Imjin shaded his eyes as he watched the arrival of the four men from the airstrip and felt in his soul that they spelled trouble. He turned and instructed the women and children to go into their huts and stay out of sight then he wrapped his cloth about his shoulders and went to meet the newcomers.

Salvatore Cossto removed his broad-brimmed hat and wiped his forehead, replacing the hat and studying the old man standing in his path.

"Welcome, sirs. How may I help you?"

"You the chief?" Dante growled.

"I am the village elder, I try to represent this humble village." Imjin smiled pleasantly.

"Where are all the men?" Dante asked.

"Are you planning on working in the area?" Imjin asked, avoiding a direct answer.

"What's it to you?" Stork spat. "You collect a percentage or something?"

Imjin considered the attitude of the men and his worry level mounted. "Of course not, sir. I'm just asking out of curiosity."

"You know what happened to the cat, old man." Dante pushed past and headed toward the huts.

"They are just woman and children," Imjin called after him, turning to plead with the man that seemed to be the leader. "How can I be of help? We want no trouble."

"The Italian archeological team that came through here, where did they go?"

"Into the gorges somewhere. I don't really know, they never came back."

"One did." Salvatore stared hard.

"Not really. One of our children found him in the riverbed, he was dead . . . mutilated."

"And you and your merry band of woman and children burned his body."

Imjin spread his hands. "Care of the dead is a ritual tradition with these people. We have no means of transporting bodies and the police in Cerro de Pasco wouldn't spend the money to send a plane . . . " His statement trailed away at the scowl on the man's face.

"Hey!" The shout drew their attention to the huts and Imjin let out a shout of protest as Dante appeared with two young girls in his grasp. "There's a whole bunch of these inside, take a look."

"Please, sir, they are children . . . "

Salvatore stepped past and walked to where Dante was holding the two young girls, grinning. "How old are you?" He asked. The girls trembled and stared blankly.

"Sir! Sir, they are barely into their teens. Please, please don't harm them." Imjin hobbled up to the group clutching his cloth tightly. "We will try and do whatever you ask, whatever help-" The pain shocked his eyes and his mouth open in a grotesque distortion of his features and the last thing he heard was the wail of the two young girls.

********

Gretta stopped on the edge of the stand of trees and waited for the men to catch up.

"What's up?" Arny slipped his pack off to ease the ache in his shoulders.

"That's the young boy that led us into the gorge."

"Ahh, a welcoming committee."

"I don't think so." She walked toward the boy who was slumped over a tree stump, not moving.

Sander caught up and questioned Arny about the stop. "The boy that was our guide is over there. Gretta thinks something is wrong." The two men hurried after her and stopped short, dropping their packs and waiting as Gretta held the small boy in her arms.

"He's been hurt and he's mumbling in a language I'm not familiar with. Sander?" She looked up questioningly.

Sander knelt beside her and stroked the boy's hair, speaking in the same language. His face grew stern and then pale and his eyes flitted from the boy to Gretta and back.

"The language is a dialect of Quechua. He says the village is gone..."

"Gone! What do you mean, gone?"

Sander related the boy's tale and Gretta and Arny stood flabbergasted at the horror of the story.

"I'll take your pack, Arny, you bring the boy." Gretta struck out without further word and Arny hefted the small boy in his arms and scurried after her and Sander.

The sight that first met them was Imjin on the ground like some discarded garment. His cloth robe was covered in a black stain that turned out to be blood, his chest a savage wound clustered with insects. His once calm face stretched in the hideous rictus of painful death. Gretta felt her throat seize as she looked beyond to the silent huts and she walked unsteadily toward them. Arny lay the boy down on a blanket from his pack and began tending the cuts and bruises on his tiny frame. Sander followed Gretta.

He looked up from the boy as Gretta returned, her whole body shaking and her lips a pale white. She stopped in front of him and stared at the boy.

"He is the only survivor." Her voice was shaky and weak and when he stood to comfort her, Sander walked stiff-legged from the huts, tears streaming down his face and his mouth twisted in despair.

"What happened?" Arny tried.

"More like, what didn't?" She replied, gaining some composure. Sander sank to the ground with his head in his hands and she leaned over and patted his back. "We need to contact your Captain and get back to Cerro de Pasco as fast as possible."

"What about...?" Arny pointed to Imjin and the huts beyond.

"Well, I don't know the ceremony but burning seems to be the finale."

"And him?" Arny indicated the boy.

