she said. ‘Showing how they fled Cuzco to escape the Spanish. Along the Andes, then out into the Amazon basin. A map.’
‘A map, yes. With a very important stop along the way. El Dorado.’
‘Yes,’ she croaked. ‘But they thought the – the Spanish would find it, so they moved on.’
Stikes nodded. ‘So we have a start point, Cuzco; an end point, Paititi; and a map, of sorts. That should make it possible to find El Dorado. How do we decode the map?’
‘I don’t know.’
He held up the syringe, pushing the plunger slightly with his thumb. Droplets formed at the end of the needle. ‘Try again.’
‘I don’t know, I don’t know! We never worked that out, we didn’t have time!’
‘And you don’t have much time now. So think fast. There were markings on the map, between the pictures. What do they say? Are they directions?’
She gasped as the pain spread, struggling to remember what she had seen. ‘I don’t know! The Incas never developed writing - if they’re directions, I don’t know what they mean! Nobody’d ever seen anything like that before, not even Osterhagen!’
Stikes regarded her unblinkingly for a long moment . . . then, with a look of grudging acceptance, turned away. ‘All right. You don’t know how to decode the map. Let’s try something else. How did you really find Paititi? And don’t tell me it was the result of years of patient research.’ He picked up one of the stone figurines. ‘It’s something to do with these, isn’t it?’
Nina was losing feeling in her hands and feet as the scorpion toxin paralysed her. But despite the growing numbness in her extremities, the pain within her was getting worse. The hand was tight at her throat, squeezing harder. ‘They led me here,’ she choked out, struggling to breathe. Any thoughts of resistance had vanished, survival instinct forcing them aside.
‘Led you? How?’
‘Earth energy, it’s called earth energy. Don’t know how it works, but – statues glow under certain conditions. Point towards each other. IHA had—’ She broke off, convulsing as a searing cramp rolled through her body. ‘Oh God! Please, please!’ She looked desperately at the syringe.
‘The IHA had what?’ Stikes demanded. ‘Tell me!’
‘Two statues, IHA had two statues. I put them together, they pointed to Venezuela. Interpol thought – link to Inca artefacts Callas was selling out of Valverde.’ She started to hyperventilate, forcing air through her constricted windpipe. ‘I don’t know anything else. Please . . . ’
Stikes regarded the statuette thoughtfully. ‘This “earth energy” effect – can anyone make it work?’
Nina’s eyes stung, tears blurring her vision. ‘No, only me – something about my body’s bioelectric field. Don’t know why, it just does . . . ’ She panted, each breath a terrible effort. ‘Please, told you everything I know . . . ’
Stikes remained still, gazing at the stone figure . . . then put it down. He pulled up Nina’s sleeve, searched for a vein, then jabbed the needle into her. She barely registered the injection through the burning pain – but after a few seconds, the pressure at her throat eased. With a shuddering gasp, she drew in a long, unrestrained lungful of air.
He withdrew the needle. The syringe was still half full. ‘So, the first two statues led you to Paititi, where you found half of the third . . . and the other half, according to the painting, is somewhere in El Dorado.’ He returned the syringe to its box. ‘Which means you can use these statues to point the way there. Very handy.’
‘Not gonna . . . help you,’ Nina croaked, head lolling.
‘We both know that you will. But,’ he said, going to the case, ‘I have work to do first. No point making retirement plans until I have the money to pay for them.’
Nina blinked away the tears, focus returning as Stikes returned the statuette to its foam bed. He put the bag containing the khipu on top of the three figures and closed the case.
The khipu . . .
Osterhagen had said the collections of knotted strings were valuable; not so much for their intrinsic worth as their rarity. But what had Cuff called them? Talking knots. A unique form of record-keeping. The Incas had no written language, but they did have numbers.
Numbers.
Distances. Directions. Any journey could be reduced to a series of numbers, as long as you knew the system—
A new tightness pulled at her chest, but this time not because of the poison. It was an adrenalin