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"The Chachapoya warrior belongs to science," Moore lashed back, his anger choking him. "He is a visible link to the past and belongs in a museum, not in the living room of some morally corrupt gatherer of stolen artifacts."
Zolar threw Moore an insidious look. "All right, Professor, he's yours for your share of the gold."
Moore looked agonized. His professional training as a scientist fought a war with his greed. He felt dirtied and ashamed now that he realized that Huascar's legacy went beyond mere wealth. He was overcome with regret that he was dealing with unscrupulous scum. He gripped his wife's hand, knowing without doubt she felt the same. "If that's what it takes. You've got yourself a deal."
Zolar laughed. "Now that's settled. Can we please proceed and find what we came here for?"
A few minutes later, they stood in a shoulder-to-shoulder line on the edge of the subterranean riverbank and stared mesmerized at the array of gold, highlighted by the portable fluorescent lamps carried by the military engineers. All they saw was the treasure. The sight of a river flowing through the bowels of the earth seemed insignificant.
"Spectacular," whispered Zolar. "I can't believe I'm looking at so much gold."
"This easily exceeds the treasures of King Tut's tomb," said Moore.
"How magnificent," said Micki, clutching her husband's arm. "This has to be the richest cache in all the Americas."
Sarason's amazement quickly wore off. "Very clever of those ancient bastards," he charged. "Storing the treasure on an island surrounded by a strong current makes recovery doubly complicated."
"Yes, but we've got cables and winches," said Moore.
INCA GOLD
"Think of the difficulty they had in moving all that gold over there with nothing but hemp rope and muscle."
Micki spied a golden monkey crouched on a pedestal. "That's odd."
Zolar looked at her. "What's odd?"
She stepped closer to the monkey and its pedestal which was lying on its side. "Why would this piece still be on this bank of the river?"
"Yes, it does seem strange this object wasn't placed with the others," said Moore. "It almost looks as if it was thrown here."
Sarason pointed to gouges in the sand and calcium crystals beside the riverbank. "I'd say it was dragged off the island."
"It has writing scratched on it," said Moore.
"Can you decipher anything?" asked Zolar.
"Doesn't need deciphering. The markings are in English."
Sarason and Zolar stared at him with the expressions of Wall Street bankers walking along the sidewalk and being asked by a homeless derelict if they could spare fifty thousand dollars. "No jokes, Professor," said Zolar.
"I'm dead serious. Somebody engraved a message into the soft gold on the bottom of the pedestal, quite recently by the looks of it."
"What does it say?"
Moore motioned for an engineer to aim his lamp at the monkey's pedestal, adjusted his glasses and began reading aloud.
Welcome members of the Solpemachaco to the underground thieves and plunderers annual convention.
If you have any ambitions in life other than the acquisition of stolen loot, you have come to the right place.
Be our guests and take only the objects you can use.
Your congenial sponsors,
Dr. Shannon Kelsey, Miles Rodgers, Al Giordino, & Dirk Pitt.
There was a moment of sober realization, and then Zolar snarled at his brother. "What in hell is going on here? What kind of foolish trick is this?"
