Inca Gold (Dirk Pitt 12)

"All heavenly company will be warmly welcomed," said Pitt sincerely. Then he gripped Sandecker's hand. "Keep a tequila on ice for me, Admiral."

"I wish there was another way into the mountain."

Pitt shook his head. "It can only be done with a diveraft operation."

"Bring Loren and Rudi back," replied Sandecker, fighting off a surge of emotion.

"You'll see them soon," Pitt promised.

And then he was gone.

The voice of his radio operator roused Captain Juan Diego from his reverie, and he turned from gazing out his command tent at the cone-shaped mountain. There was an indescribable ugliness about Cerro el Capirote and the bleak desert that surrounded it, he thought. This was a wasteland compared to the beauty of his native state of Durango.

"Yes, what is it, Sergeant?"

The radio operator had his back to him and Diego couldn't see the puzzled look on the soldier's face.

"I called the security posts for their hourly status reports and received no response from Posts Four and Six."

Diego sighed. He didn't need unexpected predicaments. Colonel Campos had commanded him to set up a security perimeter around the mountain and he had followed orders. No reason was given, none was asked. Consumed with curiosity, Diego could only watch the helicopters arrive and depart and wonder what was going on up there.

"Contact Corporal Francisco at Post Five and have him send a man to check Four and Six." Diego sat down at his field desk and duly noted the lack of response in his daily report as a probable breakdown in communications equipment. The possibility there was a real problem never entered his mind.

"I can't raise Francisco at Post Five either," the radioman informed him.

Diego finally turned. "Are you certain your equipment is working properly?"

"Yes, Sir. The transmitter is sending and receiving perfectly."

"Try Post One."

The radioman adjusted his headphones and signaled the post. A few moments later, he turned and shrugged.

"I'm sorry, Captain, Post One is silent too."

"I'll see to this myself," Diego said irritably. He picked up a portable radio and headed from the tent toward his command vehicle. Suddenly, he stopped in his tracks and stared dumbly.

The army command vehicle was sitting with the left front end jacked up, the wheel and the spare tire both nowhere to be seen. "What in hell is going on?" he muttered to himself. Is this some sort of prank, he wondered, or could Colonel Campos be testing him?

He spun around on his heel and started for the tent but took only two steps. As if conjured up out of nothingness by a spell, three men blocked his way. All held rifles pointed at his chest. The first question that ran through his mind was why were Indians, dressed as if they were on a cattle drive, sabotaging his equipment?

"This is a military zone," he blurted. "You are not permitted here."

"Do as you're told, soldier boy," said Billy Yuma, "and none of your men will get hurt."

Diego suddenly guessed what had happened to his security posts. And yet he was confused. There was no way a few Indians could capture forty trained soldiers without firing a shot. He addressed his words to Yuma, whom he took to be the leader.

"Drop your weapons before my men arrive or you will be placed under military arrest."

"I'm sorry to inform you, soldier boy," Yuma said, taking delight in intimidating the officer in his neatly pressed field uniform and brightly shined combat boots, "but your entire force has been disarmed and is now under guard."

"Impossible!" snapped Diego haughtily. "No mob of sand rats can stand up against trained troops."

Yuma shrugged indifferently and turned to one of the men beside him. "Fix the radio inside the tent so it won't work."

"You're crazy. You can't destroy government property."

"You have trespassed on our land," said Yuma in a low voice. "You have no authority here."