hovercraft. With their weapons at ready they proceeded along the walkway into the quarry. They stopped to inspect the contents of the boxes, then pressed on. Sunlight was shining faintly in the distance.
37 AUSTIN STOPPED UNDER THE CORBELED archway and listened to the music playing faintly in the distance. A Latin beat. With his back to the wall he edged his way around the corner, CAR-15 held at ready, finger on the trigger. He stuck his head out, scanned the area around the loading platform, and, seeing no one, stepped cautiously into the glare of daylight. He signaled Trout to follow With Austin still at point they moved silently along the narrow dirt road, staying close to the foliage on the side.
Near where a rutted track into the woods left the main road they melted into the bushes and got down on their hands and knees. They crawled parallel to the track, then dropped to their bellies and slithered to the edge of a cleared area. Austin inched forward and peered through the tall grass. Trout's hand gripped his shoulder, but Austin had already seen the mop of hair that was the hue of fine red wine: Gamay. She was tied to the rear bumper of a battered GMC truck Her face was the color of boiled lobster, skin peeled off her sunburned nose, and her crowning glory was a tangle of greasy curls, but otherwise she seemed ail right. Next to her was an Indian man who must be Dr. Chi. Gamay had her eyes closed, but she opened them and looked cautiously around as if she sensed their presence.
Austin quickly took in the rest of the scene. The source of the music was a portable boom box perched on the bed of the truck. Sitting on the ground behind the truck were three men engrossed in a game of cards. Their weapons lay within arm's reach, and all three men wore pistols. Austin's eye traveled to the front of the truck to where a fourth man was working on the engine. He, too, wore a pistol, but more worrisome was the AK 47 leaning up against a tire. Austin signaled Trout to back up Paul nodded, understanding the need to reconnoiter, but the disappointment in his face was obvious.
Minutes later they leaned up against a tree and assessed the situation.
'We've got four armed men who would ordinarily be no problem up against the weapons we're carrying,' Austin said. 'But Gamay and Dr. Chi are directly in the line of fire. I don't like the idea of the fourth man separated from the others. He's got an AK right at hand. He could still cause damage. Any suggestions?'
'We could call in reinforcements,' Trout said, patting the walkietalkie at his belt. 'But even if they got here soon, that would mean more shooting, more chance of someone getting hurt'
'My sentiments exactly.' Austin scratched the stubble on his chin. 'Gamay and Chi seem to be okay, which means someone wants them kept alive, for now at least.'
'My guess is that they'll move out. as soon as they fix their mechanical problem.'
'That's when the situation will get fluid. The card game will break up, and the guards may move out of the line of fire. Or maybe we will get our chance when they put Gamay and Chi in the truck. Once they're out of the way we can make our move.'
There's another possibility,' Trout said. 'More of these guys could show up.'
'I know that we'd be trading a known situation for an unknown, and I don't like it any more than you do, but I don't think there's anything else we can do except wait.'
Trout nodded inreluctant agreement. They crawled back to the edge of the clearing. The card game was still in progress, and the mechanic continued to fiddle around with the engine. Austin was glad to see that Gamay and Chi. both had their eyes open. He suppressed the surge of anger he felt at their plight.
Long after Austin had decided he never wanted to hear Latin music again, the mechanic backed out from under the hood, wiped his hand on a greasy rag, and got into the cab. The engine started on the first try, filling the air with an unmuffled rumbling. A cloud of purple smoke poured out of the exhaust pipe and enveloped Gamay and Chi, who turned their heads from side to side in a vain attempt to escape the fumes.
The card game was cut short. The players grabbed their money, scrambled to their feet, and with hands over their mouths and noses moved away from the rear of the truck. And their weapons, Austin noted with pleasure. They started yelling at the mechanic, who had just hopped out of the cab. When he saw that the guards were not showing the proper enthusiasm for his accomplishment, he went over and grabbed the nearest one by his collar, angrily dragged him to the front of the truck, and exhorted him to listen to the motor. The remaining guards broke out in laughter and joined the others.
