Trees Hold Up the Sky 4 William James Johnson

The flight to Bogota, including a stop over in Florida for refueling, took twelve hours in the noisy flying boxcar. The constant pounding of its twin engines throughout the hollow interior made conversation virtually impossible. Stretched uncomfortably on canvas seats suspended from the port side of the aircraft, the passengers tried to sleep.

It was about 10 P.M. when the chunky machine touched down at Bogota International Airport. Little did they realize that at this same location in 1919, the first commercial airline in the world had landed. They had left snow covered Washington, expecting to enjoy the warmth of the tropics.

"I can't believe how chilly it is," said Laura, stepping off the ladder onto the tarmac.

"That's because we're quite high here. Bogota is almost 9000 feet above sea level. The temperature here seldom goes above 57 degrees Fahrenheit. This region is located on a mountainous plateau. Don't worry though, when we get down to the grasslands, you'll remember how nice this felt," said Newton.

A middle aged man in casual clothing hurried towards them. Highly irritated, he couldn't get to Newton quickly enough. "So sorry to hear about poor Eric. We're all going to miss him."

"I'm going to miss him too," said Newton, shaking hands with his friend. "Laura, Jess, I'd like you to meet our geologist Peter Niles."

After exchanging pleasantries, they climbed into the jeep Peter had parked nearby. Uncertain if he should do so in front of these strangers, Peter wanted to talk to his boss.

"What is it Pete? Something wrong?"

"Is it okay to talk about our project?" asked the geologist.

"Of course. Laura and Jess have joined our party."

"Thank God for that."

"What do you mean?" asked Newton
.
"We're going to need as many people as we can get. Most of our zambos took off when they heard about Eric, and how he died."

"What are zambos?" asked Laura.

"They're half breeds, Negro and Indian. They do most of the carrying down here. Colombia still is primitive when it comes to getting around in the interior. There are some rail lines, but they only link major cities. Most of the people in the country use the rivers for traveling or zambos when going overland."

"Arumba's the one who got them all upset," continued Peter.

"Never trusted that man from the start."

"He told them the ancient gods have killed the white man because he's violating sacred ground in the cave. Arumba is what you might call a medicine man," explained Niles. "If you've got him on your side, he can make your job a lot easier. But let him resort to his magic, and it's almost impossible to get anyone to help you."

"Where did the zambos go?" asked Newton.

"Most of them returned to their villages. Some are back in San Fernando de Atabapo looking for work."

Niles stopped the vehicle outside a stately stucco building, located near the international airport. Surrounded by a tall iron fence, it looked like an embassy or other government office.

"Is this where we clear customs?" asked Jess.

"That won't be necessary. Our Ambassador has already taken care of that," replied Niles. "This is the home of professor Gonzalo de Quesada. He's our professional attaché on Project Atabapo, and the head of anthropology at the University of Bogota. He's been very helpful in giving us back-up research, and cooperation from his government."

"De Quesada? Wasn't that the name of the Spaniard who established Bogota about four hundred years ago?" asked Laura.

"I see you've been doing your homework," said Newton. "Gonzalo is the direct descendant of the founder of Colombia. This location was chosen to be the capital in 1538. He called it the New Kingdom of Granada."

"Not exactly chosen Hank," corrected Niles. "This is what the Spanish got after they defeated the Chibchas."

A handsome Colombian of obvious Spanish descent, in his late fifties, came out to greet his visitors. He kissed Newton on each cheek and held him firmly for a moment.

"My dear friend Henry. I'm so sad for you and your man Mr. Price. What a dreadful end for such a young man."

"Thank you Gonzalo. I appreciate your sympathy. Please let me introduce my associates, Dr. Laura Mason, and Dr. Jesse Martin. Laura, and Jess, this is my dear friend professor Gonzalo de Quesada."

"I am honoured. Please come in and meet my wife." He took them through a small courtyard into the side entrance of a grand living room. There was a huge log burning in the walk-in-fireplace, with crossed sabers above the mantle, and a shield with a family crest. Glazed earthen tiles in irregular shapes met the spotless white stucco walls that rose to high beamed ceilings. A stunning woman in her early fifties came into the large room. Wearing a peasant print skirt, and white blouse, with a dark mantilla over her shoulders, she smiled warmly, waiting for her husband to do the honours.

