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"I'm listening," answered Gunn.
"Please send down a line. I want to lift something."
"A line with a small weight attached to the end is on the way."
"Try to drop it where you see our bubbles."
"Will do." There was a pause, and then Gunn's voice came back over Pitt's earphones with a slight edge to it. "Your archaeologist lady is raising hell. She says you can't touch anything down there."
"Pretend she's in Moline, Illinois, and drop the l
ine."
Gunn replied nervously. "She's making a terrible scene up here."
Either drop the line or throw her over the edge," Pitt snapped obstinately.
"Stand by."
Moments later a small steel hook attached to a nylon line materialized through the green void and landed in the silt two meters away. Giordino effortlessly swam over, snagged the line with one hand, and returned. Then, with the finesse of a pickpocket delicately lifting a wallet, Pitt very carefully wrapped the loose end of the line around a strap holding the breastplate to the skeleton and cinched it with the hook.
He stared at Giordino and made the thumbs-up gesture. Giordino nodded and was mildly surprised when Pitt released the line, allowing it to slacken and leaving the skeleton where it lay.
They took turns being lifted out of the sinkhole. As the crane raised him by his safety line, Pitt looked down and vowed he would never again enter that odious slough. At the rim, Gunn was there to help swing him onto firm ground and remove his full face mask.
"Thank God, you're back," he said. "That madwoman threatened to shoot off my testicles."
Giordino laughed. "She learned that from Pitt. Just be thankful your name isn't Amaru."
"What. . . what was that?"
"Another story," said Pitt, inhaling the humid mountain air and enjoying every second of it.
He was struggling out of his dive suit when Shannon stormed up to him like a wild grizzly who had her cubs stolen. "I warned you not to disturb any artifacts," she said firmly.
Pitt looked at her for a long moment, his green eyes strangely soft and understanding. "There is nothing left to touch," he said finally. "Somebody beat you to it. Any artifacts that were in your sacred pool a month ago are gone. Only the bones of animals and sacrificial victims are left scattered on the bottom."
Her face turned incredulous and the hazel eyes flew very wide. "Are you certain?"
"Would you like proof?"
"We have our own equipment. I'll dive into the pool and see for myself."
"Not necessary," he advised.
She turned and called to Miles Rodgers. "Let's get suited up."
"You begin probing around in the silt and you will surely die," Pitt said, with all the emotion of a professor lecturing to a physics class.
Maybe Shannon wasn't listening to Pitt, but Rodgers was. "I think we had better listen to what Dirk is saying."
"I don't wish to sound nasty, but he lacks the necessary credentials to make a case."
"What if he's right?" Rodgers asked innocently.
"I've waited a long time to explore and survey the bottom of the pool. You and I came within minutes of losing our lives trying to unlock its secrets. I can't believe there isn't a time capsule of valuable antiquities down there."
Pitt took the line leading down into the water and held it loosely in his hand. "Here is the verification.
