River Of Death Part 13

Tracy said, as if not knowing: 'This is the only one?'

'By no means. You'll find well-preserved examples in Mexico, Guatemala, Bolivia and Peru. But only in Central America and the north-west of South America. But nowhere else in the world -- except here.'

Serrano said: 'So they're Andean. You couldn't ask for better proof.'

'You couldn't. But I have it.'

'Complete proof? Total?'

'I'll show you later.' He pointed with outstretched arm. 'You see those steps?'

Stretching from the river to the top of the plateau and hewn from the vertical rock-face, the stone stairway, terrifying to look at even from a distance, angled upwards at 45'b0.

'Two hundred and forty-eight steps,' Hamilton said, 'each thirty inches wide. Worn, smooth and slippery -- and no hand rail.'

Tracy said: 'Who counted them?'

'I did.'

'You mean -'

'Yes. Wouldn't do it again, though. There had been a hand rail once and I'd brought along equipment to rig a rope rail. It's still on the hovercraft - for obvious reasons.'

'Mr Hamilton!' Silver spoke in an urgent whisper. 'Mr Hamilton!'

'What's the excitement about?'

'I saw someone moving in the ruins down there. I swear to it.'

'The pilot's eagle-eye, eh? No need to swear to anything. There are quite a number of people down there. Why do you think I didn't fly in by helicopter?'

Serrano said: 'They are not friends, no?'

'No.' He turned to Smith. 'Speaking of helicopters, I don't have to explain the lay-out of this place to you. You know it already.'

'I don't understand.'

'That film ca.s.sette you had Hiller steal for you.'

'I don't know what --'

'I took them a year ago. I left Hiller no option but to steal them.

Taken from a helicopter. Not bad for an amateur, were they?'

Smith didn't say whether they were or not. He, Hiller and Tracy had again, momentarily, a.s.sumed very odd expressions, mainly of deep unease.

Hamilton said: 'Look to your left there. Just where the river forks to go round the island/ At a distance of about half a mile and about three hundred feet below their present elevation a spidery, sagging, and apparently twisted series of ropes spanned the gorge between the top of the plateau and a point about half-way up the top of the cliff on which they were lying. Immediately below the cliff anchorage a small waterfall arced out into the river.

'A rope bridge,' Hamilton said. 'Well, a liana bridge. Or a straw bridge. Those are normally renewed once a year. This one can't have been renewed for at least five years. Must be in a pretty rotten state by this time.'

'So?' Smith said. The apprehension in his voice was unmistakable.

'So that's the way we go in.'

The silence that followed was long and profound.

At last Serrano said 'Another proof of Andean ancestry, no? I mean, there are no rope bridges in the Mato Grosso -- well, there's not one now - nor, as far as I know, anywhere in Brazil. The Indians never learnt how to make them. Why should they have done -- they never needed them. But the Incas and their descendants knew how to make them -- living in the Andes, they had to know."

'I've seen one,' Hamilton said. 'On the Apurimac river, high up in Peru - about twelve thousand feet. They use six heavy braided straw cables for the main supports - four for the footpaths, two for the hand rails.

Smaller ropes for closing in the sides and a bed of twigs spread over the footpath so that only a three-year-old could possibly fall through.

Can support scores of people when new. I'm afraid this one is not new.'

A narrow cleft ran down the cliff at an angle of close on 60'b0. A small stream, probably fed from some spring above, fell, rather than flowed down this cleft, leaping whitely from spur to spur. On one side of this cleft a series of rough steps had been cut, obviously a very long time ago.

Hamilton and the others started to descend. It was a fairly arduous descent but not really either difficult or dangerous as Hamilton had taken the precaution of binding together a series of tough lianas, anchoring one end to a tree and letting the rest fall down the cleft.

At the foot of the cleft, just above where the waterfall arced out above the river, a platform, about eight feet by eight, had been quarried out of the cliff-face. Hamilton was already standing there. One by one he was joined by the others.

Hamilton moved to examine a stone bollard and an iron post that had been hammered into the platform. Three now threadbare lianas were attached to both. Hamilton produced his sheath knife and sc.r.a.ped at the iron post.

Thick brown flakes were shaved away.

'Keep your voices down,' Hamilton said. 'Rusty, isn't it?' He turned away to look over the gorge. The others did the same. The straw bridge was very flimsy and clearly venerable. Both the hand supports and the footpath were severely frayed. Several of the straw ropes appeared to have rotted and fallen away.

Hamilton said: 'Not in the best condition, wouldn't you say?'

Smith, his eyes wide, was obviously appalled, 'Good G.o.d in heaven.

That's suicide. Only a madman would go on it. Do you expect me to risk my life on that?'

'Of course not. Why on earth should you? You're only here for the story, for the pictures. You'd be crazy to risk your life just for that. Tell you what. Give me your camera and I'll take the pictures for you. And don't forget -- the people over there may not be welcoming trespa.s.sers.'

Smith was silent for some time, then said: 'I'm a man who sees things through to the end.'

'Maybe the end is closer than you think. It's dark enough now. I'm going first.'

Navarro said: 'Senor Hamilton. 1 am much lighter -'

'Thank you. But that's just the point. I'm a heavy man and I'm carrying a heavy pack. If it takes my weight - well, you should all be okay.'

