Carved In Stone: Erin and Craig Books, #3

By Kenneth Joel Teicher

The Peruvian Department of the Interior recruits noted archeologist Professor Roger Williams to conduct a dig in the ruins of Machu Picchu. Believing in the potential for exciting discoveries, he invites his old friend Erin Mathews to participate. While flying into Cusco, Erin tells her husband Craig, a retired army intelligence officer and ex-CIA operative that they'll be working at an elevation of 8,000 feet in the Peruvian Andes. The thin air turns out to be the least of their problems.

The local descendants of the Inca believe the archeologists are digging on their ancestors holy ground and will try anything they can think of to stop the work. They begin with mischievous acts to no avail and escalate their acts to include provoking a brawl, break-ins, abductions and the theft of some of the pottery that is unearthed. While excavating a series of heavily overgrown farm terraces only simple items are discovered but the elusive 'great discovery' remains just out of reach.

Craig tries in vain to have the archeologists call off their dig. Failing the effort, he helps enlist the aid of the Peruvian Army to provide protection. The local people are not deterred and ultimately organize a vicious armed attack. Still not convinced they should call off the dig, the archeologists continuing working their way down the twenty terrace hillside and ultimately make the discovery of a lifetime. But before they can examine their exciting find, the roof of the cave they are working in collapses, burying Roger and their unbelievable discovery under tons of rubble. Recuperating in a hospital bed after nearly being killed herself, Erin babbles on about the pictures she's taken of the find – or was it all a dream?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Kenneth Joel Teicher
• Release date: Apr 27, 2012
• ISBN: 9781476348513

Kenneth Joel Teicher

Having grown up in a home where reading was treated as not just a pastime but also a true pursuit. I have been reading many genres all my life, from historical biographies to science fiction. I have also learned to love the craft of writing. After years of diligent effort, I self-published my first book in 1991. Trips including historic sites, during a period of more than forty-five years, have always fascinated me - from the Roman Forum and Pompeii in Italy, the Acropolis in Greece, Stonehenge and the Roman Baths in England, the fantastic ancient city of Ephesus in Turkey, the ruins of Carthage in Tunisia, the fabulous Great Pyramids and Sphinx in Egypt, various sites in Israel, the fabled city of Machu Picchu in Peru, the Mayan ruins at Chichén Itzä in Mexico, The Terracotta Warriors and the Great Wall in China, and countless other locations around the world. These adventures have strengthened my fascination with the wonders of ancient civilizations and my growing amateur interest in the study of archaeology. They also triggered my desire to create a series of stories that have developed into the Erin and Craig action/adventure series. These stories are based on many of the locations noted above. I am currently working on the fifth book in the series. Future trips to other exotic and historic locals will, I hope, provide additional stimulating sites on which to base future stories in the series. My other passion is the fanciful world of science fiction. Over the years, I have sought to add my own work to the field. I am currently editing the seventh addition to this part of my collection.

Book preview

CHAPTER ONE

11,000 feet!

It didn’t sound like much until Craig realized it was more than two miles up. That would be the altitude of their first destination, Cusco, Peru, his wife Erin told him on the way to the airport. Craig had some experience with altitude having done some parachute jumping while in the army, but never more than about 3,000 feet. Erin went on to say that Cusco, a city nestled in the Peruvian Andes, was only their initial destination.

She warned him that he might need a little time to acclimatize and may even need some help from a small oxygen tank. She told him that many travelers found the local coca tea helped their bodies adapt to the thinner atmosphere. The curious look on his face caused her to giggle as she explained that the tea contained a small amount of the narcotic. Their final destination, Machu Picchu, was only about 8,000 feet above sea level and, she promised, would be easier to endure.

The seatbelt sign winked off and Craig turned to his wife to see if she wanted anything to drink. Erin’s head was already leaning against the cabin wall and her shallow, even breathing told him she was already asleep. Laughing to himself, he acknowledged she had only two modes, working furiously or sleeping so soundly it was nearly impossible to wake her. The steward repeated his offer for something to drink and Craig decided to let Erin rest.

