Arrangements were made to take the train from Lima to Cerro de Pasco at first light and once they made their way to the capital and boarded the train, Arny settled back to enjoy the scenery as they climbed from the coast up into the mountains on the highest railway in the world. The pass from Lima to Tarma and Cerro de Pasco, stood 4800 meters (15,760 ft) high with the peaks remaining snow covered year round and Arny strained his neck to admire the proof looking up from the small windows of the train.

The section of the central Andes they moved through consisted of an evergreen tropical rain forest that covered the lower slopes but the higher plateaus supported only a sparse covering of grasses and stunted shrubs painted a dull gold by the rising sun, and above the timberline, treeless highland meadows dominated. Occasionally, Sander, who elected to join them on the train journey home, would point out samples of smaller trees like the wild cinchona, a source of quinine and give Arny a dissertation on the animal life when they spotted the odd llama or alpaca.

He told Arny to watch the sky for sign of the largest bird of prey in the world, the condor. It wasn't likely but it was always exciting to hope for a glimpse.

The train eventually slowed as it entered the outskirts of Cerro de Pasco under a brilliant blue sky and a warm sun and Sander seemed overly concerned that his uniform and appearance be one of spit and polish. Gretta dragged her bags down from the overhead storage net and smiled sweetly at Arny, who dutifully shouldered most of them as they made their way to the exit.

As they walked into town, Sander reiterated the history lesson he'd given the professor about how the town at one time was one of the world's richest silver-mining centers, but the Spanish exhausted the deposits and the mines were now dedicated to copper, which went south to La Oroya, to be smelted in one of the largest metallurgical plants in the world. Arny listened dutifully while Gretta rubbernecked.

Sander marched ahead with a military bearing, leading them through the town past stalls of vendors, lumped together as if for support then across a dusty field small boys were using to kick a partially deflated leather ball, to the office of the local police.

Captain Warez watched the little parade from his office window, wondering about the tall woman who seemed to command authority in spite of her manly dress and the fact that she did not carry much of the baggage she and the other man seemed to have brought. Sander's telegraph had advised him of the circumstances in Callao and the visitors with whom he would be returning.

"Welcome to Cerro de Pasco, Senorita Lawrence and to you as well, Mister Wainright." Warez stood back from the door as they entered and Arny dropped all the bags with a noisy breath of relief.

"Thanks Captain ah, Warez?"

"Correct. Please, come into my office."

They all found chairs facing the Captain's desk and after Sander made arrangements for refreshments, Gretta pre-empted the conversation by asking exactly where the ornament was found. She placed it on his desk and waited, staring.

"Too much small talk wastes time, don't you agree?" Warez smiled at his joke and picked up the ornament. "This comes from a Bijawi village up in the Gran Pajonal. I'm certain Lieutenant Sander advised you of this."

"The where?" Arny asked.

"It means great grassland. It's a plateau north of here."

"The senorita is well informed about our locality." Warez turned the ornament between his fingers.

"I try. The name came from 18th-century Franciscan missionaries. The climate is subtropical with a five-month dry season and vegetation consists of numerous small savannas scattered within montane tropical forests."

"What the hell is montane?"

"As elevations increase in a tropical forest, the species and vegetation structure begin to change. Rainfall, temperature, wind, and moisture are the most important factors affecting vegetation, although local geology also plays an important role. Montane rain forest is usually somewhere between 3000 and 10, 000 feet within or bordering tropical rain forest."

Arny's mouth fell open and he looked to the Captain who was listening with an amused smile.

"The plants cease to be purely tropical," Greta continued. "They're more temperate plant groups. The trees become smaller as altitude increases and diversity is reduced. Tree trunks look twisted and gnarled and overgrown with mosses and liverworts, a product of a misty or cloudy environment. Ferns and bamboos can be common."

"That is impressive memory work, senorita."

"I read it on the train on the way up."

"I commend your diligence."

"You were telling me about this Bijawi village?"

Warez went over the entire story again leaving nothing out and adding a few facts that he had discovered on his own since sending Sander to Callao. The Italian team that had been investigating the old silver mines on the plateau had consisted of nine members, six men and three women, financed by a wealthy Italian entrepreneur named Sebastian Bonnaro.

The body discovered by the Bijawi was that of the expedition second in command, Arno Bandotti. As far as he knew none of the others were recovered anywhere.

"Did anyone look?"

"I doubt it. These people, you must understand, don't go in for nosing about the haunts of spirits." This was said with an ironic smile.

"And the body of this Arno was burned in a religious ceremony."

"Correct." Warez passed the ornament back to Gretta and folded his hands together. "Senorita, it is my hope that you might consider looking further into this matter as a representative of your Congress."

"My employers have more or less forbidden me to undertake any private investigations, Captain."

"More . . . or less?" His smile was the epitome of charming.

Arny sat up. "Gretta?" He and the Captain traded glances.

"How far is this village from here?"

"About twenty minutes by small plane. There is a small strip at a place called Obenteni; it was once used by the military."

