‘I think I may have,’ he said, riffling through the pages. ‘As well as the files on West’s memory card, we also got a warrant for his phone records. A lot of international calls, as you’d expect – and many were to Venezuela. Most were mobile numbers, but there were also some to a landline in a town in the south of the country, a place called Valverde.’
‘Valverde?’
‘I already looked it up – it’s near the Orinoco river, about twenty-five kilometres from the Colombian border. Right on that line you put on the map in your office.’
‘What about the smuggled artefacts?’ she asked, with growing excitement. ‘Did they come from Venezuela originally?’
‘It looks that way. West was dealing directly with the seller. I think this is well worth investigating – another Interpol/IHA mission.’ Now it was the turn of Kit’s enthusiasm to rise. ‘I don’t believe it’s a coincidence that the Inca artefacts are coming from a region that is exactly in the direction you are looking. There’s a good chance we could find the source of the artefacts and shut down their black market sales, and find the third statue at the same time.’
‘Raleigh thought the lost city was somewhere along the Orinoco,’ said Nina. ‘The Incas might have hidden the third statue near Valverde! I’ll talk to Sebastian, get him to speak to the Venezuelans about an expedition. I think you’re right, Kit – I doubt this is a coincidence. If we find Paititi, we might be able to kill two birds with one stone.’
‘So long as we don’t get killed ourselves,’ said Eddie. ‘Somebody else must have found this place already, remember?’
‘I’m sure we’ll be able to arrange some local security. And you’ll be there to look after us too.’
‘And so will I,’ said Kit. ‘You can make the archaeological discoveries while Interpol stops these smugglers. We have already caught their middleman, and now we can catch them as well.’
‘Great,’ said Nina. ‘Better brush up on my Spanish, I suppose . . . ’
8
Venezuela
As it turned out, Nina didn’t need to work on her language skills in the four days it took to make the arrangements with the Venezuelan government. The moment she heard about the plan, Macy practically begged to volunteer her services. Though initially dubious, Nina knew one area where Macy’s abilities far outclassed her own: with her part-Cuban heritage, the young woman was completely fluent in Spanish. And, she had to admit, while Macy could sometimes be annoying, she was usually fun company.
Which right now was more than she could say of her husband. Though things had thawed, there was still the uncomfortable feeling of tiptoeing over eggshells around each other. Nina hated it – and was sure that Eddie did too – but neither was willing to make the first move and apologise to the other.
That said, there were larger matters on her mind. The United States and Venezuela were not close at the best of times, but over recent months the Venezuelan president, Tito Suarez, had made increasingly vocal accusations of US interference in his country’s affairs. The State Department, conversely, had noted increasing civil unrest in Venezuela’s cities, to the extent of issuing a suggestion – not quite a warning, but the subtext was clear – that American citizens should postpone all but essential visits to the Bolivarian Republic until the situation improved.
From the penthouse balcony of her Caracas hotel, however, Nina saw little evidence of brewing revolution in the city below, only cars and billboards and a giant video screen on the front of what she assumed from the mast on its roof was a television station. Despite her being an American, the Venezuelan government had rolled out the metaphorical red carpet for the IHA’s director and her expedition. She had a shrewd idea why; considering her past record, the prospect of her discovering a legendary city in the jungle would be irresistible, bringing the nation both international prestige and tourist money. She had never visited the country before, and had been surprised and impressed by its capital, a bustling and in places strikingly modern metropolis. There was clearly a lot of money at work.
However, it was also clear that, even under an ostensibly socialist government, that wealth was far from evenly spread. Beyond the skyscrapers, great chunks of the city were packed tight with ramshackle little structures: the barrios, home to millions of the urban poor. Yet between these cramped slums were towering condominiums, expansive villas, even