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."
Zolar and Oxley maintained serious expressions, all the while knowing there were over a thousand collectors on their client list who were eagerly waiting to purchase portions of the golden artifacts at premium prices.
"Ten million," Cortina repeated stubbornly.
Sarason kept up the pretense of hard bargaining. "That's a lot of money," he protested.
"Protecting you from American and Mexican law enforcement agents is only half our involvement,"
Cortina reminded him. "Without Colonel Campos's heavy transport helicopters to haul the gold to your transfer site in the Altar Desert, you would end up with nothing."
"And without our involvement in the discovery, you would too," said Sarason.
Corona spread his hands indifferently. "I cannot deny that we need each other. But I strongly believe it would be in your best interests to be generous."
Sarason looked at his brothers. Zolar gave a barely perceptible nod. After a moment, Sarason turned to Corona and Campos and gestured in apparent defeat. "We know when we have a losing hand.
Consider yourselves another ten million dollars richer."
The maximum load the winch could tow was five tons, so Huascar's chain was to be cut in the middle and dragged out in two pieces. The soldiers of the Mexican engineering battalion would then fashion a raft from boards requisitioned from the nearest lumber yard to ferry the main mass of the treasure across the subterranean river. Only the golden throne proved too heavy for the raft. Once Huascar's chain was pulled to the mountain peak, the winch cable was to be carried back down and attached to a harness wrapped around the throne. After sending a signal topside, it would be winched across the river bottom until it reached dry ground. From there the engineers, aided by Amaru's men, planned to muscle it onto a sled for the final journey from the heart of the mountain. Once out of the mountain, all of the artifacts would be loaded aboard vessels the Inca artisans who created the golden masterworks could never have visualized birds that flew without wings, known in modern times as helicopters.
On the island of treasure, Micki Moore busily catalogued and recorded descriptions of the pieces while Henry measured and photographed them. They had to work quickly. Amaru was driving the military engineers to remove everything in a hurry, an effort that reduced the small mountain of golden antiquities at an incredible rate. What had taken the Incas and Chachapoyas six days to cache inside the mountain, modern equipment was about to remove in ten hours.
She moved close to her husband and whispered, "I can't do this."
He looked at her.
Her eyes seemed to reflect the gold that gleamed under the bright lights brought in by the engineers. "I don't want any of the gold."
"Why not?" he asked her softly.
"I can't explain," she said. "I feel dirty enough as it is. I know you must have come to feel the same.
We must do something to keep it out of Zolar's hands."
"Wasn't that our original intent, to terminate the Zolars and hijack the treasure after it was loaded aboard the aircraft in the Altar Desert?"
"That was before we saw how vast and magnificent it is. Let it go, Henry, we've bitten off more than we can chew."
Moore turned thoughtful. "This is one hell of time to get a conscience."
"Conscience has nothing to do with it. It's ridiculous to think we could unload tons of antiquities. We have to face facts. You and I don't have the facilities or the contacts to dispose of so large a hoard on the underground market."
"Selling Huascar's chain would not be all that difficult."
Micki looked up into his eyes for a long time. "You're a very good anthropologist, and I'm a very good archaeologist. We're also very good at jumping out of airplanes at night into strange countries and murdering people. Stealing priceless ancient art is not what we do best. Besides, we hate these people. I say we work together in keeping the treasure in one piece. Not scattered inside the vaults of a bunch of scavengers hungry for possessions no one else can own or ever view."
"I have to admit," he said wearily, "I've had my reservations too. What do you suggest we do?"
"The right thing," she replied huskily.
For the first time Moore noticed the compassion in her eyes. There was a beauty he had never seen before. She put her arms around him and gazed into his eyes. "We don't have to kill anymore. This time we won't have to crawl back under a rock when our operation is finished."
He took her head between his hands and kissed her. "I'm proud of you, old girl."
She pushed him back, her eyes widening as if she remembered something. "The hostages. I promised them we would rescue them if we could."
"Where are they?"
