Race, Renee and Van Lewen dashed through the dense sec tion of foliage between the upper village and the crater, chasing after Nash and the idol.
The rapas were nowhere to be seen.
They must have retired to the depths of the crater with the onset of dawn, Race thought. He hoped to hell that the monkey urine on his body still worked.
The three of them hit the crater's path running.
As Race, Renee and Van Lewen were starting down the path, Nash, Lauren and Copeland were arriving at its base.
They came to the fissure, ran down its length, their feet kicking up water with every step. They never noticed the dark feline heads pop up lazily from the shallow lake as they ran by.
The three of them burst out onto the riverside path to be met by a thin morning mist, but they didn't stop to admire it. They just kept moving forward, heading toward Vilcafor and the thumping sound of the choppers.
Another couple of minutes and they reached the moat on the western side of the village.
And they stopped.
Stopped dead in their tracks.
Before them—standing in the middle of Vilcafor, with their hands clasped behind their heads and the soft mist curling around their feet—stood a group of about a dozen men and women. They all stood motionless, oblivious to the whump-whump-whump of rotors that filled the helicopter morning air.
A couple of them were Navy SEALs. They were dressed in full combat attire. But they weren't holding any guns.
Others wore blue Navy uniforms. Others still wore ordinary civilian clothing—the DARPA scientists.
And then Nash saw their helicopter. It was standing behind the small crowd of people.
A lone Super Stallion.
The third Navy chopper.
It sat in the centre of the village, silent, motionless, its seven rotor blades still. Nash saw the word 'NAVY' plastered across its side in bold white lettering.
And then he looked upwards, searching for the source of the loud whurnping sound that filled the air above the village.
And he saw them.
Saw the two Army helicopters—the Comanche and the Black Hawk I]—that he had sent down from the upper village.
They were hovering over Vilcafor, with their twin-barrelled Gatling guns and their fearsome-looking missile pods aimed squarely at the hapless Navy-DARPA team on the ground.
Race and the others emerged from the riverside path a couple of minutes later.
By the time they arrived at the main street of Vilcafor, the two Army choppers had landed and Nash was strutting around like a peacock in front of the Navy men, holding the gleaming idol in one hand and a silver SIG- Sauer pistol in the other.
The crews of the Army choppersMsix men in all, two from the Comanche, four from the Black Hawk—held M16s levelled at the Navy-DARPA crowd.
'Ah, Professor Race, nice of you to join us,' Nash said as Race and the others stepped out onto the main street of the village, staring at the odd mix of Navy men and civilians standing with their hands clasped behind their heads.
Race didn't answer Nash. His eyes just swept over the dozen or so Navy people, searching for someone.
He figured if they were Romano's team, the real Supernova team, then maybe…
He froze.
He saw him.
Saw a man, a civilian, standing among the group of Navy men, dressed in ordinary hiking clothes and boots. Despite the fact that he hadn't seen him in almost ten years, Race recognised the dark eyebrows and the stooped shoulders instantly.
He was looking at his brother.
'Marty…' Race breathed.
'Professor Race—' Nash said.
Race ignored him as he strode over to his brother. They stood before each other—no embrace—two brothers but two vastly different men.
For one thing Race was a mess. While he was covered in mud and stank of monkey urine, Marty was perfectly groomed, his clothes pristine clean. He stared wide-eyed at Race—at his filthy clothes, at his battered, mud-stained cap—as if he was the creature from the Black Lagoon.
Marty was shorter than Race, stockier. And while Race always wore a very open, easy expression, Marty's face was perpetually set in a deathly serious frown.
'Will…' Marty said.
“ 'Marty, I'm sorry. I didn't know. They tricked me into coming along. They said that they were with DARPA and that they knew you and that—'
