Inca Gold (Dirk Pitt 12)

"X marks the spot," he said happily. "I can't say I look forward to the hike."

Pitt looked at him. "Who said anything about walking seven kilometers through that botanical nightmare?"

Giordino gave him a quizzical stare in return. "How else do you expect to reach the wreck?"

"This marvel of aircraft technology has a winch. You can lower me through the trees."

Giordino peered at the thick mantle of the rain forest. "You'd get hung up in the trees. We'd never be able to hoist you out again."

"Not to worry. I checked the tool locker beneath the floor before we left Quito. Someone thoughtfully provided a machete. I can hang from a harness and hack my way down and up again."

"Won't work," said Giordino with a trace of concern in his voice. "We don't have enough fuel to hang around while you play Jungle Jim and still reach the airport in Manta."

"I don't expect you to wait at the curb. Once I'm on the ground, you head for Manta. After you refuel, you come back and pick me up."

"You might have to wander around before you find the wreck. No way you can be spotted from the air. How will we know exactly where to lower the harness?"

"I'll take a couple of smoke canisters with me and set them off when I hear you return."

The expression in Giordino's eyes was anything but cheerful. "I don't suppose I can talk you out of this craziness."

"No, I don't suppose you can."

Ten minutes later Pitt was secure in a safety harness connected to a cable leading to a winch mounted on the roof of the helicopter's cabin. While Giordino hovered the craft just above the top of the trees, Gunn operated the controls to the winch.

"Don't forget to bring back a bottle of champagne so we can celebrate," Pitt shouted as he stepped through the open door of the ship and hung suspended.

"We should be back in two hours," Gunn yelled back over the sound of the rotors and the engine exhaust. He pushed the descent button and Pitt dropped below the skids of the helicopter and soon disappeared into the dense vegetation as if he had jumped into a green ocean.

As he hung supported by his safety h

arness, machete gripped in his right hand, a portable radio in his left, Pitt felt almost as if he were once again dropping into the green slime of the sacrificial well. He could not tell for certain how high he was above the ground, but he estimated the distance from the roof of the forest to its floor to be at least 50 meters (164 feet).

Seen from the air, the rain forest looked like a chaotic mass of struggling plant growth. The trunks of the taller trees were crowded with dense layers of shorter growth, each seeking its share of sunlight. The twigs and leaves nearest the sun danced under the downdraft provided by the helicopter's rotor, giving them the appearance of a restless, undulating ocean.

Pitt held an arm over his eyes as he slowly descended through the first tier of the green canopy, narrowly brushing past the limbs of a high mahogany tree that was sprouting clusters of small white flowers. He used his feet to spring without difficulty out of the way of the thicker branches. A draft of rising steam, caused by the sun's heat, wafted up from the still unseen ground. After the air-conditioned cabin of the helicopter, it didn't take long for sweat to flow from every pore. As he frantically pushed aside a branch that was rising between his legs, he frightened a pair of spider monkeys that leapt chattering around to the other side of the tree.

"You say something?" asked Gunn over the radio.

"I flushed a pair of monkeys during their siesta," Pitt replied.

"Do you want me to slow you down?"

"No, this is fine. I've passed through the first layer of trees. Now it looks like I'm coming down through what I'd guess is laurel."

"Yell if you want me to move you around," said Giordino over the cockpit radio.

"Maintain your position," Pitt directed. "Shifting around might snag the descent cable and leave me hanging up here till I'm an old man."

Pitt entered a thicker maze of branches and quickly managed to cut a tunnel with his machete without having to order Gunn to reduce his rate of descent. He was invading a world seldom seen, a world filled with beauty and danger. Immense climbing plants, desperate for light, crawled straight up the taller trees, some clutching their hosts with tendrils and hooks while others twined upward toward the light like corkscrews. Moss draped the trees in great sheets, reminding him of cobwebs in a crypt from a horror movie. But there was beauty too. Vast garlands of orchids circled their way toward the sky as if they were strings of lights on a Christmas tree.

"Can you see the ground?" asked Gunn.

"Not yet. I still have to move through a small tree that looks like some sort of palm with wild peaches growing on it. After that, I have to dodge a snarl of hanging vines."

"I believe they're called lianas."

"Botany wasn't one of my better subjects."