Austin was squatting by an amphora that had split open. "It makes the British crown jewels look like play beads, doesn't it?" Stones the size of marbles ran through his fingers. "The international lawyers are going to have a blast figuring out who owns this stuff."
Zavala glanced toward the burial chamber. "Maybe the last owner of record is in that stone coffin."
Austin picked up a couple of spearheads. "Let's see if it's anyone we know.",
They climbed out of the boat and went back to the burial chamber. The spearheads were strong, and the points fit under the lid. No combination of leverage, even in the hands of two well-muscled and resourceful men, proved equal to the skills of those who had designed and carved the stone coffin.
"Guess we'd better go back to grave robber's school," Austin said.
Zavala checked his pressure gauge. "No time like the present. We're going to have to switch to our spare tank if we stay much longer."
"We've seen all we need to see. Maybe the scientists can make sense of all this."
He started to lead the way back to the boat chamber when the unearthly quiet of the tomb was shattered by a thunderous explosion from above their heads. Austin had a fleeting vision of what it must be like under an erupting volcano. Synapses in their brains went crazy as ageold survival instincts clashed with conflicting commands.
Run. Hit the ground. Freeze.
They fought to keep their balance as the floor shook under their feet. The explosion forced air up into the enclosed chamber, creating a wind tunnel effect. The shock wave knocked Austin and Zavala back into the crypt. Arms flailing, they slammed against the sarcophagus in a wild clatter of tanks and air hoses, then slid into the space between the stone coffin and the wall that contained it. The fall cost them cuts and bruises but probably saved their lives. A piece of ceiling as big as a diesel engine block crashed down on the spot where they'd been standing. Sharpe-dged rocks flew through the air as if they had been shot from a strafing fighter plane. A choking cloud of dust billowed into the burial chamber and covered everything with a fine whitish coating. Then a pattering of loose stones and dirt rained down.
Austin spat out a mouthful of dust and asked Zavala if he was all right.
Zavala made his presence and condition known, first with a coughing fit, then a string of curses in Spanish.
"Yeah, I'm okay" he sputtered. "How about you?" .
"I think I'm in one piece. Wish I could stop the telephone ringing in my head."
More coughs. "What happened?"
"It sounded like a combination of Vesuvius and Krakatoa. My guess leans toward a few kilos of C4 plastique explosive." Austin grunted. "I like you a lot, Joe, but I don't think we're ready to be engaged. Can you move?"
There was more cursing as they untangled arms and legs and breathing hoses, until they were able to stand. Zavala reached for a halogen lamp which had fallen within arm's reach. He flashed it on Austin then back at his own face. Their masks were askew but the lenses were unbroken and had protected their eyes from the blinding dust.
"You look like a disreputable mime," Zavala said with a laugh.
"I hate mimes, even reputable ones. You're looking a little pale yourself. I've got another revelation. We're breathing without our regulators."
Zavala held the halfmask that contained the microphone and regulator to his face and clamped his teeth on the mouthpiece. "Still works," he said.
"Mine, too. Looks like we won't need them. I feel fresh air coming in."
"That means somebody blew the top off the pyramid. Time to get moving. Can you walk?"
Zavala nodded and crawled from the pit, then leaned in and helped Austin out. They were covered from head to toe with whitish brown dust that gave them a zombielike look. Austin flashed his light back into the pit and saw that the heavy stone lid had been cracked open by the concussion. Austin knew they should be moving, but his curiosity got the best of him. He aimed the light at the figure inside.
The face was covered by a jade mask with round eyes and an aquiline nose. The corpse was dressed in a shroud of dark material that could have been velvet. Strands of whitishred hair poked out from under an amorphously shaped hat made out of the same material. Austin moved the light down. The clawlike mummified hands clutched rolls of old parchment. Austin removed one of the rolls, examined it with wondering eyes, then tucked it back into the bony hands. He noticed a glint of yellow under the chin of the mask The shape was familiar, but it seemed out of context. Austin wanted to take a closer look, but there wasn't time. The sound of voices was coming from the boat chamber.
