phillip and Chris to lose their footing.

"Whatever you do, don't panic!" Eric yelled as they started to slide down the incline. Chris managed to dig his heels into the ground, halting his descent. Phillip slid a little farther, but he, too, avoided toppling over the precipice.

"Everyone okay?" Eric shouted, then he turned to Catalina. "You were brave, but foolish," he admonished. "What you just did could've killed all of us."

Visibly shaken, Catalina replied, "I just didn't think."

Phillip's tone was full of sarcasm. "Didn't think? In saving Eric, you could have injured me. Did you ever stop to think about me?"

Me, me, me. That's all he ever thinks of. Catalina grimaced.

Phillip continued to voice his displeasure. "I guess I know where I stand in terms of your priorities."

Eric's voice broke the tension. "What's done is done. Let's not make an issue out of it. Fortunately, no one was hurt. We need to move on, or we will never reach Rio Topo before nightfall."

CHAPTER 24

Having crossed the rocky ledge, they were now back in the rain forest approximately a third of the way up the mountain when the fog rolled in. It covered the Amazon like a thick blanket making it almost impossible to see six feet in front of them. Eric voiced his displeasure. "Damn this weather. These fogs come and go. We have no choice, but to stay put. Let's hope it passes over us soon."

Catalina chose a large, flat rock to sit on while they waited. She thought back to what had happened earlier in the day and how she had come to Eric's rescue. Would she have reacted the same way had Phillip been the one to slip? Poor Phillip. He is totally out of his element here in the wilderness. This is the one place in the world where all of his money can't help him.

Suddenly, an animal's snarl broke through the silence. Eric grabbed his rifle and aimed toward the thicket. Chris was now at Eric's side. He, too, had his revolver out pointing in the same direction. Just then a large cat sprang out of the jungle and charged. When two hundred pounds of fury leaped in Catalina's direction, she screamed, but her scream was partially drowned out by two shots fired almost simultaneously. Before she could react, lying practically at her feet was a motionless cougar.

Both Eric and Chris moved toward the animal. "Stay put until we make sure it's dead," Eric ordered.

Chris was the first to reach it. "Great shot, Eric. You hit it in the head. Good thing your aim was true because mine wasn't."

A sheepish-look appeared on Eric's face. "I have to be honest. I was aiming for his chest. It was a damn lucky shot considering the fog." With Chris's help, Eric turned the animal over. "Just as I thought. This cat was wounded. See the arrow here in his shoulder?" Eric grasped the arrow, extracted it, and showed it to Chris.

"Indians," Phillip exclaimed. "There must be Indians here."

"Did you really think the Amazon was unpopulated?" Eric said. It wasn't as much a question as a statement. "White men aren't the only ones who hunt big game. There is a difference, though. Most white men hunt large cats for the sport of it. Indians hunt them for their fur. The Indian who shot this cat was most likely tracking him, so my guess is he is close by. Once we leave, he'll probably drag the carcass away."

Eric glanced at Catalina. "Are you all right? You look like you've seen a ghost."

Catalina tried to mask her fear with feigned bravado. "I'm fine, thanks to you, but why do you think the cougar attacked us? I thought you said animals go to great lengths to avoid people."

Eric twisted the bolt of his rifle, discharging the spent shell to the ground. "You are right. These cats normally shy away from humans, but this one was hurt, and we were in its way—or at least it must have thought so. In the Amazon even animals must learn to act quickly as a few seconds can make the difference between life and death."

Catalina glanced at the cougar. "A minute ago it was charging toward us and now it's dead, and it all happened so fast." Life is so tenuous, she thought, so unpredictable, and it can also be short. I have so little time on this earth, and sadly, I've been squandering it. I swear if I ever get out of the jungle alive, I won't waste it being with Phillip.

* * *

Just as Eric had predicted, the fog lifted. He never ceased to be amazed at the way the weather conditions changed. A short while ago visibility was almost zero, and now it was so clear that even the crest of the mountain was visible. "If you climbed to the summit, you would see the crater, commonly referred to by the Indians as the Devil's Dimple," he told the group.

"Have you ever climbed clear to the top?" Catalina asked.

"No, and neither has Chris. Once you've seen one crater, you've seen them all."

"It really is intimidating to look at, isn't it?"

"It's the heart and soul of Mato Grosso," Eric replied. Pointing his finger toward the mountain, he asked, "Do you see the dense, green vegetation? It's about three or four kilometers from here. That's where we are heading. We'll be at a higher elevation once we reach Suchu Urcu. From there, you'll see Rio Xingu, the river we just came from. The view is spectacular."

"What about this lake you mentioned?" Phillip asked.

"The Rio Topo? If all goes well, we should reach it before nightfall. It's in a valley approximately halfway up the mountain. It's a lake you can swim in if you wish. The water is a little cold, but actually it's quite pleasant."

"If the water comes from the snowcaps of Muela Del Diablo, how can it be warm enough to swim in?" Catalina asked.

"It's because at the river's bank there are mineral water springs. These effervescent waters, which are quite warm, literally come out of the ground and mix with those of the Rio Topo."

Anxious to get rid of the dirt and grime, Catalina said, "I'm really looking forward to a bath."

Eric took the lead once more, and they continued to plod their way toward the lake. Catalina walked comfortably behind him while Phillip, who was behind Chris, brought up the rear. An hour and a half later, Eric stopped in front of a ledge that would lead them to Rio Topo. "Tomorrow morning we'll start our ascent to Suchu Urcu. It's about a thousand meters above the lake on the other side of a gorge. Remember I told you the lake is in a valley? The descent is quite steep so I want to make sure we do this by the book." After tying a rope around his waist, he told Chris to do the same. Addressing Phillip, he said, "I want you to hold on to Chris's rope. Watch his feet and step where he steps. If he loses his balance and starts to fall, you need to hunker down and hold on to the rope. Whatever you do, don't let go. Catalina, you do the same with me. Do you both understand?"

Phillip grunted. "You don't have to talk to me as if I was an imbecile. I know what to do."

Catalina tuned Phillip out. Instead, she turned her attention toward the proliferation of trees below her. The visible contrast between the rocky terrain where she was standing and the lush vegetation of the valley was stunning. It was as if God had declared that life would not exist on this portion of the volcanic slope.

Cautiously, Catalina and Eric trudged down the steep embankment while Phillip and Chris followed some twenty or so meters behind them. Catalina concentrated on Eric's feet. He'd take a step, and she would follow. The going was excruciatingly slow. Suddenly the ground shifted. Chris began to slide in a downward direction across the jagged terrain. Trying to regain his footing, he yelled at Phillip, "Don't let go of the rope!"

"I'm losing my grip," Phillip shouted. "The rope is blistering my hands." Unable to hold on to it any longer, Phillip had no choice other than to let go. Chris slid thirty meters toward the bottom of the ravine. Somehow, he managed to latch on to a dead tree branch, which slowed his descent.

"He's going to die!" Catalina shouted. "He'll end up falling clear to the bottom of the gorge!"

"Not on my watch." Eric cut the rope that bound him to Catalina. "I want you to stay put."

Catalina did as she was told. She watched the drama unfold as Eric cautiously planted each foot on solid ground before lifting the other. It was like a film being played in slow motion. She could hear him shouting to his partner, "Don't move. I'm coming to get you."

* * *

Eric had cut the rope because he didn't want to expose Catalina to any more danger; however, without it, he wasn't sure if he could reach Chris. Laboriously, he worked his way to his partner. He was not more than a few meters away from him when his foot slipped.

Catalina held her breath as Eric landed in the brittle shale. Somehow, he managed to regain his footing. Once he reached Chris, he grabbed ahold of Chris's rope, which was still tied to his waist.

"I've got you!" Eric said. He looked in Catalina's direction, who was a good twenty meters above him. "Tell Phillip to stay put. Once I get you and Chris down safely, I'll work my way back up to help him."

Eric dug his feet into the ground. "Okay, Chris, use the rope as leverage to lower yourself." Once the rope was taut, Eric took a few cautious steps toward the ravine in order to give Chris more slack so he could lower himself further toward the gorge. Once Chris reached level ground, Eric asked, "Are you hurt?"

"No. I'm okay."

"Stay put," Eric said. "I'm going back up to help Phillip and Catalina." Eric scrambled back up the ridge. He gave Phillip one end of his rope. "Tie it around your waist. You are going down first."

Phillip stared at the bottom of the gorge. "That incline is very steep. If I start to fall and you can't hold the rope, I—"

Eric cut him off. "Quit thinking negatively. I know I'll be able to break your fall. I sure as hell am not going to trust you to hold the rope for me—not after what just happened to Chris."

"Come on. You can do it, Phillip," Catalina shouted.

"Don't you move, Catalina," Eric commanded. "I'll come get you in a minute."

Phillip took a couple of steps closer toward the gorge. When he looked down, he said, "What's to prevent you from pushing me over?"

"Not a damn thing," Eric said. "Except you hired me to protect you. Believe it or not, Phillip, even though I don't like you, I'll stand by my word."

The second Phillip was on level ground, Eric untied the rope from his waist and went back up the slope after Catalina.

While Eric was helping Catalina down the slope, Chris said to Phillip, "What the hell is your problem? Can't you do a simple thing like hold on to a rope?"

"Shut up, Chris," Phillip countered.

Eric, who overheard Chris's remark, said, "It wasn't Phillip's fault. I should've shown him how to hold a rope. But then again, he told me he was an expert mountain climber, so I figured he knew how to attain leverage. All he would have had to do was what Catalina did, and that is to wrap the rope around his waist. Because he had no leverage, Phillip had little choice, but to let go."

Once Catalina had worked her way down the slope, she just shook her head.

Phillip immediately went on the defensive. "It wasn't my fault. I had to let go. The rope was burning my hands."

She decided enough had been said. To be a coward was one thing, but to let a man fall, quite possibly to his death, because of a little rope burn was another matter. Not only was Phillip yellow, but he was also a liar. She figured he had lied to her about being an expert mountain climber. He was weak, and she despised him.

Eric decided it would be best to cross over to the other side of the gorge and set up camp by the lake. They re-entered the rain forest. The ground on that side of the gorge was more stable. There were a few ferns and some low-growing bushes scattered about, but no heavy underbrush, so the climb to Rio Topo didn't take long.

"We'll make camp close to the lake," Eric said. "Rio Topo is only a few meters from here. As I told Catalina, it's one of the safest lakes in the Amazon."

With a bar of soap in her hand, Catalina ran to the water's edge, surprising a covey of cranes that took flight. She removed her boots and tested the water. It was cold, but felt refreshing. She found some bushes large enough to obscure her while she slipped out of her clothes. Although her wallet was waterproof, she felt since it contained the derrotero, it would be safer hidden under her clothes by a clump of shrubs. Returning to the water, soap in hand, she waded out a ways, staying in line with the shrubs. Using them for cover, Catalina washed her hair, luxuriating in the smell of the soap. She did miss her creature comforts.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the shrubs move where she had left her clothes. Could it be an animal? Was it the wind? Did someone duck behind the scrubs where I left my clothes, or is it my imagination? She remembered Eric telling her of some chilling encounters he'd had with renegade Indians. Prickling fingers of fear coursed through her. Should I scream? Or would that make it worse? What to do? I can't let them see my fear, particularly Phillip. I can handle this. I know I can.

Cautiously, she waded back to the bank where she had left her clothes. When she didn't see anyone else in sight, she quickly put them back on, took the wallet, and calmly strode back to camp. She was proud she had been able to control her fear. Maybe she was in a position to control her destiny as well.

CHAPTER 25

Ever since Phillip had decided to steal the derrotero, he'd been watching and waiting for the right opportunity. When he saw Catalina head for the lake, he hoped this would be the break he'd been looking for. He followed her from a distance and watched as she entered the clump of shrubs. He forced himself to wait patiently and remained out of sight. Just as he was beginning to think she would never come out, he saw her wade into the lake. When she started washing her hair, Phillip quickly sneaked to the place where she had left her clothes. As he'd hoped, her wallet was lying beneath her garments. At first he was going to grab it and get out of there, but then he thought better of it. Instead, he removed the wallet from its waterproof pouch and extracted Valverde's instructions. Once he was satisfied he had what he was looking for, he replaced the wallet where he had found it. Just at that moment, Phillip saw Catalina craning her neck in his direction. Indecision set in. Should he make a run for it? Or should he remain still and wait to see if she was coming his way? With the derrotero still in his hand, Phillip crawled on his belly away from Catalina's clothes. Once he was certain she would be unable to spot him, he placed the ancient parchment in his pocket for safekeeping. Satisfied, he headed for his tent.

As soon as he entered the campsite, Chris cornered him. "What have you been doing? Rolling in mud?"

"I tripped and fell."

"Where have you been? Eric has been looking for you."

"Do I now have to ask his permission to take a leak?"

Chris shot Phillip a dirty look. "You've caused enough trouble, don't you think?"

"Where is Eric?"

Chris pointed to the far side of the clearing. "Over there, doing your job."

Phillip walked toward Eric who was digging a trench. "I would have done that, but I have blisters on my hands."

"You always seem to have an excuse."

"I'm sorry, I didn't hear you. What did you say?"

"I said I'm just about finished. The next time you have to leave the camp, would you kindly let Chris or me know?"

"Sure thing," Phillip replied politely. "Did you happen to see Catalina?"

"She's swimming in the lake. I'm going to see if I can find something for us to eat. Why don't you go help Chris with the fire?"

"I would be happy to, but . . ."

"Oh, that's right. You can't because your hands are blistered."

Eric had expected an argument from Phillip and was surprised when one didn't materialize. Could he be up to something? Or could he just be biding his time, waiting for a chance to get even?

In any event, Eric didn't trust him. Making a mental note to check on him later, he grabbed his gun and headed into the jungle. It didn't take him long to down a couple of guinea pigs. By the time he came back into the clearing, Chris had the fire going. Handing the game to his partner, Eric asked, "Would you mind cleaning and spitting these?"

Chris nodded, took the animals from Eric and went to sharpen his knife.

* * *

The aroma of the pigs roasting over the fire brought Catalina out of her tent. "Smells good. What's for dinner?"

" _Cuy de monte_ ," Eric replied.

"Ah, guinea pigs?"

"Wood guinea pigs," Eric corrected her. "There is a difference. Have a seat and keep me company."

Soon the three of them were feasting on the pigs, no one mentioning Phillip's absence. "Delicious." Catalina grinned as she took her last bite. "Thank you."

Eric turned to her. "Would you like to take a walk to the lake?"

Strolling side by side to the water's edge, Eric listened to the familiar jungle noises. "There are a lot of animals nearby. If we stay still long enough, we might get lucky and spot some. Sooner or later they'll come down to the water to drink."

"What about the big cats?"

"You're still thinking about that cougar, aren't you?"

"I was never so scared in my life."

Smiling, Eric reached tentatively for Catalina's hand, pleased that she didn't pull away. "You don't have to worry. The cats will stay clear of us. Most animals will maintain their distance from humans. They don't like the way we smell."

"Are you serious?" Catalina turned to face Eric to see if he was kidding.

"Yes. It's a proven fact. Besides, even the more dangerous animals won't attack us unless they think we're going to harm their young. Or, as was the case with that wounded cougar. There's plenty of food for them to eat. You see, in a way, the jungle is quite similar to a corporation."

"I'm sorry, but I don't see the connection."

"It's the pecking order, Catalina. A carnivorous animal like a puma will kill for food only when it's hungry. Once the predator that does the actual killing gets its fill, the carcass is left for the jackals and the raptors. The last to eat in this food chain would be the vultures. The big difference between society and nature is that nature is more charitable. It takes only what it needs. You won't see any greed, backstabbing, or deceit here like you'd find in the corporate world. Society places too many expectations on us. In the Amazon, things are much simpler. You eat or you get eaten. The only instinct is self-preservation."

"Is that what made you come to this place?"

"I was a teacher. I enjoyed teaching, and that's really all I ever wanted to do, but to receive tenure at an accredited university, pressure is constantly applied on you to publish. No sooner do you write one book, another is expected of you." Eric paused. "But to tell you the truth, I would most likely still be teaching had my father not gone missing."

Catalina looked surprised. "Your father is missing?"

"Yes. Ironically, he could very well be somewhere on this mountain."

"What was he looking for?" Catalina asked.

"The same thing Colonel Percy Fawcett was looking for over seventy-five years ago. You've heard of him, haven't you?"

Catalina nodded her head. "The famous English explorer? Who hasn't?"

"Fawcett found an old document in Rio de Janeiro about a hidden ancient city that apparently had been discovered in the Amazon somewhere in the vicinity of Muela Del Diablo. He set out with his son and a newspaper cameraman from Sao Paulo in 1925 to find it. The three disappeared in the Brazilian jungle, never to return. Fawcett didn't use any Indian guides. Not that he didn't trust them. In fact, he had an excellent rapport with most Indians. It was because the Indians were too frightened of going where he wanted to go, which is where we are now. The natives are convinced this area of Mato Grosso is cursed. I guess like Percy Fawcett, too many people who have come to this place have never been seen or heard from again."

"Like your father," Catalina said.

