Inca Gold (Dirk Pitt 12)

She turned and retrieved two dishes of huevos rancheros with chorizo and refried beans heavy on the salsa from the oven and placed them on the table. "Tell me about it while we eat."

Between mouthfuls, as he ravenously attacked Loren's Mexican brunch, Pitt began with his arrival at the sacrificial well and told her what happened up to his discovery of the jade box and the quipu in the Ecuadorian rain forest. He rounded out his narrative with the myths, the precious few facts, and finished with broad speculation.

Loren listened without interrupting until Pitt finished, then said, "Northern Mexico, you think?"

"Only a guess until the quipu is deciphered."

"How is that possible if, as you say, the knowledge about the knots died with the last Inca?"

"I'm banking on Hiram Yaeger's computer to come up with the key."

"A wild shot in the dark at best," she said, sipping her champagne.

"Our only prospect, but a damned good one." Pitt rose, pulled open the dining room curtains and gazed at an airliner that was lifting off the end of a runway, then sat down again. "Time is our real problem. The thieves who stole the Golden Body Suit of Tiapollo before Customs agents could seize it have a head start."

"Won't they be delayed too?" asked Loren.

"Because they have to translate the images on the suit? A good authority on Inca textile designs and ideographic symbols on pottery should be able to interpret the images on the suit."

Loren came around the table and sat in Pitt's lap. "So it's developing into a race for the treasure."

Pitt slipped his arms around her waist and gave her a tight squeeze. "Things seem to be shaping up that way."

"Just be careful," she said, running her hands under his robe. "I have a feeling your competitors are not nice people."

Early the next morning, a half hour ahead of the morning traffic rush, Pitt dropped Loren off at her townhouse and drove to the NUMA headquarters building. Not about to risk damage to the Allard by the crazy drivers of the nation's capital, he drove an aging but pristine 1984 Jeep Grand Wagoneer that he had modified by installing a Rodeck 500-horsepower V-8 engine taken from a hot rod wrecked at a national drag race meet. The driver of a Ferrari or Lamborghini who might have stopped beside him at a red light would never suspect that Pitt could blow their doors off from zero to a hundred miles an hour before their superior gear ratios and wind dynamics gave them the edge.

He slipped the Jeep into his parking space beneath the tall, green-glassed tower that housed NUMA's offices and took the elevator up to Yaeger's computer floor, the carrying handle of the metal case containing the jade box gripped tightly in his right hand. When he stepped into a private conference room he found Admiral Sandecker, Giordino, and Gunn already waiting for him. He set the case on the floor and shook hands.

"I apologize for being late."

"You're not late." Admiral James Sandecker spoke in a sharp tone that could slice a frozen pork roast.

"We're all early. In suspense and full of anticipation about the map, or whatever you call it."

"Quipu," explained Pitt patiently. "An Inca recording device."

"I'm told the thing is supposed to lead to a great treasure. Is that true?"

"I wasn't aware of your interest," Pitt said, with the hint of a smile.

"When you take matters into your own hands on agency time and money, all behind my back I might add, I'm giving heavy thought to placing an advertisement in the help wanted section for a new projects director."

"Purely an oversight, sir," said Pitt, exercising considerable willpower to keep a straight face. "I had every intention of sending you a full report."

"If I believed that," Sandecker snorted, "I'd buy stock in a buggy whip factory."

A knock came on the door and a bald-headed, cadaverous man with a great scraggly Wyatt Earp moustache stepped into the room. He was wearing a crisp, white lab coat. Sandecker acknowledged him with a slight nod and turned to the others.

"I believe you all know Dr. Bill Straight," he said.

Pitt extended his hand. "Of course. Bill heads up the marine artifact preservation department. We've worked on several projects together."

"My staff is still buried under the two truckloads of antiquities from the Byzantine cargo vessel you and Al found imbedded in the ice on Greenland a few years ago. 11

"All I remember about that project," said Giordino, "is that I didn't thaw out for three months."

"Why don't you show us what you've got?" said Sandecker, unable to suppress his impatience.