Returning the young man’s smile, he ordered coffee. As the steward moved on, Craig noted the glances from passengers across the aisle and attempted to ignore them. It seemed that wherever his renowned archeologist wife was, someone always recognized her. It was a response, he thought, that should only be reserved for celebrities like movie stars or maybe politicians. It seemed strange that an archeologist could share the same notoriety.

During Erin’s twenty-three years of fieldwork, she made several discoveries that managed to find their way onto the front page of newspapers across the world. Craig had been with her on a dig when she discovered a large cache of scrolls determined to be from the famed library at Alexandria.

The story remained in the papers for more than a week, slowly moving from page one to a quiet burial on the back page. Other discoveries made both before and after they met, generated a reputation envied by many of her colleagues. Erin, for reasons Craig never understood, hated receiving any kind of notoriety. She found being in the public eye an uncomfortable embarrassment and was even reluctant to accept the praise of her colleagues.

Craig caught himself smiling as he recalled how she complained when he told her how her face turned almost as red as her hair when someone chased her across an airport, pleading for an autograph. Glancing over to her now, made him think more about how much he loved her. She turned in her sleep and her lips formed a thin smile. Even as she slept and her face was relaxed, he could discern her high cheekbones and her perfect complexion.

Erin stood only two inches shorter than Craig’s six-foot height. Her regular exercise did not allow an ounce of fat to accumulate on her statuesque physique. Her long red hair framed her face and when her green eyes twinkled, she looked almost like a pixie. She scolded him on more than one occasion when he told her she could easily become a fashion model if she ever tired of archeology.

They met six years ago when Craig was working as a mercenary. He was hired to provide security for a group of archeologists led by Erin and her grandfather. At first, the job seemed like a waste of his talent. But they quickly became embroiled with a secret society, bent on preventing Erin from achieving her goal, even at the cost of her life.

Craig exploited every trick he learned while in military intelligence and the CIA to protect Erin and her group. Traveling with her from Greece, to Egypt, to Israel, they developed an unbreakable attraction, while staying one step ahead of their ruthless assailants. Ultimately, Erin was forced into giving up her discovery to protect the lives of her team as well as her own.

After returning to New York, their relationship continued to grow stronger. Three years ago, Craig somehow managed to muster the courage to ask Erin to marry him. He would never forget her fit of laughter as she asked why it took him so long to ask. Unfortunately, their professions forced them to be apart for extended periods. Craig’s successful fieldwork motivated him to begin his own security business. The enterprise grew quickly, allowing him the freedom to accompany Erin on some of her excavations, but he was not looking forward to this one.

The Peruvian Government was sponsoring the excavation and had arranged for their tickets on a LAN Peru flight. Craig, always uncomfortable in coach, was able to upgrade their economy class tickets for two in first class. At least he would be able to stretch out during the eleven-hour flight from New York.

After finishing his coffee, Craig reclined the seat to a nearly horizontal position and tried to find a comfortable position. He repressed a smile when he looked down at his jeans. Life had become so informal. He remembered his father telling him, so many years ago, that the expected dress for men when flying was a suit and tie. Today, the only time Craig wore a suit was when he met with new clients. Even at those meetings, he often felt overdressed.

Reaching past Erin; he pulled down the window shade and closed his eyes. Finding himself smiling again, he realized there was little point in closing the shade. The only flight for Peru left JFK at 11:15 PM and would not arrive until nine the next morning. He hated flying at night. He knew it was irrational since modern planes were loaded with all kinds of advanced technology. Still, the idea of a pilot flying in the dark made him uncomfortable.

After lapsing into a light sleep, Craig began to snore. His dreams were troubled. Something bothered him about this trip but he could not clearly see what it might be. Without warning, Erin began poking her elbow into his side to wake him.

Wake up. They’ll be serving dinner soon, she told him, not mentioning that his snoring had awoken her.

He turned to her, attempting to hide his grimace. Craig never found airline food to his liking. But we ate before we left.