"Like my father."

"Apparently, you weren't daunted by the rumors."

Eric gave Catalina a sheepish look. "I have a confession to make. If it wasn't for wanting to find my father, I don't think I would have agreed to take you and Phillip to this place."

"Why? Because of what the Indians think?"

"It has nothing to do with that. I don't believe in curses, devils, or evil spirits. The Amazon jungle isn't any more or less dangerous here than it is anywhere else in Brazil."

"Then what? Tell me. What was your reservation?"

"It was Phillip. From the first time I laid eyes on him, I knew the man would be trouble."

"You won't get any argument from me on that score."

Eric guided her to the water's edge. They sat silently as the last vestiges of sunlight disappeared from the sky. Catalina watched a full moon rise over the lake.

"It's so peaceful here. It's hard to believe the jungle can be so violent." Looking at Eric's profile under the light of the moon, Catalina thought him more handsome than she had ever seen him. His face had lost its tension; the scar beneath his eye adding a touch of mystery to his roguish good looks. She turned toward him and gently touched it with her fingers. "How did you get that?"

"A couple of mestizos jumped Chris in a bar one night. I tried to even out the odds. One of them had a knife."

"You'd do anything for Chris, wouldn't you?"

"He's my partner. He's also my best friend—my only friend till I met you." Eric pulled Catalina close. "I'm glad you broke it off with Phillip." He moved his face closer to hers. When she didn't pull away, he kissed her tenderly on the lips. It started out as a gentle kiss, but then he placed his arms around her and, with parted lips, kissed her passionately.

No one had kissed her with such longing or desire. It was as if Eric was reaching out for her soul. The embrace kindled such passion, such yearning, that she pulled away, a little frightened by these new emotions.

* * *

Eric was surprised by her sudden move. He felt her passion and wondered what it was that had made her draw away from the embrace. Was he moving too fast? He wanted to ask her, but an inner voice told him it wouldn't be a good idea.

She spoke first, her voice breaking a bit, but she forged on, "Maybe we should go back; they're probably wondering where we are."

"You mean Phillip is wondering. Forget about him. Stay here with me. Let's enjoy this beautiful evening together."

Eric waited for Catalina to make the first move. He wanted her to stay. He wanted to probe, to see what she really wanted out of life.

Catalina didn't say a word but she remained where she was, apparently comfortable with her own thoughts.

"Mind if I ask you a personal question, Eric?"

"Go ahead."

"If we really do find the Golden Disk of the Sun, and the cache of gold that the quipu described, what would you do with your share?"

"I'd build a nice house, probably in Manaus. Other than that, I don't think I would do anything differently from what I'm doing now. I consider this place to be my home. I understand the Amazon. When I'm here, I am at peace."

"What about the danger?"

"The Amazon isn't nearly as dangerous as its purported to be, that's only if one takes precautions." Eric laughed good-naturedly. "I think it would be more dangerous to live in Los Angeles than here. From what I've read about L.A., if the smog doesn't give you lung cancer or a car doesn't run you over, your chances are better than even that you would get either raped or mugged."

It was Catalina's turn to laugh. "Believe me. I'll take my chances in L.A. There are predators there, for sure, but at least I wouldn't have to worry about a cougar attacking me. It's pretty safe in Beverly Hills."

"Actually, Catalina, I'm more leery of Phillip than I am of the Amazon."

"How can you be apprehensive of a coward?"

"Because cowards tend to be unpredictable. He's been spurned by you, and he has also lost face. Mark my words, he is probably sitting in his tent right now blaming me. He'll try to redeem himself. He won't be able to live with the thought of not having you."

"I've known Phillip for a long time. He'll pout for a while, but he will get over me."

"I think you are underestimating him. He's insanely jealous and possessive of you, and in my book that makes him dangerous."

Catalina was about to respond when Eric quieted her. Pointing a finger across the lake, he whispered, "Look. It's a binocular bear. They like to come down to the river at night."

She strained to see. Finally, she spotted the animal. It was about the same size as a panda. "Oh, I see where it got its name. Those round rings around its eyes make it seem as if he's looking through a pair of binoculars. He really looks quite harmless from here."

"Even a small binocular bear can be dangerous. I've seen a female put up a good fight against a cougar to protect its cubs. Did you know it's the only bear in South America?"

"I had no idea."

"It's considered an endangered species. There aren't many of them around anymore."

Catalina gave Eric a quick hug. "You're just a walking encyclopedia, aren't you?"

Eric shook her shoulders. "Well, since I'm your guide, I figured I'd better give you your money's worth." Then, turning more serious, he said, "Okay, it's your turn. What would you do if you had a fortune?"

Catalina grew pensive. "Whether we find the gold or not, I've been toying with the idea of writing a book. Just looking for the Golden Disk of the Sun should make a good story. Don't you think?"

Eric smiled. "Whether you know it or not, you hit upon a great idea. I'll tell you what. Why don't we work on a book together?"

Catalina tried keeping a straight face. "We would never get anything done."

A cold breeze blew in from the lake. Even though Catalina was wearing a jacket, she shivered. Eric pulled her closer to him. When Catalina leaned into him, his lips met hers in a long, lingering kiss. This time Eric was the first to pull away. "I guess we had better turn in for the night. We have a long day ahead of us. I'm hoping to reach Suchu Urcu tomorrow."

"Then what?"

"Then we'll find out just how reliable your derrotero really is."

CHAPTER 26

Catalina woke up to the sound of Eric's words: "Time to go."

Hearing his voice, she relived the brief moment of intimacy the two had shared the night before. His kiss had stirred her very being. Can this be love? Reluctantly, she gathered up her belongings and dismantled her tent. Still deep in her own thoughts, she didn't hear Phillip approach.

"Did Eric give you a private guided tour of the lake last night?" he asked her sarcastically.

Catalina was about to go on the defensive, but then she decided not to. After all, she was no longer accountable to Phillip, not after she had made it clear their engagement was off. She took her time formulating her response. "It's really none of your business, but if you must know, Eric and I had a wonderful time last night."

Phillip's face drained of color. He was about to say something when Eric walked up.

"We're ready to go if you two are."

Without saying another word, Phillip grabbed his machete and began to cut a path through the undergrowth. He thrashed his way up the mountain, panting and perspiring as he struggled to cut not only scrub, but also the vines that were choking everything in their path. Once he tired, Chris took over. By the time they had all had a turn with the machete, Eric called for a break.

Within a couple of hours they had climbed high enough to get a bird's eye view of Rio Topo. It reminded Catalina of a giant shimmering mirror as the lake reflected the rays of a rising sun. From her vantage point above the lake, she spotted an eagle. With its wings spread, the majestic bird spiraled downward toward the river bank where she and Eric had sat the night before. Ah, Eric. You are so much more than Phillip will ever be. No matter what happens, I will always have you to thank for making me see Phillip for what he really is—a selfish, spoiled, embittered man.

* * *

They had climbed for another hour when Eric's hopes of a sunny day were dashed. The ominous black clouds forming on the horizon promised another downpour. Slipping his poncho over his head, he picked up his pace, hoping the others wouldn't fall behind. He was very much aware what could happen if it rained too hard, particularly on a mountain like Muela Del Diablo where the ground was composed largely of shale. If there was a slide, all of them would be exposed to imminent danger.

Eric's worst fear was realized. After they climbed for another few hundred feet the sky opened up, and a torrential downpour blocked all visibility. This country is so unpredictable, he thought. Maybe that's what draws me to it. Would I be happy settling down in a city like L.A.? Would Catalina be willing to live in Brazil?

Eric was jolted back to the present when he heard the thunder. By the sound of it, he knew a big storm would soon be upon them. He glanced up at the sky. It looked angry. Instead of seeing the top of the mountain, all he could see were large billowing black clouds. Just then, a streak of lightning tore across the sky. A split second later the mountain echoed back the thunder.

Eric waited for Catalina to catch up. "It looks like it's going to get pretty nasty. I better go look for some shelter. We're going to catch the brunt of this storm. There is always the danger of mudslides if the ground becomes overly saturated."

"I'll come with you," Catalina said.

"No. I want you to remain here with the others. It'll be safer. Don't worry. I won't be gone long."

* * *

No sooner had Eric gone off into the jungle than it began to rain. Not wanting to be placed in a situation where she would have to make conversation with Phillip, Catalina approached Chris. The rain was now pelting the ground with such force that she had to practically shout in order to be heard. "Is this weather normal?"

"No. I don't like the looks of this storm. It usually doesn't rain this hard, at least not at this time of the year."

It seemed like an eternity before Eric reappeared. "Quickly. I want all of you to follow me. I found shelter up ahead."

Phillip started off toward Eric at a brisk pace. "I don't like the looks of this storm. We're being foolish risking our necks for something that probably doesn't even exist." He glanced backward toward Catalina. "I told you this place is too dangerous, but you wouldn't listen."

Catalina started to say something, but Eric's words cut her off. "Shut up, Phillip. Now is not the time to complain." He led them to a cave-like entrance. It looked as if someone had chiseled a large, gaping hole out of a piece of bedrock.

Eric shouted, "Everyone, get inside."

Catalina shivered as she entered the cave. "It's cold and dark in here."

Eric took Catalina's hand, leading her farther into the pitch-black darkness. "We must get as far away from the entrance as possible. The way it's pouring, the whole side of the mountain is liable to collapse."

The cave ended up not being a cave at all, but a tunnel. They walked mainly in darkness with only a flashlight to see by. Eric was beside Catalina who was trembling. He squeezed her hand. "Don't worry. We should be safe enough here."

"What is this place?" Catalina asked. "It seems as if the tunnel is taking us deeper inside the earth."

Eric stopped. "A couple of hundred meters I'd say. It's a scavon, which is nothing more than a volcanic chimney. There are quite a few of these on the mountain."

When they could go no farther, Eric and Catalina huddled next to one another at the far end of the tunnel, waiting for the storm to subside. It was now pitch-black as Eric had turned off his flashlight in order to conserve the batteries.

"Listen," Catalina whispered, her voice laced with concern.

"I don't hear anything but the rain," Eric replied.

"I'm not talking about the rain. Can't you hear it?" Catalina groped around for Eric's hand. When she found it, she squeezed it with all of her might. "It sounds like a thousands bowling balls are raining down on us!"

"It's a mudslide!" Eric exclaimed.

Phillip was beside himself. "What if the mud blocks the entrance to the tunnel? Then we'll never be able to get out!"

"Don't be so negative," Eric replied. "At least we are safe enough here. There is nothing any of us can do, but wait."

Closing her eyes, Catalina buried her face in Eric's chest. Her mind could think of nothing but the impending danger. Please, God. If this is the end, let it be quick.

The mud hit the top of the volcanic chimney with the force of a bomb. Slowly, the rumbling became fainter and fainter. The scavon had done its job; the avalanche had apparently passed them by.

Eric whispered in Catalina's ear, "I want you to stay here. I'm going to take a look." He returned within minutes. "The rain has stopped. I think the worst is over, but just to make sure, we'd better stay here for a while longer. There could be some residual slides, and even though they wouldn't have the force this one had, we don't want to take any chances."

Phillip, who had been silent up to now, whined, "You can stay here if you want, but I am getting out of here. If I stay cooped up in this hole any longer, I'll lose my mind."

Shut up, Phillip!" Eric tensed. Because it was pitch-black, he knew Phillip wasn't aware he was sitting close to Catalina. He whispered in her ear, "I'm not about to stop him. If he doesn't want to listen to my advice, then that's his problem." It was difficult enough to be responsible for all of their lives without Phillip's continual bitching.

Once he left, Eric relaxed. Phillip was nothing but a thorn in his side, but he was glad he had met Catalina. She was everything he admired in a woman: smart, courageous, even tempered, and above all, she had a good sense of humor. The question he kept asking himself was would they make a good match? The two of them were so different he wondered if they could make their relationship work. Again, he had to remind himself that Catalina was accustomed to the finer things in life, a life he didn't much care for.

Chris's voice sounded hollow in the tunnel: "I can certainly see why the Indians get spooked around this mountain. They would tell you all of this is the devil's doing."

Eric laughed. "To tell you the truth, I'm glad. As far as I'm concerned, I'd just as soon not run into any of them."

Catalina was comforted by the thought that Eric was close by. "I'm just thankful you found the scavon."

Another fifteen minutes passed. "I think we waited long enough," Eric said. "It should be okay for us to leave now."

The force of the mudslide had uprooted plants and trees on its journey down the hill. The devastation was nothing like they'd ever seen. "It's a good thing you managed to find us shelter," Catalina exclaimed. "If not for you, we would all be dead."

Phillip, who was standing on a ledge looking at the mountain, joined them. "This has to be Satan's backyard. No wonder the Indians are afraid of this place. It would be suicidal to continue."

Catalina worked at keeping the anger out of her voice. "You can leave if you like, Phillip, but I'm not about to give up. Not after coming this far. What about you, Eric?"

"I'm with you all the way," Eric said. He admired Catalina's determination. It was as if Valverde was beckoning for them to find the Golden Disk of the Sun.

As usual, Phillip had to have his say. "I'm the one paying the bills or have you forgotten? I insist you lead us out of this place!"

Eric glanced at Chris. "What say you? Do we go back, or do we go on?"

"I say we go forward. We've come too far to stop now."

There was fear written all over Phillip's face. "I'll give each of you ten thousand American dollars if you take us back."

Eric said, "Chris and Catalina want to go on—as a matter of fact so do I. Sorry, Phillip, but it doesn't appear your money is going to buy you much today. You've been outvoted!"

CHAPTER 27

Eric glanced at his watch. He had to stand guard for two more hours before Chris would relieve him. The night was unusually still. Even the marsupial frogs that hardly ever ceased their incessant croaking were silent. Suddenly there was a rustling from the other side of the campground, not far from Phillip's tent. Eric opened the flap of Phillip's tent to make sure all was well. Relieved, he saw Phillip fast asleep. Could it have been Chris or Catalina? He quietly examined their tents and found them sleeping as well.

He cautiously entered the jungle and crept toward the noise. As luck would have it, the moon ducked beneath some clouds. He decided to wait till morning to see if he could spot any tracks. He figured it was either some animal or those two Indians who had been following them for the past few days. He returned to his watch just as a light rain started to fall. He was tired, bone-tired. He pulled his poncho around him and spent the rest of the time focusing on staying alert.

Eric didn't think the night would ever end. When dawn finally arrived, he entered Chris's tent and gently prodded him awake.

Chris glanced at his watch. "Why didn't you wake me sooner? I should have relieved you hours ago."

"You looked like you needed the sleep."

"What about Phillip and Catalina?" Chris asked. "Are they up?"

"Catalina went to find some wood, and I believe Phillip is still sleeping."

Then Eric added, "Chris, I think we are still being followed. Last night I heard a rustling sound, and I saw a couple of bushes move. I don't think it was an animal. I'm pretty sure it was an Indian, maybe two of them." He pointed to the far side of the campground. "They must have been observing us from that thicket while I was standing watch."

Eric rolled up his sleeping bag and began to dismantle his and Catalina's tents. "The rain has most likely covered up their tracks, but I'm going to walk over and take a look. Want to come?"

Eric and Chris carefully examined the ground next to the bushes. "See anything?" Eric asked.

"No tracks, if that's what you mean," Chris said, "but look at this."

Eric took a small black feather from Chris's hand. "Where did you find it?"

"Lying on the ground. Do you think it belongs to an Indian?"

Eric examined the feather. "Maybe, maybe not. Don't tell the others. Let's keep this just between you and me. Phillip is spooked as it is, and although Catalina has been doing well so far, I don't want to cause her any undue stress. Keep your eyes open. Also listen for bird sounds, particularly if they are coming from more than one location."

"You really do believe we are being stalked, don't you?"

"I'm not sure. Remember a couple of Indians followed us for a while. It's impossible to tell if they're the same ones. I'd like you to take the lead once we begin our climb. I'll take up the rear. This will give me a chance to slip away. I'll follow the three of you from a distance. Maybe I'll be able to spot them or at least pick up their tracks."

Once they broke camp and began their ascent to Suchu Urcu, Eric dropped out of sight. One minute he was walking behind Phillip, and then he simply vanished. Chris hacked a path for the three of them to follow in an area where there were trenches, chasms, and caves. It seemed as if the vines had a stranglehold over the rain forest. Like a cancer, they spread their rope-like appendages over everything in sight: ground, bushes, even trees. They hadn't walked far when Catalina realized Eric wasn't there. "Where is he?" she asked Chris in a broken voice. "He was here just a few minutes ago."

"Not to worry," Chris said. "He probably stopped to take a leak."

"Shouldn't we wait for him?" she asked.

"Eric can look out for himself. He'll catch up to us."

When Phillip took over the arduous job with the machete, Eric popped back into view. "What say we take a break?"

"See anyone?" Chris asked Eric in a hushed voice.

"There were two of them," Eric whispered back. "They are definitely following us."

"What do you make of it?"

"We'll talk later," Eric said. "Keep a sharp lookout, and make sure your gun is within easy reach—not that I think you'll need it, but just in case."

A scream pierced the air. Eric rushed to Catalina's side. "What's the matter?"

