Clive Cussler: The Eye of Heaven

“So who wants to go down first?” Lazlo asked.

Remi coughed. “Sam?”

“I knew I’d get the job when I saw the spiderwebs.”

“Don’t pout. You love this part.”

Sam grinned. “Indeed.” He moved to where the first step descended into nothingness.

His scuffed boot landed on the narrow stone ledge and he wiped away spiderwebs, his flashlight gripped in his left hand. Another step, and then another, the thick soles silent as he placed each foot with care. Sam’s breathing sounded like a bellows in the narrow passageway, and he instinctively stooped to keep from brushing against the ceiling. He stopped once at the eighth step and crouched down.

Remi called to him. “What is it?”

“I thought it might be a booby trap. There’s a gap on one side, but it’s nothing.”

“Are you sure?”

“We’ll know in a second.”

He put his weight on the step and nothing happened.

Sam continued down until he was barely visible from above. He reached out to steady himself but drew his hand back from the wall when he saw what looked suspiciously like snake holes. A brown millipede slunk along the rock face. The lamplight played off its chocolate exoskeleton and he shuddered involuntarily.

His balance restored, Sam took a deep breath and continued down. The air temperature dropped as he descended. Three stories below the temple he reached a small landing, the stone slab beneath his feet slick with mold. On the wall were more carvings, these different from those adorning the temple.

There was a passable etching of a longship, its square sail and dragon heads painstakingly detailed, cutting through huge waves. A bearded figure, wearing a billowing cloak and the winged serpent helmet, stood at the helm. Round shields lined the hull, and the ship was filled with warriors, their spears and axes exaggerated in the depiction. Floating in front of the boat was what appeared to be a sun or a planet, emitting waves of energy or light as it guided the ship to its destination.

Sam inched closer to it and saw that it wasn’t a celestial body at all. From its center, a stylized carving of an eye gazed down at the ship.

He turned, the glowing rectangle of the top of the stairwell seemingly a mile away, and called.

“I think this is it!”

“What?” Remi’s voice answered, echoing off the stone walls.

“It’s a pictograph. A Viking ship piloted by Quetzalcoatl, with a jewel the size of my head in the carving.”

Sam turned to where his voice was reverberating in a larger area to his right. There, at the end of a short passage, was a small cavern, worn from the earth over thousands of years by groundwater dripping through the stone. He brushed more cobwebs aside and felt something crawling on his arm. He froze and then slowly moved the flashlight beam down the length of his arm until he saw a black widow spider marching along his exposed skin.

Sam slipped the end of the flashlight between his teeth. He drew a deep breath to steel himself and brushed the arachnid away. The disgruntled spider landed on the stone floor and raced off into the darkness, and Sam closed his eyes for a moment and cursed silently. Then he directed the beam along the walls of the cave until it glinted off something at the far end, at the top of a stalagmite that appeared to have been lopped off. Sam swept the floor of the cave with the light, wary of booby traps, and when he saw nothing suspicious, placed one careful foot in front of the other as he approached the makeshift pedestal.

Thirty feet above him, Remi and Lazlo waited, their breathing shallow, as though any deep inhalations might disrupt whatever fragile balance was in play and bring about disaster. Maribela paced back and forth near the entrance, her anxiety obvious, as Antonio eyed the skeletons with curiosity.

“You can see these were Vikings from their size. They’re all a foot taller than any of the mummies we’ve recovered in our digs,” he said.

Lazlo nodded. “The last guard, waiting for their ship to come in, poor blighters. Must have been rough duty. Most of them have gray beards, so unless this was the geriatric cruise, they were here for many years.”

“We’ll probably find evidence of a signal fire on the top of the temple when it’s excavated,” Remi said, taking in the skeletons with a long glance.

“Imagine what it must have been like. Day after day, year after year—”

Lazlo was interrupted by Sam’s voice from the passageway.

“You won’t find that kind of dedication anymore, that’s for sure,” he said, stepping from the opening as he wiped spiderweb off his shoulder. “Did I mention I hate black widows?”

“Sam! What did you find?” Remi asked.

Sam’s expression was dejected as his gaze landed on each of their faces. He sighed deeply and then his face broke into a grin.

“Oh, nothing. Just the biggest emerald I’ve ever seen. It looks Incan to me, but what do I know?”

Sam led them down the stairs, warning again about the suspect eighth step as everyone followed him to the vault where he’d found the Eye of Heaven.

“Be careful. Try to walk in my footsteps. I don’t trust this floor. There could be a deadfall trap anywhere in here,” Sam cautioned. Remi took care to fit her feet into the prints Sam had left in the dust as she neared the glowing jewel. Lazlo followed, slightly more unsteadily, glancing around warily at the spiderwebs that drifted like ghostly tendrils from every surface. Antonio and Maribela were more confident in their approach, the environment their natural habitat after years exploring ruins.

They stood facing the stone. A decayed wooden chest rested nearby on the chamber floor like an afterthought. Sam cleaned off a thousand years of calcium that had accumulated on the emerald face with his bandanna and they took in the way the jewel refracted the light, glowing as if possessed of an inner energy. The stone was clear, nearly flawless, and easily the size of a grapefruit. It sat in a hand-beaten gold casing with stylized depictions of Quetzalcoatl on it.

“It’s stunning,” Lazlo whispered. “Like it has a life of its own. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

Remi moved to the side and crouched down to study the remnants of the chest, the wood long ago rotted away, only the rusty bindings hinting at its original form. “I’d say it’s safe to assume that the Toltec made it into Inca territory. The emerald would have had to come from the Inca empire in what’s now Colombia. Look at these statues.”

Antonio nodded. “This is truly a priceless find.”

“How many carats would you say the emerald is?” Lazlo asked.

“I wouldn’t even know how to guess. Is ‘huge’ a number?” Sam said.

“Close enough, old man. Well played, by the way, all around. Been a busy week for the Fargos by any measure.”

“Yes, we’ve been very fortunate,” Remi said, returning to his side. “But now the real work begins. Antonio’s team needs to take over and make sense out of all this. All we did was follow a few clues — which we couldn’t have done without your help, Lazlo.” She paused. “As I’ve said numerous times, you’re a genius.”

“Never argue with a lady,” Lazlo said, beaming.

Maribela glanced at her watch. “I just realized that with all the excitement we haven’t eaten since breakfast. Does anyone want something for a late dinner? I can run to the nearest town and get something. The officers will want to eat, too.”

Sam turned. “Good idea. There’s not a lot more we can do here other than ensure nobody disturbs the site until we can get it properly secured.”

“I’ll go while you’re taking photographs. Are we planning on staying here tonight?” Maribela asked.