"No, he fell off Cerro el Capirote. He's dead."
Zolar's reaction was a psychiatrist's dream. His expression went thoughtful for a moment, and then he broke out laughing. "Matos shot and the good colonel dead. More profits for the family."
Yuma's prearranged plan with Pitt was accomplished. He and his people had secured the summit and forced the evil ones from the sacred mountain of the dead. He watched as two of his nephews led Lieutenant Ramos and his army engineers down the steep trail to the desert floor below.
There was no way to carry Matos. His knee was tightly bandaged and he was forced to hobble along as best he could, assisted by a pair of engineers.
Curiosity drew Yuma to the enlarged opening to the interior passageway. He had a nagging ache to explore the cavern and see with his own eyes the river described by Pitt. The water he saw in his dreams.
But the older men were too frightened to enter the bowels of the sacred mountain, and the gold created a problem with the younger men. They wanted to drop everything and carry it off before armed troops returned.
"This is our mountain," said one young man, the son of Yuma's neighboring rancher. "The little golden people belong to us."
"First we must see the river inside the mountain," countered Yuma.
"It is forbidden for the living to enter the land of the dead," warned Yuma's older brother.
A nephew stared at Yuma doubtfully. "There is no river that runs beneath the desert."
"I believe the man who told me."
"You cannot trust the gringo, no more than those with Spanish blood in their veins."
Yuma shook his head and pointed to the gold. "This proves he did not lie."
"The soldiers will come back and kill us if we do not leave," protested another villager.
"The golden people are too heavy to carry down the steep trail," the young man argued. "They must be lowered by rope down the rock walls. That will take time."
"Let us offer prayers to the demon and be on our way," said the brother.
The young man persisted. "Not until the golden people are safely below."
Yuma reluctantly gave in. "So it is, my family, my friends. I will keep my promise and enter the mountain alone. Take the men of gold, but hurry. You do not have much daylight left."
As he turned and walked through the enlarged opening leading to the passageway, Yuma felt little fear.
Good had come from the climb to the top of the mountain. The evil men were cast down. The demon was at peace again. Now, with the blessing of the demon, Billy Yuma felt confident he could safely enter the land of the dead. And maybe find a trail leading to the lost sacred idols of his people.
Loren sat huddled in the cramped rock cell, sinking into the quicksand of self-pity. She had no more fight left in her. The hours had merged until time lost all sense of meaning. She could not remember when she had last eaten. She tried to recall what it felt like to be warm and dry, but that memory seemed like an event that occurred ages ago.
Her self-confidence, the independence, the satisfaction of being a respected legislator in the world's only superpower, meant nothing in that damp little cave. Standing on the floor of the House of Representatives seemed a million light-years away. She had come to the end, and she had fought as long as she could. Now she accepted the end. Better to die and get it over with.
She looked over at Rudi Gunn. He had hardly moved at all in the last hour. She didn't have to be a doctor to see that he had slipped, badly in that time. Tupac Amaru, in a storm of sadistic wrath, had broken several of Gunn's fingers by stomping them. Amaru had also injured Gunn severely by kicking him repeatedly in the stomach and head. If Rudi didn't receive medical attention very soon, he might die.
Loren's mind turned to Pitt. Every conceivable road to freedom was blocked unless he could ride to their rescue at the head of the U.S. Cavalry. Not a likely prospect.
She recalled the other times he had saved her. The first was on board the Russian cruise ship where she was held captive by agents of the old Soviet government. Pitt had shown up and rescued her from a savage beating. The second time was when she was held hostage by the fanatic Hideki Suma in his underwater city off the coast of Japan. Pitt and Giordino had risked their lives to free her and a fellow congressman.
She had no right to give up. But Pitt was dead, crushed by concussion grenades in the sea. If her countrymen could have sent a group of Special Forces over the border to save her, they would have done so by now.
She had watched through the cave opening as the golden treasure was hauled past her cell and through the guardians' chamber up to the peak of the hollow mountain. When all the gold was gone, she knew it would be time for her and Rudi to die.