She was shaking. "I saw an Indian out of the corner of my eye. Our eyes made contact. It couldn't have been for more than a second. He had very dark skin. He looked like a pygmy."

"It's okay," Eric said as he placed an arm around Catalina's shoulder. "It couldn't have been a pygmy. There aren't any in Mato Grosso."

"Maybe not, but this one was quite small. He couldn't have been more than four feet high."

"The Indian you saw, and one other, have been following us for quite some time. I don't want anyone to panic. If they had meant us harm, they would have attacked us by now."

"He looked ferocious," Catalina said. "I spotted a black feather sticking out of his nose."

Eric shot Chris a knowing look. "I believe you saw a Murcego. I've been told they guard a complex of tunnels that lead somewhere deep within Muela Del Diablo. Some people have claimed they have heard strange choral sounds emanating from the mountain's bowels."

Phillip took the safety off his gun. "If one of them gets too close, I'll shoot."

Even though Eric knew Phillip's gun was empty, he said, "That would be beyond being stupid. There are probably hundreds of them in this area and only four of us. They have poison darts, spears, and probably bows and arrows. If they had wanted to kill us, we'd all be dead by now. What we have to do is use our heads and remain calm. Very calm. We need to keep heading toward Suchu Urcu."

"Then what?" Phillip asked. "It seems we're trespassing on their turf. Once we get past that ledge, we would be—"

Chris walked up to Phillip. "Would you please shut up! You need to talk less and listen more." Chris turned toward Eric. "You were saying?"

"The Murcego Indians are undersized, but don't underestimate them as they have great physical strength. The two following us must be scouts. They're watching our every move, that's a given, but I seriously doubt they are planning an attack—that is, unless we enter a cave or tunnel they deem off limits."

"That's just great!" Phillip said. "We've come so far, encountered all of these dangers, and now you are saying they won't let us anywhere near the Golden Disk of the Sun."

Eric tried to keep his voice even. "I never said that, Phillip. In fact, I doubt if they even know about the treasure. I told you they supposedly guard a series of tunnels that lead deep inside this mountain, a mountain that some had tried to enter only to be forever lost to our world. There are Indians who will tell you that's where the Star Walkers live." He immediately thought of his father. It would have been just like him to have entered one of those forbidden passageways.

"So where do we go from here?" Catalina asked.

"We need to reach Suchu Urcu," Eric said. "Once we get there, we'll set up camp. Then I'll take another look at the original derrotero. Hopefully, I'll be able to figure out the rest of Valverde's directions. Let's hope the treasure is not in one of the tunnels the Murcego are guarding. If that is the case, we would have no choice but to abandon our search for the Golden Disk of the Sun. Does that sound like a plan?"

CHAPTER 28

They had been plodding their way toward Suchu Urcu, making some progress when Eric stopped so suddenly that Catalina bumped into him.

"What's the matter?" she asked.

"Look above you. There are three of them. Or at least three that I can see." He estimated them to be a few hundred meters away. Even from that distance, Eric recognized them by their short, stalky bodies.

"Here is living proof the Murcego exist," he whispered. "Some call them Bat Indians because they are primarily nocturnal. Did the Indian you see look anything like them?"

"Yes," Catalina replied. "He was dark-skinned and undersized just like the ones above us."

Eric lowered himself to his knees so he could unstrap his rifle and take off his backpack undetected. Although only three Indians had made themselves visible, he was certain there were more. Any sign of aggression could cause them to swarm down the mountain toward the four of them. "I want the three of you to remain here," he said in a level voice. "Act natural and don't make any sudden moves."

"What are you going to do?" Catalina asked.

"I'm going to get closer. Hopefully one of them speaks Quechua. It looks to me like they're guarding a large opening, probably a tunnel entrance."

"Look!" Phillip shouted. "I can see at least twenty more."

"I told you to keep your voice down," Eric hissed. "They are just as curious about us as we are of them. It's quite possible they have never seen a white man—or woman before."

Catalina whispered, "What are they holding in their hands?"

"Machetes," came the reply. "Theirs are longer and more pointed than ours. They're definitely guarding something. The question is what?"

As Eric advanced toward the Murcegos, he raised both hands in the air to show the Indians he was unarmed. The closer he got, the more of them he saw. Once he was near enough to be heard, he cupped his hands to his mouth and shouted in Quechua, "I come in peace."

There was no immediate response. He walked closer, hands spread in front of him, palms outward, a universal gesture for peace.

A Murcego with a spear, obviously their leader, circled Eric, appraising him. He pointed his spear toward the tunnel and said in broken Quechua, "It is forbidden for strangers to enter these tunnels."

"We have no interest in entering the tunnel you and the others are guarding," Eric replied in Quechua, hoping to sound more confident than he felt. "All we want to do is climb the mountain to Suchu Urcu."

The Murcego's eyes narrowed into a pair of slits. "What is your purpose for going there?"

Eric thought quickly and handed him Jonathan Shade's picture. "I am looking for my father. I believe he might have passed through here several months ago. Have you seen him?"

The Indian studied the photograph, grunted, and shook his head. "No such man has been here."

"Are you sure?"

"My people would have known. They would have told me if they had seen a white man." The Murcego pointed his spear toward the western slope of the mountain. "You and the others may pass in peace."

Disheartened, Eric headed down the slope toward the others wondering if it would have been possible for his father to slip by the Murcegos undetected. Fifty or so years ago, Carl Huni, an American naturalist, had made a study of the Murcego and their relationship to the tunnels they guarded. Huni claimed the Murcego were akin to bloodhounds. They could detect the smell of a human from as far as a hundred paces away. One would think the Murcego would have surely known if his father had been in the area. That meant one of two things. Either his father had entered a tunnel they weren't guarding or the Murcego was not telling the truth.

Although the Murcego had told him they could proceed to Suchu Urcu, Eric was certain they would be followed. And the treasure? Would these ferocious little men present a problem?

CHAPTER 29

They arrived at Suchu Urcu quite late. Eric was too tired to hunt for food, but then no one was hungry. They sat by the fire with Chris standing guard. Phillip's eyes darted constantly around the campground. It was as if he expected the Murcegos to attack at any moment. Finally, without saying a word, he left for his tent.

"Good riddance," Chris said and threw a capsivella bush on the fire.

"I'd like to have another look at the derrotero, if it's not too much trouble," Eric asked.

Catalina took her wallet out of the waterproof pouch. She looked inside, paused, then looked again. She ran her hand through the wallet's lining. "I can't understand what happened to it. It was in my wallet. I saw it right before I went for a swim. . . . Just a minute. I might have placed it in my backpack for safekeeping." She rushed to her tent, and thoroughly rummaged through all her belongings. Finally, she opened an inner compartment of her backpack, removed a folded piece of paper, and put it in her pocket. Frustrated, she returned to the campfire. "I don't know what happened to it. I just know I couldn't have lost it."

"It's okay," Eric said. "Let's think this through. When did you see it last?"

"Before I went for a swim, I recall unstrapping the pouch from my waist. I placed it underneath my clothes, took out my wallet and looked inside. After making sure it was there, I placed the wallet back in the pouch and put it back underneath my clothes."

"Then what did you do?"

"I waded out into the lake. I remember glancing toward the direction of my clothes. At the time, I could have sworn I saw the bushes move, but I wasn't sure, and since it was only a fleeting image, I thought it might have been my imagination."

"It wasn't me," Chris said. "And it wasn't Eric."

"What about those Indians who were following us?" Catalina asked. "Do you think one of them might have—"

"Highly unlikely," Eric interjected. "Why would they want to steal a piece of parchment? They would have taken the whole wallet."

Catalina added slowly, "Then it had to be Phillip. But why would he steal something that already belongs to him?"

Chris clenched his fists. "I don't know why he took it, but I sure as hell aim to find out." He started toward Phillip's tent when Catalina stopped him.

"It's really no big deal." She handed a duplicate to Eric. "Even if he did take the original, I made a second copy."

"You did what?" Chris asked.

"You don't think I'd be foolish enough to cart an original without making several copies. You know, just in case one of them got lost or something." Catalina glanced at Eric. "The only reason I took the original with me in the first place was because I didn't want you to think I was being anything but truthful about my discovery."

"Great thinking! The copy you gave me got wet the last time it rained. The last paragraph was so blurred that it was virtually impossible to read." He took a look at the derrotero Canstancia had just given him. "This will do nicely."

"You aren't going to let Phillip get away with it, are you, Eric?" Chris asked. "My vote would be to go in there, turn him upside down, and make him cough up the original. At least that way, we would know for sure whether he had taken it."

Eric kept his voice low. "I don't think that would be in our best interests, at least not at this time. Let's look at it from a logical perspective. Phillip would have reasoned that sooner or later we'd accuse him of the theft. I'm sure he's already planned some cock and bull story in order to cast the finger of suspicion away from himself. If we say nothing, he'll wonder why. What difference does it make whether it's the original derrotero or a copy as long as it leads us to the Golden Disk of the Sun? I would just as soon he not know that we suspect him of stealing the derrotero. It might put a wrinkle in his plan, whatever it may be. If, however, we don't find the treasure, I'll make sure he pays us extra for all the trouble he's caused us. Hell, I'll take it out of his hide if I have to."

"Eric's right," Catalina said. "I don't know why Phillip did what he did, but since it won't affect our search, let him think he screwed up our chances of finding the gold."

Chris relaxed. "I guess you are right, but I'd like nothing better than to go in there and bash the bastard's head in." Picking up his machete, he said, "I'm going to scrounge up some more fuel for the fire."

As soon as Chris was out of sight, Eric pulled Catalina to him. He gently caressed her face. "I need to tell you how wonderful you are. You're beautiful, you're intelligent, and you are brave. I can understand why Phillip is pissed. He knows what he is losing." He wrapped his arms around her and felt her responding to his touch. He kissed her, her mouth parting slightly as her lips met his. He felt her body lean into him, and he responded in return. He cared for her, more than he had cared for a woman in a long, long time.

Eric backed away from Catalina when Chris re-entered the clearing. He had an armful of capsivella bushes, which he placed near the fire. "I don't mean to interrupt, but I think you should know that Phillip is watching the two of you from his tent."

Their moment broken, Catalina said good night.

"Damn that Phillip," Eric said. "And I was just making some progress with Catalina. The S.O.B. is always lurking nearby." Eric placed a hand on Chris's shoulder. "I know it's your turn to take the first watch, but I also know I won't be able to sleep. Would you mind if I kept an eye on things for a while?"

"Be my guest. Wake me up when you get tired, and I'll take over."

* * *

Phillip closed the flap to his tent, disgusted when she saw Catalina kissing Eric. With each passing day, Catalina was becoming more and more enthralled with Eric Shade. He, on the other hand, could barely get her to talk to him. Phillip didn't want to lose her; she was his only hope for happiness, for having a normal life. He had to find a way to discredit Shade if he had any hope of reconciling with her. The more he thought about Eric Shade, the more resentful he became.

He lay inside his sleeping bag and plotted. He had to kill Shade, but it would have to look like an accident, or else Catalina would never forgive him. Also, Chris would be after him with a vengeance. He knew he could do it. But then what? He didn't want to have to depend on Chris, but how else could they get back to civilization? To hell with the gold; Catalina was his gold.

And then it came to him! He would have to be patient and bide his time, but the more he thought about his idea, the more he felt it had some merit.

As he rolled over, a Machiavellian grin appeared on his face. It won't be too much longer, Shade. You'll soon find out that you can't take what belongs to me!

CHAPTER 30

Eric woke up an hour or so before dawn. Because of Phillip's erratic behavior, he hoped to find the treasure soon. With or without the gold, he had to get the hell away from him. Although he'd been optimistic in front of Catalina, inwardly, he wasn't that confident of locating Valverde's landmarks. He crept toward Phillip's tent. Since he couldn't hear anything, he had to assume Phillip was sleeping.

Eric went to wake up Catalina. "Why don't you join Chris and me by the fire? Since Phillip is still sleeping, this would be a good time for the three of us to take a closer look at the derrotero."

Catalina rubbed the sleep out of her eyes. "Sure thing. Give me a minute, will you?"

The three of them gathered close to the fire. Eric began translating Catalina's copy of the derrotero: " 'Go forward from Suchu Urcu in the direction and with the signals indicated till you come to a planalto. On the far side of the planalto is a bridge made of _frailejones_ , which spans a deep gorge. Cross the bridge and continue to head toward the mountain's summit.' "

Eric stopped reading and addressed Catalina. "As you know, a planalto is a plateau, but I must say some of Valverde's verbiage puzzles me. What direction? What signals?"

Catalina glanced at Chris. "That doesn't mean anything to me. Does it to you?"

"Not really. We must remember in a five-hundred-year time frame the topography of the Amazon would have changed, perhaps dramatically. Despite Valverde's confusing statements, I figure we should be able to locate the plateau. A raised section of land would not have undergone much change; however, the frailejones is a Spanish term for tall trees. Some of them could be seventy-five meters long or longer. It would've been logical for Indians to have used the trees to form a bridge. Wood deteriorates over time, particularly in a place like the Amazon. Termites and a variety of other vermin could have weakened the wood to the point that standing on it could prove to be dangerous."

Eric picked up a small twig. Using the palm of his hand, he swiped a portion of dirt to level the ground. He then drew an X in the dirt with the twig. "Okay, let's say this is Suchu Urcu. A chasm would have to run in an east-west direction. I know the bridge Valverde made reference to couldn't be too far east because the terrain there is far too jagged."

"I see your point," Catalina said. "So what you are saying is, we have to continue to walk in a northwesterly direction."

Eric nodded. "That would be my vote. I would say our first order of business is to find the plateau. Once we find it, we'll have to look for the chasm and bridge."

Chris said, "From what you say, that shouldn't be an insurmountable task. But as I said earlier, wood rots, so the bridge may not be safe to cross."

"There is only one way for us to find out," Catalina said. "Don't you agree?"

* * *

They continued to forge their way up the mountain. The vines as well as the underbrush in that area was so thick that it took the four of them over half a day to reach the area Valverde had referred to as the planalto.

Once they were on the plateau, Eric could see the four monolithic boulders that framed the section of the mountain the Indians referred to as Suchu Urcu. "We are definitely on the right track," he whispered to Catalina.

Catalina squeezed Eric's arm. In a low voice, she said, "Oh my God. Wouldn't it be wonderful if we found the Golden Disk of the Sun."

Louder, so Chris and Phillip could hear, Eric said, "I think we can get to those boulders before nightfall. How do the rest of you feel about pushing on?"

When Chris and Catalina sided with Eric, Phillip threw his hands up in the air. "I guess no one gives a damn how I feel. I'm tired. I'd just as soon camp right here."

"Quit feeling sorry for yourself," Eric said. "Chris and I will cut a path to the rocks. All you need to do is follow us."

* * *

Once the tents were up and they had eaten, Eric turned to Catalina. "Would you like to take a closer look at the boulders?" They walked hand in hand to the massive monoliths.

"Look at all those inscriptions," Catalina said. "Some of the writing must be at least forty feet from the ground. It's amazing that anyone could have etched those caricatures into solid stone without the use of a scaffold."

"This whole mountain is shrouded in mystery," Eric said. "I must admit that's probably what draws me to this place. I'd love to come back to see if I could talk the Murcegos in allowing me enter one of those tunnels. There's no telling what I'd find."

"Who knows? Maybe you'd run into the Star Walkers," Catalina said jokingly.

"Maybe," Eric said. "I'm convinced the tunnels are being guarded for a reason . . . and I would be willing to bet it's a damned good reason."

The sun was about to drop below the horizon when Eric and Catalina turned in to get some much-needed sleep. Chris was to take the first watch, which meant Eric had six hours to rest before it would be his turn to stand guard.

* * *

The following morning the four finally arrived at the chasm. Eric immediately became discouraged. The gorge was unlike any he had seen. He estimated it was at least a five-hundred-meter drop to the water below. "There is no way for us to get to the other side unless we find the bridge Valverde wrote about."

Chris took a step closer to the precipice. "I see what you mean. That sure is a long way down."

"In order for us to save time looking for the bridge, we need to split up into two groups," Eric said. "Chris, you and Phillip walk west while Catalina and I will head east. Whichever of our group finds the bridge will fire a shot."

Phillip approached Eric. "You would use any excuse to be alone with Catalina. Why don't I go with you? Catalina could go with Chris."

Eric met Phillip's gaze head on. "To tell the truth, you aggravate the hell out of me."

"Why do we have to split up? I thought you knew where you were going? After all, aren't you supposed to be a knowledgeable guide?"

Eric had had enough. He advanced toward Phillip who immediately went for his gun. Chris lunged at him, knocking him to the ground. Standing over him, Chris shouted, "Stupid fool! You would've ended up with a bullet in the middle of your forehead before you could pull the gun out of your holster. If I were you, I'd keep my mouth shut and do what Eric says. By arguing, all you're doing is wasting time."

Phillip pulled himself to his feet. Slinging his backpack across his shoulder, he threw Eric a nasty look.

"There will be a day of reckoning, Shade. Mark my words. And it will be soon."

