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"And are you also aware, sir, that officials at the Ecuadorian embassy have filed a protest?"
"As a matter of fact, I instigated the protest."
Gaskill sighed and visibly relaxed. "I had a feeling in my bones there was more to this than a simple smuggling."
"I think Mr. Gaskill and I would both appreciate an explanation," said Ragsdale.
Sandecker paused as his private secretary, Julie Wolff, entered with a tray of coffee cups and set them on the edge of his desk. "Excuse me, Admiral, but Rudi Gunn called from San Felipe to report that he and Al Giordino have landed and are making final preparations for the project."
"What is Dirk's status?"
"He's driving and should be somewhere in Texas about now."
Sandecker turned back to the government agents after Julie had closed the door. "Sorry for the interruption. Where were we?"
"You were going to tell us why you smuggled a stolen artifact into the United States," said Ragsdale, his face serious.
The admiral casually opened a box of his cigars and offered them. The agents shook their heads. He leaned back in his desk chair, lit a cigar, and graciously blew a cloud of blue smoke over his shoulder toward an open window. Then he told them the story of Drake's quipu, beginning with the war between the Inca princes and ending with Hiram Yaeger's translation of the coiled strands and their knots.
"But surely, Admiral," questioned Ragsdale, "you and NUMA don't intend to get into the tr
easure hunting business?"
"We most certainly do." Sandecker smiled.
"I wish you'd explain the Ecuadorian protest," said Gaskill.
"As insurance. Ecuador is in bitter conflict with an army of peasant rebels in the mountains. Their government officials were not about to allow us to search for the quipu and then take it to the United States for decoding and preservation for fear their people would think they had sold a priceless national treasure to foreigners. By claiming we stole it, they're off the hook. So they agreed to loan the guipu to NUMA for a year. And when we return it with the proper ceremony, they'll be applauded as national heroes."
"But why NUMA?" Ragsdale persisted. "Why not the Smithsonian or National Geographic?"
"Because we don't have a proprietary interest. And we're in a better position to keep the search and discovery out of the public eye."
"But you can't legally keep any of it."
"Of course not. If it's discovered in the Sea of Cortez, where we believe it lies, Mexico will cry
`finders keepers.' Peru will claim original ownership, and the two countries will have to negotiate, thereby assuring the treasures will eventually be displayed in their national museums."
"And our State Department will get credit for a public relations coup with our good neighbors to the south," added Ragsdale.
"You said it, sir, not me."
"Why didn't you notify Customs or the FBI about this?" inquired Gaskill.
"I informed the President," Sandecker replied matter-of-factly. "If he failed to filter the information from the White House to your agencies, then you'll just have to blame the White House."
Ragsdale finished his coffee and set the cup on the tray. "You've closed the door on one problem that concerned us all, Admiral. And believe me when I say we are extremely relieved at not having to put you through the hassle of an investigation. Unfortunately, or fortunately, depending on your viewpoint, you've opened the door to another dilemma."
Gaskill looked at Ragsdale. "The coincidence is nothing short of astonishing."
"Coincidence?" Sandecker asked curiously.
"That after almost five hundred years, two vital clues to the mystery of Huascar's treasure surfaced from two different sources within five days of each other."
Sandecker shrugged. "I'm afraid I don't follow you."
In turn, Gaskill filled the admiral in on the Golden Body Suit of Tiapollo. He finished by giving a brief summary of the case against Zolar International.
