"Perhaps they've been following you," said Micki, holding up her glass as Henry poured her wine.

    Oxley shook his head. "No, our amphibian has twice the fuel range of their helicopter."

    Moore turned to Zolar. "My wife may have something. The odds are astronomical that it was a chance encounter."

    "How do we handle it?" Samson asked no one in particular.

    Zolar smiled. "I think Mrs. Moore has given us the answer."

    "Me?" wondered Micki. "All I suggested was--"

    "They might have been following us." So.

    Zolar looked at her slyly. "We'll begin by requesting our mercenary friends in local law enforcement to begin earning their money by launching an investigation to find our competitor's base of operations. Once found, we'll follow them."

    Darkness was only a half hour away when Giordino set the helicopter down neatly within the white circle painted on the loading deck of the Alhambra. The deckhands, who simply went by the names of Jesus and Gato, stood by to push the craft inside the cavernous auto deck and tie it down.

    Loren and Gunn were standing outside the sweep of the rotor blades. When Giordino cut the ignition switch, they stepped forward. They were not alone. A man and a woman moved out of the shadow of the ferry's huge superstructure and joined them.

    "Any luck?" Gunn shouted above the diminishing beat of the rotors at Giordino who was leaning out the open window of the cockpit.

    Giordino replied with a thumbs-down.

    Pitt stepped from the helicopter's passenger door and knitted his thick, black eyebrows in surprise. "I didn't expect to see you two again, certainly not here."

    Dr. Shannon Kelsey smiled, her manner coolly dignified, while Miles Rodgers pumped Pitt's hand in a genuine show of friendliness. "Hope you don't mind us popping in like this," said Rodgers.

    "Not at all. I'm glad to see you. I assume you've all introduced yourselves to each other."

    "Yes, we've all become acquainted. Shannon and 1 certainly didn't expect to be greeted by a congresswoman and the assistant director of NUMA."

    "Dr. Kelsey has regaled me with her adventures in Peru," said Loren in a voice that was low and throaty. "She's led an interesting life."

    Giordino exited the helicopter and stared at the newcomers with interest. "Hail, hail, the gang's all here," he said in greeting. "Is this a reunion or an old mummy hunters' convention?"

    "Yes, what brings you to our humble ferry in the Sea of Cortez?" asked Pitt.

    "Government agents requested Miles and me to drop everything in Peru and fly here to assist your search," answered Shannon.

    Pitt looked at Gunn. "Government agents?"

    Gunn made a know-nothing shrug and held up a piece of paper. "The fax informing us of their arrival came an hour after they showed up in a chartered boat. They insisted on waiting to reveal the purpose of their visit until you returned."

    "They were Customs agents," Miles enlightened Pitt. "They appeared in the Pueblo de los Muertos with a high-level State Department official and played on our patriotism."

    "Miles and I were asked to identify and photograph Huascar's treasure after you found it," explained Shannon. "They came to us because of my expertise in Andean culture and artifacts, Miles's reputation as a photographer, and mostly because of our recent involvement with you and NUMA."

    "And you volunteered," Pitt surmised.

    Rodgers replied "When the Customs agents informed us the gang of smugglers we met in the Andes are connected with the family of underground art dealers who are also searching for the treasure, we started packing."

    "The Zolars?"

    Rodgers nodded. "The possibility we might be of help in trapping Doc Miller's murderer quickly overcame any reluctance to become involved."

    "Wait a minute," said Giordino. "The Zolars are involved with Amaru and the Solpemachaco?"

    Rodgers nodded again. "You weren't told? No one informed you that the Solpemachaco and the Zolar family are one and the same?"

    "I guess someone forgot," Giordino said caustically. He and Pitt looked at each other as understanding dawned. Each read the other's mind and they silently agreed not to mention their unexpected run-in with Doc Miller's imposter.

    "Were you briefed on the instructions we deciphered on the quipu?" Pitt asked Shannon, changing the subject.

    Shannon nodded. "I was given a full translation."

    "By whom?"

    "The courier who hand-delivered it was an FBI agent."

    Pitt stared at Gunn and then Giordino with deceptive calm. "The plot thickens. I'm surprised Washington didn't issue press kits about the search to the news media and sell the movie rights to Hollywood."

    "If word leaks out," said Giordino, "every treasure hunter between here and the polar icecaps will swarm into the Gulf like fleas after a hemophiliac St. Bernard."

    Fatigue began to tighten its grip on Pitt. He was stiff and numb and his back ached. His body demanded to lie down and rest. He had every right to be tired and discouraged. What the hell, he thought, why not share the despair. No good reason why he should bear the cross by himself.

    "I hate to say it," he said slowly, staring at Shannon, "but it looks as if you and Miles made a wasted trip."

    Shannon looked at him in surprise. "You haven't found the treasure site?"

    "Did someone tell you we had?"

    "We were led to believe you had pinned down the location," said Shannon.

    "Wishful thinking," said Pitt. "We haven't seen a trace of a stone carving."

    "Are you familiar with the symbol marker described by the quipu?" Gunn asked Shannon.

    "Yes," she replied without hesitation. "The Demonio del Muertos."

    Pitt sighed. "The demon of the dead. Dr. Ortiz told us. I go to the back of the class for not making the connection."

    "I remember," said Gunn. "Dr. Ortiz was excavating a large grotesque rock sculpture with fangs and described it as a Chachapoyan god of the underworld."

    Pitt repeated Dr. Ortiz's exact words. "Part jaguar, part condor, part snake, he sank his fangs into whoever disturbed the dead."

    "The body and wings have the scales of a lizard," Shannon added to the description.

    "Now that you know exactly what you're looking for," Loren said with renewed enthusiasm, "the search should go easier."

    "So we know the I.D. of the beast that guards the hoard," said Giordino, bringing the conversation back to earth. "So what? Dirk and I have examined every island that falls within the pattern and we've come up empty. We've exhausted our search area, and what we might have missed our competitors have likely checked off their list too."

    "Al's right," Pitt admitted. "We have no place left to search."

    "You're sure you've seen no trace of the demon?" asked Rodgers.

    Giordino shook his head. "Not so much as a scale or a fang."

    Shannon scowled in defeat. "Then the myth is simply that. . . a myth."

    The treasure that never was," murmured Gunn. He collapsed dejectedly on an old wooden passenger's bench. "It's over," he said slowly. "I'll call the admiral and tell him we're closing down the project."