“How can you be so sure Machu Picchu is Paititi?” Ashwood asked him.
The young man looked at her. “I didn’t say that it was. Only that it makes good sense. Hundreds of prospectors, poachers, scientists, and crazy people have kept after it for years without finding anything. That does not mean it isn’t there.” He shrugged. “For the right price I am happy to help anyone look.
“What I can promise you is that you will enjoy the wildlife. There are more species in the Manú basin than anywhere else on the planet.”
“We’re not interested in animals,” Ashwood said sharply. Igor’s blithe negativity had clearly upset her. “Maybe that bloated Brahmin was just playing at what he was doing,” she muttered thoughtfully.
Carter wasn’t as disturbed as his companion. After all, he’d come for the experience, not for treasure. He’d be perfectly happy to spend their time in the selva looking for animals … though Igor’s declaration did take the edge off his expectations.
Ashwood wasn’t ready to concede. “We have reason to believe that this place really exists … or that there’s something down there, anyway.”
“Of course you do.” Igor adopted a conciliatory tone. “If you didn’t you would not have come all this way and spent so much money.”
“You’re a very mature young man.” She regarded him shrewdly.
Another shrug. “You grow up fast in the selva or you do not grow up at all.” His voice didn’t change nor did his expression harden, but the feeling of inner strength he projected was unmistakable. It was the same kind of strength that enabled other young men to survive on the streets of Beirut … or New York. The characters Carter portrayed often displayed it on screen. It was much less common in real life.
He waited while they hammered out the rest of the details. Boats had to be arranged, food and medicines stocked, the land cruiser checked out. Ashwood grumbled at but acquiesced to the immutable costs.
“D’you want us to sign some kind of contract?” she asked him when they finished.
“There are no lawyers in the selva,” he told her. “It is very much like your old western frontier. People tend to use things other than words to settle disagreements. Payment in advance will be sufficient. I won’t cheat you. My reputation is worth more to me than your traveler’s checks.”
“Tell me something.” She looked into his face. “How many other crazy gringos have you taken in search of Paititi?”
“Does that matter?”
“I suppose not. Are you familiar with the Pinipini River?”
He showed some surprise. “You have done research. Very few people have been up that way. The river tends to parallel the foothills, and the country is very bad. Where the foothills meet the lowlands you get vertical jungle. I have camped at its mouth where it joins the Upper Madre de Dios. There are no maps of the river itself and the aerial survey goes back to the 1930s.
“Where are you staying?”
“Hotel de Oro,” Ashwood told him.
“Decent enough. Watch your wallets, especially when you are around children. Pickpocketing is one of the few growth industries in central Peru. I will have everything ready for us in two days. One to assemble everything, the second to make sure I haven’t forgotten anything. There are no stores, no telephones, where we are going. We must take everything with us.” He looked at each of them in turn.
“I tell you now, if you have any second thoughts about this I will refund your money and help you to make reservations for the flight back to Lima. Where we are going we will be entirely on our own. You must trust me completely. Do not be fooled by my age. I will keep taking you wherever you want to go, keep you alive, and bring you safely back out. If you expect comfort or a semblance of civilization then you have come to the wrong part of the world.”
“Maybe I ain’t been in your jungle before, sonny,” Ashwood told him, “but I can take care of myself. You just hold up your end of this little jaunt and we’ll handle ours.”
VI
Carter was helping Igor secure the last strap atop the battered land cruiser while Ashwood sat in the front passenger’s seat, studying the little folder of information she’d put together and muttering to herself.
The actor snapped down the lock-tight and walked around behind the vehicle.
“Are you so sure that this place doesn’t exist?”
“I told you.” Igor strained at the nylon. “I rule nothing out. I just say that reason is against it.” He secured the last strap, wiped his hands on his pants. “But the Spaniards took hundreds of ships full of gold, silver, and emeralds out of South America. There is no guarantee that they got everything. Only that if they did not, the Incas have surely hid the remainder very well.
“For me the treasure of the selva lies in the uniqueness of its plants and animals, not any lost gold.”
Carter helped him wrestle a large ice chest into the back of the land cruiser. “Marjorie’s not much into nature. But I’m different. So when we pass something interesting I hope you’ll point it out to me.”
De Soto smiled up at him. “I could not do otherwise. Knowing that someone is interested will make the journey more enjoyable.” He prepared to lift and shut the vehicle’s tailgate. “That is everything.”
“Not quite.” Carter hustled back into the hotel, returned a few moments later with a small wood and wire box. Igor eyed it uncertainly.
“You are going to take a cat with you?”
Carter gently placed the box and its dozing occupant atop the ice chest. “Why not? She won’t be any trouble.”
“But why?”
Somewhat to his surprise Carter had no ready answer. “I dunno. Maybe because Marjorie said I couldn’t get away with it. She’s fun to tease. Besides, if I leave Macha here I have a strong feeling she won’t last very long in the city.”
“The selva will not be any kinder to her.”
“Maybe not, but I will. She’ll be my responsibility. I’ve already tried her in my backpack and she just curls up on my towel and goes to sleep. She’ll be good company at night.”
Igor looked dubious. “Wait ‘til she hears her first jaguar.”
The ride over the crest of the Andes was as beautiful as it was bumpy. At twelve thousand feet Carter was astonished to see terraced hillsides rising hundreds of feet above the floor of the valley through which the single dirt road wound its uncertain way.
They passed through ramshackle, windswept towns with names like Paucartambo and Acjanaco, whose inhabitants eyed them with quiet curiosity. Dark-eyed laughing children ran alongside the road, giggling and gesturing until the land cruiser was out of sight.
As they began to descend trees appeared; in clusters at first, then in rolling, cresting green waves that came sweeping up the side of the mountain. Carter had never seen so much green.
