Matt had seen some of them, dressed in grey overalls with the letters SNI printed in red on their sleeves. He had also seen what he assumed were scientists, wearing white coats, as well as others in suits. Salamanda had a fleet of electric cars, little more than golf buggies, to ferry them between buildings. There was also a launch pad with a small, black helicopter in the middle. Armed guards in military dress patrolled the entire compound on foot and mounted security cameras swivelled to take in anyone who passed.
Matt, Pedro, Richard and Atoc were lying on a sand dune some distance away, examining the compound through field glasses that Professor Chambers had found for them. She herself was waiting at Paracas. Atoc had a bandage around his neck and moved slowly – but he had insisted on making the journey with them.
“What do you think?” Richard said.
“Professor Chambers was right,” Matt said. “We’d need a small army to break in here.”
“Yes.” Atoc nodded. “And we have one.”
They arrived with the setting sun. They had heard Matt’s call. It had taken them twenty-four hours to cross Peru, coming by car and by train and now they were here, assembling on the beach at Paracas.
The Incas’ army was about fifty strong, dressed in dark jeans and black shirts, ready for the attack that would take place that evening. But if their clothes were modern, their weapons were not. They had brought with them the arms and armour that their ancestors had used. As deadly as they looked, Matt couldn’t help but think that it seemed a bizarre mix.
Some of the Incas wore padded cotton jackets. Some had helmets made from wood that was pitch black and as hard as iron. Some carried wooden shields covered with deerskin and many of them had clubs with a strange, star-shaped head made of stone. This was the macana, a favourite weapon of the ancient Incas. One blow could crack open a skull or fracture a limb.
There were other weapons too. Matt saw spears, slingshots and halberds – which were a combination of spear, hook and axe at the end of a long pole. A few of the Incas carried bolas, three copper balls tied together on leather cords. Thrown at a man’s neck, they would swing round and strangle him, perhaps knocking him senseless at the same time.
Professor Chambers had watched the arrival in silent astonishment. The soldiers were all physically similar – more Indian than Peruvian. And their weapons were instantly recognizable. She sat down heavily on a rock and began to fan herself. A crab scuttled in front of her and she nudged it away.
Fifty men stood silently on the sand with the silver waves breaking behind them. A few pelicans eyed them warily, sitting on a broken jetty. A flamingo took fright and hurried away. There was nobody else in sight. Perhaps they knew what was happening here. Perhaps they had been warned to stay out of the way.
Atoc had told the men what they had to do, speaking in their own language. Now he turned to Matt. “We are ready,” he said. “You stay here with Pedro, the professor and your friend. We return when job is done.”
“No.” Matt didn’t know what he was saying. Or rather, he didn’t know why he was saying it. A couple of weeks ago, in England, he hadn’t even wanted to come to Peru. But since then, everything had changed. Every fibre of his being told him that he couldn’t let the Incas take on his fight alone. “I’m coming with you, Atoc. I started this and I want to be there at the end.”
“Yo tambien,” Pedro said.
Atoc hesitated for a moment. But he could see something in Matt’s eyes that hadn’t been there before and slowly he nodded. “We will obey you,” he said. “For it is true, as the amauta said. You were sent to lead…”
“Then it looks like I’m coming too,” Richard said.
Matt turned to him. “You don’t have to, Richard. You can stay with the professor.”
“You’re not getting rid of me that easily.” Richard sighed. “I told you back in York – my job is to look after you and that’s what I’m going to do. All the way to the bitter end.”
“Then let’s do it,” Matt said.
He raised a hand. And from that moment he was in command, the head of an army that had assembled to do what he asked.
Salamanda’s compound lay ahead.
As one, they set off to do battle.
The night of Inti Raymi had arrived.
CONTROL CENTRE
Darkness had already fallen as the Incas took their positions, stretching out in a long line across the sand in front of the compound. Matt couldn’t believe he was with them. A thousand years before, the Inca army had swept across South America: fast, merciless and unstoppable. Now their descendants were at war again and they were here because he and Pedro had called them. Pedro was right in the middle of them, next to Atoc. He didn’t look afraid. Anyone watching might have thought he was in command. Matt hardly recognized him as the beggar boy he had met in the streets of Lima. With every minute that passed, Pedro was becoming more like the figure he had seen on the gold disc – Manco Capac, the first lord of the Incas.
The razor-tipped wire of the perimeter fence loomed up in front of them. Atoc gave a signal, lowering his palm towards the sand and at once everyone dropped to their knees. It was ten o’clock at night but the compound was still active, with lights burning in many of the buildings and the occasional vehicle crossing from one side to the other, its engine whining like an oversized mosquito.
Atoc pointed at the radio mast and spoke quietly in his own language. Matt understood what he was saying. This was the primary target. Once the transmitter fell, Salamanda would be unable to control his satellite – his silver swan. Matt glanced upwards. Already the stars were appearing in the night sky. He could see them twinkling over the mountains, falling into positions that had been dictated for them twenty-six thousand years ago. But one of them was a fake, a ton of aluminium and steel, sneaking in to complete a deadly combination. Which one of them was it? Matt thought he could see a pinprick of light moving faster than the others – but he couldn’t be sure. All he knew was that the swan was up there, just as it had been in his dream, and that, unless they stopped it, it would soon be in place.
Two of the Incas shuffled forward and took up positions closer to the wire, crouching on one knee. They were each holding a spear, a three-metre length of wood whose point had been hardened in flames. Silently, they waited. Atoc took one last look around, then nodded. The two Incas ran a few paces and threw the spears, aiming upwards. Matt was astonished by their strength and precision. The spears flew into the night, rising above the compound. There were two soft thuds and, high up in the watchtowers, two guards turned and crumpled. One disappeared from sight. The other slumped forward and was still, his head and arms draped over the side. The spear had gone straight through him.
The attack had begun – but they still had to get inside the compound, and that meant passing through the electronic gates. Atoc signalled a second time and a low, open-backed truck covered in tarpaulin rolled up to the security barrier. The driver – bored and unshaven – leant out of the window and hooted as if he was in a hurry to get home. Three guards, all of them armed, came out to meet him. They were moving warily. Matt guessed that they would have been told to allow nobody in. Not tonight. The entire compound would be on a state of alert.
“Quien es usted? Que desea?”
The words sounded faint and distant. The driver muttered something, but so quietly that the first of the guards had to lean into the cabin to hear what he said. It was a mistake. Matt saw a hand lash out, clutching the guard around the neck. At the same time, the tarpaulin was thrown back and two figures leapt out, each swinging a club with a star-shaped head. A second later, all three guards were unconscious or dead. The driver raised a hand towards Atoc.
“Here we go,” Richard whispered.
Matt nodded. It was incredible to think of these age-old weapons being used to storm a twenty-first-century research centre, but so far the Incas had proved themselves to be effective – and deadly.