48 THE ALMOST IMPENETRABLE CLOUD in the boat chamber was dissipating rapidly, the motes swirling against the sunlight that streamed down from a huge opening that yawned where the ceiling had been. Great chunks of rock had flattened .the stern end of the dark red hull like a potato masher. Columns had been knocked over and lay in fragments. The chamber floor was littered with smaller pieces of rock and coated with limestone dust. Austin had no time to mourn. the boat's destruction. A rope ladder dropped down from the ragged hole. Two figures dressed in black were climbing down the ladder into the dusty haze.
The first one to set foot on the floor reached up and steadied the ladder. "Sorry about the mess, Don Halcon," came a voice that was flat, unemotional, and unapologetic.
"It couldn't be helped, Guzman," said the slenderbuilt dark-haired man, surveying the wreckage. "The important thing is that we reached our goal, not how we did it." He flicked on a powerful flashlight and pointed it at the ruined boat. "My God, what a fantastic sight!"
The intruders made their way through the rubble and climbed over the splintered stern timbers to the less damaged section of the boat. Moments later Halcon shouted with excitement. "Look at this, Guzman!" he said with hysterical joy. "There are enough jewels in my hand to outfit a whole new army."
Austin stood at the entryway to the boat chamber with Zavala and considered their situation. They were unarmed except for their sheath knives. Halcon and his henchman would have sidearms at the very least. If he and Zavala made a break for the ladder or the water entrance at the far end of the chamber, they'd be picked off like ducks in a shooting gallery.
He whispered his concerns to Zavala. "Maybe we can bluff our way through."
Joe had come to the same conclusion as his partner. "What have we got to lose?"
Just our lives and those of many, others, Austin thought. "We've got to work our way back to where we came in. Get rid of our main air tanks. Keep the emergency tank and regulator with you." He tapped the pouch around his neck. "I've got a surprise that might distract them, but the timing has to be just right. It won't take long for them to find us. If we surprise them they may start shooting."
"Okay, let them know we're here. I'll take my cue from you," Zavala said.
Austin clapped his colleague on the shoulder, took a deep breath, and stepped out into the boat chamber.
"Hello, gentlemen," he said in a loud and clear voice.
The white-haired man with the scar quickly slipped a pistol from its belt holster and cocked it in Austin's direction.
"We're unarmed. There are just two of us," Austin said quickly, staring at the muzzle. He had gambled that the man was too much of a professional to let off a panic shot.
"Come forward where I can see you." Austin followed the order, he and Zavala closing the distance by several paces. The white-haired man climbed out of the boat wreckage, cautiously approached, and relieved them of their sheath knives. The livid scar on his face became more pronounced when he grinned.
"We really have to stop meeting like this," he said, tossing the knives out of range.
"Introduce me to your friends, Guzman." Halcon stepped from the wrecked boat, a gun in his hand.
"Please excuse my rudeness, Don Halcon. Allow me to introduce Mr. Austin and his NUMA associate Mr. Zavala, whom I met in Arizona. Zavala is the gentleman who was photographed by our surveillance camera."
"Of course, no
w I recognize him."
"You'll have to send me a copy of the picture, Halcon," Zavala said.
Halcon chuckled. "I'd be surprised if you resourceful gentlemen didn't know my name. Guzman told me about you. In fact I ordered him to kill you. You've been lucky; he rarely fails to carry out a task. Before he now redeems himself, I must admit you have me baffled at how you got into the temple."
"We were swallowed by the jaws of Kukulcan," Austin said.
Halcon studied Austin like an entomologist examining an insect in a killing jar. "You're either telling the truth or simply trying to be ironic," Halcon said. "Either way it doesn't matter. You won't be leaving through the jaws anytime soon."
"I'll tell you how we got in if you answer the questions of a couple of condemned men. I'm just curious if our theory is correct."
Halcon must have known Austin was stalling for time. Austin looked at it from a different perspective, the opportunity to set up an escape. He had no intention of dying in this tomb.
