Serpent (52 page)

Over lunch of jerky and cold tortillas they discussed their options and agreed that there was only one: they had to go on. Neither expressed the unspoken fear that the river would come to a dead end. Or no end at all. But the possibility hung over their heads like a black cloud.

They got back in the boat, restarted the motor so they'd have control and traveled another half hour, often bending over with fits of coughing from the damp musty air. Gamay felt as if her lung linings were becoming as mildewed as the rest of her. The current seemed to diminish. Chi, who'd been lighting the way ahead, announced that the river was almost back to its original width above the rapids. Chi had placed the camp light in the prow of the boat, and its yellow glow illuminated what looked like a large cave.

"Stop!" Chi shouted over the suddenly echoing sound of the motor.

Gamay cut power and jerked the tiller around, narrowly avoiding. a collision with the black wall in their way. The river had disappeared again. It must have gone even deeper, she surmised.

They were in a large pool. A narrow tributary extended off the main waterway. For want of a better course, Gamay pointed the pram into what looked like a manmade canal.

Chi shut off the lantern and leaned forward, staring into the darkness at a faint orange glow which grew larger and brighter as they neared, finally materializing into a flickering kerosene lantern on the piling of a small pier. Gamay slid the boat in next to two identical prams tied up at the dock and cut the motor. They listened intently but heard no sound louder than their own nervous breathing.

"Guess this is the end of the ride," Gamay said.

They packed Chi's rucksack with their remaining supplies and made their way cautiously along the pier which was built against a level limestone shelf about as wide as a sidewalk The walkway widened, and the rough walls gave way to smooth ones. They followed a trail of lights, moving from one lantern to another, until they were in a large chamber: The walls and ceiling were smooth and squarecut.

Chi took in his surroundings. "This was a quarry. Probably used by the ancients to cut limestone for their temples and houses. We're in the middle of Mayan activity."

"I don't think the ancients used kerosene lanterns."

"Nor do I. The good news for us is that there must be an entrance somewhere."

They explored further and came upon dozens of wooden boxes stacked on pallets. Chi walked down the row and peered into the boxes. "Incredible," he whispered. "There must be hundreds of Mayan artifacts here. They're using thus quarry to store stolen antiquities."

"Makes sense," Gamay agreed. "The loot is brought in via the river and shipped out from here." A light bulb went off in her head.

"They'd need land transportation to move the artifacts out of here."

Chi wasn't listening. He was standing in front of a set of wide shelving built against the chamber wall. The beam of his flashlight went back and forth over a number of large stone blocks lined up on the shelves like a display at a tombstone store. "The boats again," he whispered.

Gamay stepped closer and saw carvings in the stone. "These are similar to the carvings we saw back at the ruins."

"Yes, it seems the looting is far more extensive than I imagined. They must have hit other archaeological sites similar to the one we visited. They used a diamond edged power saw, to cut these sections from the wall." He sighed heavily. "This is a tragedy."

Intellectual curiosity momentarily overwhelmed their survival instinct. They might have stayed there all day comparing notes if Gamay hadn't noticed a whitish glow at the far end of the quarry. Daylight. At last, a way out of this creepy place. Since they'd climbed out of the boat she'd been dogged by the feeling that they were not alone. With a quick glance over her shoulder she grabbed Chi by the arm and practically dragged him away from the stone artifacts.

The light was coming through an opening about as wide as a garage door topped with the typical Mayan corbeled arch: They stepped outside. The sudden change from dark coolness to dazzling heat was a shock, and they blinked their eyes against the bright sunlight. In front of the opening was a crude loading platform and a winch hanging from a crane. The earth around the platform was soaked with motor oil and churned up by tire treads.

Gamay stepped forward for a closer look only to stop as she saw something in her peripheral vision. She turned to the right, then to the left, and didn't like what she saw. On either side of the quarry entrance, which was cut into a hill, was a man. One had a rifle trained on her, the other a shotgun leveled at Chi. They had pistols tucked in their belts as well. Gamay and Chi agreed with their eyes not to make a precipitous move. Their only escape route was back the way they'd come, and that was blocked a second later when a third armed man stepped from the quarry. Her instincts about being followed were right on the mark, Gamay thought ruefully.

All three men had the dirty, unshaven look that she had come to expect from the locals, but these chicleros had a harder, more disciplined aspect about them than the men who had chased them downriver. That would make sense. The men back at the excavation site would have been at the bottom of the pecking order, the laborers who dug up the antiquities and the mules who transported them. These must be the guards. The third man issued a curt order to the others. They gestured with their weapons for Gamay and Chi to move along a dirt road that led away from the quarry.

They followed it for several minutes through the forest until they came to where the trees and brush had been cut away to make a parking space for a dented and mud-spattered four-wheel-drive GMC pickup truck. The door of a small shed was open, revealing the greasy tools hanging inside. A man was working on the engine. He backed out from under the upraised hood when he heard the others approaching. He was a skinny, waxen-skinned man whose scraggly narrow beard made him look like a poor man's Satan. He and the head guard talked. Even without knowing Spanish, Gamay could tell that the mechanic was the one in authority.

