Burial Ground

V

11:28 p.m.

The fire had dwindled to smoldering coals. Colton had thrown a pile of waxy green leaves onto the embers to create a thick cloud of smoke that would hold the bloodthirsty insects at bay for a little while, if only long enough for the others to fall asleep inside their tents beneath the lower canopy. Rain still fell as a mist and dripped in swollen droplets from the tips of the leaves, creating a sound like invisible creatures scampering across the detritus. The others needed to rest while they could. The journey ahead would be perilous and physically demanding. Colton would have been more than happy to join them were it not for the tingling sensation in his gut. He trusted it implicitly in the way an arthritic trusts his aching joints to predict an imminent storm, and right now it felt as though an electrical current had formed a circuit in his bowels.

His men must have sensed it, too. They prowled the darkness with feigned curiosity, but Colton knew they were looking for something. The same thing he was. It was gratifying to know that they felt it as well. However, the validation was also unnerving.

They had grown a tail.

He had first noticed it earlier in the morning. There were many variables within a man's control, even in the rainforest, but he could never influence or predict nature's response to his intrusion. There had been one bend in particular where their boats had startled a flock of red-masked parakeets to flight. The green and crimson birds had swirled overhead until all three boats had passed before finally returning to their roosts. Roughly two hours later, he had witnessed the same flock rise from the canopy, mere dots through the wavering branches against the pale gray sky in the distance. Later in the day he had seen that same ugly black condor take to the skies far behind them. It had circled the meal it had already claimed for some time before dropping back down out of sight. And every now and then, like the spectral mooning of the wind across a Scottish moor, he could have sworn he heard the faint echo of an outboard motor.

Someone was definitely following them, but who? And why? This wasn't a frequently traveled waterway. Its seasonal nature and the unpredictability of its rise and fall made it dangerous. Floods could rush down the mountains from the high country with a ferocity that could swamp a boat and drown all aboard. Conversely, the river could also peter to a trickle that would mire even a shallow dugout and potentially leave it stranded for months. It could always be more explorers like themselves, but he hadn't seen anyone in town who fit the bill. Then again, they hadn't kept their profile as low as he had recommended while in the city. Between the roving camera crew and the simple influx of white faces, they had surely drawn enough attention to have half of the population following them out of suspicion. Colton tended to think otherwise, though. He couldn't trust that no one had learned about the relic in Hunter's possession. Antiquities of questionable provenance fetched huge money on the black market, and there were men who were willing to do anything to get their hands on them. If word had leaked that there were artifacts crafted in solid gold at an unspecified location in these mountains, then the hills could already be crawling with murderous bandits. Or worse, if someone had recognized the implications of the rocks Hunter found, they could be dealing with a different kind of pirate entirely. Relics were small game, but a gold mine with a yield in the tens of millions was the big time. Entire expedition parties had been slaughtered for less.

Or maybe he was just being paranoid.

One glance at the other men only confirmed that if that were the case, it was contagious.

If anyone had learned of Hunter's discoveries, then someone must have blabbed. Merritt had found the body and could easily have shared the information. Based on his background and his shady history, it was possible that he had the knowledge to recognize the significance of the placers and the kind of brass clankers it took to stand before them and lie right to their faces. Was he in collusion with those that followed them? Then there was the Consulate. There could be potential leaks anywhere in that building. It was a cog in the capitalistic machine that was the United States after all. And, of course, there was the Peruvian government, which could have sent entire military contingents into the rainforest to search for more treasure.

He needed to take a step back and evaluate the situation objectively. The Ejército del Perú could be safely eliminated, as its soldiers weren't the kind of men with the requisite patience to follow from a distance. They would have descended upon them with all guns blazing and dragged them by their hair through the jungle to secure the prize. So what did that leave? Again, his thoughts returned to Merritt. The pilot was the wild card, the element of unpredictability. If he were responsible for their stealthy pursuit and proved to be a snake in their midst, then Colton would take great pleasure in slitting his throat.

Rippeth sidled up to him and spoke so that only he could hear.

"We could head back downriver while it's still dark and flush them out."

Colton admired the man's directness. In cases like this, however, patience was more than a virtue. It was a weapon.

"Not yet. Let them think we don't know they're there. They'll eventually grow overconfident. When they make their move, we'll be ready." Colton followed the man's gaze to the channel leading into the valley. Whoever was following them would eventually have to pass through there. "Besides, I need some time to figure out if we have a mole in our ranks."

Rippeth nodded, but kept his hand within easy reach of the sidearm tucked into the back of his pants.

"You and your men take shifts watching the camp," Colton said. "If anyone so much as attempts to breach the perimeter, I'll pay you fifty grand a head."

"Just the head?" Rippeth asked through a smirk. A strange light twinkled behind his eyes.

Colton clapped him on the shoulder and strolled back over to the fire. The humming of the giant mosquitoes had swelled to a whine. He threw more leaves onto the coals to reinforce the smoke.

Smiling, he turned back toward the lake.

Let their followers come, for they would soon learn that in the jungle, the roles of predator and prey were easily enough reversed.