Schiller looked glumly at the President. "A thousand people will be swarming over the place. I suggest you order out a military force to secure the area."
"Julius is right, Mr. President," said Nichols. "Treasure hunters will dig those hills to pieces if they're not stopped."
The President nodded. "Alright, Dale. Open a Wx to General Metcalf of the Joint Chiefs."
Nichols quickly left the table and entered the study, which was manned by Secret Service and White House communications technicians.
"I strongly advise we clamp a lid on the entire operation said Wismer tensely. "We should also spread a story that the discovery is a hoax."
"Not a good idea, Mr. President," counseled Schiller wisely. "Your predecessors found out the hard way; it doesn't pay to lie to the American people. The news media would smell a coverup and chew you to bits."
"I'll side with Julius," said Sandecker. "Close off the area, but go through with the excavation, hiding nothing and keeping the public informed. Believe me, Mr. President, your administration will be far better off putting the Library artifacts out in the open as they're recovered."
The President turned and looked at Wismer. "Sorry, Harold. Perhaps it's all for the best."
"Let us hope so," said Wismer, solemnly staring at the newspaper story.
"I don't want to think about what might happen if that lunatic Topiltzin decides to make an issue of it."
Sam Trinity stood and watched Pitt connect a pair of electrical leads from two metal boxes that sat on the open tailgate of his Jeep. One had a small viewing monitor and the other a wide slot with paper unreeling from it like a flattened tongue.
"A wild-looking rig," observed Trinity. "What do you call it?"
"The fancy name is electromagnetic reflection profiling system for subsurface exploration," Pitt replied as he jacked in the leads to a strange double-humped contraption with four wheels and a push bar. "In plain speech, it's a ground-probing radar unit, the Georadar One, manufactured by the Oyo Corporation."
"I didn't know radar could go through dirt and rock."
"It can provide a good profile down to ten meters, and deep as twenty under ideal conditions."
"How's it work?"
"As the portable probe moves across the land a transmitter sends an electromagnetic pulse into the ground. The reflecting signals are picked up by a receiver and then relayed to the color processor and graphic recorder here in the Jeep. That's pretty much the gist of it."
"Sure you don't want me to tow the mitter buggy?"
"I have better control if I push it by hand."
"What are we looking for?"
"A cavity."
"You mean cavern."
Pitt grinned and shrugged. "Same thing."
Trinity gazed across the ridge of hills they were standing on toward the summit of Gongora Hill, four hundred meters away. "Why are we looking on the backside of the wrong hill?"
"I want to run some tests on the unit before we tackle the prime site,"
Pitt replied vaguely. "Also, there's the slight possibility Venator buried more artifacts someplace else." He paused and waved to Lily, who was peering through a surveyor's transit a short distance away. "We're ready," he shouted.
She waved back and approached, carrying a board with sheet of graph paper tacked to it. "Here's your search grid,! she said, pointing a pencil at the markings on the paper. "The boundary stakes are set in place. I'll walk behind the Jeep and monitor the transmissions. Every twenty meters or so I'll plant a small flag marker so we can keep our lanes straight."
Pitt nodded at her. "Ready, Sam?"
Sam moved behind the steering wheel and started the Jeep's engine. "Say the word."
Pitt turned on the machine and made a few adjustments. Then he took the handle of the probe wagon in his hands and pointed ahead.
Sam dropped the Jeep into drive and crawled forward while Pitt followed, pushing the transmitter-receiver unit five meters from the rear.
A light cloud overcast dulled the sun to a dim yellow ball. 'Thankfully, the day was mild and comfortable. Back and forth, they traveled, dodging rocks and bushes. The morning wore into afternoon as the monotony associated with search and surveys stretched out of all proportion.
They ignored lunch, stopping only at Lily's command as she studied the recordings and made notations.
"A good reading?" Pitt asked, taking a breather, sitting on the back of the tailgate.