"Any day, any time," Eric shot back. He pulled Chris aside. "If he whines one more time, I swear I'm going to break his arm. That will really give him something to complain about."

* * *

Reluctantly Phillip followed Chris. He was consumed with hate for Eric. All he could think of was exacting revenge. The idea had come to him last night. He wanted to kick himself for not thinking of it sooner. It was his responsibility to scatter the foul-smelling strychnos fruit around the perimeter of each tent to stave away the dangerous creatures of the jungle, particularly spiders and scorpions. This evening, once Eric decided where to set up camp for the night and the trenches were dug, he would gather and place the strychnos into everyone's trench except Eric's. It would be taking a risk. Eric was exceptionally observant; however, once Eric finished his duties, he would most likely sit by the fire next to Catalina. It would also be dark. The beauty of the plan is no one would notice anything different. He would be simply doing his job. One or two bites from a scorpion or some other poisonous vermin, and it would be all over.

Eric had repeatedly warned everyone to be on the lookout for scorpions. Phillip recalled him saying that twenty-five species were extremely dangerous, and one bite was enough to kill a human. With luck, by morning Eric would be out of the way. He'd then have to convince Chris to give up the search for the Golden Disk of the Sun. Knowing how Chris would feel about losing his best friend, Phillip didn't think it would be too difficult to talk him into abandoning the quest.

* * *

Catalina was tired and thirsty. They had walked a couple of miles without a break. As if reading her mind, Eric stopped. "Let's take five, shall we? Want a drink? A drink of water, that is."

She took a couple of swallows from his canteen. Although the water wasn't cold, it was thirst-quenching.

"Do you think Chris will have trouble with Phillip?"

"I doubt it. Believe me, Chris can take care of himself. Besides, Phillip doesn't have a vendetta against him."

"What do you mean?"

"Come now, Catalina. You know the answer to that question as well as I. Chris is not the one posing a threat to Phillip's relationship with you. It's me, and it doesn't even matter whether his perceptions are accurate or not."

Catalina looked searchingly into Eric's eyes. "Are his perceptions accurate?"

Eric's answer was long in coming. "If I thought I had a chance with you . . . in another time and place—"

Catalina didn't let Eric finish his sentence. "There is no other time and place. We are here, the two of us. Haven't you guessed by now how I feel about you?"

Eric started to say something, stopped, then started again, "It's only natural for you to feel the way you do, but once we get back to civilization, you'll forget about me. Right now you need me, because you're counting on me to protect you. I am a guide, plain and simple, and I really don't want to be anything else."

Catalina tried to remain calm, but her trembling voice betrayed her. "Tell me you don't care for me, and I'll drop the subject."

Eric placed his hands on Catalina's shoulders. "I've thought about this a lot. I just don't want either one of us to get hurt, that's all. We live in totally different worlds, you and I. This is my world. Yours is in California."

When Catalina searched Eric's eyes, she could see they were focused solely on her. "I discovered something about myself in the Amazon. In all the years I've been with Phillip, I was afraid of striking out on my own. It was a comfort to me to know that he was always around fussing over me and taking care of all of my needs. I must admit I had grown complacent. Living in Beverly Hills is a far cry from living in Manaus. There is no poverty in Beverly Hills, and very little crime. Although I had no money of my own to speak of, I've never lacked for the creature comforts life has to offer: my own horse, a condo, a car, dinner out on Fridays, going to either an opera or a play at least once a week. Being here with you in the wilds made me realize how foolish I've been. You see, I talked myself into believing that love wasn't all that important. Since I met you, I've come to the realization that I was wrong. All the security and material comforts in the world aren't worth much unless they can be shared with someone you care for. I realize I haven't known you long, but in this place it seems as if it's been a lifetime."

Eric's strong hands encircled her. He knew she could feel his hardness pressing against her. She moaned as she drew nearer. She pressed her face against the stubble of his cheeks. Her voice was husky. "You are very special to me; you know that, don't you?"

Eric wanted to make love to her, but he knew now was not the time nor the place. Catalina meant much more to him than just a roll in the hay. He also wasn't sure if he was ready to commit to a relationship. He was so set in his ways. He wondered if Catalina would be willing to put up with his penchant for the Amazon.

A shot shattered their moment of intimacy, and Eric reluctantly moved away. "That has to be Chris. They must have found the bridge. From the sound of it, I'd say it couldn't be more than a couple of kilometers away. Let's go meet up with them."

* * *

Within a half hour, they found Chris and Phillip. The chasm was deeper in this part of the gorge. "That must be at least a six-hundred-meter drop," Chris said.

Eric corrected him, "Close to seven hundred, I'd say." As usual, Eric took command of the situation. He examined the three frailejones that comprised the bridge. Even though the trees were tied together with hemp, Eric knew that walking on top of them with no guardrail for support wouldn't be easy. He cautiously stepped forward. "They seem to be sturdy enough." He tied one end of the rope around his waist and handed the other end to Chris. "If I fall, it will be up to you to pull me up."

Without thinking, Catalina blurted, "Please be careful." The minute she said the words, she glanced at Phillip. He stood rigid with his jaw clenched and watched as Eric placed all of his weight on the bridge. At first he only ventured out a few feet to test the strength of the centuries-old timbers. Then, he walked as far as the rope would let him.

When he came back, he was smiling. "It appears safe." Without wasting any more time, he took off the rope, placed his arms out in front of him for additional balance, and walked the fifty or so meters to the other side of the chasm.

"Why don't you go next, Catalina?" Eric shouted. "Don't look to the left or to the right, and whatever you do, don't look down. Extend your arms outward for balance and walk straight toward me."

"Okay," she replied in a shaky voice. "Here I go." Catalina cautiously placed one foot in front of the other. She was halfway across when she unconsciously looked down and saw the turbulent water swirling among jagged rocks far below her. It was like staring into the jaws of death. She felt lightheaded, and for a moment seemed to be paralyzed and unable to move.

Eric shouted words of encouragement, "You are more than halfway across. I know you can do it. Don't think, just walk."

"I don't know if I can."

Eric's voice was calm. "If I didn't think you could do it, I wouldn't have let you try. The more you think about it, the more difficult it will be for you."

It took all the willpower Catalina could muster to continue. After taking a couple of cautious steps, she broke out into a run. The forward momentum of her body gave her the impetus she needed to get across. Once she was close enough, Eric reached out and grabbed her outstretched hands. "I've got you," he said. "I knew you could make it!"

It was Phillip's turn. He cautiously stepped on the timbers only to back away. "I need a rope."

"We don't have a rope long enough," Chris said. "You said you're an expert mountain climber. I'm sure you can do it."

Phillip cautiously placed his feet on top of the frailejones, but when he looked down, he immediately jumped off. "I don't think I can make it."

When Eric saw Phillip back away from the bridge the second time, he yelled, "Stay put. I'll come help you." Eric turned toward Catalina. "Wait for me here." He crossed the bridge to where Phillip was standing. "This is what you are going to do. Do you know how a crab walks?"

"Of course. Crabs walk sideways."

"Good, because that's exactly the way I want you to walk. Get on top of the bridge and put your arms straight out. I'll take one of your hands and Chris will take the other. We will help you stay balanced. All you'll have to do is shuffle your feet sideways."

Phillip was about to object, but Eric cut him off. "Here is your chance to prove to Catalina that you are not a wimp. What's it going to be? You really only have one of two choices. Either you let Chris and I help you across, or you will have to wait here till we return. Do you really want to spend two or three nights in the Amazon by yourself?"

Phillip gritted his teeth and stepped on the bridge.

"That a boy," Eric said. "You can do it. Just take it slow and easy." Once they were safely on the other side of the gorge, Eric led them to a clearing. "We might as well set up camp right here. I know it's early, but I think all of us could use some additional rest. You all know your jobs. Let's get those tents pitched, the ditches dug, and a fire lit. I'm going to see if I can shoot us something for supper."

Phillip purposely placed Eric's tent toward the end of the clearing. He felt that by putting it there, Eric would be less likely to notice whether or not he placed the strychnos in his trench. Later that evening, while Chris was in his tent and Eric and Catalina were huddled close to the fire, Phillip was in his sleeping bag envisioning a dozen scorpions inserting their poisonous venom into Eric and crawling all over his dead body. There was nothing else to do, but wait till morning.

CHAPTER 31

Later that evening, Eric and Catalina huddled together close to the fire. Eric was reading Valverde's directions to her when he suddenly stopped, looked up, and put his hand on her arm.

"Is there a problem?" she asked.

"No. Not really. I just heard some rustling in the bushes. It's probably Phillip. He must be up and about."

"How do you know it's Phillip?"

"Because only Phillip would make so much noise." Keeping his voice low, Eric continued to read from the derrotero, " 'Halfway up the western slope of the mountain you will find a seam. On the other side of it is a tunnel closed with certain herbs, which they call salvaje. Remove the salvaje and enter the tunnel, the one where the water from the mountain falls. On the far side of the tunnel, you will find a tarn. Beneath the tarn is a scavon. Swim through the scavon and you shall find a grotto. On the far side of the grotto there is a portal made of granite. Beyond the portal you shall find the Golden Disk of the Sun.' "

Catalina was confused. "Valverde is talking in riddles. He mentions a seam. What seam? And what does he mean, 'enter the tunnel, the one where the water from the mountain falls?' "

Eric pondered Catalina's questions. "That part of the derrotero does seem rather vague. I believe a seam is a fissure, which is nothing more than a crack in the earth. Valverde says to enter a tunnel where water from the mountain falls. That suggests there is more than one tunnel. As you know, Muela Del Diablo is riddled with them. In fact, they are known as the chincana, or a place where one gets lost. It stands to reason the tunnel we are seeking can't be full of water or we wouldn't be able to enter it. This makes me think Valverde's grammar must have been faulty."

"Now I get it," Catalina interjected. "He probably meant we will need to enter a tunnel where the water flows over it. I'd say the tunnel we are searching for is beneath a waterfall. I now remember that a tarn is just another word for a pool of water. I would have to assume the water from the waterfall empties into it."

Eric nodded. "I agree. The rest of Valverde's instructions seem fairly straightforward. As you know, a scavon is nothing more than a volcanic chimney. Apparently we will have to swim through one to reach the grotto, he referred to. Then we will have to find an entrance to the treasure chamber, which apparently is a slab made of granite."

Catalina asked, "Does he provide any information as to how it can be opened?"

Eric folded the derrotero and placed it in his pocket. "No. That could mean it should be fairly easy to open."

A look of skepticism crossed Catalina's face. "So far nothing has been easy. Looks like we have our work cut out for us, doesn't it?"

* * *

Phillip sat in his tent, waiting impatiently for Eric to turn in for the night. He could see he was still with Catalina reading from a piece of paper. He assumed it was a copy of the derrotero. He recalled Catalina had told him that initially she had given Eric only a partial copy. Since the derrotero was incomplete, he couldn't understand why she hadn't voiced a concern over the disappearance of the original he had taken.

He realized he shouldn't concern himself with such trivia. He needed to focus on staying awake so he could sneak out in the early morning hours and place the strychnos in the trench around Eric's tent. He knew Eric stood guard over the campsite from six till twelve at night at which time Chris took over. He glanced at his watch. He had hoped Eric would have gone to bed, but it was already after midnight, and he and Catalina were still talking.

Finally, after what seemed like an interminable amount of time, Phillip watched Eric place the paper in his jacket. When Catalina leaned over to kiss Eric, it hurt him deeply. It was almost like experiencing physical pain. He sucked in his breath, knowing he should pull away, but he couldn't. Why could this not be him kissing Catalina so passionately? Why would a sane woman paw over some derelict who was one step away from the poorhouse? He couldn't understand how anyone could give up the creature comforts he had to offer for a roll in the hay.

He wished this was only about lust, but there seemed to be a bond of mutual trust and respect that had formed between Eric and Catalina that was much stronger than the one that had existed between the two of them when Phillip had been mentoring her. It pained him to think the rapport they had for over eight years had deteriorated to little more than polite, guarded conversation.

The Amazon had changed her. She seemed much more confident and self-assured. Phillip could only hope that when they returned to California, she would revert back to her old self. He didn't like her newly found independence. The more he thought about her involvement with Eric, the angrier he became. If Eric survived, it would only be a question of time before the two would become lovers. The thought made him livid. He felt betrayed. Here he was—well educated, rich, and in good health—but he didn't have the one thing he desired most, Catalina Rivera.

* * *

After Catalina had gone to bed, and Chris took over the watch, Eric entered his tent. Although he was dead tired, he couldn't sleep. Thoughts of Catalina raced through his mind. She was young. Certainly much younger than he, but she also seemed wise beyond her years. They both had quite a bit in common. They loved the outdoors and were intrigued with South America's ancient past, a past that to this date was still mostly a mystery. Their quest, whether successful or not, would end soon. Then what? Would she return to California and marry Phillip? Would a woman like Catalina, one used to the finer things life has to offer, be willing to lead a simple life in Manaus? She needs me right now, but what about later? I have absolutely nothing to offer her. Even if I were to return to teaching, we would be just one of the masses trying to eke out an existence.

But if they found the Golden Disk of the Sun and the treasure that had purportedly been hidden with it, everything would change. He could end up being a rich man, rich enough so he would no longer have to be concerned about working for a living. If he did strike it rich, would Catalina be willing to live with him in a villa close to the ocean, Rio de Janeiro, perhaps? He was tired of living off the wilderness and in that shack he and Chris called home. He loved the Amazon, but he couldn't picture himself guiding tourists for the rest of his life.

If he found the gold, maybe he could purchase several thousand acres of land and become a coffee grower. As a businessman, he would gain the respect of others like him. Rich landowners were considered to be an elite group, particularly in Brazil. Then he could propose to her. She could have the wealth she was accustomed to, managing the household while he would supervise the laborers in the coffee fields. He formed a mental image of himself running a plantation. This was ridiculous! No matter how lucrative the coffee business was, he wasn't cut out to lead a boring life on a coffee plantation. He was addicted to the rain forest much like a junkie is to heroin. He would never be happy unless he lived a stone's throw from the Amazon.

Eric finally drifted off into a restless sleep. He was reclining in a hammock when an image of his father appeared before him. Jonathan Shade told him he would soon discover a place, which was built by the Star Walkers. Eric strained to hear what his father had to say, but the image faded away.

* * *

Phillip woke up with a start. "Damn it!" He chastised himself for falling asleep. When he glanced at his watch, he knew he would have to act quickly. It would be dawn soon, and he needed the darkness of night to put his plan into motion. The last thing he wanted was for someone at this hour to catch him placing strychnos fruit in Eric's trench. He slid out of his tent and looked around. Chris had fallen asleep by the smoldering fire with Eric's rifle in his hands. So much for having an alert guard. He sneaked to the bush where he had hidden the strychnos, picked up some of it, and crawled ever so silently toward the ditch that surrounded Eric's tent.

Still breathing hard from the fear of being noticed, and taking the utmost care not to make any noise, Phillip quickly returned to his own tent and crawled inside his sleeping bag. He strained to hear any sounds that might indicate he had been discovered, but all was quiet except for the periodic screech of a howler monkey. What were the odds of a couple of scorpions entering Eric's sleeping bag, much less stinging him to death? Yesterday, he had been optimistic that his plan would succeed. Now he wasn't so sure.

* * *

Eric was sound asleep, dreaming that Catalina lay by his side. She was holding a feather in her hand, tickling his nose playfully. Just as he was about to flick it away, his eyes flew open. A sixth sense told him danger was nearby. Something was wrong, but he didn't know what. He was on the verge of reaching for his gun when he froze. A creature was crawling on his forehead. He didn't have to see it to know what it was.

A scorpion! Then he felt a tickling sensation on his neck. With a scorpion on his neck and another on his face, he mustered all his willpower to remain calm. He knew a frightened individual exuded a chemical that would induce a scorpion to strike. He must remain calm and perfectly still. He shut his eyes and willed himself into immobility. He even pretended to be a statue made of granite, his arms so heavy that moving them would be an impossibility.

Eric waited for what seemed like an eternity. Then, he felt one crawling on his ear. After counting to one thousand, he knew he couldn't take it much longer. He was about to spring out of his sleeping bag when a scorpion crawled searchingly over his lips and nose. He willed himself not to think of the imminent danger. Instead, he focused on Catalina. Closing his eyes once more, he worked at recreating her image. Ten minutes, twenty minutes, an eternity passed. With his muscles cramping, he knew he couldn't remain motionless much longer. But if he moved, the scorpions would sting. He was in a no-win situation. He had to act.

While still in a prone position, ever so slowly, he unzipped his sleeping bag as far as he could. It took an eternity, but he finally managed to get both of his legs clear of the bag. He jumped to his feet, brushing his hands over his face, ears, hair and neck.

The noise woke Chris. Within seconds he was at Eric's side. "What's the matter?"

"Scorpions," Eric said as he unbuttoned his shirt. "There were several. At least two, maybe more. Take a look and tell me if you see any."

Chris turned on his flashlight and methodically shined it over Eric's body. "I don't see any."

Eric was buttoning his shirt when Catalina rushed over. "I heard a commotion. Are you two all right?"

