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〃Didn't anybody ever tell you booze and rock climbing don't mix？〃
Moore ignored him。 Then suddenly； the exhaustion washed away and he stiffened。 His eyes squinted in drunken concentration。 He brushed Oxley aside and stumbled toward a rock the size of a small automobile that was crudely carved in the shape of some animal。 Like a drunk who had witnessed a vision； he staggered around the rock sculpture； his hands fluttering over the rough； uneven surface。
〃A dog；〃 he gasped between labored breaths； 〃it's only a stupid dog。〃
〃Wrong；〃 said Samson。 〃A coyote。 The namesake of the bay。 Superstitious fishermen carved it as a symbol to protect their crews and boats when they go to sea。〃
〃Why should an old rock carving interest you？〃 asked Oxley。
〃As an anthropologist； primitive sculptures can be a great source of knowledge。〃
Samson was watching Moore； and for once his eyes were no longer filled with distaste。 There was no question in his mind that the drunken professor had given away the key to the treasure's location。
He could kill Moore now； Samson thought icily。 Throw the little man over the edge of the island's west palisade into the surf that crashed on the rocks far below。 And who would care？ The body would probably drift out with the tide and bee shark food。 Any investigation by local Mexican authorities was doubtful。
〃You realize； of course； that we no longer require your services； don't you； Henry？〃 It was the first time Sarason had uttered Moore's given name； and there was an unpleasant familiarity about it。
Moore shook his head and spoke with an icy posure that seemed unnatural under the circumstances。 〃You'll never do it without me。〃
〃A pathetic bluff；〃 Samson sneered。 〃Now that we know we're searching for an island with a sculpture； an ancient one I presume； what more can you possibly contribute to the search？〃
Moore's drunkenness had seemingly melted away； and he abruptly appeared as sober as a judge。 〃A rock sculpture is only the first of several benchmarks the Incas erected。 They all have to be interpreted。〃
Samson smiled。 It was a cold and evil smile。 〃You wouldn't lie to me now； would you； Henry？ You wouldn't deceive my brother and me into thinking Isla Bargo isn't the treasure site so you can return later on your own and dig it up？ I sincerely hope that little plot isn't running through your mind。〃
Moore glared at him； simple dislike showing where there should have been fear。 〃Blow off the top of the island；〃 he said with a shrug； 〃and see what it gets you。 Level it to the waterline。 You won't find an ounce of Huascar's treasure； not in a thousand years。 Not without someone who knows the secrets of the markers。〃
〃He may be right；〃 Oxley said quietly。 〃And if he's lying； we can return and excavate on our own。 Either way； we win。〃
Sarason smiled bleakly。 He could read Henry Moore's thoughts。 The anthropologist was playing for time； waiting and scheming to use the ultimate end of the search to somehow claim the riches for himself。 But Samson was a schemer too and he had considered every option。 At the moment he could see no avenue open for Moore to make a miraculous escape with tons of gold。 Certainly not unless Moore had a plan that he had not yet fathomed。
Leniency and patience； they were the watchwords for now； Samson decided。 He patted Moore on the back。 〃Forgive my frustration。 Let's get back to the plane and call it a day。 I think we could all use a cool bath； a tall margarita； and a good supper。〃
〃Amen；〃 said Oxley。 〃We'll take up tomorrow where we left off today。〃
〃I knew you'd see the light；〃 said Moore。 〃I'll show you the way。 All you boys have to do is keep the faith。〃
When they arrived back at the aircraft； Samson entered first。 On a hunch； he picked up Moore's discarded martini shaker and shook a few drops onto his tongue。 Water； not gin。
Sarason silently cursed himself。 He had not picked up on how dangerous Moore was。 Why would Moore act the role of a drunk if not to lull everyone into thinking he was harmless？ He slowly began to prehend that Henry Moore was not entirely what he seemed。 There was more to the famous and respected anthropologist than met the eye； much more。
As a man who could kill without the slightest remorse； Sarason should have recognized another killer when he saw one。
