Clive Cussler - Serpent

"What do you think, Joe? What way would you come in if you were attacking?"

Zavala, who had been giving the subject some thought, answered without hesitation. "The road we drove in on offers the easiest access, so the obvious line of attack is from the desert. On the other hand, they might want us to think desert so they can come in on the road. Depends on their transportation. I haven't forgotten they used a hovercraft in Morocco."

"Neither have I. A hovercraft might be hard to hide in the open desert."

"Looks can be deceiving," Carl said. "I've scouted the area around the ranch. The terrain out there has got more wrinkles than Sun City. Arroyos, washes, natural basins. You might not be able to hide an army, but you could tuck away a hit team big enough to make life interesting."

"And very short, "Austin said. "So we'll take the desert. Have the boys in the general store set up posts on the road after dark. Anyone backing them up?" .

Ned nodded. "Uhhuh. Chopper and another dozen guys armed to the teeth are camped in a wash about three miles from here. Five-minute ETA for them, too."

Five minutes can be a long time, Austin thought, but overall he felt pretty good about the arrangements. He looked over at where the Spokane couple were hard at work

"What about our Time-Quest people?"

Trout chuckled. "If they're assassins, it's the best damned disguise I've seen. We did background checks, and they're legitimate."

"I wasn't thinking about that," Austin said. "There should be some plan to protect them if and when trouble starts."

"No problem," Trout replied. "They're staying in a no-tell motel out on the highway."

Austin turned to Nina. "Would I be able to persuade you to get a motel room as well?"

"No," she said emphatically.

"Why does your answer not surprise me? If you insist on staying, I want you close to Joe and me. And do exactly what we tell you to do. Now, where is this incredible artifact that's supposed to provoke the attack?"

Nina smiled. "We've got it in the 'vault."

Ned and Carl went back to their work, and Nina led the way to a metal shed that had been thrown up next to an RV She opened the padlocked door with a key at her belt. There was no electricity, so they lit a gas camp lamp. Two sawhorses had been set up inside with thick planks running crosswise. On the planks was an object covered with a painter's canvas drop cloth.

Trout said, "It's amazing what modern science can do to add years to something's age. The boys at the NUMA lab cooked up a batch of caliche that would ordinarily take centuries to accumulate." He paused for dramatic effect, then whipped the cloth off. "Voila. "

Austin and Zavala stared for a moment at the object illuminated in the light from the lamp, then moved in for a closer look Austin reached out and touched the bronze surface. "Is this what I think it is?" he said.

Trout cleared his throat. "I believe the term its creators used was artistic license. What do you think?"

A broad grin crossed Austin's face. "I think it's perfect," he said.

The Yucatan, Mexico

18 GAMAY WAS REGRETTING HER STAR Trek comment. The HumVee hurtled along the narrow two-lane road at warp speed. Chi seemed to navigate with an advanced type of radar. Since he was too short to see over the top of the steering wheel, there could be no other explanation for the ease with which he whipped the wideframed vehicle around potholes and suicidal armadillos. The woods on both sides were a verdant blur.

Trying a ploy to slow him down, Gamay said, "Dr. Chi, how is your Mayan dictionary coming along?"

The professor attempted to talk over the loud whir of the heavytreaded tires and the rush of air around the boxy vehicle. Gamay cupped an ear with her hand. Chi nodded his understanding. His lead foot came off the accelerator, and he switched on the AC.

Refreshingly cool air flowed from the vents. "Don't know why I didn't do this before," he said. "Thank you for asking about the dictionary. Unfortunately I've abandoned work on the project for the time being."

"I'm sorry to hear that. You must be busy at the museum."

His response was an amused glance. 'My duties at the museum are not what I'd describe as demanding. As the only fullblooded Mayan on the staff I rate a sinecure. I believe they call them 'noshow' jobs in your country. In Mexico these are timehonored positions that command great prestige. I'm actually encouraged to be out in the field away from the office."

"I don't understand, then. The dictionary?"

"Must play second fiddle to the greater need. I spend most of my time fighting the looters who are stealing our heritage. We are losing our historical artifacts at an alarming rate. A thousand pieces of fine pottery are taken from the Mayan region every month."

A thousand," Gamay said with an uncomprehending shake of her head. "I was aware you had problems, but I had no idea things were quite so bad."

"Not many people do. Unfortunately it is not only the quantity of the stolen goods that. is frightening but the quality. The traffickers in contraband don't waste their time on inferior work They take the very best. Codexstyle ceramics of the Late Classic period, A.D. 600 to 900, command top dollar. Beautiful pieces. I wouldn't mind having some myself."

She stared out the windshield, lips pursed in anger. "That is a tragedy."

"Many of the looters are chicleros who work the chicle plantations. A very tough breed. Chicle is the sap used to make chewing gum. In the past when Americans chewed less, the chicle market dropped, the workers turned to looting, and we lost more of our culture. But it's worse now"

"In what way, Dr. Chi?"

"The chicle market doesn't make a difference now. Why break your back working in the fields when you can sell a good pot for two hundred to five hundred dollars? They've become used to the money. Looting is organized. Groups of fulltime looters are hired by traffickers in Carmelita, in Guatemala. The artifacts are channeled there, loaded on trucks, and taken across the border to Belize: Then by ship or air to the U.S. and Europe. The artifacts bring thousands of dollars in the galleries and auctions. Even more from museums and private collectors. It's not difficult to provide source documentation."

"Still, they must know many of these artifacts are stolen."

"Of course. But even if they suspect this, they say they are preserving the past."

"That's a lame excuse for erasing a culture. But what can you do about it?"

"As I said earlier, I'm a 'finder.' I try to locate sites before they can belooted. I make their location known only when the government can assure me that the sites will be guarded until we get the artifacts out of the ground. At the same time I use my connections in the US. and Europe. The governments of the affluent countries are the ones who can bring the traffickers to jail, hit them where it hurts by confiscating their property."

"It seems almost hopeless."

"It is," he said gravely. And dangerous. With the stakes so high violence has become commonplace. Not long ago a chiclero said instead of sending Mayan artifacts out of the country, leave them alone where they are and bring the tourists in to see them. It would mean more money for all."

"Not a bad idea. Did anyone listen to him?"

"Oh yes." His mouth curled in a dark smile. "Someone heard him loud and clear. He was killed. Whoops!"

He hit the brakes. The HumVee decelerated like a fighter jet deploying a drogue chute and swung to the right in a twelve-G turn.

"Sorry!" Chi yelled .as they bumped over the shoulder and plunged toward the trees. "I get carried away Hold on, we're going in!" he shouted over the din of snapping branches and the roar of the engine.

Gamay was sure they were headed for a crash, but Chi's sharp eye had seen what she hadn't, a barely discernible opening in the dense forest. With the professor hanging on to the steering wheel like some mad gnome, the lumbering vehicle crashed through the woods.