"It's okay, Catalina," Eric said. "I wasn't stung. Go back to sleep."

Catalina made no move to return to her tent. "What do you mean stung? Didn't Phillip place the strychnos in your trench?"

Eric grabbed a flashlight, and the three of them walked over to take a look. Chris said, "I don't have to see the strychnos to know it's there. The stuff smells to high heaven."

Eric glanced toward Phillip's tent. "One scorpion could've been on the ground when you pitched the tent. But two? Highly unlikely. That means someone had to have planted them. The only person who'd do such a thing is Phillip."

"No way," Chris said. "Phillip wouldn't have had the guts to handle something as deadly as a scorpion." Turning on his flashlight, Chris searched the ground. "They must have been hiding in the space where I pitched the tent. But then I cleared the ground myself, and I certainly didn't see any scorpions." Chris shrugged. "I suppose I could have overlooked the buggers."

Eric shook his head. "I doubt it." He glanced at his watch. "It'll be dawn soon. Since all of us are up except Phillip, maybe we should break camp. Does anyone object to an early start?"

"I'll roust Phillip out of bed," Chris volunteered.

Catalina said, "While you're doing that, I'll stoke the fire and fix us some coffee."

With a flashlight in hand, Eric took another look at his trench. When he saw a dead scorpion, he was satisfied that Phillip did in fact place strychnos in the ditch. He decided there wasn't much sense in dwelling on what had taken place. Accident or not, he knew he would never find out what had actually transpired.

* * *

Phillip found it difficult to hide his disappointment. Shade had been one lucky son-of-a-bitch. He had been listening intently to Eric, Chris, and Catalina. Fortunately, no one could prove he was the one responsible for the scorpions entering Eric's tent, but that didn't mean Eric didn't suspect him. He would have to watch his step from now on, which meant it was doubtful he would get another chance to eliminate Eric. Now, the only thing he could hope for was they would never find the Golden Disk of the Sun.

CHAPTER 32

Eric took the lead as they once more forged their way along the western slope of Muela Del Diablo. So far they had been able to follow Valverde's directions, but finding the tunnel might prove to be difficult. He glanced at the mountain's cone-shaped summit. From his vantage point, he could not only envision the crater, but he could also see the sheer cliff one would have to scale in order to reach it. To climb the last three to four hundred meters of the slope would be sheer suicide. That's one reason most mountain climbers shied away from Muela Del Diablo.

By that afternoon the rugged terrain of the eastern slope gave way to the more rounded contours of the western side of the mountain. The topographical contrast between the two slopes created an image of two distinctly different mountains. Eric stopped to survey the terrain, then pointed to a spot a hundred or so meters above them. "That's where I think we need to go."

Catalina loosened the straps of her backpack. Her shoulder muscles ached, her feet were blistered, and although they were only a little more than halfway up the mountain, she was cold. She turned toward Chris. "From what I gather, the Incas had most likely carted the gold to the mountain though a series of tunnels. Needless to say, that would have been easier than lugging it up this slope. It's hard to believe they felt the need to bring some of their treasure all the way from Peru to Brazil."

Eric overheard Catalina's comment. "I think it was because of the mirror. Atahualpa's queen must have known if those rapacious Spaniards ever got ahold of it, they would smelt it. Remember, according to the legend, it was her most prized possession."

"None of you probably care what I have to say," Phillip interrupted, "but I'm beginning to think Valverde must have been delusional. There is no mirror, and there is no gold."

"You are right, Phillip," Chris said. "No one really gives a damn what you have to say."

They hiked for another grueling three kilometers before they found what they were looking for. The seam Valverde mentioned was nothing more than a fissure. It butted up to the slope, a large crack in the earth that ran horizontally for several hundred meters. The entire area was completely covered with salvaje plants.

"Now what?" Catalina asked.

"Now we search for the tunnel," Eric said. "It has to be here someplace. Remember, Valverde said it would be camouflaged by the salvaje."

Phillip moaned. "You have got to be kidding! It will take us days if not weeks to find it."

On impulse, Catalina decided now would be as good a time as any to see if Phillip was the one who had stolen the derrotero. "It would have been easier to locate the Golden Disk of the Sun if we still had Valverde's parchment," she fibbed.

"Oh, you mean to tell me you lost the original derrotero?" Phillip feigned surprise.

She shot him a piercing look. "I didn't lose it. Someone stole it."

"Whether you lost it or it was stolen is really a mute point. We will never find the treasure without those instructions, and you know it. Why don't we just save ourselves a lot of time and call it quits?"

"Quit if you like," Catalina spat back. "But I'm not giving up!"

Eric paced off the fissure. "Okay, so this is what we'll do. The crevice is about two hundred meters long. Since it butts up to the slope, I say we use our machetes and remove the salvaje plants growing near the rise."

They cleared several dozen salvaje plants when Chris yelled, "Over here. I see a tunnel. This must be it!"

"All of you stay here," Eric said. "I'm going in as I want to make sure it's the right one."

Twenty tense minutes later he came out shaking his head. "It was a tunnel all right, but it wasn't the one Valverde described. I followed it for about a half a kilometer, but unfortunately, it came to a dead end."

They spent the rest of the day clearing more of the salvaje, finding two more tunnels. One was blocked while the other went deep into the ground. Eric approached the fourth tunnel. "This one better take us to the waterfall. We've cleared most of the salvaje, and I don't see any other tunnels."

* * *

Phillip's heart was pounding. When Eric entered the tunnel, he prayed it would lead Eric to yet another dead end. If this failed, he might stand a chance of luring Catalina back. He would provide her with additional funds so she could purchase more artifacts, artifacts he would donate to the Getty Museum. Since she wanted to assert her independence, he would have the curator at the Getty create a job for her so the museum would be paying her salary instead of him. She did have a doctorate degree in archeology, and was considered to be an expert on South American artifacts. It would be difficult for her to refuse. After all, this was her dream.

* * *

Eric didn't waste any time. Flashlight in hand, he cautiously approached the tunnel. He was careful not to make noise so as not to scare any bats. He knew they were in the tunnel somewhere because there were bat droppings everywhere. He figured the tunnel was man-made. No two stones were alike, yet they fit together perfectly. He touched the side of the tunnel. Not only did the stones feel moist, but a green-colored moss covered them—a tell-tale sign that water was nearby. He followed the passage deeper into the mountain. Just as he was beginning to feel he had entered the wrong tunnel, he heard the sound of running water. Suddenly, the tunnel took a sharp bend to the right. Daylight from the tunnel's opening streamed in, blinding him. The sound of pummeling water was deafening, the noise coming from a waterfall from somewhere above the tunnel. Sheets of water blocked most of the tunnel's entrance. He was afraid the force of the water might knock him off his feet, so he placed himself in a prone position, shut his eyes, and with his elbows crawled military-style on his belly out of the tunnel.

Soaked to the bone, he stood and surveyed the surroundings. That's when he spotted the waterfall. It was high above him, cascading from the mountain into a pool below. Using the irregular-shaped rocks for support, he lowered himself to the water's edge, removed his backpack and boots, took a deep breath, and dove in.

Upon surfacing, he swam to the far side of the pool away from the waterfall to a rock wall. After taking another deep breath, he disappeared into the frothy water. It seemed like an eternity before he resurfaced. "Found it!" he gasped, his mind spinning. About three meters below the water line was the very thing he had hoped to see. Valverde was right! There was a volcanic chimney down there. He crossed himself, and swam in. When he finally emerged from the U-shaped scavon, not only was he able to breathe, but he could also see. He waded out of the water and stepped into a grotto, the very one Valverde referred to. His heart began to beat faster. An eerie glow emanated from above. Eric soon realized he was standing beneath the land fracture they had come upon earlier. It illuminated a portion of the cavernous space. He shouted Catalina's name. By the sound of the resonance, the echo seemed to come from afar, which meant the grotto was quite large. He was tempted to explore more of it, but then he knew Chris and Catalina were waiting. Reluctantly, he swam back through the volcanic chimney into the pool and re-entered the tunnel.

* * *

Dripping wet, Eric finally emerged from the passageway. Catalina rushed toward him. "You were gone so long that I was beginning to worry."

He smiled. "I have good news. Very good news!"

"Don't tell me," Phillip responded sarcastically. "You found the Golden Disk of the Sun!"

"I wouldn't go so far as to say that. But this is definitely the tunnel Valverde referred to. I also entered the grotto. Wait till you see it. The place is nothing short of amazing. There is a waterfall on the other side of the tunnel," Eric continued. "Also the pool of water really does exist—as well as an underwater volcanic chimney, not to mention the grotto."

"What else did you see?" Chris asked.

"Only the large land fracture, but I saw it from a different perspective. I was looking up at it." He pointed to the fissure. "I'd say the grotto is several stories beneath us. I couldn't see much of it because the sun was already on the far side of the mountain. If we enter it around noon tomorrow, we should be able to see. I suggest we take our flashlights with us. You know, just in case."

Catalina, Chris, and Eric were planning how best to enter the grotto when Phillip walked over. "Can I talk to you for a minute, Catalina? Alone?"

Once they were out of earshot of the others, Phillip asked, "I thought you said someone had stolen the original derrotero. If that's the case, and since Eric's copy didn't have the complete instructions, how does he know the tunnel he entered is the right one?"

Catalina edged away from Phillip. "Eric is a lot smarter than you think. He managed to figure it out without the parchment you took from me."

Phillip looked indignantly at Catalina. "Why are you accusing me of stealing it? It could have been Eric or Chris, you know."

"It wasn't Eric or Chris," she hissed. "I was watching you out of the corner of my eye. You didn't look very happy when Eric told us he found the right tunnel. You don't want us to find the Golden Disk of the Sun. You were the one who took the derrotero out of my wallet while I was bathing in Rio Topo. You took it because the last thing you want is for us to discover the treasure. That's because you want me to be dependent on you!"

Catalina paused. When Phillip didn't say anything, she continued, "It took me a while, but I finally realized what kind of person you really are. You're egotistical and selfish, and mean-spirited as well. You're a man with no scruples. You are in so much competition with him. I suspect you placed those scorpions in Eric's tent. You want me so badly—that you went as far as to concoct a plan to kill him!"

Catalina had worked herself up in such a frenzy that she was having trouble maintaining her composure. "I do have you to thank for one thing. If you hadn't agreed to take this trip, I probably would have never realized what kind of a person you really are. Here in the jungle and on this mountain was when your true character surfaced. Eric is not rich like you, but he's ten times the man you will ever be." With that last statement, Catalina turned on her heel and walked back to where Eric and Chris were standing.

* * *

Later, once Eric had changed into some dry clothes, Chris lit a fire and the four of them spread their sleeping bags close to the flames. They ate some soggy beef jerky Chris had stashed in his backpack, each with his own thoughts.

* * *

Phillip still didn't believe they would find the mirror; however, he was now a little more optimistic that Valverde's directions were genuine. The monetary value of whatever gold they might find had no appeal to him, but if there were ancient artifacts in the grotto . . . he thought about the impact they would have on the art world. If the Incas hadn't smelted all of their relics, he might find some magnificent items, artifacts he could add to his collection. He would become the darling of all the talk show hosts. Museums would clamor for the right to display his priceless possessions.

And Catalina. Where does she fit in? She had made her choice. She had no loyalty, no gratitude. Phillip realized he'd succumbed to jealousy. She was no different from the rest of the people he had spent a lifetime avoiding. He was better off without her.

If he needed a beautiful companion for the evening, he could easily acquire one. A "no strings" relationship would be more advantageous than a long-term commitment, the kind he'd once had with Catalina. He vowed to avoid emotional attachments. Life would be much simpler that way.

How stupid to have been jealous of Shade. It was an emotion not worthy of him. Shade was just a guide, nothing more or less. Phillip laughed inwardly as he recalled the cliché: "You can take the man out of the jungle, but you can't take the jungle out of the man."

* * *

Catalina tossed and turned in her sleeping bag. She thought about the last seven days she had spent in the wilderness. It was difficult for her to conceive that an aryballos, for which Phillip paid less than five thousand euros, would soon lead her to a grotto inside Muela Del Diablo in search of a fabled golden mirror. She also struggled with her feelings. Could she trust her intuition? In the course of the journey, she had switched allegiance from one man to another. She hoped she hadn't made a mistake. She had misjudged Phillip. Could she be wrong about Eric, too?

Eric. She found him exciting, and although he seemed to care for her, life with him would be anything but predictable. In many ways, he was a rogue, an adventurer who lived for the moment and didn't seem all that concerned about the future. Just thinking about him made her skin tingle. He was the most exciting man who had ever entered her life. Who was she kidding? Besides, Phillip, he had been the only man in her life. She had known Phillip for eight years and would have never believed there would have been any surprises, and look what happened. How could she be sure about Eric when she had only known him not much more than a week?

* * *

Eric also couldn't sleep. He had never truly believed Valverde's directions would lead to the grotto they were about to enter. If this much was true, could the Golden Disk of the Sun also be real? He had never believed in the story, but then he had always thought the Star Walkers were just a myth. Now he wasn't so sure. He felt confident they would find something of value. And if they did find gold, would there be enough for him to secure his own future? No more outhouses. No more guiding a bunch of rich, unappreciative people into the Amazon—and no more sharing a two-room shack with Chris.

Even if there was no treasure, just the mere fact that they were about to enter a grotto that no one had set foot in for five hundred years made his heart beat faster. He had lived in Brazil long enough to know that not all of the legends could be false. There were far too many incidents of strange occurrences, particularly in the area that most of the locals referred to as the place of tall trees, namely Mato Grosso. And then there was Muela Del Diablo, which was surrounded by a myriad of mysterious tunnels and caves. Would they find tangible proof that the Star Walkers were more than just a bedtime story? Those questions and quite possibly many more might be answered once they'd had an opportunity to fully explore the place.

For tomorrow, if they found the Golden Disk of the Sun, they could very well prove to the world that a centuries' old legend was true—and quite possibly they would be rich. Very, very rich.

CHAPTER 33

When dawn broke, Eric was thankful it was a clear day. All of them with the exception of Phillip waited impatiently for the sun to reach its apex. To make certain the batteries to the flashlights didn't get wet, Eric double-wrapped them in his waterproof poncho.

Catalina voiced her exuberance, "Shouldn't we go now?"

Eric glanced at the sun. "We'll go in another half hour."

* * *

Once they arrived at the tunnel, Eric decided the safest way to proceed would be for Chris, Catalina, and Phillip to enter one at a time. Once they were past the waterfall, Eric pointed to the pool of water. "Listen carefully. What each of you will have to do is dive into the water. The volcanic chimney is at the far side of the pool. Once you find it, surface, take a deep breath, and plunge in. The scavon is large enough to allow you safe passage to the grotto." Eric glanced at Phillip who had a pained look on his face. "There is no cause for panic. You'll be able to swim through it in less than half a minute."

Upon removing his backpack and boots, Chris was the first to plunge into the murky water. "We'll wait a few minutes, and then you can go," Eric told Catalina.

Instead of diving into the pool from the rocks like Chris had, Catalina lowered herself to the water's edge, then dove in. Although it was difficult to see, she managed to spot the volcanic chimney. Its shape reminded her of an inverted snail's shell, but much larger. She surfaced, took a deep breath, and swam through it. She entered the grotto with her wet clothes clinging to her skin. That's when apprehension set it. Chris was nowhere to be seen. Even though she knew the others would be joining her soon, not having Chris nearby frightened her. She was about to call out his name when he appeared.

"The grotto we're in is huge," Chris said. "It's also well lit because the land fracture above us stretches a long way."

Catalina looked up. Above her, like thousands of laser beams, the sun's rays penetrated through the grotto's ceiling giving the cavernous structure a wraithlike appearance. Small wonder Eric had told her the place gave him the willies. She stood next to Chris and waited for the others to arrive.

* * *

When Eric figured enough time had elapsed for Catalina to swim through the volcanic chimney, he signaled Phillip to jump into the water. "Leave your backpack, your gun, and your boots. I'll help you through the scavon."

"What about my stuff?" Phillip asked.

"Don't worry about it. I'll come back for your gear later."

Eric saw the glint in Phillip's eyes. They were like a caged animal's, darting from side to side. "No way in hell am I going to enter a tunnel that's underwater. I'll drown."

"It will take you less than a minute to go through the volcanic chimney. Trust me. You won't drown."

Phillip backed away from the pool. "I just know I won't be able to make it through."

"Is there something you aren't telling me?" Eric asked.

"If you must know, I can't swim! I almost drowned when I was a child. I've been afraid of deep water ever since."

Eric advanced toward the rock Phillip was leaning against. "I'll make sure you don't drown. Come on, we don't have all day. I have to get back to the others."

"You mean to Catalina, don't you? Bastard! You stole her from me. The only woman I've ever cared for."

"I didn't steal her. You drove her away. Just take a deep breath and jump in. Trust me, I'll guide you through."

Phillip took the magnum revolver and pointed it at Eric. "Stay where you are. Don't come any nearer or I swear I'll pull the trigger."

"No you won't. You had your chance to get rid of me when you placed those scorpions in my tent. I don't know how you did it, but I know it was you. Did you remove the strychnos plants from the trench?"

