Serpent (NUMA Files 1)

"I think I'm in one piece. Wish I could stop the telephone ringing in my head."

More coughs. "What happened?"

"It sounded like a combination of Vesuvius and Krakatoa. My guess leans toward a few kilos of C4 plastique explosive." Austin grunted. "I like you a lot, Joe, but I don't think we're ready to be engaged. Can you move?"

There was more cursing as they untangled arms and legs and breathing hoses, until they were able to stand. Zavala reached for a halogen lamp which had fallen within arm's reach. He flashed it on Austin then back at his own face. Their masks were askew but the lenses were unbroken and had protected their eyes from the blinding dust.

"You look like a disreputable mime," Zavala said with a laugh.

"I hate mimes, even reputable ones. You're looking a little pale yourself. I've got another revelation. We're breathing without our regulators."

Zavala held the halfmask that contained the microphone and regulator to his face and clamped his teeth on the mouthpiece. "Still works," he said.

"Mine, too. Looks like we won't need them. I feel fresh air coming in."

"That means somebody blew the top off the pyramid. Time to get moving. Can you walk?"

Zavala nodded and crawled from the pit, then leaned in and helped Austin out. They were covered from head to toe with whitish brown dust that gave them a zombielike look. Austin flashed his light back into the pit and saw that the heavy stone lid had been cracked open by the concussion. Austin knew they should be moving, but his curiosity got the best of him. He aimed the light at the figure inside.

The face was covered by a jade mask with round eyes and an aquiline nose. The corpse was dressed in a shroud of dark material that could have been velvet. Strands of whitishred hair poked out from under an amorphously shaped hat made out of the same material. Austin moved the light down. The clawlike mummified hands clutched rolls of old parchment. Austin removed one of the rolls, examined it with wondering eyes, then tucked it back into the bony hands. He noticed a glint of yellow under the chin of the mask The shape was familiar, but it seemed out of context. Austin wanted to take a closer look, but there wasn't time. The sound of voices was coming from the boat chamber.

48 THE ALMOST IMPENETRABLE CLOUD in the boat chamber was dissipating rapidly, the motes swirling against the sunlight that streamed down from a huge opening that yawned where the ceiling had been. Great chunks of rock had flattened .the stern end of the dark red hull like a potato masher. Columns had been knocked over and lay in fragments. The chamber floor was littered with smaller pieces of rock and coated with limestone dust. Austin had no time to mourn. the boat's destruction. A rope ladder dropped down from the ragged hole. Two figures dressed in black were climbing down the ladder into the dusty haze.

The first one to set foot on the floor reached up and steadied the ladder. "Sorry about the mess, Don Halcon," came a voice that was flat, unemotional, and unapologetic.

"It couldn't be helped, Guzman," said the slenderbuilt dark-haired man, surveying the wreckage. "The important thing is that we reached our goal, not how we did it." He flicked on a powerful flashlight and pointed it at the ruined boat. "My God, what a fantastic sight!"

The intruders made their way through the rubble and climbed over the splintered stern timbers to the less damaged section of the boat. Moments later Halcon shouted with excitement. "Look at this, Guzman!" he said with hysterical joy. "There are enough jewels in my hand to outfit a whole new army."

Austin stood at the entryway to the boat chamber with Zavala and considered their situation. They were unarmed except for their sheath knives. Halcon and his henchman would have sidearms at the very least. If he and Zavala made a break for the ladder or the water entrance at the far end of the chamber, they'd be picked off like ducks in a shooting gallery.

He whispered his concerns to Zavala. "Maybe we can bluff our way through."

Joe had come to the same conclusion as his partner. "What have we got to lose?"

Just our lives and those of many, others, Austin thought. "We've got to work our way back to where we came in. Get rid of our main air tanks. Keep the emergency tank and regulator with you." He tapped the pouch around his neck. "I've got a surprise that might distract them, but the timing has to be just right. It won't take long for them to find us. If we surprise them they may start shooting."

"Okay, let them know we're here. I'll take my cue from you," Zavala said.

Austin clapped his colleague on the shoulder, took a deep breath, and stepped out into the boat chamber.

"Hello, gentlemen," he said in a loud and clear voice.

The white-haired man with the scar quickly slipped a pistol from its belt holster and cocked it in Austin's direction.

"We're unarmed. There are just two of us," Austin said quickly, staring at the muzzle. He had gambled that the man was too much of a professional to let off a panic shot.

"Come forward where I can see you." Austin followed the order, he and Zavala closing the distance by several paces. The white-haired man climbed out of the boat wreckage, cautiously approached, and relieved them of their sheath knives. The livid scar on his face became more pronounced when he grinned.

"We really have to stop meeting like this," he said, tossing the knives out of range.

"Introduce me to your friends, Guzman." Halcon stepped from the wrecked boat, a gun in his hand.

"Please excuse my rudeness, Don Halcon. Allow me to introduce Mr. Austin and his NUMA associate Mr. Zavala, whom I met in Arizona. Zavala is the gentleman who was photographed by our surveillance camera."

"Of course, no

w I recognize him."