too tight. Your assertion might make more sense to me if they were Customs officials, not scientists or engineers from an oceanographic research agency.'
'No. I swear it's the same men who appeared out of nowhere and rescued the archaeologist and photographer from the sacred well. Their names are Dirk Pitt and Al Giordino. Pitt is the most dangerous of the two. He was the one who killed my men and emasculated Tupac Amaru. We must follow them and find out where they're operating from.'
'I have only enough fuel to make it back to Guaymas,' said Oxley. 'We'll have to let them go.'
'Force them down, force them to crash,' Sarason demanded.
Oxley shook his head. 'If they're as dangerous as you suggest, they may well be armed, and we're not. Relax, brother, we'll meet up with them again.'
'They're scavengers, using NUMA as a cover to beat us to the treasure.'
'Think what you're saying,' snapped Moore. 'It is absolutely impossible for them to know where to search. My wife and I were the only ones ever to decode the images on the golden mummy suit. Either this has to be a coincidence or you're hallucinating.'
'As my brother can tell you,' said Sarason coldly, 'I am not one to hallucinate.'
'A couple of NUMA underwater freaks who roam the world fighting evil,' muttered Moore sharply. 'You'd better lay off the mescal.'
Sarason did not hear Moore. The thought of Amaru triggered something inside Sarason. He slowly regained control, the initial shock replaced by malevolence. He could not wait to unleash the mad dog from the Andes.
'This time,' he murmured nastily, 'they will be the ones who pay.'
Joseph Zolar had finally arrived in his jet and was waiting in the dining room of the hacienda with Micki Moore when the searchers entered wearily and sat down. 'I guess I don't have to ask if you've found anything. The look on your faces reflects defeat.'
'We'll find it,' said Oxley through a yawn. 'The demon has to be out there somewhere.'
'I'm not as confident,' muttered Moore, reaching for a glass of chilled chardonnay. 'We've almost run out of islands to search.'
Sarason came over and gave Zolar a brotherly pat on both shoulders. 'We expected you three days ago.'
'I was delayed. A transaction that netted us one million two hundred thousand Swiss francs.'
'A dealer?'
'A collector. A Saudi sheik.'
'How did the Vincente deal go?'
'Sold him the entire lot, with the exception of those damned Indian ceremonial idols. For some inexplicable reason, they scared the hell out of him.'
Samson laughed. 'Maybe it's the curse.'
Zolar shrugged impassively. 'If they come with a curse, it simply means the next potential buyer will have to pay a premium.'
'Did you bring the idols with you?' asked Oxley. 'I'd like to have a look at them.'
'They're in a packing crate inside the cargo hold of the airplane.' Zolar glanced admiringly at the quesadilla that was placed in front of him on a plate. 'I had hoped you would greet me with good news.'
'You can't say we haven't tried,' replied Moore. 'We've examined every rock that sticks out of the sea from the Colorado River south to Cabo San Lucas, and haven't seen anything remotely resembling a stone demon with wings and a serpent's head.'
'I hate to bring more grim tidings,' Sarason said to Zolar, 'but we met up with my friends who messed things up in Peru.'
Zolar looked at him, puzzled. 'Not those two, devils from NUMA?'
'The same. As incredible as it sounds, I believe they're after Huascar's gold too.'
'I'm forced to agree,' said Oxley. 'Why else did they pop up in the same area?'
'Impossible for them to know something we don't,' said Zolar.
'Perhaps they've been following you,' said Micki, holding up her glass as Henry poured her wine.
Oxley shook his head. 'No, our amphibian has twice the fuel range of their helicopter.'
Moore turned to Zolar. 'My wife may have something. The odds are astronomical that it was a chance encounter.'
'How do we handle it?' Samson asked no one in particular.
Zolar smiled. 'I think Mrs. Moore has given us the answer.'
'Me?' wondered Micki. 'All I suggested was--'
'They might have been following us.' So.
Zolar looked at her slyly. 'We'll begin by requesting our mercenary friends in local law enforcement to begin earning their money by launching an investigation to find our competitor's base of operations. Once found, we'll follow them.'
Darkness was only a half hour away when Giordino set the helicopter down neatly within the white circle painted on the loading deck of the Alhambra. The deckhands, who simply went by the names of Jesus and Gato, stood by to push the craft inside the cavernous auto deck and tie it down.
Loren and Gunn were standing outside the sweep of the rotor blades. When Giordino cut the ignition switch, they stepped forward. They were not alone. A man and a woman moved out of the shadow of the ferry's huge superstructure and joined them.
'Any luck?' Gunn shouted above the diminishing beat of the rotors at Giordino who was leaning out the open window of the cockpit.
Giordino replied with a thumbs-down.
Pitt stepped from the helicopter's passenger door and knitted his thick, black eyebrows in surprise. 'I didn't expect to see you two again, certainly not here.'
Dr. Shannon Kelsey smiled, her manner coolly dignified, while Miles Rodgers pumped Pitt's hand in a genuine show of friendliness. 'Hope you don't mind us popping in like this,' said Rodgers.
'Not at all. I'm glad to see you. I assume you've all introduced yourselves to each other.'
'Yes, we've all become acquainted. Shannon and 1 certainly didn't expect to be greeted by a congresswoman and the assistant director of NUMA.'
'Dr. Kelsey has regaled me with her adventures in Peru,' said Loren in a voice that was low and throaty. 'She's led an interesting life.'
Giordino exited the helicopter and stared at the newcomers with interest. 'Hail, hail, the gang's all here,' he said in greeting. 'Is this a reunion or an old mummy hunters' convention?'
'Yes, what brings you to our humble ferry in the Sea of Cortez?' asked Pitt.
'Government agents requested Miles and me to drop everything in Peru and fly here to assist your search,' answered Shannon.
Pitt looked at Gunn. 'Government agents?'
Gunn made a know-nothing shrug and held up a piece of paper. 'The fax informing us of their arrival came an hour after they showed up in a chartered boat. They insisted on waiting to reveal the purpose of their visit until you returned.'
'They were Customs agents,' Miles enlightened Pitt. 'They appeared in the Pueblo de los Muertos with a high-level State Department official and played on our patriotism.'
'Miles and I were asked to identify and photograph Huascar's treasure after you found it,' explained Shannon. 'They came to us because of my expertise in Andean culture and artifacts, Miles's reputation as a photographer, and mostly because of our recent involvement with you and NUMA.'
'And you volunteered,' Pitt surmised.
Rodgers replied 'When the Customs agents informed us the gang of smugglers we met in the Andes are connected with the family of underground art dealers who are also searching for the treasure, we started packing.'
'The Zolars?'
Rodgers nodded. 'The possibility we might be of help in trapping Doc Miller's murderer quickly overcame any reluctance to become involved.'