Phillip laughed the laugh of a demented man. "No. I never put any strychnos in the trench to begin with—at least not until early yesterday morning."

Eric edged a little closer toward Phillip. "The gun won't do you any good. I took the bullets out."

"Oh, but that's where you are wrong! I discovered I had no bullets. You were so busy schmoozing with Catalina that I snuck inside your tent. I rummaged through your backpack and found a case of cartridges. The gun is fully loaded!"

"You won't pull the trigger."

"Oh yeah? Want to try me?"

"Think about it, Phillip. If you kill me, what do you think is going to happen to you? When I don't enter the grotto, Chris will come looking for me. Once he finds out what you did, he will most likely hack you into little bits and pieces. He's pretty handy with a knife, you know."

Phillip was having a hard time holding the gun steady. "No, he won't. I have the gun, remember. I'll kill him, too."

"If you kill both of us, you'll be signing not only your death warrant, but Catalina's, too. Neither one of you would ever find your way back to civilization. Sooner or later, the Amazon would end up killing both of you."

"I don't trust you, Shade. You say you will help me. What's to prevent you from leaving me to drown?"

Eric advanced a little closer. "If I wanted to kill you, I would have done so a long time ago. I don't know if Catalina ever told you, but I was once with the Special Forces. Had I wanted to, I could have snapped your neck like a twig—but I didn't. Not that the thought hasn't crossed my mind. I respect Catalina, and whether you know it or not, she does care for you. Just not in the way you would like her to. Put the gun away and jump in. All you need to do is take a deep breath and close your eyes. I'll do the rest."

Phillip reluctantly leaned his backpack against a rock and placed his gun inside. "I suppose you'll tell Catalina that I panicked, and I don't know how to swim."

"What happened here will be just between the two of us."

Phillip advanced toward the pool. "Do I have your word?"

"You have my word."

CHAPTER 34

Once Phillip hit the water, he took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and let Eric guide him through the volcanic chimney. He came out spluttering.

"Are you all right?" Eric asked.

"I'll live," he replied.

Eric swam back through the scavon several times to retrieve their gear. He unwrapped the poncho containing the flashlights and their firearms. After checking to make sure the flashlights worked, he handed one to each of them. "As I said earlier, we may not need these, but one can never tell."

Only then did he begin to pay attention to their surroundings. The sun's rays emanated from the fissure above, a fracture less than a couple of meters wide. The light bore down on them so they had little difficulty in seeing what was ahead, but their peripheral vision was almost nonexistent.

"This place gives me the creeps," Catalina said.

"It's because of the light," Eric countered. "It gives the place an unearthly appearance."

Chris shined his flashlight away from the fissure into the blackness. "Our flashlights won't do us much good. Not in this place. It's too big. We better leave well before the sun sets."

Catalina shivered. Although her clothes were wet, she wasn't thinking so much about her discomfort as the treasure, more specifically the Golden Disk of the Sun. "You are right on that score. I certainly wouldn't want to spend the night here." Even though she didn't take much stock in folktales, she wondered if the mirror was somewhere inside the grotto. And if it was, could it be used to foretell the future? That's simply ridiculous, she thought. You know perfectly well there is no such thing as a magical mirror.

"The ceiling must be at least three stories above us!" Phillip exclaimed.

"From the looks of it, the grotto is as long as the fissure," Eric added. As he followed the light coming from above, a strange foreboding came over him. For a reason he couldn't explain, he sensed the four of them were not alone. One thing was certain. He would have much preferred the steamy environment of the jungle to this place. "Don't anyone stray from the light. It's important for us to stick together."

As the four of them walked farther into the cave-like chamber, Eric noticed the space between the grotto's ceiling and floor was now closer to four stories. He glanced in Catalina's direction. "Have you noticed we're heading deeper into the mountain?"

Her voice was barely above a whisper. "No, but it's colder . . . there is also less light."

Chris, who had overheard Catalina's remark, said, "That's because the fissure above us is narrower."

They hadn't walked more than a few meters when Eric stopped. "Listen. Do any of you hear what I hear?"

"I don't hear anything," Catalina said.

Chris was now beside Eric. "I hear it." There was urgency in his voice. "Quick, duck down everyone and cover your heads!"

No sooner had they flung themselves to the ground, than they heard screeching and the sound of wings flapping furiously overhead. Within a few seconds, the noise abated. Cautiously, Phillip stood. "What the hell was that?"

Eric brushed himself off. "Vampire bats. We must have frightened them. They flew through the fissure above us."

"Filthy creatures," Phillip said. "Ugly, too. Are they poisonous?"

"Dangerous, yes, poisonous, no. These bats thrive on the blood of small animals, rodents mainly. Although they are not known to bother humans, most are rabid and that makes them dangerous. We better keep moving. Hopefully, the treasure is somewhere in this room."

No one responded to Eric's comment. Deep in thought, the four of them inched their way farther into the grotto. Suddenly, Catalina's scream filled the chamber; magnified tenfold, her echo could be heard again and again reverberating in the cavernous room. Everyone froze.

"What's the matter?" Phillip asked, fear in his voice.

"I'm sorry," Catalina said. "It just took me by surprise." She was staring at a skeleton that was slumped on the floor in front of her.

Eric placed an arm on her shoulder. "I guess this is one Indian who never made it out of here."

"How do you know it's an Indian and not a Spaniard?" Phillip asked.

Now that Catalina was over her initial fear, she examined the skeleton more closely. "A conquistador would have worn a breastplate and helmet. I don't see any of that lying nearby." She reached inside the ribcage and removed a shiny object, and held it up for all to see. "It looks like someone stabbed him with this knife." She handed the dagger to Eric.

"This is incredible," he said, running his fingers along the blade. It's made of gold, and the bone handle is encrusted with jewels. It makes you wonder who killed him and for what reason."

"May I see the dagger?" Phillip asked. Upon examining it, he said, "This is a sacrificial knife. I've seen a few in museums, but I've never seen one so heavily adorned with precious stones. I've been trying to acquire one for my collection, but I was told there are only a few in existence. These daggers were used by high priests. In centuries past, when the Incas practiced human sacrifices, they would cut out their victims' hearts."

Eric took the artifact from Phillip and re-examined it. "You may be right about the dagger, but I don't think that's what happened here. I say that because human sacrifices would have been conducted in a religious temple, not a chamber like the one we're in. My guess is the man must have had a disagreement with a perpetrator."

"I think you are right," Catalina said. "The Incas would have held a ceremony before sacrificing a human, and this doesn't look like a religious place of worship. I think it's rather ironic. Here was a civilization that succumbed to the murderous pillaging of the Spaniards, yet to the Incas, human sacrifices were a way of life." She backed away from the skeleton. "Whether the man was murdered or sacrificed is a mute point. I never thought I'd come face to face with history. It's more immediate, more human, and certainly more personal."

Phillip took the dagger from Eric and placed it in his belt. "Do you mind?"

"No, you can have it," Eric said. "If nothing else, at least you will recoup the money you spent on this trip." He nudged Catalina. "Come on, we better keep moving." With Catalina at his side, using the fissure above them as a reference, Eric and the others continued to walk toward the far side of the grotto.

* * *

They finally reached a barricade made of stone. Eric said, "Someone put up this wall. If you look closely, you'll see these stones interlock with one another. There must be hundreds of them . . . and I don't see any mortar binding them together."

"Catalina moved to stand beside him. "You're right. It's hard to believe the ancient Indians would have been capable of this.

"Maybe they had some help," Chris said.

"You are referring to the Star Walkers, aren't you?" she asked.

Chris shrugged. "I don't know if they're responsible or not, but I'll tell you this much. I know enough about construction to know it would have been extremely difficult to build a stone wall this high without the use of steel."

Catalina turned toward Eric. "Valverde mentioned a portal. I don't see one, do you?"

"No, but it has to be here somewhere. So far Valverde's directions have been right on the mark. Maybe it's—"

"There it is!" Chris shouted, the excitement in his voice contagious. "It's hard to spot because the slab blends in with the stone wall."

Eric, Phillip and Catalina went to where Chris was standing. "This isn't a door," Phillip said. "It's a piece of granite, nothing more. I warned you. I told you there wouldn't be any treasure." He took the jeweled dagger from his belt and pointed it at Eric "Tell me, was this worth risking our lives? I don't need a magical mirror to predict your future. You came to this mountain broke, and with the exception of the few measly euros you'll earn from me, you will end up going home broke."

Next, Phillip shook the dagger at Catalina. "And you. If you stay with him, the two of you will end up raising a couple of snotty kids who'll be running around with the rest of the mestizo children begging tourists to buy their Chicklets gum."

Phillip's tirade went on deaf ears as far as Eric was concerned. He approached the massive granite slab, placed his weight against it, and pushed. "It won't budge."

"Look at this," Catalina said, pointing to a cluster of stars that were etched in the slab.

Eric ran his hand over the diagram. "I believe this is meant to be the constellation Orion. You know, the Hunter."

"Are you sure?" Chris asked.

"I'm pretty sure. These three stars would make up the belt. And these"—he pointed to another set of four bright stars—"make up the outline of the hunter's body. Whoever did this must have been quite familiar with the heavens. It's so precise, so accurate. It's as if someone had taken a photograph of the constellation and superimposed it here." Deep in thought, Eric again ran his hand over the etched surface. Then he spoke slowly to the others. "Did you know the indigenous Indians who live in Brazil believe the Star Walkers came from Orion?"

"Are you saying this is more than coincidence?" Catalina asked.

"Maybe," Eric answered her. "I'll tell you this much. This large piece of granite has to be the portal Valverde alluded to in the derrotero."

"Impossible," Phillip said. "The slab is much too heavy to be a door."

Upon closer inspection, scored on the wall to the right of the slab, Eric saw a Chakana. He remembered Valverede making a reference to the ancient Inca symbol. As he recalled, the icon was also in some of the photographs of the aryballos Catalina had shown him. He began to think that whoever had carved the age-old symbol had done so for a reason—a very good reason. Bringing his flashlight closer, he examined its intricately carved circles and squares. Then he saw it! All the circles and squares were two-dimensional except for the innermost circle. It protruded from the rest of the geometric shapes, giving the Chakana a three-dimensional appearance. He hesitated, but only for a moment. Placing the palm of his hand firmly against the circle, he pressed against it as hard as he could.

"I hear something," Catalina said, moving closer to Eric.

Suddenly, a grinding sound emanated from the chamber's wall. At first, it was quite faint, but then it became louder. "Look." Catalina said. "The slab. It's moving!"

"What's all the commotion about," Chris asked as he and Phillip approached the slab.

"What you are hearing are gears," Eric responded.

"No way," Phillip exclaimed. "I don't believe this thing is actually moving. Indians wouldn't have the capability of building something like this."

"No, but the Star Walkers would have," Eric countered.

"And just who are the Star Walkers?"

Eric nudged Phillip out of the way. "Never mind. Now is not the time for me to give you a lesson in Brazilian folklore."

The sound of gears mashing together was now so loud that normal conversation was not possible. The four of them watched in fascination as a granite slab weighing hundreds of kilos slid effortlessly into the chamber's wall. Eric stood closer to the opening, which was now several meters wide. He took a step forward when Chris stopped him. "Don't go inside. At least not yet. Whoever built this could have rigged a trap. What if you crossed the threshold and the slab closed? There may not be a way for us to get you out."

"Chris is right," Catalina said. "It's best you don't go in."

Eric waited for the slab to slide completely into the wall and the grinding to stop. When it did, he again pressed the Chakana's innermost circle and waited. The grinding began once more and within a few minutes the slab closed.

"I don't think we have anything to worry about," Eric said. "The inner circle of the Chakana obviously opens and closes the slab. Valverde must have assumed that a smart person would have figured that out."

Catalina gave Eric a sideways glance. "Open it. I can't wait to see what's on the other side."

Eric reactivated the mechanism that slid the slab out of the way. He cautiously stepped across the threshold, a threshold he was certain would end up changing his life.

CHAPTER 35

It was like stepping into another world, a world no one had entered for centuries. The hollow space they walked into was a continuation of the grotto, but it was better lit. Not only could they see what was ahead of them, but they could also see what was on each side. They moved silently and watched their own grotesque-looking shadows, which were framed against one of the walls.

Eric whispered to Catalina, "I want you to stay close."

"Are you kidding?" she said. "I'm glued to you. Wherever you go, I go. What is this place?"

"I think it's the same grotto," Eric replied. "It looks bigger, but that's because it is so well lit." Looking up, he saw a series of apertures, hundreds upon hundreds of them, no larger than an American silver dollar. The grotto's ceiling was riddled with these holes, which permitted light from the sun to enter the room. There could only be one reason why someone had taken such great pains to engineer more light inside the grotto. This had to be the treasure chamber! To Eric's way of thinking, it would have been just as easy to hide the treasure in the grotto they had just come from; however, he certainly couldn't dispute its existence.

Beneath the domed ceiling, suspended to it by a material that resembled burlap, was a tarp. It was arranged much like a drain pipe; its purpose, Eric assumed, was to funnel rainwater. But for what purpose? He was inside a mountain. There was sunlight and plenty of fresh air. Was it conceivable that someone had once lived here?

Phillip attempted to pass by Eric so he could take a better look, but Eric stopped him. "I want it understood that all of you are to stick close to me. I don't want any arguments. No one is to go off on their own." Eric glanced in Phillip's direction. "Do I make myself clear?"

Phillip stepped back to where Chris was standing. "You've made yourself perfectly clear, but let's not stand here gawking at the ceiling. I'd like to find out if there's something here other than bats."

* * *

The first thing to catch their eye was four gargantuan pillars. Circular in shape, each was apparently carved from a single block of granite. They appeared to be anchored to the ceiling, possibly to insure the stability of the cave-like room. What looked like algebraic equations were carved on the massive circular columns. Eric placed his hand on the base of one of the pillars. "I've never seen writing like this before. In fact, I'm not even certain it is writing. There are just a bunch of numbers interspersed with what resembles hieroglyphs, but I don't believe them to be Egyptian. Catalina, what do you think?"

Before she could answer, Phillip yelled, "Hey, look what's over here!"

Along the walls of the chamber, placed in arched crevices, were numerous sarcophagi. A few were made of wood, embellished with semi-precious stones such as Lapis and Zulu. Some of the caskets had silver inlays while others were adorned with gold filigree.

"What in the world have we stumbled into?" Chris asked.

Catalina examined each of the coffins, one at a time. "I see Topuku pictographs on some of the sarcophagi, while others have Quechua writing. Give me a few minutes, and I'll see if I can figure this out."

All of them hovered around Catalina. She took her time, moving from one sarcophagus to the next. Finally, she came full circle and faced them. "This is an incredulous find. What we have here is a burial ground. But it's not an ordinary one, you can be sure of that. A person had to be a capac to be entombed here."

"I'm sorry, but you lost me," Chris said. "What exactly is a capac?"

"That's an Inca word for ruler. You see, Inca kings were chosen by heredity and marriage lines. All the capacs were said to be descendents from the legendary Ayar siblings, four boys and four girls that emerged from a cave." Catalina walked to the first sarcophagus. "The body of the first Inca capac, the Ayar sibling Manco Capac, who allegedly founded the city of Cusco, lies here."

Phillip looked at Catalina in astonishment. "You mean to tell me all the Inca kings are buried here?"

"Not all of them, but most of them," she replied. "There are a total of fifteen sarcophagi, and I know for a fact there were seventeen capacs."

"She's right," Eric said. "The ruler at the height of the empire was Inca Yupanqui, who renamed himself Pachacuti and then ruled, I think, from 1438 to 1471 A.D. Most scholars date the Inca empire with the beginning of his rule."

"And you just had those dates on the tip of your tongue," Chris joked.

"No," Eric answered. "I brushed up a little on my history before we started the trip."

Chris walked from one sarcophagus to another. "My God. Even Atahualpa is buried here!"

"I don't believe the two kings after Atahualpa's rule are here," Eric said. "Most people don't know this, but two royal monarchs followed Atahualpa . . . but they didn't last long because by that time Pizarro had all but decimated the Inca Empire. It's not just a coincidence those two kings are missing."

"Why are there no dates?" Phillip asked.

"Calendar dates for the reigns of these kings were established by Spanish chroniclers," Eric said. "But they are inaccurate, and that's why they probably weren't included."

Catalina turned to face Eric. "When I first read Valverde's derrotero, I had a difficult time believing that the Incas would have traveled hundreds of kilometers through a maze of tunnels all the way from Peru just to bring the Golden Disk of the Sun to Brazil. But to bury all but two of their Inca kings inside this mountain so far from Cusco doesn't make much sense."

"Unless . . ." Eric started to say.

"Unless what?" Catalina asked.

"Unless the legendary Ayar siblings were descendents of the Star Walkers."

CHAPTER 36

The splendor before them defied description. There was so much of it, the objects so wide ranging, that for a moment Eric felt as if he had been transported back in time when the Incan Empire flourished in all of its glory. There were so many riches that they dwarfed all the stories he'd ever heard about Inca treasure.

