damp.
The sliding side door of the ATV lay open. He heard voices outside.
'—what are you doing here?'
'—my name is Marc Graf, and I am a lieutenant in the Fallschirmjager—'
Race got up and went outside.
It was morning and a low fog had descended upon the village. The ATV was now parked in the centre of the main street, and as he stepped out of the big armoured vehicle, it took him a moment to adjust his eyes to the wall of grey all around him. Slowly, however, the main street of Vilcafor began to take shape.
Race froze.
The street was completely deserted.
All the bodies from the previous night's slaughter were gone. Indeed all that remained in their place were large pools of mud and water, peppered by the falling rain.
The cats, he saw, were also gone.
He saw Nash, Lauren and Copeland standing off to his left, over by the citadel. With them stood the six Green Berets and Gaby Lopez.
Before them, however, stood five other people.
Four men and one woman.
The surviving Germans, he guessed.
Race also noticed that only two of the Germans wore military fatigues—soldiers. All the others wore civilian clothing, including two—a man and a woman—who looked like undercover cops. All of them had been disarmed.
Sergeant Van Lewen caught sight of Race, came oven 'How's the head?' he said.
'Awful,' Race said. 'What's happening here?'
Van Lewen indicated the five Germans. 'They're the only ones who survived the night. Two of them jumped inside the ATV during the battle and uncuffed us. We managed to pick up the other three just before we got you at the jetty.'
Race nodded.
Then he turned suddenly to face his bodyguard. 'Say, I have a question for you.'
'Yes?'
'How did you know about that rubber button inside the Humvee the one that started it after the Germans had shut it down?'
Van Lewen smiled at him. 'If I tell you I'll have to kill you.'
'Fine, go ahead.'
Van Lewen grinned at that. Then he said, 'It's fairly standard practice in armed forces around the world to use field vehicles like Humvees and ATVs as portable prisons. You lock the prisoners in the car and then you disable it.
'The United States, however, is the leading supplier of field vehicles worldwide. Humvees, for example, are made by the AM General Company in South Bend, Indiana.
'The thing is—and this is something that not everyone knows—all American-made field vehicles are fitted with a safety release button, a button that allows the vehicle to be restarted in the event that it is shut down. The theory is that no U.S. vehicle will ever be used as a prison to hold U.S. personnel. Hence, only U.S. military personnel are informed of the whereabouts of those safety buttons. It's a trapdoor, known only to American soldiers.'
With that, Van Lewen smiled and headed off to join the others over by the citadel. Race hurried after him.
He and Van Lewen joined the others at the citadel.
They arrived there to find Frank Nash interrogating one of the disarmed German commandos—the man Race had heard identify himself as Marc Graf, a lieutenant in the Fallschirmjager.
'So are you here for the idol too?' Nash demanded.
Graf shook his head.
“I do not know the details,' he said in English. 'I am only a lieutenant, I do not have clearance to know the full extent of the mission.'
He nodded with his chin at one of the other Germans, the burly-looking man wearing jeans and a holster. 'I think it would be better if you asked my associate here, Mr Karl Schroeder. Mr Schroeder is a special agent with the Bundes Kriminal Amt. The Bundeswehr is working in conjunction with the BKA on this mission.'
'The BKA?' Nash said, perplexed.
Race knew what he was thinking.
The Bundes Kriminal Amt was the German equivalent of the FBI. Its reputation was legendary. It was often said to be the finest federal investigative bureau in the world. But still, it” was essentially a police force, which was why Nash was confused. It had no reason to be in Peru looking for an idol.
'What does the BKA want with a lost Incan idol?' he asked.