Micki Moore stepped out of the blue…tiled swimming pool below the hacienda and stretched out on a lounge chair。 She was wearing a red bikini that did very little to conceal her thin form。 The sun was warm and she did not dry herself； preferring to let the water drops cling to her body。 She glanced up at the main house and motioned to one of the servants to bring her another rum collins。 She acted as though she were the mistress of the manor； totally disregarding the armed guards who roamed the grounds。 Her behavior was hardly in keeping with someone who was being held hostage。
The hacienda was built around the pool and a large garden filled with a variety of tropical plants。 All major rooms had balconies with dramatic views of the sea and the town of Guaymas。 She was more than happy to relax around the pool or in her skylit bedroom with its own patio and Jacuzzi while the men flew up and down the Gulf in search of the treasure。 She picked up her watch from a small table。 Five o'clock。 The conniving brothers and her husband would be returning soon。 She sighed with pleasure at the thought of another fabulous dinner of local dishes。
After the servant girl brought the rum collins； Micki drank it down to the ice cubes and settled back for a brief nap。 Just before she drifted off； she thought she heard a car drive up the road from town and stop at the front gate of the hacienda。
When she awoke a short time later； her skin felt cool and she sensed that the sun had passed behind a cloud。 But then she opened her eyes； and was startled to see a man standing over her； his shadow thrown across the upper half of her body。
The eyes that stared at her looked like stagnant black pools。 There was no life to them。 Even his face seemed incapable of expression。 The stranger appeared emaciated； as if he been sick for a long time。 Micki shivered as though an icy breeze suddenly swept over her。 She thought it odd that he took no notice of her exposed body； but gazed directly into her eyes。 She felt as if he were looking inside her。
〃Who are you？〃 she asked。 〃Do you work for Mr。 Zolar？〃
He did not reply for several seconds。 When he spoke； it was with an odd voice with no inflection。 〃My name is Tupac Amaru。〃
And then he turned and walked away。
Admiral Sandecker stood in front of his desk and held out his hand as Gaskill and Ragsdale were ushered into his office。 He gave a friendly smile。 〃Gentlemen； please take a seat and get fortable。〃
Gaskill looked down at the little man who stood slightly below his shoulders。 〃Thank you for taking the time to see us。〃
〃NUMA has worked with Customs and the FBI in the past。 Our relations were always based on cordial cooperation。〃
〃I hope you weren't apprehensive when we asked to meet with you；〃 said Ragsdale。
〃Curious is more like it。 Would you like some coffee？〃
Gaskill nodded。 〃Black for me； thank you。〃
〃Whatever artificial sweetener that's handy in mine；〃 said Ragsdale。
Sandecker spoke into his inter； and then looked up and asked； 〃Well； gentlemen； what can I do for you？〃
Ragsdale came straight to the point。 〃We'd like NUMA's help settling a thorny problem dealing with stolen artifacts。〃
〃A little out of our line；〃 said Sandecker。 〃Our field is ocean science and engineering。〃
Gaskill nodded。 〃We understand； but it has e to Customs' attention that someone in your agency has smuggled a valuable artifact into the country illegally。〃
〃That someone was me；〃 Sandecker shot back without batting an eye。
Ragsdale and Gaskill glanced at each other and shifted uneasily in their chairs。 This turn of events was not what they had expected。
〃Are you aware； Admiral； that the United States prohibits the importing of stolen artifacts under a United Nations convention that seeks to protect antiquities worldwide？〃
〃I am。〃
〃And are you also aware； sir； that officials at the Ecuadorian embassy have filed a protest？〃
〃As a matter of fact； I instigated the protest。〃
Gaskill sighed and visibly relaxed。 〃I had a feeling in my bones there was more to this than a simple smuggling。〃
〃I think Mr。 Gaskill and I would both appreciate an explanation；〃 said Ragsdale。
Sandecker paused as his private secretary； Julie Wolff； entered with a tray of coffee cups and set them on the edge of his desk。 〃Excuse me； Admiral； but Rudi Gunn called from San Felipe to report that he and Al Giordino have landed and are making final preparations for the project。〃
〃What is Dirk's status？〃
〃He's driving and should be somewhere in Texas about now。〃
Sandecker turned back to the government agents after Julie had closed the door。 〃Sorry for the interruption。 Where were we？〃
〃You were going to tell us why you smuggled a stolen artifact into the United States；〃 said Ragsdale； his face serious。
The admiral ca