Phillip hefted a solid gold urn. "Just this one vase alone must weigh over a pound, and it looks like it's made of pure gold!"

Chris picked up a cage. "Even their bird houses were made of gold." He pointed to a group of artifacts that lined the east wall. "Look at all of these fabulous pieces. I'm surprised there are so many. I would have thought most of them would've been smelted."

Moving toward an exquisitely hand-forged effigy of Quetzalcoatl, the Mesoamerican deity often referred to as the feathered serpent, Phillip examined the intricately handcrafted carving. "This figure alone would bring more money on the open market than twenty of the best idols in my collection."

It was then that Eric saw it. Three figures about the size of his forearm. Joined at the hip, all three displayed Greek facial characteristics. They were dressed in long, flowing robes and the man in the middle was holding a staff. Eric hefted the gold artifact and handed it to Catalina. "Recognize these?"

Catalina carefully examined the exquisite piece. "Didn't you say you saw something similar at Ingregil?"

"Not similar, Catalina. Not only is this statue identical to the one I found at Ingregil, but it also looks the same as the one pictured on the aryballos."

"So what do you think? Are we talking coincidence here?"

"No way." He took a long time in formulating his thoughts. "I'm convinced this statue and the one I found at Ingregil are representations of the Star Walkers. You opened the door when you asked me what I thought so I'm going to tell you: I believe the Star Walkers, whether they were mortals, gods or alien beings, had a strong influence on the pre-Incan civilization, not only on the Incas who lived in Peru, but also on the Indians who lived here in Mato Grosso. I think this cavern, chamber, call it what you like, was a sacred place of worship at one time. I'd say the Incas used the tunnel system on a regular basis to make pilgrimages to Muela Del Diablo, more specifically to this place. The grotto had obviously been sacred to them. As I said before, if the lineage of Inca kings did in fact stem from the Star Walkers, it would've made perfect sense to have royalty buried here."

"I tend to agree." Catalina realized she had been holding her breath. Exhaling, she walked farther into the chamber. She saw ears of corn made of solid gold. The stalks were cleverly sown with maize, and even the leaves were made from the precious metal. There were clay-hardened bowls filled with Lapis; emeralds the size of grapes and rubies so large that one couldn't help but think they were pieces of colored glass. Skirting the far side of the chamber, she followed Eric as he stepped carefully to avoid harming any of the artifacts. The religious figurines were made with such precision for detail that the craftsmanship far surpassed the work of modern day goldsmiths. She picked one up that boasted large emeralds for its eyes. "Never in my wildest dreams would I have ever thought there would be so much treasure."

"I wouldn't have either," Eric said. "This place must have more gold than Fort Knox. But it makes sense. Remember there are fourteen rulers buried here besides Atahualpa. Like the Egyptian Pharaohs, Inca royalty would have insisted their priceless possessions be brought here to help them on their journey to the afterworld."

* * *

Just when they thought they had seen everything, they came upon a miniature golden throne encrusted with rubies and emeralds as well as semi-precious stones. The intricate workmanship of the throne drew Phillip's interest. "This I have to have. It must have belonged to one of the dead kings."

Just as Phillip was about to pick it up, Catalina stopped him. "Are you crazy? You can't take the throne. I consider it a national treasure. It belongs to the people of Brazil."

"Who are you to tell me what I can and cannot take," Phillip said brazenly.

"Put it down," Eric said in a calm, but firm voice. "Catalina has a point. We can't just indiscriminately take whatever we want. The throne belongs in a museum, and not in your private collection."

Phillip reluctantly placed the throne where he had found it. He glared at Eric. "I want to know who determines what each of us can take."

Chris picked up the throne, took a look at it, and then replaced it. "I think we should all agree not to take any significant pieces; gold ingots and precious gems excluded."

"I'm in favor of that," Catalina said.

Eric's reply was immediate. "So am I. What do you say, Phillip? Are you going to go along with the majority?"

Phillip avoided making eye contact with Eric and Catalina. "What difference does it make whether the decision is unanimous or not? As it stands, it's three against one."

"Your greed disgusts me!" Catalina said. "You have the money to possess almost anything, yet you're obviously willing to deprive a nation from owning a part of its history, a history that's sketchy at best."

Reluctantly, Phillip backed off. Instead, he satisfied his craving for artifacts by stuffing his pockets with a few small gold idols and some jewelry.

As they moved to the far side of the chamber, Catalina tried to imagine what it would have been like to live during Atahualpa's reign. The riches those ancient kings possessed must have surpassed all the collective wealth of the western world. She entered an alcove, which was full of gold ingots and precious gems. She watched Eric pick up a necklace with large emeralds mounted on gold petals resembling lotus flowers. Moving closer, he placed the exquisite piece of jewelry around her neck. As he attached the clasp, his fingers brushed against her back, sending sensuous waves throughout her body. Murmuring huskily, he said, "This necklace is meant to be worn by a woman of great beauty."

Genuinely moved by Eric's gesture, Catalina covered his hands with hers, wanting to prolong the moment of intimacy. How could she have doubted her feelings for him? She said softly, "Remind me to thank you properly when we're alone."

Eric smiled. Looking around to make sure he couldn't be overheard, he whispered, "You can count on it."

Their moment of tenderness was broken by Phillip's shrill voice. "There are steps that lead to an alcove. Come on. Let's see what's there."

They all moved eagerly in the direction Phillip indicated, anticipating more wonderful things. The alcove did not disappoint them. The items in the niche dwarfed everything else by comparison. Sheets of gold lined the walls, giving the recessed area the appearance of a sacred shrine. Propped between two large vessels was an artifact the Incas considered to be sacred. It wasn't adorned with jewels like the miniature golden throne. Its circular shape reminded Eric of a drum cymbal. As thick as his thumb, he estimated it to be slightly larger than a seventy-eight rpm record. "This must be the Golden Disk of the Sun!"

Catalina placed a hand on the artifact. "No telling how long the mirror has been here, yet its golden surface is so shiny I can clearly see my own reflection."

Eric approached the magnificent artifact being careful not to upset the statues of long-dead kings that surrounded it. They appeared as sentinels, staring at him as he looked at his own image in its shimmering surface. Resembling a disk more than a mirror, it was as real as the jewels it rested upon. To Eric, the Golden Disk of the Sun not only symbolized the wealth and power of the once-mighty Inca Empire, but it also proved that an ancient myth once thought to be little more than a fairy tale really did exist. When he stood next to it, he was greeted with a kaleidoscope of colors; rubies, emeralds and sapphires, which were in the alcove the mirror reflected. Strewn capriciously next to the ancient artifact lay hundreds of gold ingots, some as large as eggs.

For a fleeting moment when Eric glanced at the Golden Disk, he saw a man with white hair and a wrinkled face staring back at him with a pair of wise old eyes. He thought he was looking at his father, but then he noticed the scar beneath the right cheek. Can this be me thirty years from now? But then when he blinked his eyes, the image was replaced with his own reflection. He touched the mirror reverently just to make sure the image was of him. Could it have been the poor light? Or did the mirror foretell that I would live to an old age? For a brief moment, he contemplated telling Catalina about the bizarre incident, but then decided not to. How could he possibly expect her to believe him? It wasn't a hallucination. He had seen what he had seen. The Golden Disk of the Sun was obviously more than just a mirror.

Catalina, who was by his side, asked, "Why are you being so pensive?"

"I never thought it really existed. Legend has it that Atahualpa's queen consulted the mirror whenever she needed guidance or advice. It was said the Golden Disk of the Sun contains magical qualities, which only she knew how to use."

"I recall the yarn," Catalina said. "The tale is similar to Snow White's story. In it, the queen saw the fate of her king. It told her that whether the ransom was paid or not, Atahualpa would perish. Realizing her husband and the empire were doomed, she must have decided never to reveal where the mirror was hidden for fear the gold-crazed conquistadors would steal it."

* * *

Phillip approached the highly polished Golden Disk of the Sun. To hell with how the rest of them feel. I never agreed not to take artifacts out of this room. This I must have. If I can get it out of this godforsaken country and into California, it will become the crown jewel of my entire collection. This is owed to me. After all, I did finance the expedition. He was not interested in taking any of the gold, but the mirror was another matter. He fondled it as he would have a lover. The mirror would make up for all the misery this trip had caused him; Eric's macho attitude, Chris's disdain, even Catalina's betrayal would be a small price to pay to have what he considered to be the Eighth Wonder of the World. Whether it contained magical qualities or not, just to own such an exquisite piece of history would be magic in itself.

* * *

"It will be dark soon," Eric said. "We can't stay here much longer. I say fill your pockets with some of the gold ingots and jewels, and let's get going. Don't get greedy. Remember, if you weigh down your backpacks with too much gold, you will never make it back to Manaus. Keep in mind that we have a long way to go."

While Eric, Chris, and Catalina went back to the main gallery to make decisions as to what to take with them, Phillip returned to the alcove on the pretext of wanting to photograph the Golden Disk of the Sun. The second he walked inside the niche, he emptied the contents of his backpack. Upon picking up the mirror, he realized it was heavier than what he had originally thought. He hesitated, but only for a moment. Upon wrapping it in his poncho, he squeezed the artifact into his pack. It was such a tight fit that he was unable to close one of the straps. That didn't concern him, because at a cursory glance the only thing anyone would be able to spot was the dark-colored poncho.

He slung his backpack over his shoulder and went to meet the others.

CHAPTER 37

As Phillip walked out of the room with the mirror, he almost bumped into Eric. "I was coming to get you," Eric said. "We must leave. My goal is for us to return through the tunnel where the salvaje plants are. We'll spend the night there. We have no food left, but once we are back in the jungle, I'll find something for us to eat."

"Don't worry about me," Phillip said. "I'm not hungry anyway."

Eric had fully expected Phillip to complain. When he didn't, he figured it was because Phillip had what he wanted, which were the golden idols he had stuffed into his pockets and the photographs he'd taken of the Golden Disk of the Sun.

* * *

They passed through the granite slab and were back inside the main grotto, the one with the fissure above them. Chris wanted to spend the night in the grotto, but Eric would have none of it. "I don't like being here when the sun goes down. The safe thing to do, as tired as we all are, is to get above ground."

Eric didn't relish the idea of having to make several trips. Instead, he left his backpack at the grotto and told the others to take theirs with them. He helped each of them through the volcanic chimney. Since they had all done this before, it was easier for them to swim inside the underwater scavon. Even Phillip managed without encountering any major problems. Once they were safely out of the water, Eric went back to retrieve his pack.

While traversing the tunnel that eventually would lead them above ground, Eric noticed Phillip seemed to be having difficulties walking. "Are you all right?"

"I'm okay," Phillip snapped back.

"Then would you mind picking up the pace?"

"Mind your own business," Phillip retorted.

Eric noticed that Phillip had his hands over the straps. That could only mean one thing. The pack was so heavy that the straps were digging into his shoulders.

"What the hell do you have in your backpack?"

Phillip's tone was surly. "Despite of what you may think, I'm not held accountable to you."

Eric let it go. The last thing he wanted at this juncture was to have another confrontation. "I don't really care what you took as long as it wasn't anything of historical value. Just remember what I told you. We have some difficult terrain to traverse. I hope you heeded my word and didn't get greedy. On top of whatever it is you have in that backpack, you will need to strap on your tent and sleeping bag." As an afterthought, Eric said, "If I see that you can't keep up, the first thing that's going to go will be the treasure inside your pack. You can get along without the gold, but you can't survive in the Amazon without your gear."

They made camp at the base of the fissure. It was dark by the time the tents were up. Eric decided to wait until morning to forage for food. Phillip immediately went to his tent while the others, using their flashlights, emptied their pockets. Eric had taken some gold ingots while Chris and Catalina had concentrated on the precious gems, and, of course, Catalina was wearing the emerald necklace Eric had chosen for her. He picked up one of the larger emeralds Catalina had found in one of the ceramic jars and held it up to the flashlight. "Just this one stone has to be worth thousands of euros."

Catalina whispered, "This means I no longer have to depend on Phillip. It's such a relief, a wonderful feeling."

Eric laughed. "I can imagine. Now that I can afford my own place, I won't have to listen to Chris snore."

Catalina moved closer to Eric. "I knew that sooner or later you would find the treasure. Without you, this would never have happened." She kissed him on the cheek. "It's hard to believe what we've seen really exists. I'm still having a difficult time internalizing all of this. Just the intrinsic value of the gold, the jewels and the mirror pales in comparison to Tutankhamun's tomb in Egypt; you know, the one Howard Carter found."

"Let's hope the place isn't cursed," Chris chimed in. "I read that Carter and his benefactor, Lord Carnarvon, died shortly after the treasure was discovered."

"You don't have a thing to worry about, Chris," Eric said. "They didn't die from a curse. At least not according to what I read."

No one had anticipated the treasure would be this large. Eric reassured them again that once they returned to Manaus, he would cut a deal with the Brazilian government. "I know they'll agree to pay us a finder's fee on the face value of the gold, and possibly on some of those precious stones, particularly if we agree not to take any reward money for the intrinsic value of some of those artifacts, which I'm sure must be priceless. The gold in the mirror alone must be worth a fortune."

"That would only be fair," Catalina said. "Some of those relics like the throne and particularly the Golden Disk of the Sun, belong not only to the people of Brazil, but to the world."

Chris addressed Catalina, "Do you think Phillip will pay me the bonus he promised?"

"I'll make sure he writes you a check as soon as we return to Manaus."

Chris kicked at a rock that was lying close to his boot. "I guess I should've settled for a quarter of the finder's fee like the two of you did. Phillip will be getting fifty percent. Oh well, the rich get richer."

"Quit griping," Eric quipped. "You may be the smart one to have asked for the cash. Who knows how long it will take for the government to come through. Besides, you took a pocketful of gems like the rest of us."

"What are you going to do with the money?" Catalina asked Chris.

"I'm going back to school. I want to get a college education like you two have. Well, maybe not an advanced degree, but I figure if I graduate from a university, I'll be able to get a government job. They pay well and the benefits are good."

Catalina glanced at Eric. "What about you?"

Eric was hesitant to admit to Catalina that she was holding his future in her hands. He hoped to be with her, but he also wanted to stay in Brazil. However, she did ask him a question and he was hard-pressed not to respond. "Long term I'm not sure, but I've always wanted to travel. Believe it or not, with the exception of the Amazon, I really haven't seen much of the world."

It was midnight when Chris decided to call it a day. Eric and Catalina, still much too excited to sleep, sat out by the fire. "A penny for your thoughts," Catalina said.

Eric had mentally calculated that his share of what he had seen and touched earlier that day would amount to five million euros, maybe more. "I was just thinking how rich we will be. The money is bound to affect our lives. It's absolutely incredible, isn't it? I've been living most of my life from day to day, not knowing if I could pay my bills. If I invest the money wisely, I'll have enough to live comfortably for the rest of my life."

Eric watched Catalina brush her hand through her hair. He wanted to hold her, to kiss her, but he also knew this would not be the time—not with Phillip and Chris nearby. Even though Phillip and Catalina were no longer a couple, he didn't want to rub proverbial salt in Phillip's wound. "What about you, Catalina? What are you planning to do with the money?"

"I'm not sure. Unlike you, I've lived most of my life not having to worry about money. With Phillip out of my life, I think I'll secure the services of a financial planner. I know I'll do something. Regardless of how much money I have, I'm not the kind of person who can just wile away the years doing nothing. Maybe I'll apply for a job at a museum. It shouldn't be too difficult as I do have some knowledge about South American artifacts."

Eric speculated about his future—their future, wondering if they'd be able to blend their two different worlds once they left the jungle.

* * *

They all slept in except for Eric. He entered the rain forest at first light. By the time the rest of them were stirring awake, he handed each of them a bacuri, a mango-sized white-pulped fruit. "This is all I could find for us to eat. The rind is thick so you'll most likely have to crack it open with a rock. If you're still hungry, let me know as I can always find more."

By the time their tents were dismantled and they were ready to leave, it was ten o'clock. "We are going to break early today," Eric declared. "I'll need to take some extra time to hunt for food. But starting tomorrow, we will maintain a rigorous schedule. This means we walk from sun-up to sunset. I want to make it down the mountain and out of the jungle in three days." Eric glanced at Phillip. He anticipated a complaint, but Phillip did no such thing.

Instead, Phillip said, "Believe me, Shade, I'll be just as anxious to get as far away from you as you from me."

Eric decided the least said the better. What Phillip didn't know was the trip back to civilization wouldn't be easy. And he wasn't just thinking about the difficult terrain they would have to traverse. White men were a rarity in this part of the country. He was certain the Murcego Indians would have let others know of their approximate whereabouts. Some of the more curious Indians, never having seen a white man before, might pick up their tracks. They wouldn't necessarily pose a threat, but the rogue Indians who made a living by stealing from others would. Eric knew they would kill to get their hands on a rifle—God forbid they should find out about the gold and the gems.

There was another potential problem. Phillip. He had a gun and it was loaded.

CHAPTER 38

Surprisingly, their climb down the mountain was relatively uneventful. When they reached the bridge, Eric said, "All of you crossed it once so I know you can do it again. Chris, why don't you go first?"