They did not have to wait long. One of Amaru's foul-smelling henchman walked up to their guard and gave him an order. The ugly slug turned and motioned them out of the cave. "Salga, salga," he commanded them.
Loren shook Gunn awake and helped him rise to his feet. "They want to move us," she told him softly.
Gunn looked at her dazedly, and then incredibly, he forced a tight smile. "About time they upgraded us to a better room."
With Gunn shuffling alongside Loren, her arm around his waist, his over her shoulders, they were led to a flat area between the stalagmites near the shoreline of the river. Amaru was joking with four of his men who were grouped around him. Another man she recognized from the ferryboat as Cyrus Sarason.
The Latin Americans appeared cool and relaxed, but Sarason was sweating heavily and his shirt beneath his armpits was stained.
Their one-eyed guard pushed them roughly forward and moved slightly apart from the others. Sarason reminded Loren of a high school coach who was pressed into service as a chaperon at a prom, seeing out a dull and boring duty.
In contrast, Amaru looked as if he were bursting at the seams with nervous energy. Excitement gleamed in his eyes. He stared at Loren with the same intensity as a man crawling through the desert who suddenly sights a saloon advertising cold beer. He came over and roughly cupped Loren's chin with one hand.
"Are you ready to entertain us?"
"Leave her be," said Samson. "There is no need to prolong our stay here."
Something cold and slimy moved through Loren's stomach. Not this, she thought, God not this. "If you're going to kill us, get it over with."
"You'll get your wish soon enough." Amaru laughed sadistically. "But not before you pleasure my men.
When they are finished, and if they are satisfied, perhaps they will give you a thumbs-up and let you live.
If not, then a thumbs-down like the Romans judging a gladiator in the arena. I suggest you make them happy."
"This is crazy!" snapped Sarason.
"Use your imagination, amigo. My men and I have worked hard helping to transport your gold from the mountain. The least you can do is allow us a small reward for our services before we leave this hellish place."
"You're all getting well paid for your services."
"What is the term you use in your country?" said Amaru, breathing heavily. "Fringe benefits?"
"I don't have time for prolonged sex games," Samson said.
"You will make the time," Amaru hissed, baring his teeth like a coiled snake about to strike. "Or my men will become most unhappy. And then I may not be able to control them."
One look at the five toughs backing up the Peruvian killer and Samson shrugged. "She is of no interest to me." He stared at Loren for a moment. "Do with her what you will, but get it over with. We still have work to do and I don't want to keep my brothers waiting."
Loren was on the verge of throwing up. She looked at Sarason, her eyes imploring. "You're not one of them. You know who I am, whom I represent. How can you stand by and allow this to happen?"
"Barbaric cruelty is a fact of life where they come from," Sarason replied indifferently. "Every one of these vicious misfits would cut a child's throat as casually as you or I would slice a filet mignon."
"So you'
ll do nothing while they do their perverted work?"
Sarason gave a detached shrug. "It might be rather entertaining."
"You're no better than they are."
Amaru leered. "I find great enjoyment in bringing haughty women like you to their knees."
That was the signal to end the talk. Amaru made a gesture to one of his men. "You may have the honor of going first, Julio."
The others looked disappointed at not being chosen. The lucky one stepped forward, his mouth stretched in a lustful grin, and grabbed Loren by the arm.
Little Rudi Gunn, grievously injured and barely able to stand, suddenly crouched, launched himself forward, and rammed his head into the belly of the man about to assault Loren. His charge had all the impact of a broomstick against the gate of a fortress. The big Peruvian barely grunted before delivering a passionless backhand that sent Gunn sprawling across the floor of the cavern.
"Throw the little bastard in the river," ordered Amaru.
"No!" Loren cried. "For God's sake, don't kill him."
One of Amaru's men took Gunn by the ankle and began dragging him toward the water.
"You may be making a mistake," cautioned Sarason.
Amaru looked at him queerly. "Why?"