I know, but that was four hours ago and we really should take advantage. We won’t eat again until we get to the hotel, probably not until after ten. I’m not sure if the hotel will still be serving breakfast that late.

I hope it’ll be a nice hotel, Craig changed the subject. Some of the hotels Erin booked for them were little more than youth hostels.

Oh yeah, the Hotel Monasterio is a really wonderful place. It’s just off one of the main squares in Cusco. It was originally a real monastery, but the rooms have all been updated. It’s a wonderful, relaxing place in a more quiet part of the city away from the tourist areas.

Sounds … interesting, Craig responded as he read through the menu.

Reluctantly, he chose what he hoped would be a reasonable steak dinner and a glass of red wine. Erin, always watching her weight, choose a salad and coffee. The cabin steward first spread a large white cloth over each foldout tray table and then placed a napkin, silverware, and personal salt and pepper shakers on each place. Glass water goblets were added and quickly filled. Craig’s wine was poured from a bottle he was first offered to inspect and Erin’s coffee came in a small china pot.

Their meals were delivered with the flourish of a fine restaurant waiter. Craig could barely hide his smirk at the performance of the cabin steward. Halfway through the meal, he realized the food wasn’t so bad after all, or maybe he was just too hungry to care.

So, you said this guy Williams was being cryptic when he invited you to his dig. What can be so exciting that you just had to go to Peru? Craig asked, after they finished eating.

"I’m really not sure. My friend, Professor Williams, she corrected, would only say that he was certain he was on the verge of making a fantastic discovery and he desperately needed my help."

That doesn’t make much sense.

Erin thought for a minute before responding. Yeah, you’re right. If he’s so close to making a discovery, why does he need me? He told me he has a group of eleven people working with him. I know some of them and they’re a very talented group.

He refused to give you any details?

Yeah, he said I had to wait for him to show me. But knowing Roger, I’m sure it’ll be worth the trip.

I hope so, but you know how I hate mysteries.

Oh, come on, it’ll be fun.

Yeah, lots of fun digging holes at 8,000 feet, just my idea of a good time.

Don’t worry, you’ll be fine.

