golf courses. With a gap so large financially and small physically between rich and poor, it was easy to imagine resentments simmering away until they boiled over.
She wasn’t planning on staying long in Caracas, however. Returning to the suite – though it was a beautiful day, the stench of smog was stinging her sinuses – she joined Eddie, Macy and Kit to await their visitor.
He finally arrived over half an hour late, which could have been down to the gridlocked streets, but Nina suspected was just as likely due to his displeasure at being there at all. Dr Leonard Osterhagen, a burly German in his fifties with a trim salt-and-pepper goatee that matched his hair, worked for not the IHA but one of the other United Nations cultural organisations – and in very short order made his opinion of the newer agency plain. ‘I do not see why the IHA has assumed control of this expedition,’ he said. ‘And I resent being shanghaied from our dig in Peru.’
‘You weren’t shanghaied, Dr Osterhagen,’ said Nina in a placatory tone. ‘It was simply a request for inter-agency cooperation.’
‘Cooperation! It was an order, I think. When the IHA makes a demand, everyone else must dance for it.’
‘I’ll have to disagree with that interpretation,’ she said, her patience already wearing thin.
‘Well, of course you do. You are the one who benefits. The IHA takes money away from other agencies, diverts funds from serious research and puts it into grand exhibitions, like Atlantis. Our work is not supposed to be a fairground show.’ He gestured at Kit. ‘And we are archaeologists, not policemen! Why is Interpol involved?’
Nina passed a folder to Osterhagen. ‘Take a look.’
He scowled and flipped it open . . . and his expression became first one of shock, then wonder. Inside were the photographs of the black market artefacts Kit had shown her in New York. He shuffled back and forth through them before looking up at Nina in amazement. ‘Where were these found?’
‘That’s the thing,’ Nina said, relieved by his abrupt change of attitude. ‘They’d been sold on the black market, which is why Interpol got involved, but they were found here. In Venezuela. And that’s why I requested this meeting. You’re one of the world’s foremost experts in Inca history, so I thought you might be interested. But if you’d prefer to leave it to the IHA . . . ’
Sourness crept on to Osterhagen’s face as his displeasure at being played and his lust for knowledge fought it out, but the latter was quickly victorious. ‘The site these came from . . . you think it may be . . . ?’ He mouthed a word.
Nina spoke it for him. ‘Paititi. Somewhere in the south of the country, along the middle Orinoco.’
‘Paititi! In Venezuela? But – of course, Raleigh and the Manoans, Juan Martinez being set adrift. Twenty days’ travel along the Orinoco. It could be . . . ’ His gaze went right through Nina as he focused on the images in his mind.
‘So, Dr Osterhagen,’ she said, ‘are you interested in joining the expedition?’
He blinked, returning to the present. ‘I think . . . it would be best if you had an expert like myself accompanying you, yes. In the interests of inter-agency cooperation.’
She smiled thinly. ‘I’m glad you agree.’
Osterhagen regarded the photographs again. ‘I will need my assistants, of course.’
‘I’ll make the arrangements,’ Nina told him. The German gave her the details, then departed – with an almost pained look as he was made to return the photos of the Inca treasures.
‘Wow,’ said Macy. ‘I didn’t realise some people had such a problem with the IHA.’
‘Experts get very territorial,’ said Nina. ‘Especially when there’s funding involved.’
Eddie laughed. ‘Thank God you’ve never got stroppy with anyone who’s stepped on your turf, eh?’ He went to a large map of Venezuela laid out on a desk. ‘So we’ve got the expert on board. What about local support?’ He tracked the Orinoco river south along the Venezuelan-Colombian border until it turned back east into the former country, picking out the tiny dot that marked Valverde.
‘The Venezuelans are giving us a guide, and a pilot,’ said Nina, slightly annoyed by his jibe.
Kit joined Eddie at the map. ‘Military?’
‘Militia, I think.’
‘What’s the difference?’ asked Macy.
‘The militia’s loyal to el Presidente,’ said Eddie. ‘The military’s loyal to the country. Not always the same thing.’ He looked more closely at the map. ‘Better take plenty of bug repellent. That’s a big load of