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Pitt handed the receiver back to Trinity and turned to Lily. "We're off the case," he informed them. "The Army is taking over the excavation.
They're going to haul the artifacts away as fast as they can throw them in the back of a truck."
Lily's eyes widened in shock. "The scrolls will be destroyed," she gasped. "After sixteen hundred years in an underground vault the parchment and papyrus manuscripts must be treated delicately. They could disintegrate from a sudden temperature change or the slightest touch."
"You heard me give the Admiral the same appraisal," Pitt said helplessly.
Trinity looked washed out. "Waal," he drawled, shall we call it a day?"
Pitt looked at the stakes that marked the outer limit of the search grid. "Not yet," he said slowly, deliberately. "Let's finish the job.
The show is never over till it's over."
The Mercedes stretch limousine stopped at the yacht club dock in the harbor of Alexandria. The chauffeur opened the door and Robert Capesteffe climbed from the back seat. Wearing a tailored white linen suit with a powder-blue shirt and matching tie, he no longer looked like Topiltzin.
He was guided down a stone stairway to a waiting launch. He sat back in the soft cushions and enjoyed the ride across the harbor and through the enwmce where one of the Seven Wonders of the Ancient World, the famed lighthouse known as the Pharos of Alexandria, once stood, a towering 135
meters high. Only a few stones built into an Arab fort were all that remained of its ruins.
The launch headed for a large yacht that was moored around the harbor and off the long wide beach. Capesteffe had walked her decks on previous occasions. He knew her length to be forty-five meters. She was Dutch-built, with sleek, aircraftstyle lines. She had transoceanic range and a cruising speed of thirty knots.
The pilot eased back on the throttle and slipped the launch into reverse at it approached the boarding steps. Capesterre was met on deck by a man dressed in an open silk shirt, shorts and sandals. They embraced.
ifre as ii re
... A - lcotne, bt(,,there," saiki Paul Capesterre. "It's been too long.
"You look healthy, Paul. I'd say you and Akhmad Yazid have gained about eight pounds."
"Twelve."
"Almost seems strange to see you out of uniform," said Robert.
Paul shrugged. "I get tired of Yazid's Arabic gear and that stupid turban." He stood back and smiled at his brother. "You're a fine one to talk. I don't see you in your Aztec god outfit."
"Topiltzin is temporarily on holiday." Robert paused and nodded at the deck. "You've borrowed Uncle Theodore's boat, I see."
I-He hardly has use for it any more since the family left the drug business." Paul Capesterre turned and led his brother into the dining salon. "Come along, I've had lunch set. Now that I've learned you finally developed a taste for champagne, I've dusted off a bottle of Uncle Theodore's finest vintage."
Robert took an offered glass. "I thought President Hasan placed you under house arrest."
"The only reason I bought the villa is because of a hidden escape tunnel that runs underground for a hundred meters and comes up in a mechanic's repair shop."
"Also owned by you."
"Of course."
Robert raised his glass. "Here's to Mother and Father's grand scheme."
Paul nodded. "Although at the moment, your end in Mexico looks more promising than mine in Egypt."
"You're not to blame for the Lady Flamborough fiasco. The family approved the plan. No one could foretell the cunning of the Americans."
That idiot Suleiman Aziz Ammar," said Paul harswy, "he blundered the operation away."
"any news of survivors?"
"Family agents report most were killed, including Ammar and your Captain Machado. Several were taken prisoner, but they know nothing of our involvement."
