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ey appeared in the Pueblo de los Muertos with a highlevel State Department official and played on our patriotism."
"Miles and I were asked to identify and photograph Huascar's treasure after you found it," explained Shannon. "They came to us because of my expertise in Andean culture and artifacts, Miles's reputation as a photographer, and mostly because of our recent involvement with you and NUMA."
"And you volunteered," Pitt surmised.
Rodgers replied "When the Customs agents informed us the gang of smugglers we met in the Andes are connected with the family of underground art dealers who are also searching for the treasure, we started packing."
"The Zolars?"
Rodgers nodded. "The possibility we might be of help in trapping Doc Miller's murderer quickly overcame any reluctance to become involved."
"Wait a minute," said Giordino. "The Zolars are involved with Amaru and the Solpemachaco?"
Rodgers nodded again. "You weren't told? No one informed you that the Solpemachaco and the Zolar family are one and the same?"
"I guess someone forgot," Giordino said caustically. He and Pitt looked at each other as understanding dawned. Each read the other's mind and they silently agreed not to mention their unexpected run-in with Doc Miller's imposter.
"Were you briefed on the instructions we deciphered on the quipu?" Pitt asked Shannon, changing the subject.
Shannon nodded. "I was given a full translation."
"By whom?"
"The courier who hand-delivered it was an FBI agent."
Pitt stared at Gunn and then Giordino with deceptive calm. "The plot thickens. I'm surprised Washington didn't issue press kits about the search to the news media and sell the movie rights to Hollywood."
"If word leaks out," said Giordino, "every treasure hunter between here and the polar icecaps will swarm into the Gulf like fleas after a hemophiliac St. Bernard."
Fatigue began to tighten its grip on Pitt. He was stiff and numb and his back ached. His body demanded to lie down and rest. He had every right to be tired and discouraged. What the hell, he thought, why not share the despair. No good reason why he should bear the cross by himself.
"I hate to say it," he said slowly, staring at Shannon, "but it looks as if you and Miles made a wasted trip."
Shannon looked at him in surprise. "You haven't found the treasure site?"
"Did someone tell you we had?"
"We were led to believe you had pinned down the location," said Shannon.
"Wishful thinking," said Pitt. "We haven't seen a trace of a stone carving."
"Are you familiar with the symbol marker described by the quipu?" Gunn asked Shannon.
"Yes," she replied without hesitation. "The Demonio del Muertos."
Pitt sighed. "The demon of the dead. Dr. Ortiz told us. I go to the back of the class for not making the connection."
"I remember," said Gunn. "Dr. Ortiz was excavating a large grotesque rock sculpture with fangs and described it as a Chachapoyan god of the underworld."
Pitt repeated Dr. Ortiz's exact words. "Part jaguar, part condor, part snake, he sank his fangs into whoever disturbed the dead."
"The body and wings have the scales of a lizard," Shannon added to the description.
"Now that you know exactly what you're looking for," Loren said with renewed enthusiasm, "the search should go easier."
"So we know the I.D. of the beast that guards the hoard," said Giordino, bringing the conversation back to earth. "So what? Dirk and I have examined every island that falls within the pattern and we've come up empty. We've exhausted our search area, and what we might have missed our competitors have likely checked off their list too."
"Al's right," Pitt admitted. "We have no place left to search."