"My wife Theresita."

Hank took her hand and kissed it, and introduced his companions. Theresita excused herself and went to prepare their dinner.

"Peter tells me you've lost your zambos," said Gonzalo.

"That's right. I don't know what we're going to do."

"Now settled in San Fernando, you will not need so many zambos."

"I'm not so sure Gonzalo. There have been some changes since Eric died. We're going to need the zambos to help us with the new equipment we've brought with us, heavy equipment needed to record the symbols and reduce the time anyone would have to spend inside the cave."

"What kind of equipment?"

"Portable video equipment. We can operate it off batteries, or our small generators."

"Sounds very expensive."

"It's not cheap. So you see we'll need bearers to get the gear into the area."

"Bearers? That sounds pretty primitive Hank. What about chartering a helicopter?" asked Jess.

"We've thought of that before, but the brush is so dense, there's no place to land."

"Then we'll make a place."

"Pardon me Doctor," said Gonzalo, "Obviously you have had little experience with our famous rain forests."

"He's right," said Peter. "When someone tells you it's dense, they really mean you can't even move on foot until you cut yourself a path. And when the rainy season hits, even the path is good for only a week to ten days."

"So how much time have we before your rainy season?"

"Middle of March it begins, and does not let up until May," replied Gonzalo.

"That only gives us about four weeks to get to the cave and get our work done. What about it Hank? Think we can pull it off before the rains hit?" asked Jess.

"Certainly not if we have to use the river route and steamboat to get to San Fernando. It's over 700 hundred miles. We'd be lucky if we could do 50 miles a day. I'm afraid we're going to be right in the heaviest of the rainy season by the time we trek south to the cave."

"So how were you planning to get the new equipment in?"

"As we did in the past. Get ourselves some zambos to carry it."

"Without Arumba, I'm not sure we'll be able to recruit any other zambos," said Niles.

Gonzalo listened to the two men trying to resolve their problem. He obviously had been giving it much thought himself.

"Forget them. I have what I think will be a better solution then using zambos. Many of my students are mestizo, half White and half Indian. They are Christian young people, Catholics, who have a different set of superstitions. Lucky for us, they are not controlled by a witch doctor," said Gonzalo.

"That'll cost us a pile of money," said Newton. "We're operating on a tight budget as it is. There's not much left in the pot after we got this latest equipment."

"No my friend. It will not cost you anything. In fact, if you approve, I will have them put money into the pot."

"How do you expect to do that?"

"Many of these students come from wealthy families. I will tell them that this field training is part of the necessary requirements to earn their degrees. They must help out where they can, and be responsible for their own living expenses. And on top of that, the field experience will cost them a certain fee."

"Not a bad idea professor," said Jess. "I'd be a bit concerned that if they were paying us instead of we paying them, they could quit if the going got rough, and we'd be no better than we are now."

"That would be the case if they were anywhere near civilization Doctor, but where you will be going, it might as well be on another planet. There'll be no running out on you once you leave San Fernando."

"I say we give it a try," said Newton.

"Are we talking only about young men professor," asked Laura. Jess wondered what she meant about that after what Frum had told him about her sexual peccadilloes on her Kargil expedition.

"No senorita. We will include some of my lovely young women students as well. We have to motivate the men some how."

They all smiled at Gonzalo's attempt at humour. As Jess listened, he became more uncertain. If the risks were as dangerous as he had been told, he felt they would be better off facing them with a few professional trekkers, rather than a co-ed group of young students on a jungle outing. He didn't get the chance to express his doubts. Supper was ready.

It was almost 2 a.m. when they went to their rooms. Gonzalo had convinced them his plan would work. Jess reconsidered his helicopter proposal, modifying it. He wanted the ground party to proceed to the site and once there, contact the base unit at San Fernando, and have a helicopter, using a winch, lower the necessary equipment, without having to land. Newton preferred Gonzalo's plan because there was less risk the new recording equipment would be damaged.

Before going into his bedroom, Jess asked Hank to join him for a few minutes. Laura said goodnight.

"What's the problem Jess?"

"Something here isn't right."

"Oh! And what could that be?"

"Didn't you and Joe tell me this project was classified Top Secret?"