'Show time,' Austin said.
The essentials for a successful ambush are surprise and concealment. They could have mowed the chicleros down with a single sweep of their carbines, but Austin was into rescue, not murder. He and Trout stood up and strode casually into the clearing. Trout let off short bursts of fire in the air, while Austin kept the chicleros covered. The object was intimidation. The gunfire had the desired effect. At least partly. The three guards saw the two terminators walking toward them; glanced at their useless weapons, then back at the hard-eyed white-haired man and his towering companion, and scattered into the forest like leaves before a wind.
The mechanic dove into the cab, threw the truck into gear, and mashed the accelerator. The spinning tires gouged trenches in the ground and threw out twin showers of dirt. With a roar of the engine the truck started out of the clearing, dragging Gamay and Chi behind like tin cans on a honey-moon-bound car. Music still blasted from the boom box on the truck's bed.
Austin shouted for Trout to cover the departing chicleros and drew the Bower from his hip with the speed of a Dodge City gunfighter. Holding it in both hands, he coolly sighted on the rear of the cab. The barrel belched fire five times, and the cab window disintegrated in an explosion of glass. The last shots were unnecessary because the first bullet had taken off the back of the driver's head.
The trick went on for another few yards as if it were on auto pilot, but it finally lurched to a stop as the engine staled. Austin ran for the truck. But Trout got there ahead of him, quickly sliced through Gamay's bonds with a hunting knife, and took his wife in his arms.
Cambridge, Massachusetts
38 A WEEK LATER A TAXI DROVE PAST the black cast-iron fence that surrounded the shaded lawns of Harvard Yard, turned onto a quiet grass-lined street, and pulled up to a five-story Georgian-style brick edifice that seemed out of place next to the more modern science buildings keeping it company. Zavala emerged from the cab and surveyed the sign for the Peabody Museum of Archaeology and Ethnology. Turning to Austin and Gamay, he said reverentially, 'This is a great day for the Zavala family. My mother always hoped I'd go to Harvard.'
'Your mother has my husband, Paul, to thank for her little boy's success,' Gamay said, 'but congratulations anyhow'
'Thank you. My mother thanks you, too. Shall we enter the hallowed precincts?' he said with a gallant sweep of the hand that was entirely in keeping with his character.
For indeed it was Trout's summons to his NUMA colleagues that brought them to Cambridge that morning. Trout had arrived at the museum by a round-about route that started in the Yucatan jungle. After the reunion with his wife Trout and the others hitched a ride back to the Nereus aboard a Mexican helicopter. While they waited for the choppers to arrive they took a closer look at the looted antiquities stored in the cave.
Chi had led the way, moving down the line of crates and shelves, sadly shaking his head as he explained the significance of the artifacts and the damage that had been done by their random exhumation. Pausing in front of the inscribed stone panels, Chi lamented, 'I know these stones tell a story, an important one. But because of the way they were carelessly dug up and thrown into this place, it could be months, maybe years, before we will know what it is.'
Chi's words echoed in Trout's ears as the helicopter flew him and the others to the Nereus. Gamay was checked out and found to be rundown but otherwise in good health. With his wife in a real bunk and enjoying the gourmet treats of the vessel's galley, Paul hitched a ride back to the chicleros' camp, bringing with him a case of photographic equipment.
The army had established a camp to guard the artifacts and mop up stray looters. Chi had stayed on to inventory the stolen goods. When. Trout outlined what he had in mind the professor gave him an enthusiastic go- ahead. Trout made hundreds of digital photographs of the stones and their inscriptions. Then he packed up and returned to the research vessel to rendezvous with Gamay and fly home. Back in Washington, Paul worked the data into his computers.
As a deep ocean geologist Trout had developed a high degree of skill using computer graphics for his undersea projects. His work went beyond simply probing the ocean bottom with electronic eyes and ears. His arcane findings on strata or thermal vents had to be presented so that a PhD wasn't needed to understand them. Archaeology was already using computer imaging to reconstruct everything from ancient cities to skeletal remains.