Ramon said: 'A thought occurs to me.'

'And to me.' He moved towards the straw bridge.

'What was that meant to mean?' Maria said.

'He thinks, perhaps, that they will have a welcome mat out over there.'

'Oh. A guard.'

Hamilton moved steadily across the straw bridge. That is, he made steady progress. The bridge itself was shockingly unsteady, swaying from side to side. Hamilton was now more than half-way across. The bridge sagged so badly in the middle that he had to haul himself up a fairly steep incline. But he was experiencing no great difficulty. He arrived safely on a platform similar to the one he had left on the other side of the gorge. He crouched low, for the platform was only a few feet lower than the plateau. Cautiously, he lifted his head.

There was, indeed, a guard, but he was not taking his duties too seriously. He was smoking a cigarette and, of all things, relaxing in a deck chair. Hamilton's bent arm was raised to shoulder level. His handkerchief-wrapped hand held the blade of his heavy sheath knife. The guard drew deeply on his cigarette, clearly illuminating his face. He made no sound as the haft of the knife struck him between the eyes, just tipped to one side and fell out of his chair.

Hamilton turned and flashed his torch three times. Within minutes he was joined one by one by eight people who had not enjoyed their pa.s.sage across the rope bridge.

Hamilton said: 'Let's go and see the boss man.' He could find his way blindfolded and led them silently through the ancient ruins. Shortly he stopped and pointed.

There was a large and fairly new wooden hall with lights showing. The sound of voices carried.

'Barracks,' Hamilton said. 'Mess hall and sleeping accommodation.

Guards.'

Tracy said: 'Guards? Why?'

'Guilty conscience somewhere.'

'What's that noise?' Smith said.

'Generator.'

'Where do we go from here?'

'There.' Hamilton pointed again. At the foot of the giant ziggurat was another but much smaller wooden building. Lights also shone from that building.

'That's where the guilty conscience lives.' Hamilton was silent for a few moments. 'The man j , who every night feels dead feet trampling over his grave.'

Silver said: 'Mr Hamilton --'

'Nothing, nothing. Ramon, Navarro. I wonder if you see what I see?'

'Yes, indeed,' Ramon said. 'There are two men standing in the shadow of that porch.'

Hamilton seemed to ponder for a few moments. 'I wonder what they could be doing there?'

'We'll go and ask them.'

Ramon and Navarro melted into the shadows.

Smith said: 'Who are these two? Your a.s.sistants, I mean. They are not Brazilian.'

'No.'

'European?'

'Yes.'

Ramon and Navarro returned as silently and un.o.btrusively as they had left.

'Well,' Hamilton said. 'What did they say?'

'Not a great deal,' Navarro said. 'I think they may tell us when they wake up.'

CHAPTER NINE.

Inside the smaller wooden house was a large dining-c.u.m-living-room. The walls were much behung with flags, banners, portraits, swords, rapiers, guns and pictures, all German. Behind a table a large, rather red-faced, heavily jowled man was eating a solitary meal to be washed down by beer from a pewter litre mug beside him. He looked up in amazement as the door crashed open.

Hamilton, pistol in hand, entered. He was followed by Smith, then the others.

'Guten abend, Hamilton said. 'I've brought an old friend along to see you.' He nodded towards Smith. 'I think old friends should smile and shake hands and say "hallo", don't you? You don't?'

Hamilton's pistol fired, gouging a hole in the seated man's desk.

'Nervous hands,' Hamilton said. 'Ramon?'

Ramon went behind the desk and removed a gun from an already half-opened drawer.

'Try the other drawer,' Hamilton said. Ramon did so and came up with a second gun.

'Can't really blame you,' Hamilton said. 'There are thieves and robbers everywhere these days. Well. Embarra.s.sing silences bother me. Let me introduce you to each other. Behind the desk, Major-General Wolfgang Von Manteuffel of the S.S., variously known as Brown or Jones. Beside me, Colonel Heinrich Spaatz, also known as Smith, also of the S.S., Inspector General and a.s.sistant Inspector General of the north and central Polish concentration and extermination camps, thieves on a colossal scale, murderers of old men in Holy orders and despoilers of monasteries. Remember, that's where you last met -- in that Grecian monastery where you cremated the monks. But, then, you were specialists in cremation, weren't you?'

They weren't saying whether they were or not. The stillness in the room was total. All eyes were on Hamilton with the exception of those of Von Manteuffel and Spaatz: they had eyes only for each other.

'Sad,' Hamilton said. 'Very sad. Spaatz came all this long way to see you, Von Manteuffel. Admittedly, he came to kill you, but he did come.

Something, I believe, to do with a rainy night in the Wilhelmshaven docks.'

There came the sharp crack of a small-bore automatic. Hamilton looked at Tracy who, gun loose in an already nerveless hand, was sinking to the floor and from the state of his head it was clear he would never rise again. Maria had a gun in her hand and was very pale.

Hamilton said: 'My gun is on you.'

She put her automatic back in her bush jacket pocket. 'He was going to kill you.'

'He was,' Ramon said.

Hamilton looked at her in bafflement. 'He was going to kill me, so you killed him?