After their trays were removed, they both brought their seats to an almost horizontal position. Craig leaned over to kiss Erin, silently cursing the wide armrests that kept them apart. Guess the airline doesn’t want to promote intimate relations, he laughed to himself. They both slept until one of the cabin attendants gently woke them and told them to prepare for landing.

~~~***~~~

Cuzco Velazco Astete Airport was not very big. In fact, Craig was surprised that the plane stopped well short of the terminal. Two mobile staircases were quickly rolled out and passengers were allowed to disembark from both the front and the rear of the plane. Craig noted that the airport was nearly deserted and most of the food kiosks were closed. Not a high-level tourist attraction and certainly not a business center, he decided.

Customs seemed very lax

and they quickly found themselves waiting for their luggage to appear at an antiquated carousel. While they waited, Craig scanned the area and noticed a strange kiosk advertising oxygen bottles. Taking a deep breath, he noticed it was a little difficult gulping enough air to satisfy the needs of his body.

You may buy a small oxygen bottle if you feel you need it, Erin said in a concerned voice, nodding toward the kiosk.

No, I’ll be fine, Craig replied, feeling he did not want to show any weakness to Erin or himself.

He was beginning to get upset waiting so long at the carousel. Unlike most American airlines, their bags had not been tagged for special handling, as he was accustomed to when flying first class in the States. They had to wait with everyone else until their suitcases finally appeared. He knew Erin’s would be heavier than his would since she always packed her own set of tools. He picked up both bags with a grunt and followed the crowd to their next stop.

Moving through customs took almost no time and Erin led him to the exit. Once outdoors, the chill morning air felt good as they waited in line for a taxi.

Unlike almost every other airport Craig had ever been through, this one was located in the center of the city. High mountains surrounded the city, blocking the rising sun. Even in the early morning semi-darkness, he could see that the city was small, with few buildings more than three or four stories tall.

The brief cab ride brought them to a small stone square with only a few people hurrying to their jobs. The hotel, a large imposing stone building occupied all of one side. Erin led him into a long narrow lobby as soon as the porter took their bags. A small table near the entrance had a large silver teapot and a supply of fine china cups and saucers.

That’s the coca tea I was talking about. Try some, it’ll do you good, Erin instructed, seeing Craig continuing to breathe deeply.

Realizing it was useless to refuse; Craig poured himself a cup of the dark aromatic tea and took a sip. It tasted like no tea he had ever had. The face he made brought a big smile to Erin’s lips.

I told you it actually is coca tea. As in coke, you know–the drug, she chuckled.

Really?

Yeah, told you it would make you feel better, she said with a hearty laugh.

The hotel clerk, a crusty little man, handed them two keys and told them he hoped they would enjoy their stay. The porter led the way along a hall that went around the central courtyard. Halfway along the corridor, Craig saw three steps leading up to a large solid looking wood door. The sound of what he thought must be some kind of religious prayer being chanted could be clearly heard.

Is this place still used as a monastery? Craig asked.

No, they have a recording of some ancient chants that they play all day long. They want to keep the mood of the place, Erin explained.

Their room was located on the opposite side of the glass-enclosed courtyard, with a step up to the door. As soon as the porter accepted his tip with a smile, the door was closed and Erin fell onto the bed. Craig took a moment to survey the plain room before joining her.

The small, high window let in a bar of strong sunlight that filled the room with its warmth. Craig adjusted his wristwatch, remembering that it was an hour earlier. Then he turned to face her. So, what’s the plan?

Well, we have to get tickets for the train. But there’s no rush. There’s only one train to Machu Picchu and it leaves around 9:00 AM.

Too bad we didn’t get in early enough to catch today’s.

Yeah, it is kind of a bummer but what can we do? At least it’ll give us time to rest up for a while and become acclimatized to the elevation. Then, if you’re up to it, we can take a walk around town. There’s an agency, in the next square, where we can buy our train tickets. By then it’ll be time for lunch. I’d like to show you the local church after lunch. There’s some very interesting art there that you might find … ah … fascinating.

Erin chuckled at Craig, seeing the unhappy look on his face. He was not a big fan of church art. She turned her body to his and kissed him gently on the lips. Before long, they were undressing each other. Their lovemaking drained Craig and he was soon fast asleep.

Two hours later, Erin forcibly shook her husband. Come on sleepy head, time to get up. We have to get the train tickets and I’m starving.

Craig offered a weak smile and turned to pull on his clothes. Before long, they were walking along the stone streets, now crowded with tourists. On their way to buy the tickets, they were stopped three times by young women in local costumes attempting to sell them jewelry. Erin explained that they were art students, spending their free time selling their creations to earn money for tuition and expenses.