"We're on the edge of something that looks interesting," answered Lily, engrossed in the recordings. "Maybe nothing, though. I'll know better after we cover the next two lanes."
Trinity graciously passed around bottles of Mexican Bohemia beer from an ice chest in the Jeep. It was during these short breaks that Pitt noticed a growing number of cars parked at the bottom of Gongord Hill.
people were fanning out over the slope with metal detectors.
Sam noticed too. "A lot of good my 'No Trespassing' signs did," he grumbled. "You'd think they was advertising free
"Where are they coming from?" asked Lily. "How did they find out about the project so soon?"
Trinity peered over the rims of his sunglasses. "Mostly local folks.
Somebody must have blabbed. By this time tomorrow they'll be rolling in from every state in the Union."
The telephone in the Jeep buzzed, and Trinity answered. Then he passed the receiver out the window to Pitt.
"for you. Admiral Sandecker."
Pi" took the call. "Yes, Admiral."
"We've been backstabbed; we're no longer on the excavation," Sandecker informed him. "The President's advisers have talked him into turningng the operation over to the Pentagon.
"It was to be expected, but I'd have preferred the Park Service. They're better equipped for an archaeological dig."
"The White House wants to break into the storage chamber and remove the scrolls for study as quickly as possible. They fear a nasty confrontation with countries that might demand to share in the discovery."
Pitt struck his fist against the roof of the Jeep. "Damnit! They can't go down there and throw everything into trucks as though it was secondhand merchandise. The scrolls could crumble to dust if not handled properly."
"The President has accepted responsibility for the gamble."
"The past has no priority over politics, is that it?"
Not the only problem," said Sandecker tersely. "Some aide inside the White House leaked everything to a foreign wire service. Word is spreading like the plague."
"Crowds are already converging on the site."
"They're not wasting any time."
"How does the government get around the fact the property belongs to Sam?"
"Let's just say Sam is going to get an offer he can't refuse," Sandecker replied angrily. "The President and his cronies have a grand scheme to make a political bonanza out of the information contained in the Library scrolls."
"My father among them?" asked Pitt.
"I'm afraid so."
"Who exactly is taking over?"
"A company of Army engineers from Fort Hood. They and their equipment are being transported by truck. A security force should be dropping in on you any time by helicopter to seal off the perimeters."
Pitt thought a moment, then: "Could you use your clout to arrange for us to hang around?"
"Give me a cover story."
"Except for Hiram Yaeger, Lily and I know more about the search than anyone who will be excavating. Claim we're vital to the project as consultants. Use Lily's academic credentials as a backup. Say we're conducting an archaeological survey for surface artifacts. Say anything, Admiral, but con the White House into allowing us to remain on the site."
"I'll see what I can do," Sandecker said, warming to the idea, although he didn't have the vaguest idea of what Pitt was shooting for. "Harold Wismer should be the only barrier. If the Senator throws his support our way I think we can handle it."
"Let me know if my dad drags his feet. I'll get on h
im."
"I'll be in touch."
Pitt handed the receiver back to Trinity and turned to Lily. "We're off the case," he informed them. "The Army is taking over the excavation.
They're going to haul the artifacts away as fast as they can throw them in the back of a truck."
Lily's eyes widened in shock. "The scrolls will be destroyed," she gasped. "After sixteen hundred years in an underground vault the parchment and papyrus manuscripts must be treated delicately. They could disintegrate from a sudden temperature change or the slightest touch."
"You heard me give the Admiral the same appraisal," Pitt said helplessly.
Trinity looked washed out. "Waal," he drawled, shall we call it a day?"
Pitt looked at the stakes that marked the outer limit of the search grid. "Not yet," he said slowly, deliberately. "Let's finish the job.
The show is never over till it's over."
The Mercedes stretch limousine stopped at the yacht club dock in the harbor of Alexandria. The chauffeur opened the door and Robert Capesteffe climbed from the back seat. Wearing a tailored white linen suit with a powder-blue shirt and matching tie, he no longer looked like Topiltzin.
