Osterhagen was also solemn as he regarded the bodies. ‘None of this should. So many deaths. All because of gold, the greed for gold.’
‘Five centuries, and nothing’s changed,’ Nina said sadly.
‘Maybe some day it will,’ said Kit.
‘I wish it could. But I doubt it. People never change.’ She looked back at her husband, seeing him standing at the edge of the clearing, head bowed. ‘I need to be with Eddie,’ she said, starting after him. But she had no idea what she could possibly say to comfort him.
A Peruvian official bustled past her, holding a satellite phone. ‘Mr Jindal! A call for you. From Interpol.’
Kit took the phone. ‘Yes, this is Jindal.’
‘This is Alexander Stikes,’ said the crisp English voice from the other end of the line. Kit froze. ‘I’d like to offer you a deal . . . ’
39
The panoramic windows of the villa in which the Peruvian government had housed the surviving explorers looked out across Lima from the city’s southeastern hills, but even though he was facing the view Eddie’s eyes weren’t taking in the spectacular burning sky of a Pacific sunset beyond the darkening capital. His focus was directed inwards.
Kit hesitated at the door before steeling himself and entering. He stood beside Eddie’s chair, gazing in silence at the vista outside for a long moment, then finally summoned the courage to speak. ‘Eddie?’
Eddie didn’t seem to have registered his presence, until a fractional tilt of his head brought the Indian into his eyeline. ‘Eddie,’ Kit repeated, ‘I just wanted to say that . . . I’m sorry. I’m sorry about Mac. It shouldn’t have happened.’
‘No. It shouldn’t.’ There was an odd, almost mechanical feel to Eddie’s eventual response, rusty gears slowly grinding to life.
‘If he hadn’t decided to destroy the helicopter, if he hadn’t been in that place at that time . . . it wouldn’t have. He’d still be alive. If he hadn’t gone after Stikes . . .’
‘Stikes.’ The word was a growl. ‘You shouldn’t talk to me about Stikes.’
A cold fear swept through Kit’s body. Eddie couldn’t possibly know about the phone call – could he? ‘Why not?’
‘Because you’re a cop. And I’m going to murder that fucker.’
He tried to conceal his relief. ‘I think this is one occasion where I would be willing to look the other way.’
Eddie nodded, then sank back into silence. Kit felt compelled to keep speaking. ‘He was a good man. Brave and honourable.’ He looked down at the floor, shaking his head.
Someone tentatively cleared their throat. Kit turned to see one of the villa’s staff, a pretty young maid, standing in the doorway holding a cordless telephone. ‘Excuse, please, Mr Jindal?’ she said. ‘Telephone for you.’
Kit glanced at Eddie, then went to her and took the phone. ‘Hello?’
‘Jindal.’ It was Stikes. ‘Have you discussed my proposal with your superiors?’
He took a breath before answering. ‘Yes.’
‘And?’
Another look at Eddie, this time surreptitious, to make sure he wasn’t listening. But he appeared completely detached from the rest of the world. ‘Yes, they agree.’
‘Good. And did you tell them I want to meet one of their representatives in person? Not an errand boy like you.’
‘I did,’ Kit said through his teeth. ‘Someone is on the way.’
‘Excellent. In that case, there’s a town called San Bartolo, twenty miles south of Lima on the Panamerica Highway. About two miles past it is a pumping station for the gas pipeline, number fourteen. Meet me there in one hour.’
‘San Bartolo, station fourteen,’ Kit echoed. ‘All right, I’ll be there.’ He returned the handset to the maid. ‘Eddie, I have to meet some people from Interpol. I think we might have a lead on the statues. Will you be all right?’
The Englishman remained still, not even moving his eyes to look at him. ‘I’ll be fine.’
‘Okay. I’ll see you later.’ He turned to leave, then paused at the doorway. ‘Again, I’m so sorry about Mac. I’m sorry.’
Eddie didn’t reply.
Freshly showered and in clean clothes, Nina left her room and went downstairs to look for Eddie. Instead, she found Kit in the villa’s hall, donning a jacket. ‘Are you leaving?’ she asked.
‘I have to meet someone.’
‘Interpol?’
A conflicted look crossed his face. ‘Not exactly,’ he replied after a moment. ‘Look, don’t say anything to Eddie, but . . . it’s about Stikes. He’s offered to hand over the statues.’
‘What? You’re kidding!’
‘No, I think he really means it. He wants to make a deal – in exchange for immunity.’
Nina frowned. ‘I don’t think the Venezuelans will be