He directed a question at Chi, who had slipped back into his humble peon mode. They talked a minute, then the man frowned and shook his head in a this-is-all-l-need expression. Gamay noted with relief that there was none of the leering rape threat of her earlier encounters, but she wasn't reassured by seeing that the man kept his hand on his pistol grip the whole time he talked with Chi. After a moment's thought he got in the truck's cab and talked in low tones to a squawking radio voice. The conversation was heated at times, but the mechanic was smirking when he came back and issued an order to the guards. They grabbed Gamay and Chi and roughly plunked them on the ground behind the truck, then bound their feet and tied their arms to the bumper.

"What did he say?" Gamay whispered when they were left alone.

"I told him we were lost, that you are a scientist and I am your guide, that we were drawn into the cave by accident."

"Did he buy the story?"

"It didn't matter. He said he has orders to shoot anyone he finds here. But he checked with his bosses on the radio and they told him to bring us in."

"He looked pretty pleased with himself for passing the buck. How long do we have?"

"The truck has an engine problem. When he gets it fixed, we vamanos.

Gamay took a deep breath and let it out. She wasn't afraid. Just weary and somewhat discouraged that they had been captured so close to freedom after the last few days struggling down the river. For all their efforts they were no better off now than when they'd been stuffed underground. Looking on the bright side, these chicleros didn't leer at her body and make unveiled threats of rape. And they wouldn't have to walk out of the forest. She focused her thoughts on the truck. It could be their ticket out of here if they could figure out how to wrest the ignition keys from four armed men. She leaned her head back against the bumper and sorted through their options. She realized quickly that as things now stood only one thing could get them out of this bind. A miracle. She closed her eyes. It was going to be a long night.

36 ZAVALA SAW THE BODIES IN THE dawn light from the lead helicopter. The Huey was flying above treetop level following the serpentine twists and turns of the river when Zavala noticed the human flotsam caught in a sharp bend. He asked the pilot to go in for a closer look. The Huey banked over the water and hovered. Zavala leaned out its big door and inspected the bloated corpses. Then he radioed the second helicopter, which was making a wide lazy circle above. .

"Paul and Kurt, from what I can see there's nothing to worry about. All the bodies appear to be male." In other words, Gamay wasn't among the dead..

Are you certain?
° Trout replied.

As sure as I can be from up here."

Austin's voice cut in. "Thanks. This is a good place to make our insertion. Is our limo ready?"

All gassed up and set to go."

"Good. Let's do it."

The two helicopters on loan from the Mexican army had overflown the old ruins where Gamay had first been captured. Trout wanted his NUMA teammates to have a total picture of Gamay and Chi's flight from start to finish. Trout flew over the rapids and continued downriver until the bodies were sighted.

Zavala relayed Austin's command to the pilot. The Huey drifted out over the widest part of the river, then slowly descended until the large object slung under its belly touched the water. Zavala hit a release switch, and the helicopter lurched upward, relieved of the weight it had been carrying. The Huey moved out of the way, and the aircraft carrying Austin and Trout darted in to take its place.

Austin was out the door first, quickly rappelling down a line into what looked like an oversized, vaguely banana-shaped bathtub. He released the rappel line and punched a starter button, then maneuvered the strange craft to keep it under Trout, who was descending the rope.

A waterproof bag was lowered next. Trout guided it down. It was tricky going directly under the wash of air from the rotor. Trout's height gave him a first-base-man's edge as he reached for the package holding their vital supplies. Although his dignified manner reflected his academic background and his lean frame suggested a frail physique, Trout had built up muscular shoulders and arms from his days as a commercial fisherman. He easily hoisted the swinging package off its hook, and the Huey moved away.

"I don't usually pick up hitchhikers, but you have an honest face," Austin yelled over the engine racket.

Trout smiled.. Despite his worry about Gamay, he was happy to be doing something at last. He unclipped the handheld radio from his belt and talked into it.

"Thanks for bringing the limo around, Joe."

"No problem. Better give it a test run before you take it for a spin,"

The "limo" was a two-person Seal, one of the smallest hovercraft made. The foam and fiberglass grass-green hull, with its rounded stern and sharp pointed nose, was only fifteen feet long. With the combined kick from its thrust propeller and lift fan, the Seal could plane along on an air cushion, on water or land, with its payload, at a speed of up to twentyfive miles per hour. Recalling Nina Kirov's experience with the giant hovercraft, Austin had reasoned that the bad guys weren't the only ones who should be driving fun boats. The Seal was designed for hunters and wildlife people who wanted to get into otherwise inaccessible locations. The Special Forces had modified the civilian model, adding brackets for a light machine gun, spotlight, and infrared night sensors.

Austin goosed the twenty-horsepower Briggs and Stratton engine and felt the craft rise out of the water on its air cushion. He tried some circles and loops, planing at high speeds. and low. Satisfied that he had the hang of it, he turned the controls over to Trout. While Trout got accustomed to the feel of the little craft, Austin dug through their supply bag and pulled out his pistol and two CAR 15s, the shortened carbine version of the M16. In addition to a rate of up to 950 rounds per minute on automatic, the weapon could be used as a grenade launcher.

Austin would have been satisfied if no shot had to be fired, but he wasn't optimistic. He was no longer laughing at Trout's cami uniform and had borrowed one of his own and covered his stark white hair with a matching fatigue cap.