He was guided down a stone stairway to a waiting launch. He sat back in the soft cushions and enjoyed the ride across the harbor and through the enwmce where one of the Seven Wonders of the Ancient World, the famed lighthouse known as the Pharos of Alexandria, once stood, a towering 135
meters high. Only a few stones built into an Arab fort were all that remained of its ruins.
The launch headed for a large yacht that was moored around the harbor and off the long wide beach. Capesteffe had walked her decks on previous occasions. He knew her length to be forty-five meters. She was Dutch-built, with sleek, aircraftstyle lines. She had transoceanic range and a cruising speed of thirty knots.
The pilot eased back on the throttle and slipped the launch into reverse at it approached the boarding steps. Capesterre was met on deck by a man dressed in an open silk shirt, shorts and sandals. They embraced.
ifre as ii re
... A - lcotne, bt(,,there," saiki Paul Capesterre. "It's been too long.
"You look healthy, Paul. I'd say you and Akhmad Yazid have gained about eight pounds."
"Twelve."
"Almost seems strange to see you out of uniform," said Robert.
Paul shrugged. "I get tired of Yazid's Arabic gear and that stupid turban." He stood back and smiled at his brother. "You're a fine one to talk. I don't see you in your Aztec god outfit."
"Topiltzin is temporarily on holiday." Robert paused and nodded at the deck. "You've borrowed Uncle Theodore's boat, I see."
I-He hardly has use for it any more since the family left the drug business." Paul Capesterre turned and led his brother into the dining salon. "Come along, I've had lunch set. Now that I've learned you finally developed a taste for champagne, I've dusted off a bottle of Uncle Theodore's finest vintage."
Robert took an offered glass. "I thought President Hasan placed you under house arrest."
"The only reason I bought the villa is because of a hidden escape tunnel that runs underground for a hundred meters and comes up in a mechanic's repair shop."
"Also owned by you."
"Of course."
Robert raised his glass. "Here's to Mother and Father's grand scheme."
Paul nodded. "Although at the moment, your end in Mexico looks more promising than mine in Egypt."
"You're not to blame for the Lady Flamborough fiasco. The family approved the plan. No one could foretell the cunning of the Americans."
That idiot Suleiman Aziz Ammar," said Paul harswy, "he blundered the operation away."
"any news of survivors?"
"Family agents report most were killed, including Ammar and your Captain Machado. Several were taken prisoner, but they know nothing of our involvement."
"Then we should consider ourselves lucky. With Machado and Ammar dead, no intelligence agency in the world can touch us. They were the only link."
"President Hasan didn't have any trouble putting two and two together or I wouldn't be under house arrest."
"Yes," agreed Robeil, "but Hasan can't act against you without solid evidence. If he tried, your followers would rise up and prevent any trial. The family's advice is to keep a low profile while consolidating your power base. At least for another year, to see how the wind blows."
"for now the wind blows at the backs of Hasan, Hala Kaniil and Abu Hamid," said Paul wrad"lly.
"Be patient. Soon your Islamic fundamentalist movement will sweep you into the Egyptian parliament."
Paul looked at Robert with a cagey expression in his eyes. "The discovery of the Alexandria Library treasures might speed things a bit."
"You've read the latest news reportst' asked Robert'
"Yes, the Americans claim they've found the storage chamber in Texas."
"Possession of the ancient geological charts could be to your advantage.
If they point the way to rich oil and mineral reserves, you can claim credit for turning Egypt's economy around. "
"I've considered that possibility," said Paul. "If I read the White House correctly, the President will use the artifacts and scrolls as bargaining chips. While Hasan begs and haggles for a paltry share of Egypt's heritage, I can go before the people and raise the issue as an outrage against our revered ancestors." Paul hesitated, his mind leapfrogging. Then he continued, his eyes narrowing. "With the right semantics I think I can twist Muslim law and the words of the Koran into a rallying cry that will crack Hasan's government."