"This river probably enters the Gulf. Instead of providing a floating body for identification, perhaps it might be wiser if they disappear forever."
Amaru paused thoughtfully for a moment. Then he laughed. "An underground river that carries them into the Sea of Cortez. I like that. American investigators will never suspect that they were killed a hundred kilometers away from where they're found. The idea appeals to me." He made a motion to the man holding Gunn to continue. "Heave him as far as you can into the current."
"No, please," Loren begged. "Let him live and I'll do whatever you demand."
"You'll do that anyway," Amaru said impassively.
The guard hurled Gunn into the river with the ease of an athlete throwing the shotput. There was a splash, and Gunn vanished beneath tire black water without a word.
Amaru turned back to Loren and nodded at Julio. "Let the show begin."
Loren screamed and moved like a cat. She sprang at the man who gripped her arm and rammed the long nails of her thumbs deeply into his eyes.
An agonized cry echoed through the treasure cavern. The man given the go-ahead to ravage Loren clutched his hands to his eyes and squealed like a stuck pig. Amaru and Sarason and the other men were momentarily paralyzed with surprise as they saw blood flow through his fingers.
"Oh, Mother of Christ!" Julio cried. "The bitch has blinded me!"
Amaru walked up to Loren and slapped her hard across the face. She staggered back but did not fall.
"You will pay for, that," he said with icy calm. "When you have served your purpose, you shall receive the same treatment before you die."
The fear in Loren's eyes had been replaced with raging anger. If she'd had the strength, she would have fought them tooth and nail like a tiger before being overpowered. But the days of ill-treatment and starvation had left her too weak. She kicked out at Amaru. He took the blows as if they were no more annoying than an attack by a mosquito.
He caught her flailing hands and twisted them behind her. Thinking he had her helpless, he tried to kiss her. But she spit in his face.
Infuriated, he punched her in her soft belly.
Loren doubled up, choking in agony and at the same time gasping for breath. She sank to her knees and slowly fell on her side, still doubled up and clutching her stomach with her arms.
"Since Julio is no longer able to function," said Amaru, "the rest of you help yourselves."
The outstretched arms of his men, thick and strong, with their fingers hooked like claws, reached out and seized her. They rolled her over on her back and pinned down her arms and legs. Held down in a spread-eagled position by the combined strength of three men, including One-Eye, Loren cried out in defenseless terror.
The tattered remains of her clothing were torn away. The smooth, creamy skin shone under the artificial lights left by the army engineers. The sight of her exposed body aroused the attackers' level of excitement even higher.
The one-eyed Quasimodo knelt down and leaned over her, his breath coming in short pants, his lips drawn back from his teeth in a grimace of animal lust. He pressed his mouth against hers. Her screams were suddenly muffled as he bit her lower lip and she could taste the blood. Loren felt as if she were suffocating in a nightmare. He pulled back and moved rough callused hands over her breasts. They felt like sandpaper to her sensitive skin. Her deep violet eyes were sick with abhorrence. She screamed again.
"Fight me!" the hulk whispered huskily. "I like a woman who fights me."
Loren plunged into the depths of humiliation and horror as One-Eye lowered himself onto her. Her screams of terror turned into a shriek of pain.
Then abruptly, her hands were free and she clawed her attacker across the face. He sat back stunned, parallel streaks of red blooming on both cheeks, and stared dumbly at the two men who had suddenly released her arms and hands. "You idiots, what are you doing?" he hissed.
The men who were facing the river fell backward in open-mouthed shock. They crossed themselves as if warding off the devil. Their eyes were not on the rapist or Loren. They were staring into the river beyond. Confused, Amaru turned and peered into the dark waters. What he saw was enough to turn a sane man mad. His mouth dropped open in shock at the sight of an eerie light moving under the water toward him. They all gaped as if hypnotized as the light surfaced and became part of a helmeted head.
Like some hideous wraith rising from the murky abyss of a watery hell, a human form slowly arose from the black depths of the river and moved toward the shore. The apparition, with black seaweedlike shreds hanging from its body, looked like something that belonged not to this world but to the deepest reaches of an alien planet. The effect was made even more shocking by the reappearance of the dead.