"We'll take him to Cerro de Pasco with us." Gretta tapped Sander on the shoulder and told him her plan. He nodded absently and dragged himself up.

"There are some prayers that need to be said. I will do that."

********

Captain Warez listened with a stony face as Sander made his formal report and then as Gretta added her own opinions and findings. Pakko, the boy survivor, was placed with a family in the town who were friends of his relatives and Gretta promised to visit him before she left the country. Captain Warez made some notes and sent Sander off to contact the customs and immigration department at the Aeroperú airline then he placed Gretta's call to Callao and told her how to contact the hospital.

Arny slouched on a bench in the outer office, the images of the horror in Obenteni playing vividly in his mind. The Captain came out of his office and joined him on the seat.

"The missing Italian party was bad enough but this, this is a travesty. My country will not tolerate the presence of foreigners much longer if this is the behaviour they bring."

"I don't think you can blame all of us for this, Captain. A certain element always seems to be drawn by the lure of treasure and not for particularly virtuous reasons either."

"Hunting treasure is one thing, Mister Wainright, this is entirely another matter."

"I'm not arguing, Captain, I'm just saying that not all of us are like that."

Gretta returned from the office with news that Chester was doing well but had to remain in hospital for a while yet as they had suffered a small outbreak of infection. They would know more in a few days.

"A few days!"

"Forget it, Arny, I'm not going anywhere until this is settled."

"Gretta, this is a job for the Captain here and his- his own forces."

"The man, Imjin, gave his life because he got involved in the events surrounding the Italian archeological party. I will not let that go un-addressed."

Arny turned to Warez and waited.

"I will need any assistance I can get, Senorita Lawrence. Sander and I are the only official police in this district right now. The Shining Path has caused the government to draw on all sources to combat their insurgence."

"Great." Arny sighed and blew out a noisy breath.

"I contacted the Congress while I was in there as well. They agree that whatever the Italians found that caused all this slaughter definitely needs investigating."

"And they appointed you. They didn't ask how come you were meddling?"

"Yes, I was reprimanded but I am here already, Arny. It would be ridiculous to send someone else."

"I like ridiculous from time to time."

"Not this time."

********

Andy Stork lit a small cigar and inhaled deeply. Sunlight filtered through the trees into the gorge and he shaded his eyes as he looked up to the sky.

"I love that colour blue."

"Forget the sky, what did you find?" Salvatore wiped his forehead with a damp rag. They had left the village and aimlessly traipsed around in all directions for many hours before settling on their current route.

"Tracks. Lots of tracks, but fresh."

"What's that mean?"

"It means that somebody else has been this way recently and that wouldn't be your dead ditch diggers, Mate."

"You should be careful how you characterize my countrymen . . . Mate."

Stork grinned and sucked hard on his cigar. Bloody wops are all the same, he mused, just like the frogs.

"How many, old boy?" Cyril asked.

"Stork shrugged, "Looks like three, maybe more, hard to tell. Some of the tracks underneath could be older but like I said . . ."

"Can you tell how old?"

"Nope." Stork tossed his cigar down the hill into the river. "I should mention that they ain't natives, not with boots like those."

Dante spat and made a face. "Let's just get on with it. Anybody gets in the way we do them like the village back there."

"That was your shining hour, wasn't it, Carlo?" Mumford said with disgust.

"Waste not, want not, Limey, that's my motto." Dante started up the hill in the direction of the tracks Stork found.

"Bloody savage." Cyril shouldered the gun he'd assembled from parts hidden in his luggage and mentally pictured Dante in the crosshairs.

"You weren't too shy back there yourself, Mummy," Stork chuckled, joining his companion as he headed up the trail.

"Taking sex from available women doesn't bother me, old boy, it's the manner in which one pursues the act. That man is nothing more than a primitive butcher . . . and he enjoys the brutality. I wouldn't expose my backside to him if I were you, old boy."

"If I'm an old boy, exposing my backside isn't much of a risk, is it, mate?" Stork let out a rude laugh and gave Mumford a friendly push.

Salvatore pressed the binoculars tight against his face and did a slow pivot across the top of the gorge. The sunlight was fading as the canopy of trees thickened and he cursed silently at the timing of reaching what might be a dangerous area. He checked with Stork again, satisfied that the tracks were not that fresh and that nothing else had been along the same track recently.

"We'll hit the top and set up a camp forthe night. You and Dante take first watch, I'll take over with Mumford."Salvatore watched the Australian for any objection. There was no way he wasleaving those two commonwealth bastards on watch together.