It took Chris only a couple of minutes to cross over to the other side of the ravine. Catalina went next. This time she didn't make the mistake of looking down. She extended her arms for balance, placed one foot in front of the other, and quickly made it to the other side.

Eric saw that Phillip was struggling with his pack. "It would be much easier for you to make it across without your backpack. Why don't you leave it here, and I'll make a second trip for it?"

As much as Phillip was leery of crossing the chasm, he wasn't about to relinquish his backpack. He had to protect his treasure from a possible search by Eric. He tried to sound casual. "No sweat, Eric. I can handle it. I can cross the bridge."

Phillip cautiously stepped on top of the frailejones, and moved forward. He was halfway across, when struggling with his balance, his foot slipped. As he went down, he grabbed one of the frailejones with both hands and dangled precariously over the river. "Help me!" he yelled. "Someone please help me." The backpack was weighing him down. He started to lose his grip. "Oh my God, I'm going to fall!"

"Hang on," Eric shouted, immediately going into action. Disregarding his own safety, he reached Phillip in four giant strides. He straddled the frailejones, reaching out to Phillip. "Let go of the log and grab my hand," he commanded.

Phillip was now yelling hysterically. "I can't reach it. Your hand is too far above me."

Eric realized he had no choice. He lay in a prone position on top of the bridge, reached down and grabbed Phillip's wrist. "Let go of the frailejones and grab my arm," he commanded. "Come on, you can do it."

Phillip was dangling in midair, shouting, "I'm going to die. I'm going to die." But he did as he was told.

Eric was strong, but he knew he didn't have the strength to pull Phillip up, and he couldn't hold on to him much longer. The only thing left was to lighten the load. With his free hand, he reached for his hunting knife, and with two deft strokes cut the straps to Phillip's backpack. No sooner had the pack landed on the rocks far below than Chris was beside Eric, and the two of them managed to lift Phillip on top of the bridge.

With fear still in his eyes, Phillip hadn't fully internalized what Eric had done. By the time he had regained his composure, he became aware that he no longer had his backpack. When he realized neither Chris or Eric were holding it, panic seized him. "Where is my pack?"

"Unfortunately, I had no choice." Eric said. "It's down at the bottom of the gorge. Sorry, Phillip. It was either you or the backpack."

Phillip let out a wail and charged. Eric stepped aside and judo-chopped him from behind, sending him to the ground.

Behaving like a crazed animal, Phillip took his gun and aimed it at Eric.

"Don't do it!" Catalina yelled. "Please don't do it."

Everyone froze and stared at Phillip. He stood there as if paralyzed. Slowly he released the revolver and let it drop to the ground, his sobs breaking the silence. "I had it and now it's gone."

"What in the hell are you talking about?" Eric asked.

"The Golden Disk of the Sun. It's gone forever."

It took them a few minutes to realize what Phillip had just done. Eric was the first to speak. "Do you mean to tell us you took the mirror? It was in your backpack? What induced you to do a stupid thing like that? I thought we all agreed. You were to take pictures of it, and not try and take it with you!"

Tears were streaming down Phillip's face. "I was going to. I swear. But when I saw it, I knew I had to have it."

"Well, it's down in that gorge now."

"Can't we go get it?" Phillip asked. "Please, Eric."

Eric shook his head. "I'm afraid not. Even if we found it, I'm sure the rocks have damaged it beyond repair. There are boulders in that chasm as big as a house, or haven't you noticed?"

Eric glanced at Catalina whose face was a mask of horror. "Did you take a picture of it, Catalina?"

"No. I thought Phillip went back to photograph it."

"Where is the camera?" Eric asked. Then it dawned on him. "Never mind, it was in your backpack, too, wasn't it?"

Phillip nodded, a dazed expression on his face. It seemed to Eric that losing the Golden Disk of the Sun had pushed him beyond the brink of sanity.

Eric picked up Phillip's gun and handed it to Chris. Changing the subject, he said, "Under the circumstances, I think we better stay here for the night." He took his sleeping bag and tent and handed it to Phillip. "Here, use mine. I'll share Chris's. One of us will be standing guard, so it won't be a problem."

* * *

The next morning while they were dismantling their tents, Eric noticed Phillip wasn't anywhere to be seen.

"Have you seen Phillip?" he asked Chris.

Chris walked over to Phillip's empty sleeping bag. "I swear to you, Eric. I checked on him just before dawn, and he was sleeping soundly. He must have snuck out early this morning."

"The damn fool. I bet he went to see if he could find his backpack." Eric stepped out onto the frailejones where he had an unobstructed view of the gorge. He scanned the ravine, but Phillip was nowhere in sight. "Damn him," Eric exclaimed. "Does the idiot really think he can make it to the bottom of the gorge and back by himself?" He was about to go in search of Phillip when he spotted him lying spread-eagle in a heap like a broken toy on one of the rocks below.

"Oh, shit!" Eric crossed himself. "That damn fool." He wrestled with how best to break the news to Catalina. He knew she would be devastated even though she and Phillip had been estranged during most of the trip. It might seem harsh, but he decided it would be better if she saw what happened to Phillip with her own eyes. Upon returning to camp, he motioned for Chris and Catalina to follow him. Once they were on the bridge, Eric pointed to Phillip's corpse.

"Oh no!" Catalina's hands shot to her mouth. "It's all my fault. I should have never talked him into coming here in the first place. He only agreed to take the trip because he wanted to please me." Tears streamed down her cheeks.

Eric took her in his arms as she started to sob uncontrollably. "You can't blame yourself. It wasn't your fault."

Catalina was inconsolable. "I disagree. I should have waited till we were out of the jungle before breaking off the engagement."

"You're being much too hard on yourself," Eric countered. "Phillip wasn't into people. He was into possessions. If you ask me, he was a troubled man. No sane person would risk death for an artifact."

"Shouldn't we go check to see if he might still be alive?"

Eric pointed to the top of the precipice. "It would be suicidal to try. There would only be one way to get to the bottom of that gorge safely, and that would be with a lot more rope than Chris and I have. Look how steep the drop is. There isn't a single tree growing on the slope to break a person's fall." Eric shook his head. "Mark my words. If we tried to reach Phillip without the proper equipment, we would be joining him. Phillip is dead. No one could've survived a seven-hundred-meter drop, particularly Phillip. He landed on a rock."

Catalina nodded. "I understand what you're saying, but Phillip deserves a decent burial."

Eric looked compassionately at Catalina. "Everyone deserves a decent burial, but unfortunately this won't be possible. Even if we did have the proper equipment, it would take at least a day to reach the bottom of that ravine. By the time we got to him, he would no longer be there."

"What do you mean, he wouldn't be there?" Catalina asked. Then, realization set in. "Are you saying the animals would . . ."

Eric tried to find the right words, but there weren't any. All he managed to say was, "Unfortunately, this is the Amazon."

CHAPTER 39

They arrived at Cerro Negro two days later, dirty, tired, and hungry. After picking up their jeeps, they drove to the same hotel where the four of them had stayed prior to setting out for Muela Del Diablo. The clerk greeted them. "How many rooms?"

Eric glanced at Catalina, an unasked question hanging in the air. After an awkward silence, Catalina, eyes lowered, said, "I'm such a mess, and I'm really exhausted. I'm looking forward to a warm bath and bed. I think I'll order from room service. But why don't we have breakfast together in the morning?"

Disappointed, Eric turned his attention toward the hotel clerk. "Two rooms, please. One for the lady and one for the two of us."

Once the clerk handed them their keys, Eric answered Catalina's question. "Breakfast will be fine. What time should we meet in the dining room?"

"How does ten sound?"

Eric spent a sleepless night, his time remaining with Catalina short. Was he ready to let her go so easily? She had touched him in a way that no woman had touched him in a long time. Yes. He admitted to himself, he loved her. But did he love her enough to change his lifestyle to suit her? Could they be happy, both compromising to be together? His final decision—he was willing to try, but was she? He had noticed a change in her since Phillip's death. There wasn't anything specific he could put his finger on, but she seemed to be more pensive, more distant around him.

* * *

The next day, after the three of them had breakfast, they drove to Confresa, returned the jeeps, and booked a flight to Manaus. When Catalina told Eric she planned on spending a few days in Brazil visiting her grandfather, Eric suggested they meet for dinner the following evening at Mundo dos Sucos, an elegant restaurant noted for its seafood.

Eric arrived first. He was as nervous as a schoolboy out on his first date. For the past eight days, Catalina had been within arm's reach. Now that they were no longer in the Amazon, he was not really sure how he stood with her. He thought she liked him—at least she had said as much. In fact, she had told him she liked him a lot. However, the question that remained in his mind was whether she cared for him enough to make a long-term commitment. That is what he needed to find out tonight.

When Catalina glided through the door, her striking good looks captured the eyes of the men and women at the restaurant. She walked toward his table, looking regal in a form-clinging dress and a pair of gold sequined heels, her head held high. He could tell she had been to the beauty salon. Her hair was coiffed, and although it suited her, she appeared older, more sophisticated.

Eric stood and helped her with her chair. "You look beautiful this evening."

She smiled. "Thank you. You don't look so bad yourself."

Once they were seated, a waiter appeared. "Would the lady and gentleman care for a cocktail?" he asked.

"I'll have a pear cosmopolitan, please." Catalina said.

The waiter glanced toward Eric. "And you, sir?"

"A bottle of beer, any kind will do." He kept waiting for the right moment to turn the conversation to their future. Ironically, in the jungle they were never at a loss for words, but here the silence between them seemed to last too long.

"Catalina," Eric finally said, "I think you know how I feel about you."

She took his calloused hands in hers. "I know, and I owe you so much. Have I thanked you for saving my life?"

"Several times."

"When I first met you, I thought you were a little rough around the edges."

"That's a nice way of saying I'm not your type."

Catalina wasn't sure if Eric was joking or not. She groped for the right words. "That's not what I meant. What I want to say is, back there in the wilds of the Amazon, I realized finesse doesn't count for much. Phillip had to work at being nice. You, however, are genuine. There are no double meanings to your words."

Again, the forced smile. "Me no speak with forked tongue."

Catalina knew Eric's attempt at humor was a way for him to diffuse the tension he was feeling. "I was drawn to you right from the very beginning . . . even before we set foot into the rain forest."

"You mean my charm is irresistible?"

Catalina squeezed his hand. "You are so smart, so understanding. I always felt safe with you. It's obvious I have very strong feelings for you."

Eric's brows furrowed. "Catalina, just tell me what you want to say."

"Ever since I met Phillip, I haven't been my own person. You may find this hard to believe, but we never made love. You said you wanted me to be honest with you so I will. When I was with you in the jungle, I was drawn to you physically, intellectually. and emotionally. I still am. It would be so simple for me to jump into bed with you, but I know it would be the wrong thing to do. I care too deeply for you to love you and leave you . . . and leave you, I must."

Eric started to interrupt, but Catalina silenced him by placing a finger to his lips. "Please, let me finish what I have to say. I've lived most of my life being dependent on someone else, first my parents, then my grandfather. When the accident happened, Phillip took over, and then there was you. When we were descending Muela Del Diablo, I asked myself these questions time and time again. 'Am I infatuated with him because he saved my life, and I need him?' or 'Am I in love with him because he is a passionate and caring person?' To tell you the truth, I still don't know the answer."

For a brief moment, Eric glanced away from Catalina. Then he looked directly into her eyes. "Earlier you said you weren't sure whether you loved me. Well, I love you, and I don't want to give up on the bond we had in the Amazon so easily. Please stay in Manaus . . . at least long enough to see where our relationship goes."

A sad expression appeared on her face. "I'm afraid I can't do that. I have to return to Los Angeles . . . at least for a while. Phillip's attorneys informed me there are some pressing issues I must address."

Catalina reached out again for Eric's hand, but he jerked it away. "Please try to understand. I am not rejecting you. What I'm trying to tell you is I need some time to find out who I am. I've lived in Phillip's shadow far too long. He had dominated and manipulated me to the point where I didn't know who I was. Give me some time to find myself."

Catalina repeated what she had said earlier, "Did you hear what I said, Eric? Can you understand?"

"I understand." He fought to keep his voice steady. "I'm a lot more certain of the way I feel toward you than I care to admit, but I have no choice other than to go along with your decision, whatever that may be. You see, unlike you, I live for the moment. I guess the Amazon has taught me that. When you live with danger day in and day out, the future is tomorrow and the past is yesterday."

Eric paused. As difficult as it was to do, he somehow managed to control his emotions. "I love you. My feelings for you are every bit as genuine as the Golden Disk of the Sun we found. I care for you so much that I'm going to put my own happiness aside and let you go. I know I am no bargain for a young, beautiful, and now a rich woman such as you. For the first time in my life, for the short time I've been with you, I've known real happiness. For years my only passion has been to live for adventure, but that was before I met you."

Catalina was so touched by Eric's words that tears welled up in her eyes. She, too, found it difficult to respond. "Thank you for your understanding," was all she could say.

They walked in silence out of the restaurant. The taxi Eric had called was already waiting. He opened the door for Catalina and leaned forward to kiss her. She turned her head to avert a kiss on the lips, but wrapped her arms around him, holding on to him for a few seconds.

Eric was the first to back off. "You may not think so right now, but I know you are your own woman. You always have been, Catalina."

Sliding into the taxi, she said, "My grandfather said he would take me to the airport tomorrow."

"Call me and let me know what time the plane leaves. I'll come meet you there to say goodbye."

* * *

When Catalina saw Eric the next day, her heart went out to him. She knew he was putting on a brave front because of the dark circles under his eyes. When she greeted him, he gave her a peck on the cheek. "I'll send you the precious stones you took when we found the Golden Disk of the Sun. I'll wrap them in several packages, insure them, and send them to you by priority mail."

Catalina reached into her purse and handed Eric a bank draft. "Would you please give this to Chris? Tell him I said he earned every penny of it."

"You don't have to honor Phillip's debt. I don't want you using your money to—"

"It's not my money," Catalina interrruped. "It's Phillip's. Before we came to Manaus, Phillip contacted his attorney and made me the sole beneficiary of his estate. He also willed a portion of his collected works to the Getty Museum and appointed me as the sole administrator over the rest of his antiquities. I will be making all the decisions regarding the dispensation of his large and very valuable collection." Catalina handed Eric a legal-looking document. "I want you to know this has been notarized."

Eric folded the paper without looking at it. "What does it say?"

"You are to get whatever finder's fee the government of Brazil gives you."

"But what about you?"

"I have more money than I'll ever need." She paused for a moment. "There's my flight. I have to go." She kissed him on the cheek and whispered, "Promise to call me?"

Eric smiled. "Of course. We still have some unfinished business, you and I."

She was about to turn away when he grabbed her and kissed her full on the mouth. His voice was huskier than usual. "You'd better leave while I still have the will to let you go."

She gave him one last look and disappeared inside the terminal gate.

* * *

Once Catalina was airborne, she touched the emerald necklace that Eric had given her, fondly remembering his words. This necklace is meant to be worn by a woman of beauty. Closing her eyes, she wondered if the myth was true. Could it have belonged to Atahualpa's wife? Catalina knew that regardless of how much money it would bring, she would never part with it.

She opened her eyes and stared out the plane's window. When she spotted Muela Del Diablo's crater far below her, the mountain looked as menacing as ever. She thought of Eric Shade. That's your world, Eric. You know it like the back of your hand. I can only hope I'll be able to find mine.

* * *

Eric watched Catalina's plane as it gained altitude. He knew he would never call or write. She had left to live a different life, a life he didn't much care for. She was rich now. The wealth she had acquired upon Phillip's death had catapulted her into a world he would never fully understand. He wondered whether things would have turned out differently if Phillip were still alive. Would Catalina be going back to Los Angeles if the bastard hadn't died? He didn't think so. The irony of it all. While he was alive, Phillip had tried to poison him with scorpions. He had even contemplated shooting him, but only in death had Phillip managed to get his revenge.

He left the airport burdened with the reality that he would never see her again. His gut was tied in a knot. Had he given up too easily? Should he have gone with her? Forcing Catalina out of his mind, Eric thought about the Golden Disk of the Sun and the man who had tried to take the priceless antiquity out of the country. If riches fostered the kind of person Phillip had become, he would rather be poor. But now that was not the case. He had money, more money than he ever imagined possible. The problem facing him was what should he do? Teach? Earn another degree? Continue to search for his father? Or dedicate himself to solving the mystery of the Star Walkers.

He said a silent prayer. _Let me choose wisely_.

~ ~ ~

Thank you for reading my book. If you enjoyed it, please take a moment to leave a review at your favorite retailer. I sincerely appreciate it. Thanks!

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Other titles by Michael Cole

The Star Walkers Trilogy

Tunnels of the Deep - Book 2

Strands of Life - Book 3

The Papyrus Document

Secrets of El Tovar Canyon

Subprime

Room of Dark Secrets

Well of Souls

Antiquated Astronaut

Ghost Ship of the Desert

Pandora

Alien Strain

Not of This Earth

This is a work of fiction. Any similarity of characters or events to real persons or actual events is coincidental.