When Erin requested two tickets for Machu Picchu, the clerk offered a broad smile and reminded her that the only train would be leaving the next morning. He happily accepted the US currency she offered, but the change was in local bills. Erin led Craig along the raised sidewalk to a side street.

This place has the best pizza in South America, Erin said.

Craig suppressed a chuckle. No matter where Erin found herself, she always knew where to locate the best of some kind of food. It was strange though that it was seldom the local cuisine. While waiting for their lunch to arrive, Craig looked questioningly at the large stones that made up the bottom half of the restaurant walls.

Cusco was once a main City of the Inca. This place has survived several earthquakes over the years. Everything new gets destroyed. Only the old Inca walls seem resistant to the quakes. So, when the locals rebuild, it is always on top of the ancient stones, Erin explained.

Lunch came and Craig had to admit the pizza was very good. After lunch, they took a leisurely stroll to an old stone church. As they walked through the large opened spaces, Erin pointed out some of the paintings, waiting to see if Craig noticed anything strange about them. She, at last, could not resist explaining what she found so fascinating.

"To the Inca, the female is very important. Pachamama, for example, presided over planting and harvesting. She also is supposed to make earthquakes. If you look closely, many of the paintings have females as the central characters where you would normally expect to see male figures. It was the Inca way of melding their faith with Christianity."

Craig, always amazed at Erin’s wealth of knowledge, was surprised it extended to the local religious beliefs.

There’s one last picture I want to show you. It’s my favorite.

Erin led her husband to a large picture, hanging near the central area of the church. She allowed him to study it for a while before drawing his attention with a chuckle.

Okay, it’s a picture of The Last Supper. So?

"Don’t you see what the main course is? It’s Guinea Pig! A local favorite but certainly not served in ancient Judea."

Erin could almost not control her laughter as they left the church under the stern stares of several people.

I’m surprised you haven’t taken any photos of that painting.

Oh, you can’t. Photography inside the church is strictly forbidden. I guess they want the tourists to purchase something at the gift shop. But one of these days, I’m going to sneak in with my camera and take my own shots, Erin announced, still laughing at the site of the main dish on the table.

The couple wandered around the city for several more hours before returning to their hotel for dinner. Craig absolutely refused to try the local delicacy. Early the next morning they arrived at the train station and were soon on their way to the famed ancient city in the mountains.

CHAPTER TWO

As the train rattled on, Erin was deeply involved with the book she was reading. Craig bent down so he could see the title. Lost City of the Incas by Hiram Bingham, he read.

Who’s the author?

Huh? Erin looked up. Oh, he’s the fellow that discovered or rather rediscovered Machu Picchu. I read this a long time ago and thought it would be a good idea to browse it again. It’s a very detailed and well written account of his initial discovery.

The pale look on Craig’s face had nothing to do with Erin’s response or the thin air. He was clearly not enjoying the sway of the narrow gauge train as it wound its way through the hills and valleys in the foothills of the Andes.

How long did you say this train ride would take?

Just over three hours. It’s really not that bad, is it?

I’ve … ah … ridden better, Craig replied weakly.

Maybe you should have something to drink. I think they may serve coca tea.

Craig’s face turned paler with the thought of drinking anything.

No thanks. I’ll just close my eyes and try to rest.

Craig twisted and turned, attempting to find a comfortable position. The seat cushions were thin and worn, providing little comfort for the jarring ride. He ended up leaning against Erin in a way that prevented her from easily turning the pages of her book. With no need to hide her sour look, she returned the book to her backpack and turned to look at the passing scenery. Too bad, she thought, it’s so beautiful up here. Craig is really missing some great sightseeing.

Half asleep, Craig found his breathing less labored as the train descended closer to the 8,000-foot altitude of their destination. After three sluggish hours, the train slowed to a stop in the outdoor station. Erin led him through a bazaar-like area that contained countless stalls selling all types of souvenirs from jewelry to local musical instruments, leather goods, and fine Alpaca sweaters, hats, and scarves.

Upon exiting, they crossed an old stone bridge and found themselves on a narrow street filled with tourists waiting to board a long line of buses.

This place doesn’t look very old, Craig commented as he looked around the quaint mountain village.

We’re not there yet. This is Aguas Calientes. From here, it’s only about a twenty-minute ride. Normally, you have to take a special bus, but Roger said he’d send someone to meet us in a four by four.

As Erin finished speaking a small well-tanned burly man with short dark hair shuffled toward the couple. Craig looked him up and down and quickly identified him as a native of the area.

