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Moore looked at them in cold calculation. "Do with her what you will. It won't make any difference."
A strange silence came over the Zolar brothers. Sarason, the grittiest of them all, stood open-mouthed, disbelieving. What sort of man could calmly, without the slightest hint of shame or fear, toss his wife to the wolves?
"You can stand by while your wife is beaten and raped and murdered, and not say one word to stop it?" Zolar asked, studying Moore's reaction.
Moore's expression remained unchanged. "Barbaric stupidity will gain you nothing."
"He's bluffing." Moore needed an acid bath after the look Sarason gave him. "He'll crumble as soon as he hears her scream."
Zolar shook his head. "I don't think so."
"I agree," said Oxley. "We've underestimated his monumental greed and his ruthless mania for becoming a big star in the academic world. Am I right, Doctor?"
Moore was unmoved by their contempt. Then he said, "Fifty percent of something beats a hundred percent of nothing, gentlemen."
Zolar glanced at his brothers. Oxley gave a barely perceptible nod. Sarason clenched his fists so tightly they went ivory-he turned away but the expression on his face gave every indication of wanting to tear Moore's lungs out.
"I think we can avoid further threats and settle this is an orderly manner," said Zolar. "Before we can agree to your increased demands, I must have your complete assurance you can guide us to the treasure."
"I have deciphered the description of the landmark that leads to the entrance of the cavern," said Moore, speaking slowly and distinctly. "There is no probability of error. I know the dimensions and its shape. I can recognize it from the air."
His confident assertion was met with silence. Zolar walked over to the golden mummy and looked down at the glyphs etched in the gold covering. "Thirty percent. You'll have to make do with that."
"Forty or nothing." Moore said resolutely.
"Do you want it in writing?"
"Would it stand up in a court of law?"
"Probably not."
"Then we'll just have to take each other at our word." Moore turned to his wife. "Sorry, my dear, I hope you didn't find this too upsetting. But you must understand. Some things are more important than marriage vows."
What a strange woman, Zolar thought. She should have looked frightened and humiliated, but she showed no indication of it. "It's settled then," he said. "Since we're now working partners, I see no need to continue wearing our ski masks." He pulled it over his head and ran his hands through his hair.
"Everyone try to get a good night's sleep. You will all fly to Guaymas, Mexico, on our company jet first thing in the morning."
"Why Guaymas?" asked Micki Moore.
"Two reasons. It's centrally located in the Gulf, and a good friend and client has an open invitation for my use of his hacienda just north of the port. The estate has a private airstrip, which makes it an ideal headquarters for conducting the search."
"Aren't you coming?" asked Oxley.
"I'll meet you in two days. I have a business meeting in Wichita, Kansas."
Zolar turned to Sarason, leery that his brother might launch another rampage against Moore. But he need not have worried.
Samson's face had a ghoulish grin. His brothers could not see inside his mind, see that he was happily imagining what Tupac Amaru would do to Henry Moore after the treasure was discovered.
"Brunhilda has gone as far as she can go," said Yaeger, referring to his beloved computer terminal.
"Together, we've painstakingly pieced together about ninety percent of the stringed codes. But there are a few permutations we haven't figured out--"
"Permutations?" muttered Pitt, sitting across from Yaeger in the conference room.
"The different arrangements in lineal order and color of the quipu's coiled wire cables."
Pitt shrugged and looked around the room. Four other men were there-- Admiral Sandecker, Al Giordino, Rudi Gunn, and Hiram Yaeger. Everyone's attention was focused on Yaeger, who looked like a coyote who had bayed nonstop all night at a full moon.