Clenched under the right arm, as a father might carry his child, was the inert body of Rudi Gunn.
Sarason's face looked like a white plaster death mask. Sweat poured down his forehead. For a man who did not excite easily, his eyes were near-crazed with shock. He stood silent, as the monstrosity left him too stunned to speak.
Amaru leaped to his feet and tried to speak, but only a whispered croak came out. His lips quivered as he rasped, "Go back, diablo, go back to infierno."
The phantom gently lowered Gunn to the ground. He removed his helmet with one hand. Then he unzipped the front of his wet suit and reached inside. The. green eyes could be seen now, cast on Loren's exposed position on the cold, hard rock. They glinted under the artificial lights with a terrible anger.
The two men who were still pinning Loren's legs stared dumbly as the Colt thundered once, twice in the cavern Their faces went wildly distorted as their heads snapped back and exploded. They collapsed and fell across Loren's knees.
The others bolted away from Loren as if she had suddenly acquired the black plague. Julio moaned in a far corner unable to see, his hands still over his injured eyes.
Loren was beyond screaming. She stared at the man from the river, recognizing him but convinced she was seeing a hallucination.
The shock of disbelief, then horror at the realization of who the apparition was, made Amaru's heart turn cold. "You!" he gasped in a strangled voice.
"You seem surprised to see me, Tupac," said Pitt easily. "Cyrus looks a little green around the gills too."
"You're dead. I killed you."
"Do a sloppy job, get sloppy results." Pitt cycled the Colt from man to man and spoke to Loren without looking at her. "Are you badly hurt?"
For a moment she was too stunned to answer. Then finally, she stammered, "Dirk. . . is it really you?"
"If there's another one, I hope they catch him before he signs our name to a lot of checks. I'm sorry I didn't get here sooner."
She nodded gamely. "Thanks to you I'll survive to se
e these beasts pay."
"You won't have to wait long," Pitt said with a voice of stone. "Are you strong enough to make it up the passageway?"
"Yes"yes," Loren murmured as the reality of her salvation began to sink in. She shuddered as she pushed the dead men away from her and rose unsteadily to her feet, indifferent to her nakedness. She pointed down at Gunn. "Rudi is in a bad way."
"These sadistic scum did this to the two of you?"
Loren nodded silently.
Pitt's teeth were bared, murder glaring out of his opaline green eyes. "Cyrus here just volunteered to carry Rudi topside." Pitt casually waved the gun in the direction of Sarason. "Give her your shirt."
Loren shook her head. "I'd rather go nude than wear his sweaty old shirt."
Sarason knew he could expect a bullet, and fright was slowly replaced by self-preservation. His scheming mind began to focus on a plan to save himself. He sagged to the rock floor as if overcome with shock, his right hand resting on a knee only centimeters away from a .38-caliber derringer strapped to his leg just inside his boot. "How did you get here?" he asked, stalling.
Pitt was not taken in by the mundane question. "We came on an underground cruise ship."
"We?"
"The rest of the team should be surfacing at any moment," Pitt bluffed.
Amaru suddenly shouted at his two sound, remaining men. "Rush him!"
They were hardened killers but they had no wish to die. They made no effort to reach for the automatic rifles they had laid aside during the attempt to rape Loren. One look down the barrel of Pitt's
.45 beneath the burning eyes was enough to deter anyone who did not cherish suicidal tendencies.
"You yellow dogs!" Amaru snarled.
"Still ordering others to do your dirty work, I see," said Pitt. "It appears I made a mistake not killing you in Peru."
"I vowed then you would suffer as you made me."
"Don't bet your Solpemachaco pension on it."
"You intend to murder us in cold blood," said Sarason flatly.
"Not at all. Cold-blooded murder is what you did to Dr. Miller and God only knows how many other innocent people who stood in your path. As their avenging angel, I'm here to execute you."