A bargainer to the last," Halcon said, evidently intrigued with the game. "Go ahead."
"First of all, how did you find the temple?"
"The same way we knew about your Andrea Doria expedition. Mr. Donatelli's man, the Sicilian."
Antonio?"
"His name is not important. When you told Mr. Donatelli you were headed for Central America we ordered our spies to follow you to Guatemala. That ridiculous little yellow plane was easy to keep track of."
So much for the Beaver's unobtrusiveness, Austin thought.
"I've generously allowed you a bonus question," Halcon went on. "I'm still interested in your theory."
"How's this for starters?" Austin said. "The Phoenicians traded with the Americas for thousands of years. When the Romans besieged Carthage, a Phoenician fleet moved its treasure to the other side of the ocean. Centuries pass, Columbus arrives in the New World and hears tales of a fabulous treasure. He finds the talking stone, concludes it will point the way, and sets off on a last voyage to bring home the bacon. He misinterprets the information on the stone but comes pretty close."
"Almost as close as you have, Mr. Austin. Now will you reveal how you got in?"
"We came down that stairway" Austin said, glancing toward the burial chamber.
Halcon smiled and turned to his companion. "Guzman"
"I'm not done," Austin interrupted. "Columbus has ties to a mysterious organization called the Brotherhood, so it is quite likely they knew of the treasure."
"More than likely" Halcon stayed his henchman's hand. "I'm truly impressed, Mr. Austin. The Brotherhood has been one of the best-kept secrets in the world. Not even when we sank one of the world's most famous ocean liners did anyone suspect our existence."
"You're telling me that the Brotherhood sank the Andrea Doria?" Austin said.
"Guzman, really. While my father and the others were dealing with the armored truck guards in the hold, Guzman was taking care of matters on the ship's bridge."
"It was an accident," Austin countered.
"So they say. It wasn't as hard as you might think. We knew the boats would pass close to each other that night. Guzman was prepared to kill everyone on the Stockholm's bridge and ram the Swedish vessel into the other ship. As it was, he only took advantage of the mistakes made by others."
"If what you say is true, and the Brotherhood knew the talking stone pointed the way to treasure, why did they send it to the bottom of the sea?"
"Unfortunately the stone's value didn't become known until fairly recently. My father ordered the stone sunk. He was carrying out the original mandate of the Brotherhood, to destroy anything that discredited the discoveries of Columbus."
Zavala chuckled and said something in Spanish.
"You're quite right, Mr. Zavala, my father did, as you put it, screw up. But he couldn't have known that I would change the mandate of Los Hermanos."
"When did it change from sinking ships to starting revolutions?" Austin said
A cloud crossed Halcon's pale thin face, then he laughed and clapped his hands. Bravo, Mr. Austin. You have bought yourself more time on your death sentence. Tell me what NUMA knows of my plan."
"I will, after you fill in a few more holes."
"Your tongue would loosen if I started shooting holes in your colleague's arms and legs," Halcon said with a smile.
"You could do that, but let me offer another proposal. Tell me what your plan is, and I'll reveal a secret known to no other man on the planet but me. I give you my word."
And I accept it." Austin had judged Halcon correctly as a megalomaniac who would want others to know of his mad schemes. "I can sum up my plan in one word. Angelica. The new country that will be carved out of the Southwest states and southern California. Those of Hispanic descent will take back what was stolen from them by force."
Joe chortled. "Good luck, pal. I know of a certain superpower that might object."
"Please give me credit. I'm well aware of the armed might of the U.S. and have no intention of going up directly against it."
"Then all those arms you're buying are for sport shooting?"
"Oh, no, they will be used for military reasons. You're of Spanish ancestry, Mr. Zavala, so you know what I learned in the bullring. With a few flutters and flourishes of a cape and deft footwork you can vanquish a much larger and more powerful foe."
"The U.S. isn't exactly a fighting bull," Austin said.
