Serpent (23 page)

Danvers seemed to snap out of a deep sleep. "Yes, I agree. Many of our clients have used TimeQuest. We have a file on them if that would be helpful.".

"I've already checked them out," Yaeger said. "I've pulled info in from other sources, too. Directories of nonprofits, state and federal agencies that regulate nonprofits. Bank statements. Internet. They've got an impressive Web site. They're headquartered in San Antonio. Board of directors is made up of nationally known people."

Austin frowned. "Well meaning people have unknowingly lent their names to everything from right and leftwing extremists to organized crime thinking they were pushing a good cause."

"Well put, Kurt," Sandecker agreed. "Hiram, anything to show Time-Quest is a front for extremists?"

Yaeger shook his head. All the data say Time-Quest is clean."

"So you found nothing out of the ordinary?" Sandecker persisted, his perceptive ear detecting an offkey note in Yaeger's tone.

"I didn't say that, Admiral. There's a ton of information available on the main organization, but most of it is slick pressrelease fluff that doesn't really tell you anything. When I tried to probe past the PR image, I got nothing."

"They blocked access?"

"That's the thing. Not really. This is more sophisticated. When access is blocked it's like not having the key to get into the room. I had the key, but when I got into the room it was dark, and I couldn't turn on the light switch."

"If your electronic hounds couldn't sniff out the trail, it must be sophisticated indeed. Your work tells us something, though. The organization would not disconnect its light switch unless there were something to hide."

Nina, who had been sitting silently throughout the presentation, suddenly said, "Gonzalez."

"I beg your pardon?" Sandecker said.

"I've been thinking about what Commander Gunn said about thugee. There was a man named Gonzalez on our expedition. I mentioned him to Mr. Austin and Mr. Zavala. He had come through Time-Quest. He was . . . he was just strange."

"In what way Dr. Kirov?"

"It's hard to say. He was terribly obsequious. Always around, looking over your shoulder. Whenever anyone asked about his background he always had the same story. It never varied. He'd get evasive when you pressed him for details. For instance, that last day when I asked him about the stranger he'd been talking to." She paused, her brow furrowed in thought. "I think that had something to do with the attack."

"I read. about the incident in your report," Sandecker said. "This Gonzalez was killed with the others?"

"I assume so. There was a lot of confusion. He disappeared with everybody else, so..."

"We'll check over the identification of the bodies exhumed from the excavation, and if he's not there Hiram will run a trace on him."

"One question," Austin said. "Time-Quest was connected with every expedition that vanished in recent years, but did some of its expeditions come home perfectly safe?"

"I'll answer that," Sandecker said. "Yes. There have been many expeditions where the most serious injuries were from sunstroke. Again, those that disappeared had all reported unusual finds or, in more specific cases, evidence of pre-Columbian contact. What do you make of that, Dr. Danvers?"

"The archaeological community would certainly scrutinize such claims with the greatest skepticism," Danvers replied. "But to say how they might precipitate murder, well, I'm simply at a loss. Surely it couldn't be a string of coincidences, unlikely as that may be."

Nina shook her head. "Just as unlikely a coincidence as the pre-Columbian artifact I found being destroyed. And evidence of its existence being erased from the university's database." She turned to Yaeger. "How could that happen?"

Yaeger shrugged. "Not a big problem if you know how"

Sandecker checked his watch again. "We've done all we can do here for now. I'd like to thank you for coming, gentlemen and Dr. Kirov. We'll discuss our next step and keep you informed of our progress."

As the meeting broke up, Kurt went over to speak to Nina.

"Will you be staying in the Washington area?"

"I'm afraid not," she said. "I'm leaving right away to start work on a new project."

"Well . . ."

"You never know, we might be working together someday"

Austin inhaled the faint scent of lavender coming from Nina's hair and wondered how much work they would accomplish. "Perhaps we might."

Zavala came over. "Sorry to interrupt. Sandecker wants us in his office."

Austin bid Nina a reluctant goodbye, followed the others into the admiral's aerie, and took up a seat in one of the comfortable leather chairs. Sandecker was behind his desk. He leaned back in his swivel chair and puffed several times on his giant cigar, which he had finally lit. He was about to open discussion when his eye fell on Zavala, who was puffing an identical stogie. There was little in the known universe that Sandecker was unaware of, but one of the most enduring and irritating mysteries in his life had to do with the humidor on his desk. For years he had been trying to figure out how Al Giordino lifted cigars from the box undetected.

Sandecker pinned Zavala with a steely eye. "Have you been talking to Giordino?" he said coolly.

"In the elevator. He and Pitt were leaving for a project in the Antarctic," Zavala replied with cherubic innocence. "We had a brief chat about NUMA business."

Sandecker quietly harrumphed. He had never given in to Giordino, and he was damned if he'd give Zavala the satisfaction of knowing he was irritated or flummoxed.

"Some of you may be wondering why an agency whose precinct is the ocean and what lies under it is in any way involved with a bunch of desert diggers," he said. "The major reason is that NUMA has the best intelligence capacity in the world. Many of these sites were reached by the ocean or rivers that run out to the sea, so technically we have a vested interest. Well, gentlemen, ideas?"

Austin, who had watched the battle of the cigars with interest, turned his mind to Sandecker's question. "Let's go over what we know." Ticking the points off on his fingers, he said, "There is a pattern to the disappearances. People don't simply vanish but are murdered by well-organized and equipped assassins. The expeditions were all linked to art outfit called Time-Quest that seems to have something to hide."

