Inca Gold (Dirk Pitt 12)

"If they're still alive, they should be on the surface."

Moore looked around the cavern and saw that Amaru was overseeing the removal of the mummies of the guardians from inside the crypt. The Zolars were leaving the caverns as bare as when the Incas found them. Nothing of value was to be left.

"We've got a detailed inventory," he said to Micki. "Let's be on our way."

The Moores hitched a ride on a sled stacked with golden animals being towed up to the staging area.

When they came into daylight, they searched the summit, but Loren Smith and Rudi Gunn were nowhere to be found.

By then, it was too late for the Moores to reenter the mountain.

Loren shivered. Tattered clothing was no protection against the cool dampness of the cavern. Gunn put his arm around her to provide what body warmth he had to give. The tiny cell-like chamber that was their prison was little more than a wide crack in the limestone. There was no room to stand up, and whenever they tried to move about to find a comfortable position or to keep warm, the guard shoved his gun butt at them through the opening.

After the two sections of the golden chain had been brought through the passageway, Amaru forced them from the mountain crest down to the little cavity behind the guardian's crypt. Unknown to the Moores, Loren and Rudi had been imprisoned before the scientists made their way out of the treasure cavern.

"We would appreciate a drink of water," Loren told the guard.

He turned and looked at her blankly. He was an appalling figure, enormous, with an entirely repulsive face, thick lips, flat nose, and one eye. The empty socket he left exposed, giving him the brutal ugliness of Quasimodo.

This time when Loren shivered it wasn't from the cold. It was the fear that coursed throughout her half-naked body. She knew that to show audacity might invite pain, but she no longer cared. "Water, you drooling imbecile. Do you understand, agua?"

He gave her a cruel look and slowly vanished from their narrow line of vision. In a few minutes he returned and tossed a military canteen of water into the cave.

"I think you've made a friend," said Gunn.

"If he thinks he's getting a kiss on the first date," said Loren, twisting off the cap of the canteen, "he's got another think coming."

She offered Gunn a drink, but he shook his head. "Ladies first."

Loren drank sparingly and passed the canteen to Gunn. "I wonder what happened to the Moores?"

"They may not know we were moved from the summit down to this hellhole."

"I fear the Zolars intend to bury us alive in here," Loren said. The tears came to her eyes for the first time as her defenses began to crack. She had endured the beatings and the abuse, but now that it seemed she and Gunn were abandoned, the faint hope that had kept her going was all but extinguished.

"There is still Dirk," Gunn said gently.

She shook her head as if embarrassed at being seen wiping away the tears. "Please stop. Even if he were still alive, Dirk couldn't fight his way into this rotten mountain with a division of Marines and reach us in time."

"If I know our man, he wouldn't need a division of Marines."

"He's only human. He would be the last one to think of himself as a miracle worker."

"As long as we're still alive," said Gunn, "and there is a chance, that's all

that matters."

"But for how long?" She shook her head sadly. "A few more minutes, a couple of hours? The truth is, we're already as good as dead."

When the first section of chain was dragged into daylight, everyone on the summit stood and admired it. The sheer mass of so much gold in one place took their breath away. Despite the dust and calcite drippings from centuries underground, the great mass of yellow gold gleamed blindingly under the noon sun.

In all the years the Zolars had been practicing the theft of antiquities, they had never seen such a masterwork of art so rich in splendor from the past. No treasured object known to history could match it. Fewer than four collectors throughout the world could have afforded the entire piece. The sight was doubly grand when the second section of chain was pulled from the passage opening and laid beside the first.

"Mother of heaven!" gasped Colonel Campos. "The links are as large as a man's wrist."

"Difficult to believe the Incas had mastered such highly technical skills in metallurgy," murmured Zolar.

Sarason knelt down and studied the links. "Their artistry and sophistication is phenomenal. Each link is perfect. There isn't a flaw anywhere."