Professor Mathews? the man asked in nearly perfect English.

Erin kept her maiden name for professional reasons that Craig could never quite understand.

Yes, are you the fellow Roger, I mean Professor Williams sent to pick us up?

Yes, Ma’am. I am called Salvador, the fellow said, hoisting Erin’s pack and looking cautiously at Craig’s larger one. It will topple the poor fellow; Craig thought as he picked up the sixty-pound pack that contained all of his belongings plus Erin’s overflow. They followed Salvador to a dirty brown open vehicle that appeared to be of pre-WWII vintage.

After placing the packs in the back of the vehicle, Craig got in the rear seat while Erin climbed into the front passenger seat. Salvador groaned as he hoisted himself into the driver’s seat and started the car that coughed a few times before sputtering to life.

The ride took them around and around on the dusty road. Craig wondered if the vehicle had any shock absorbers at all, as it bumped and lurched along the rough road. They were surrounded by a lush forest of trees and vines with only an occasional glimpse of an oddly placed stone structure peeking through the branches.

At last, the road leveled out and became one of stone. The brakes finally grabbed and they came to a stop on the far side of a large courtyard, in front of a very attractive two-story building.

Welcome to the Machu Picchu Sanctuary Lodge, Salvador said as he jumped from the driver’s seat and ran to retrieve Erin’s pack.

Craig got his own pack and followed Erin up a set of neat stone steps surrounded by a mass of colorful exotic looking flowers. At the desk, Erin gave the clerk her name. At first, the man allowed a large frown to spread across his face. Had there been some foul-up in the reservations? She wondered.

I’m quite sure Professor Williams reserved a room for us.

"Yes, of course. It is just that … it is uncomfortable to have foreign archeologists digging around our World Heritage Site."

The caustic manner in which the man’s words came out made it sound as if what Erin and her colleagues were doing was sacrilegious. He handed over two large brass keys and pointed them toward the staircase. Apparently, there were no bellmen to handle the luggage. Craig turned in time to see Salvador climb into the four-by-four and disappear in a cloud of dust.

He hoisted his pack onto his back and grabbed Erin’s. The narrow staircase led to an even narrower corridor. After unlocking the door, Erin stepped aside allowing Craig to enter first. He dumped the packs at the foot of the bed and stretched his arms up to the low ceiling.

Erin walked to the far wall and pulled open the drapes to reveal a large sliding glass door. After fooling with the lock for a few moments, she pulled the door open. Craig joined her as she stepped out and was surprised to find they had their own private patio. Two lounge chairs and a small table filled the space, complete with a large umbrella. A six-foot-high slat wood eight-foot-long section of fence separated each room’s patio.

Erin continued walking out onto the grassy lawn that extended to the edge of a very severe drop-off to the much lower valley below. In the distance were level after level of Inca farm terraces. She pointed Craig to the right and he had his first view of the ruins of Machu Picchu. The high peak in the background helped frame the attractively built stone structures. Erin turned to Craig and was surprised to see a bewildered look on his face.

What’s the matter?

Oh nothing, it’s just that the few pictures I’ve seen of this place made it seem … I don’t know … more majestic.

Erin’s smile spread across her face. I know just the picture you’re talking about. Turn around, she told him with a cheerful laugh.

Craig did as instructed, but his expression did not change. So?

The picture you’re talking about was taken from up there, she explained, pointing to a high point opposite the ancient city. That’s near the end of the old Inca trail. It can take up to five days to walk from Cusco to that spot. But the reward, the picture you’re talking about, makes it all worth it. It’s a remarkable overview of the city, the river, and all the surrounding mountains and valleys.

Did you actually do all that walking?

I’m not that crazy for a great photo. No, I hiked up from this side. It only took a couple of hours, but I did get some of the best shots I could ever have hoped to get. The weather was perfect and the sun was in just the right location.

Craig smiled to himself. Aside from her work, Erin’s other true passion was her photography. He thought she could have just as easily made it her profession if she ever decided to give up archeology. As she turned around, she gave him a curious look and he realized the smile had not faded from his face. He waved off her questioning look as they walked back across the lawn.

As they returned to their room, the sound of the phone broke the peaceful stillness of the mountains. Erin picked up the receiver and allowed a smile to spread across her face as she listened. Placing the phone back in its cradle, she turned to Craig.

That was Roger. He wants to meet for lunch in the dining room, in about half an hour. We ought to shower and change.

Okay, you can go first.

Erin, as immodest as ever, striped off her clothing as she walked to the bathroom. Craig sat down and picked up the TV remote. He was happily surprised to find a few stations broadcasting in English. As a news show was just beginning to repeat some stories, Erin walked into the