Yaeger interjected, "Could be they're just hiding assets from the IRS and it has nothing to do with the murders?"

"We may well find that's the case," Sandecker said, "which is why I want you to keep digging. Explore every possible angle."

"Did you ever get any leads on the hovercraft that tried a hit-and-run on Dr. Kirov?" Zavala asked.

"Slightly better luck," Yaeger said. "From your description I narrowed the manufacturer to an English outfit called Griffon Hovercraft Ltd. Only so many were built of. the model you described. This one is especially interesting. It's called an LCAC type."

"Navy jargon for landing craft air cushion, as I recall," Gunn said

"That's right. It's a souped-up high-speed over-the-beach version of a commercial model. Eighty-eight feet long. Two props and four gas turbines give her a speed of forty knots with payload. Gun mounts for .50caliber machine guns, grenade launcher, and M60 machine gun. We've got a few in the U.S. Navy."

"Why didn't they use their guns to stop Dr. Kirov?" Zavala said.

"My guess is that they were afraid her body would be found. There would have been questions. Have any orders come in from private parties?" Austin asked Yaeger.

"Only one. An outfit in San Antonio."

Austin leaned forward. "That's where Time-Quest has its headquarters."

"Right," Yaeger replied. "Could be coincidence. The hovercraft is owned by an oil exploration corporation, but the company could be one of a series of dummies. It's going to take a while to see if they're linked. Careless of them to allow the chance of a connection."

"Not really," Austin said. "They didn't expect any witnesses: If they'd been successful with their attack on Dr. Kirov, nobody would have known about the killers. Those on the Nereus noticed the hovercraft, but it was too far away to see that it was being used for assault and battery"

Sandecker said, "Kurt is right, Hiram. I'd like you to keep exploring the San Antonio connection. Any proposals on more direct action?"

"Yes, I've been thinking," Austin said. "Maybe we can make them come to us. The trigger in these incidents is the pre-Columbian angle. What if we set up an archaeological expedition and let TimeQuest, know we've found something pre-Columbian?"

"Then we put on our Kevlar jackets and see what happens," Zavala said. He puffed on his cigar like Diamond Jim Brady. "A sting. Brilliant."

Sandecker arched an eyebrow. "Zavala's dry wit aside, how would we go about doing that?" Sandecker asked. "It would take weeks, perhaps months, to organize, wouldn't it, Rudi?"

"I'm afraid so, sir. There would be a lot to pull together."

Austin couldn't figure why Gunn looked so amused at his proposal, and the irritation showed in his voice when he said, "Maybe if we really try we can accelerate the process somehow."

"No need to go hellbent for leather, my friend." Sandecker showed his teeth in his familiar barracuda smile. "While you and Joe were laid up, Rudi, Hiram, and I came up with the same scheme and started things moving. Everything is in place. For reasons of speed and ease of logistics, we've set it up in the American Southwest. The bait will be an Old World `artifact' found on American soil. That should attract someone's attention. Consider this a task for the NUMA Special Assignments Team."

"Assignment accepted," Austin said. "What about Gamay?"

"A marine biologist in the desert might be harder to explain," the admiral said. "I see no need to take her away from her work in the Yucatan. Let her know what we're up to. If we need her, she can be on hand in a few hours. She's been working pretty hard lately. She's probably enjoying the tropic sun on the beaches of Cozumel or Cancun even as we speak."

Zavala took along puff on his cigar and blew a smoke ring. "Some people have all the luck," he said.

The Yucatan Mexico

16 THE FOURTH PERMANEMT MEMBER OF the NUMA Special Assignments Team would have been the last person to describe herself as lucky. While her colleagues enjoyed their air-conditioned comfort, Gamay MorganTrout was drenched with perspiration, and her usual good nature was ebbing in direct proportion to the rise of the ambient air temperature, which was in the eighties and climbing. She couldn't believe the humidity was 100 percent without a cloud in the sky.

Arms folded across her chest, she leaned her tall, willowy body against the Jeep parked on the grassy shoulder of the asphalt ribbon that slashed through the lowlying rain 'forest Shimmering water puddle mirages danced on the mottled gray tarmac. The desolate spot reminded her of the lonely highway in North by Northwest where Cary Grant gets chased by a crop duster.

Gamay looked up at the pale sky. No crop duster. Only a couple of turkey vultures making lazy circles. Bad place for hungry buzzards. The roadkill pickings must be slim indeed. One vehicle had passed in the last hour. She heard the old pickup coming for miles. It rattled by with its load of half-dead chickens leaving a trail of white feathers in its wake. The driver hadn't even slowed down to see if she needed help.

Thinking it was dumb standing out in the sun, Gamay climbed back into the shade under the Jeep's convertible top and took a slug of cooling water from a thermos. For at least the third time she unfolded the map Professor Chi had faxed her from Mexico City. The paper was damp and limp from her moist hands. Earlier that morning she had driven inland from Ciudad del Carmen where the Nereus was anchored, following the map to the letter through the monotonous flat Yucatan landscape, paying strict attention to the neatly written precise mileage notations, pulling over exactly where the arrow indicated. She studied the carefully drawn lines. No mistake. X marked the spot. She was exactly where she was supposed to be.