"Yes, and it still is."

"Then why the hell are we letting these outsiders in on it?"

"They're not really outsiders Jess. This is their country after all."

"Look Hank, I'm not trying to make waves. If we were going to rely on zambos, I wouldn't mind. But this guy is going to hand pick his brightest students to come with us. What's to say he isn't setting us up?"

"Oh come on Jess. I hope you never talk like this to anyone else. We need Gonzalo and his government if we're going to be successful. Do me a favour and forget we ever had this talk."

"Okay Hank. You're calling the shots. I just hope to hell we don't do all the work, and they get all the credit."

"Trust me. Gonzalo is too professional to do something like that behind our back. He only wants to help us, and from what Peter says, we're damn lucky if you ask me."

Jess felt a little sheepish. He was sorry now he had brought it up. "I'm whipped. Maybe what I really need is a good night's sleep."

"It's been a long day for all of us Jess. Goodnight."

He went into his bathroom and looked in the mirror. When he was tired like this, he looked like he was sixty. He opened the shower curtain, then changed his mind. He didn't want anything to get in the way of his total fatigue. Turning out the lights he went to the shuttered windows and opened them, feeling the mountain air coursing over his bare chest.

Suddenly the dark courtyard was illuminated by the lights of a dark Mercedes. He wasn't sure, but it looked like Gonzalo in the driver's seat. The iron gates opened when he pressed a device in the car, and closed as he left. Jess watched him take the airport road, heading for town.

"Jesus...why did I have to see that? Now I'm really going to have a helluva time getting to sleep." He wasn't aware just how tired he was. When his head hit the pillow, he was out.

Gonzalo drove across the stone pavement of Simon Bolivar Plaza and parked in front of the ancient walls of the Antiquities Museum. Hurrying up the marble steps, his shoes clattered loudly in the morning air. The city was asleep. Using a pass key, he swung open the heavy museum door, and locked it behind him. Again his staccato tapping on the marble floor echoed as he walked the length of the main gallery to an office at the top of a winding staircase. Opening the door, the pungent odour of a cigar seeped into the hall.

"Well my friend. How did it go?" Secretary of the Interior, Fernandez Obispo sat at a large, ornate desk, a file cover in front of him.

"Better than I had expected Mr. Secretary."

"Please Gonzalo, sit down. Would you like a cigar?"

"Thank you sir. No. I have given up smoking. Doctor's orders."

"What do doctors know? Do you mind me smoking?"

"Not at all sir. Please do not let me interfere with your habit."

The younger man laughed at his remark. "You need not worry professor. Nothing and no one interferes with my habits. Now if you would, please tell me everything."

"Your plan to scare off the zambos worked. Niles is a weak man and his weakness has infected their leader Newton."

"So without zambos they must accept your proposal."

"Our proposal Mr. Secretary."

"Yes...you're right. We did think of it together."

"So tomorrow, or should I say today, I will go over my files and pick only the best mestizo students to go with them."

"These students you choose, they must be sworn to secrecy. And it is up to you to make sure they understand they may be ordered to kill if their government thinks it is necessary, do I make myself clear?"

"Completely Sir."

"These Americans will not rob us of our national treasures this time. When they have done the work, we will collect the reward. You, my friend, will become a national hero."

"But I am not going with them."

"I know that. But be assured Gonzalo, I will let our countrymen know that this was your great discovery. You were the one who came to me and told me about the cave. If you had not, these foreigners would rape us like they are doing in the Amazon Basin. It is men like you my friend who help us to hold up the sky. I'm not looking for any glory for myself. I want only to protect what is rightfully ours."

"I have another request Mr. Secretary, if I may."

"I'm listening."

"We could speed up everything if you could get the Transport Minister to offer to fly everyone to San Fernando instead of taking weeks by boat. This would convince them I'm sure, that they have the full support of our government."

"I'll get you an aircraft. You are truly a national hero Gonzalo. Now you better return before anyone gets suspicious. I will let you know about the plane later today. If you do not hear from me by four o'clock this afternoon, call my office. I will leave the details with my aide."

"Thank you Mr. Secretary. You have no idea how wonderful it feels to know I can still serve my country."
"And believe me professor , your country is proud of you."