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‘Esclavos [slaves],’ Karl muttered darkly.

A young woman came out of the stone building. She was dressed simply, but not in rags.

‘¡Hola! gringos,’ she said in greeting. ‘Looking for gold?’

She listened, shaking her head doubtfully while Karl told her where we were headed. She poured us some chicha and told us that she was married to the ranch’s foreman. Her husband had gone to Apolo for a few days, leaving her here alone.

Karl inquired as to the whereabouts of Don Cuanca’s ranch, and she replied that it wasn’t far. She called out a name, and a young boy materialised.

‘He will show you the way,’ she said, and gave him an order in Quechua.

The boy kept his eyes on the ground and led us out of the ranch. We marched along behind him on a path that ran alongside the river.

‘What’s the story here, Karl?’ Kevin asked.

‘Hard as it is to believe, these people are slaves,’ Karl explained.

‘Slaves?’ I asked sceptically.

‘Well, you might not call them that, but they are virtual slaves. They don’t receive any pay. They are dealt with harshly. They don’t have anywhere else to go.’

‘What about the government? Don’t they help?’ Marcus asked.

‘The government?’ Karl laughed. ‘The government, my eye! Those generals stay in power several