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Sarason moved forward, tight-lipped and angry. "I'd like to ask if our illustrious code breakers have the slightest idea in hell what they're doing?"
"What do you want?" Moore stated coldly. "An arrow that points to X marks the spot?"
"Yes, dammit, that's exactly what we want!"
Zolar smiled condescendingly. "Let's get down to the hard facts, Dr. Moore. What can you tell us?"
"You'll be happy to learn," Micki Moore answered for her husband, "that, incredible as it sounds, the golden chain is only a small part of the treasure's stockpile. The inventory my husband and I have deciphered records at least another forty or more tons of ceremonial ornaments and vessels, headdresses, breastplates, necklaces, and solid gold and silver objects that each took ten men to carry.
There were also massive bundles of sacred textiles, at least twenty golden-cased mummies, and over fifty ceramic pots filled with precious gems. If given more time we can give you a complete breakdown."
Zolar, Sarason, and Oxley stared at Micki, their eyes unblinking through the masks, their expressions of insatiable greed well hidden. For several moments there wasn't a sound except their breathing and the whir of the printer. Even for men used to dealing in million-dollar sums, the extent of Huascar's golden wealth went far beyond their wildest imaginings.
"You paint a glowing picture," said Zolar finally. "But do the symbols on the mummy's case tell us where the treasure is buried?"
"It's not buried in the strict sense of the word," said Henry Moore.
He stared at Zolar, waiting for him to react to his statement. Zolar stood there impassively.
"According to the narrative engraved on the suit," Moore explained, "the hoard was secreted in a cavern on a river--"
Sarason's eyes flashed with sudden disappointment. "Any cavern by a well-traveled river would have been discovered long before now, and the treasure removed."
Oxley shook his head. "It's not likely a golden chain that took two hundred men to lift could have vanished a second time."
"Nor an inventory as vast as the Moores describe," added Zolar. "As an acknowledged expert on Inca antiquities I'd be aware of any artifacts identified as belonging to Huascar that have made their way onto the market. No one who discovered such a cache could keep it secret."
"Maybe we've placed too much trust in the good doctor and his wife," said Sarason. "How do we know they're not leading us down the garden path?"
"Who are you to talk about trust?" Moore said quietly. "You lock my wife and me inside this concrete dungeon without windows for four days, and you don't trust us? You people must enjoy childish games."
"You have no grounds for complaint," Oxley told him. "You and Mrs. Moore are being paid extremely well."
Moore gave Oxley an impassive look. "As I was about to say, after the Incas and their Chachapoyan guards deposited Huascar's vast store of treasure in the cavern, they covered the entrance to a long passageway that led to it. Then they blended the soil and rocks to make it look natural and planted native plants over the area to make certain the passage to the cavern was never found again.
"Is there a description of the terrain around the entrance to the cavern?" Zolar asked.
"Only that it is on a rounded peak of a steep-sided island in an inland sea."
"Wait a moment," snapped Oxley. "You said the cavern was near a river."
Moore shook his head. "If you had listened, you'd have heard me say, the cavern was on a river."
Sarason stared angrily at Moore. "What ridiculous myth are you handing us? A cavern on a river on an island in an inland sea? Took a wrong turn in your translation, didn't you, Doc?"
"There is no mistake," said Moore firmly. "Our analysis is correct."
"The use of the word river could be purely symbolic," suggested Micki Moore.
"So could the island," Sarason retorted.
"Perhaps you'd get a better perspective if you heard our entire interpretation," offered Henry Moore.
"Please spare us the details," said Zolar. "We're already familiar with how Huascar smuggled his kingdom's treasury from under the collective noses of his brother Atahualpa and Francisco Pizarro. Our only interest is the direction General Naymlap sailed the treasure fleet and the exact location where he hid the hoard."
The Moores exchanged glances. Micki gave Henry an affirmative nod, and he turned to Zolar. "A11
right, since we're partners." He paused to scan a page rolled out by the printer. "The pictographs on the suit t