Robert laughed. "try and keep a straight face when you speak. The Christians may have burned most of the scrolls in A.D. 39 1, but it was the Muslims in 646 who destroyed the Library forever."
A waiter began serving Scottish smoked salmon and an caviar. They ate for a few minutes in silence.
Then Paul said, "I hope you'realize the burden of seizing the artifacts falls on your shoulders."
Robert stared over the rim of his champagne glass. "You talking to me or Topiltzin?"
Paul laughed. "Topiltzin."
Robert set down the glass and slowly raised his hands in the air as if beseeching a fly on the ceiling. His eyes took on a hypnotic look and he began to speak in a haunting tone.
"We will rise up by the tens of thousands, by the hundreds of thousands.
We will cross the river as one and take what was buried on our land, land that was stolen from us by the Americans. Many will be sacrificed, but the gods demand we take what rightfully belongs to Mexico." Then he dropped his hands and grinned. "Needs a little polishing, of course."
"I believe you've borrowed my script," said Paul, applauding "What's the difference so long as we're family?" Robert took a final forkful of salmon. "Delicious. I could eat smoked salmon by the boatload." He washed it down with the champagne. "If I can seize the treasures and hold on to them, then what?"
I only want the maps. Whatever else can be smuggled out gole's to the family to keep or sell on the black market to wealthy collectors.
Agreed?"
Robert thought a moment, and then nodded. "Agreed."
The waiter brought a tray of glasses, a bottle of brandy and a box of cigars.
Paul slowly lit a panatella. He looked questioningly through the smoke at his brother. "How do you intend to grab the Library treasures?"
"I had planned to launch a massive, unarmed invasion of the American border states after I gained power. This strikes me as a good opportunity for a test run." Robert stared at his glass as he swirled his brandy. "Once I set the wheels of my organization in motion, the poor in the cities and the peasants of the country will be gathered up and transported north to Roma, Texas. I can assemble three, perhaps as many as four hundred thousand on our side of the Rio Grande in four days."
"What about American resistance?"
"Every soldier, border patrolman and sheriff in Texas will be helpless to stop the crush. I plan to put t
he women and children in the first wave across the bridge and river. Americans are a maudlin lot. They may have slaughtered villagers in Vietnam, but they won't massacre unarmed civilians on their own doorstep. I can also play on White House fears of a nasty international incident. The President won't dare issue orders to shoot. Static resistance will be inundated by a human tide that will sweep up through Roma and occupy the underground vault containing the Library treasures."
"And Topiltzin will lead them?"
"And I will lead them."
"How long do you think you can hold on to the vault?" asked Paul.
"Long enough for ancient-language translators to assess and remove any scrolls pertaining to long-lost mineral deposits."
"That could take weeks. You won't have the time. The Americans will build up their forces and push your people back into Mexico within a few days."
"Not if I threaten to burn the scrolls and destroy the art objects."
Robert patted his lips with a napkin. "My jet should be refueled by now. I'd better return to Mexico and set the operation in motion."
Respect for his brother's inventive reasoning showed in Paul's eyes.
"With their backs against the wall, the American government will have no option but to deal. I like that."
"Certainly the largest horde of people to invade the United States since the British in the Revolutionary War," said Robert. "I like that even better."
They began arriving in the thousands the first day, in the tens of thousands the next. from all over northern Mexico people inspired by the unpassioned mvings of Topiltzin traveled by car, overloaded bus and truck, or walked to the dusty town of Nfiguel Ale across the river from Roma. The asphalt roads from Monterrey, Tampico, and Mexico City were glutted with a continuous stream of vehicles.
President De Lorenzo tried to stop the human wave rolling toward the border He called out the Mexican armed forces to block the roads. The military might as well have tried to stop a raging flood. Outside of Guadalupe, a squad of soldiers about to be swept away by a crush of bodies fired into the crowd, killing fifty-four, most of them women and children.