Inca Gold - Cussler Clive (читать онлайн полную книгу .TXT) 📗

    "I agree," said Pitt. "Bring him inside the temple out of the sun and wrap him in some blankets until he can be airlifted to the nearest coroner."

    "Leave him to me," Rodgers said angrily. "It's the least I can do for a good man."

    Amaru grinned hideously, actually grinned through his agony. "Fools, crazy fools," he sneered. "You'll never leave the Pueblo de los Muertos alive."

    "Pueblo de los Muertos means city of the dead," Shannon translated.

    The others glanced in disgust at Amaru. To them he seemed like an impotent rattlesnake too injured to coil and strike. But Pitt still saw him as dangerous and was not about to make the fatal mistake of underestimating him. He didn't care for the eerie expression of confidence in Amaru's eyes.

    As soon as the others hurried out of the room, Pitt knelt beside Amaru. "You act pretty sure of yourself for a man in your position."

    "The last laugh will be mine." Amaru's face contorted in a sudden spasm of pain. "You have blundered into the path of powerful men. Their wrath will be terrible."

    Pitt smiled indifferently. "I've blundered up against powerful men before."

    "By lifting a tiny piece of the curtain you have endangered the Solpemachaco. They will do whatever necessary to prevent exposure, even if it means the elimination of an entire province."

    "Not exactly a sweet-tempered group you're associated with. What do you call them again?"

    Amaru went silent. He was becoming weak from shock and the loss of blood. Slowly, with much difficulty, he lifted a hand and pointed a finger at Pitt. "You are cursed. Your bones will rest with the Chachapoyas forever." Then, his eyes went unfocused, closed, and he fainted.

    Pitt stared at Shannon. "Who are the Chachapoyas?"

    "Known as the Cloud People," Shannon explained. "They were a pre-Inca culture that flourished high in the Andes from A.D. 800 to 1480, when they were conquered by the Incas. It was the Chachapoyas who built this elaborate necropolis for the dead."

    Pitt rose to his feet, removed the guard's felt hat from his head and dropped it on Amaru's chest. He turned and walked into the main chamber of the temple and spent the next few minutes examining the incredible cache of Chachapoyan artifacts. He was admiring a large clay mummy case when Rodgers rushed up, looking disturbed.

    "Where did you say you left Doc Miller?" Rodgers asked, half out of breath.

    "On the landing above the exterior steps."

    "You'd better show me."

    Pitt followed Rodgers outside the arched entrance. He stopped and stared down at a bloodstain on the stone landing, then looked up questioningly. "Who moved the body?"

    "If you don't know," said an equally mystified Rodgers, "I certainly don't."

    "Did you look around the base of the temple? Maybe he fell--"

    "I sent four of the archaeology students down to search. They found no sign of the Doc."

    "Could any of the students have moved him?"

    "I checked. They're all as bewildered as we are."

    "Dead bodies do not get up and walk off," said Pitt flatly.

    Rodgers looked around the outside of the temple, then gave a shrug. "It looks as if this one did."

    The air conditioner whirred and circulated cool dry air inside the long motor home that served as the archaeology project's headquarters in Chachapoya. And the man reclining on a leather sofa was a great deal less fatigued than the men and women in the City of the Dead. Juan Chaco rested languidly while maintaining a firm grip on his well-iced gin and tonic. But he sat up in full wakefulness almost instantly when a voice came over the radio speaker mounted on a wall behind the driver's compartment.

    "Saint John calling Saint Peter." The voice came sharp and distinct. "Saint John calling Saint Peter. Are you there?"

    Chaco moved quickly across the interior of the plush motor home and pressed the transmit button on the radio. "I am here and listening."

    "Turn on the recorder. I don't have time to repeat myself or explain the situation in detail."

    Chaco acknowledged and switched on a cassette recorder. "Ready to receive."

    "Amaru and his followers were overpowered and taken prisoner. They are now being held under guard by the archaeologists. Amaru was shot and may be badly wounded."

    Chaco's face suddenly turned grim. "How is this possible?"

    "One of the men from NUMA, who responded to your distress call, somehow escaped from the sinkhole and pursued Amaru and his captives to the valley temple where he managed to subdue our overpaid cutthroats one by one."

    "What sort of devil could do all this?"

    "A very dangerous and resourceful devil."

    "Are you safe?"

    "For the moment."

    "Then our plan to frighten the archaeologists from our collection grounds has failed."

    "Miserably," replied the caller. "Once Dr. Kelsey saw the artifacts awaiting shipment, she guessed the setup."

    "What of Miller?"

    "They suspect nothing."

    "At least something went right," said Chaco.

    "If you send in a force before they leave the valley," explained the familiar voice, "we can still salvage the operation."

    "It was not our intention to harm our Peruvian students," said Chaco. "The repercussions from my countrymen would spell the end to any further business between us."

    "Too late, my friend. Now that they realize their ordeal was caused by a looting syndicate instead of Shining Path terrorists, they can't be allowed to reveal what they've seen. We have no choice but to eliminate them."

    "None of this would have occurred if you had prevented Dr. Kelsey and Miles Rodgers from diving in the sacred well."

    "Short of committing murder in front of the students, there was no stopping them."

    "Sending out the rescue call was a mistake."

    "Not if we wished to avoid serious inquiry by your government officials. Their drownings would have appeared suspicious if the correct rescue measures hadn't been taken. We cannot afford to expose the Solpemachaco to public scrutiny. Besides, how could we know that NUMA would respond from out of nowhere?"

    "True, an event that was inconceivable at the time."

    As Chaco spoke, his empty eyes gazed at a small stone statue of a winged jaguar that was dug up in the valley of the dead. Finally he said quietly, "I'll arrange for our hired mercenaries from the Peruvian army to drop in the Pueblo de los Muertos by helicopter within two hours."

    "Do you have confidence in the commanding officer to do the job?"

    Chaco smiled to himself. "If I can't trust my own brother, who can I trust?"

    "I never believed in resurrection of mere mortals." Pitt stood gazing down at the pool of crimson on the landing above the near-vertical stairway leading to the floor of the valley. "But this is as good an example as I've ever seen."

    "He was dead," Rodgers said emphatically. "I was standing as close to him as I am to you when Amaru put a bullet through his heart. Blood was everywhere. You saw him lying here. There can be no doubt in your mind Doc was a corpse."