"Gretta?" Arny's voice sounded a warning.

"Where are they now?"

"Redeployed to counter the efforts of the Shining Path."

"Shining Path! Jesus, Gretta, that's a bunch of terrorists. We don't need trouble like that."

Gretta and Warez locked eyes, each reading the thoughts of the other, smiles playing at the corners of their mouths.

"A twenty minute plane ride can't hurt anything, Arny. Besides, you wanted more of a vacation didn't you?"

He threw up his hands. "Not in some damn montana rain forest with a gang of terrorists on the loose."

"It's not montana, Arny, it's montane and the Captain says that the military has left to fight the Shining Path elsewhere." Gretta pocketed the ornament and stood, shaking the Captain's hand. "Make the flight arrangements, Captain, we'll leave at any time."

********

Arny expected at least a semblance of civilization around an airstrip but Obenteni offered nothing of the kind, only heat and dust. Most of the population fled with the military and the mission was now occupied by a man so old and wizened, Arny wasn't certain he was alive. Sander, who seemed to have become the designated guide and chaperone, tried to question the old man but could get little more than drooling mumbles in reply.

"Who the hell takes care of him?" Arny asked in exasperation.

"One of the women sees that he gets food and clean clothes . . . as for the rest . . ." Sander made an apologetic shrug.

"And who looks after them?"

Gretta took him by the arm and marched him off toward the small group of natives huddled by a small hut.

"These women are the village caretakers while the men are away, Arny. They leave for long periods to do whatever men do and when they return they usually bring food and gifts. Obviously right now they are away." She squatted beside the group and spoke in a halting version of the local language mixed with Spanish and after sorting through the gabble of replies she stood, stretched and smiled broadly.

"About one hour from here on foot."

"What is?"

"The Bijawi village we're looking for."

"Christ, we have to hike now?"

"Arny, get in the mood. Join the adventure, geez. Last time you behaved this way we were kicking ass in Minatitlan in Mexico, remember?"

He frowned and ignored the questioning look from Sander, instead he shoved his hands in his pockets and silently resigned himself to another of Gretta's exploits.

The trail was little more than an animal track, a prospect Arny didn't find appealing, having heard about bears and jaguars and other possibly unpleasant fauna, and he concentrated, as he usually did, on the flexing muscles in Gretta's bottom as she strode confidently ahead of him.

Overhead, traces of feathery clouds shifted position creating a variety of imaginative patterns in the pale sky. Behind, he could hear Sander puffing noisily and wondered how much exercise the policeman might get in Cerro de Pasco and whether he was ever allowed out of uniform.

"There it is!" Gretta stopped and the others caught up. Below them, on the edge of a very steep gorge, a circle of crude huts stood like weary labourers awaiting their next command.

"Not much to look at." Arny offered.

"Few of them are," Sander said. "Life is quite simple up here as long as there is peace."

"Amen." Arny adjusted the pack on his back and waved Gretta forward with a sarcastic bow.

Imjin Kapta stood proudly at the edge of the settlement, his sparse hair wafting from the leathery skin of his head in the slight breeze and his blue stained teeth exposed in a welcoming smile. As Gretta approached, he tipped his head and extended a skinny hand.

"Welcome to our village, Senorita Lawrence."

Gretta stopped short, her hand partially raised and her mouth dropping open. "How did you know my name?"

Imjin smiled widely. "I have spent many years as consultant for this area with various archeological groups from around the world. One could hardly do that and not hear about the infamous Senorita Lawrence of the Congress of International Antiquities."

"Okay, but how did you know I was she?"

"As I said, Senorita . . . infamous." The smile grew at Gretta's light blush.

"You don't sound like someone who has spent his life in these mountains." She said, accepting his explanation and deferring to his research.

"I was educated in Lima at the National University of San Marcos; it is the oldest in the western hemisphere, dating from 1551. I chose to return here many, many years ago to use my education to assist the villagers in the plateau. The Bijawi people, at the time, were the most in need. I grew to become one of them and stayed."

Gretta looked around, raising an attractive eyebrow at the lack of any apparent progress.

"I understand how you feel, Senorita but these people don't require the same as those from your world. Simple solutions for daily needs are sufficient to maintain their style of life. I too have become very comfortable with this life."

"Kind of a waste though, wouldn't you say?"

"The biggest benefit is spiritual."

"Aah, we now get to the point." She dropped her pack and produced the ornament Imjin had given the Captain.

"I knew this would spark the interest of someone of your reputation." He grinned as though it was a big joke.

"You win. What can you tell me about it?"

"Nothing I'm afraid. It is totally foreign to me. The Italian who had it must have taken it from one of the mines in the gorge." He waved his hand behind him. "But I couldn't begin to tell you where, there are many abandoned mines in there, most buried by years of growth and erosion. I can only show you where he was found and perhaps your own experience may determine his track." Gretta reached for her pack and was stopped by his hand on her arm. "First we eat . . . it is tradition" The statement was not a request.