jet fighter. Along the far wall, an early Pullman railroad car, with Manhattan Limited lettered on the sides, rested on a short length of steel track. But perhaps the strangest item was an old Victorian claw-footed bathtub with an outboard motor clamped to the back. The bathtub, like the other collectibles inside the hangar, had its own unique story.
Loren stopped beside a small receiver mounted on a post. Pitt whistled the first few bars of 'Yankee Doodle' and sound recognition software electronically shut down the security system and opened a big drive- through door. Loren eased the Allard inside and turned off the ignition.
'There you are,' she announced proudly. 'Home in one piece.'
'With a new speed record from Dulles to Washington that will stand for decades,' he said dryly.
'Don't be such an old grunt. You're lucky I picked you up.'
'Why are you so good to me?' he asked affectionately.
'Considering all the abuse you heap on me, I really don't know.'
'Abuse? Show me your black-and-blue marks.'
'As a matter of fact--' Loren slipped down her leather pants to reveal a large bruise on one thigh.
'Don't look at me,' he said, knowing full well he wasn't the culprit.
'It's your fault.'
'I'll have you know I haven't socked a girl since Gretchen Snodgrass smeared paste on my chair in kindergarten.'
'I got this from a collision with a bumper on one of your old relics.'
Pitt laughed. 'You should be more careful.'
'Come upstairs,' she ordered, wiggling her pants back up. 'I've planned a gourmet brunch in honor of your homecoming.'
Pitt undid the cords to his baggage and dutifully followed Loren upstairs, enjoying the fluid movement of the tightly bound package inside the leather pants. True to her word, she had laid out a lavish setting on the formal table in his dining room. Pitt was starved and his anticipation was heightened by the appetizing aromas drifting from the kitchen.
'How long?' he asked.
'Just time enough for you to get out of your grimy duds and shower,' she answered.
He needed no further encouragement. He quickly stripped off his clothes and stepped into the shower, reclining on the tile floor with his feet propped on one wall as steaming hot water splashed on the opposite side. He almost drifted off to sleep, but roused himself after ten minutes and soaped up before rinsing off. After shaving and drying his hair, he slipped into a silk paisley robe Loren had given him for Christmas.
When he entered the kitchen, she came over and gave him a long kiss. 'Ummm, you smell good, you shaved.'
He saw that the metal case containing the jade box had been opened. 'And you've been snooping.'
'As a congresswoman I have certain inalienable rights,' she said, handing him a glass of champagne. 'A beautiful work of art. What is it?'
'It,' he answered, 'is a pre-Columbian antiquity that contains the directions to hidden riches worth so much money it would take you and your buddies in Congress all of two days to spend it.'
She looked at him suspiciously. 'You must be joking. That would be over a billion dollars.'
'I never joke about lost treasure.'
She turned and retrieved two dishes of huevos rancheros with chorizo and refried beans heavy on the salsa from the oven and placed them on the table. 'Tell me about it while we eat.'
Between mouthfuls, as he ravenously attacked Loren's Mexican brunch, Pitt began with his arrival at the sacrificial well and told her what happened up to his discovery of the jade box and the quipu in the Ecuadorian rain forest. He rounded out his narrative with the myths, the precious few facts, and finished with broad speculation.
Loren listened without interrupting until Pitt finished, then said, 'Northern Mexico, you think?'
'Only a guess until the quipu is deciphered.'
'How is that possible if, as you say, the knowledge about the knots died with the last Inca?'
'I'm banking on Hiram Yaeger's computer to come up with the key.'
'A wild shot in the dark at best,' she said, sipping her champagne.
'Our only prospect, but a damned good one.' Pitt rose, pulled open the dining room curtains and gazed at an airliner that was lifting off the end of a runway, then sat down again. 'Time is our real problem. The thieves who stole the Golden Body Suit of Tiapollo before Customs agents could seize it have a head start.'
'Won't they be delayed too?' asked Loren.
'Because they have to translate the images on the suit? A good authority on Inca textile designs and ideographic symbols on pottery should be able to interpret the images on the suit.'
Loren came around the table and sat in Pitt's lap. 'So it's developing into a race for the treasure.'
Pitt slipped his arms around her waist and gave her a tight squeeze. 'Things seem to be shaping up that way.'
'Just be careful,' she said, running her hands under his robe. 'I have a feeling your competitors are not nice people.'
Early the next morning, a half hour ahead of the morning traffic rush, Pitt dropped Loren off at her townhouse and drove to the NUMA headquarters building. Not about to risk damage to the Allard by the crazy drivers of the nation's capital, he drove an aging but pristine 1984 Jeep Grand Wagoneer that he had modified by installing a Rodeck 500-horsepower V-8 engine taken from a hot rod wrecked at a national drag race meet. The driver of a Ferrari or Lamborghini who might have stopped beside him at a red light would never suspect that Pitt could blow their doors off from zero to a hundred miles an hour before their superior gear ratios and wind dynamics gave them the edge.
He slipped the Jeep into his parking space beneath the tall, green-glassed tower that housed NUMA's offices and took the elevator up to Yaeger's computer floor, the carrying handle of the metal case containing the jade box gripped tightly in his right hand. When he stepped into a private conference room he found Admiral Sandecker, Giordino, and Gunn already waiting for him. He set the case on the floor and shook hands.
'I apologize for being late.'
'You're not late.' Admiral James Sandecker spoke in a sharp tone that could slice a frozen pork roast. 'We're all early. In suspense and full of anticipation about the map, or whatever you call it.'
'Quipu,' explained Pitt patiently. 'An Inca recording device.'
'I'm told the thing is supposed to lead to a great treasure. Is that true?'
'I wasn't aware of your interest,' Pitt said, with the hint of a smile.
'When you take matters into your own hands on agency time and money, all behind my back I might add, I'm giving heavy thought to placing an advertisement in the help wanted section for a new projects director.'
'Purely an oversight, sir,' said Pitt, exercising considerable willpower to keep a straight face. 'I had every intention of sending you a full report.'
'If I believed that,' Sandecker snorted, 'I'd buy stock in a buggy whip factory.'
A knock came on the door and a bald-headed, cadaverous man with a great scraggly Wyatt Earp moustache stepped into the room. He was wearing a crisp, white lab coat. Sandecker acknowledged him with a slight nod and turned to the others.
'I believe you all know Dr. Bill Straight,' he said.
Pitt extended his hand. 'Of course. Bill heads up the marine artifact preservation department. We've worked on several projects together.'
'My staff is still buried under the two truckloads of antiquities from the Byzantine cargo vessel you and Al found imbedded in the ice on Greenland a few years ago. 11
'All I remember about that project,' said Giordino, 'is that I didn't thaw out for three months.'
'Why don't you show us what you've got?' said Sandecker, unable to suppress his impatience.
'Yes, by all means,' said Yaeger, polishing one lens of his granny spectacles. 'Let's have a look at it.'
Pitt opened the case, gently removed the jade box, and placed it on the conference table. Giordino and Gunn had already seen it during the flight from the rain forest to Quito, and they stood back while Sandecker, Yaeger, and Straight moved in for a close look.