"The same principle applies. I have prepared the groundwork well. I have moved millions of illegal immigrants into the old Spanish territories now occupied illegally by the United States, until they are on the verge of outnumbering the non?Hispanics. I have used my fortunes to acquire key businesses such as gas, oil, and mining. With my profits I have sponsored candidates pliant to my will for public office and bought and bribed others. Now I can put my plan into action. As soon as I leave here I will give the word. The army I have been training will move on the border towns. Others will conduct raids in the interior. There will be a backlash against Hispanics, much like that against the Japanese Americans in World War II. Although this time we will give them the means to resist against their Anglo tormentors, and a reason: to redeem the national pride that America has so often demeaned."
"You're talking bloodshed and chaos."
"My goals exactly! What can the U.S. do, free Albuquerque and Phoenix by nuking them? Conduct street-to-street fighting in the boulevards of San Diego? They will know a political settlement follows every armed conflict, and I will provide the way out. The governors I have elected will sue for peace and suggest that the U.S. turn to one of its citizens of Spanish heritage to act as mediator. I will negotiate de facto secession from the Union."
"There's no guarantee your scheme will succeed, in which case hundreds of thousands of people would have been killed for nothing."
"They will have served their purpose as a means to an end."
"Many of those people will be Latinos," Zavala said.
"What of it?" Halcon snarled. "My conquistador ancestors used warring Indian factions as their allies to defeat the Aztec empire, then made them slaves. I will offer those who survive the opportunity to relive the greatness of the past as I restore the glories of two great civilizations, the Indian and the Spanish."
"Glories like the ball court and the Inquisition?" Austin said.
And more you haven't even dreamed of, Mr. Austin. Much more." His tone was ominous. "I tire of this game," he said impatiently. "What of this great secret? I wouldn't blame you for lying to me, but it won't save you."
"I'm not lying. It's in the other chamber."
Halcon exchanged glances with Guzman. "No tricks. Guzman has a hair trigger. Lead the way."
Austin went up the stairs first, with Zavala following, then Guzman and Halcon, until they came to the edge of the burial pit.
"You came in this way?" Halcon said, looking in vain for an entryway
"I was lying about that, but not this."
The figure
in the sarcophagus had engaged Halcon's attention.
"Who is it?" Halcon said.
"If I may?"
Guzman's cold eyes followed every move as Austin reached into the stone coffin and removed the shiny object from the bony hands of the mummy. He handed it to Halcon, who examined it, frowning with puzzlement.
"I don't understand," he said with suspicion.
"Consider this," Austin said. "You're the Maya, sitting on a pile of treasure for hundreds of years waiting for the men who brought it to you to return and reclaim it. One day a white man from the east shows up on your doorstep and says he wants his gold. He dies before you can accommodate him. You wonder if he embodies the Venus god, the feathered serpent Kukulcan, but you're not sure. So you hedge your bets, bury him with his treasure, and draw a map in stone in a way that only the Venus god will be able to understand. Those rolls of parchment he's holding are drawings of the inscription on the stone. But if that isn't enough to convince you, then tell me what a Christian cross is doing in a Mayan temple.".
"It can't be!" Halcon said with disbelief.
"Don Halcon, meet the Admiral of the Ocean Sea, Christopher Columbus."
Halcon stared at the mummy a moment, then laughed without mirth and tossed the cross back into the sarcophagus. "Keep it, you poor fool."
While all eyes were on the coffin Austin squeezed the pouch around his neck. Seconds later came a distant boom, then several others.
"What's that?" Halcon said, looking about him.
Guzman moved to the stairway and listened. "It sounds like thunder."
While the henchman's attention was diverted, Austin reached down to the floor and in a single quick motion picked up one of the sharp spear points he and Zavala had unsuccessfully used to pry the lid off the coffin. He wrapped his brawny arm around Halcon's slender neck and jabbed the sharp spike deep into the skin.
Guzman's gun swung around.
"Back off or this goes into his jugular!" Austin warned. He pushed the spear in further. Blood trickled down Halcon's neck.
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