Spencer regarded the altar. “Softer,” he repeated.
“Right. Do you see any engravings on that side? Pictographs?”
“Well, not really. I mean, yes, but they’re eroded from the weather. Faint. More like bumps.”
“Right. Because the stone’s soft.”
“Uh-huh. So you said. And that’s important because…?”
“Because one of the ways you might make it easier to move from the cave to its present location might be to hollow the biggest pieces out.”
Spencer’s eyes narrowed and he nodded. “Okay…I follow you. You think the columns are hollow?”
Drake tapped the nearest one again. “Hard to tell. But my bet is, yes. It would make sense to do if they had sufficient time. Might cut the weight by half, or more, making it way easier to drag from the cave and assemble.”
“Still thousands of pounds, though. As in tons. Damned thing probably weighs as much as a Chrysler.”
“Right. But what if Palenko had time on his hands and was thinking of an original hiding place? He was a genius. What if he arrived at the same conclusion?”
Spencer grinned. “Then you’re both crazy?”
“Maybe.” Drake got back on his knees and began energetically scraping more dirt from the base of one of the columns. With a roll of his eyes, Spencer reluctantly joined him.
“You really think Uncle Nutty tunneled beneath this to stash his ore? Why not just leave it in the cave?” he asked.
“I don’t believe he left it there.”
Two hours later they’d excavated from beneath the center of the first column sufficiently for Drake to lie in the trench and poke his head under it with his flashlight.
“Well? Anything?”
Drake edged back out and shook his head. “Nope. But I was right. It’s hollow.”
“Great,” Spencer said, his tone dry.
“Let’s do the other one.”
“Sure. My blisters need blisters. They’re getting lonely.”
The heat of the day rose as they worked, and by the time they’d cleared another trench, the air was stifling. Both Spencer and Drake poured sweat, their torsos slick with it. They took a break to rehydrate, and Drake pulled on his filthy T-shirt and grabbed his flashlight.
“Time to see whether this has all been worth it,” he said.
Spencer waved in assent as he swallowed more water.
Drake lowered himself into the depression and slid beneath the column. Spencer set his canteen down and took a couple of steps toward him.
“Anything?”
“This one’s not hollow. No. Wait. It is. There’s something stuck in the cavity.”
Drake unsheathed his knife and began chipping away. A few moments later he pulled his head out just before a loud thump issued from the base.
He looked up at Spencer, dirt and flecks of mortar on his grinning face. “Bingo.”
Spencer got into the ditch with him, and together they manhandled a fiberglass container from under the column, scraping more dirt out of the way so it could clear. Spencer hoisted the box, veins bulging in his forehead as he strained under the weight, and set it on the ground.
“Damn. Must be at least a hundred pounds. Maybe more like one-twenty. I thought you said he made off with only twenty pounds of ore,” Spencer said.
“I did. Twenty-four.”
“So what now? You thinking about opening it, just to take a little peek?”
Drake scraped a coating of moist dirt off the container, where the universal radiation hazard symbol was embossed in yellow, and tapped it with his finger.
“Might be a really bad idea to open it. Pandora’s box and all. Unless you’ve decided you never want to have children and want to join the worms glowing in the dark.”
Spencer nodded in comprehension. “That’s why it’s so heavy. Lead shielding.”
“Yup. And a lot of it. Maybe we should just wait for the experts on this one…?”
“Not a bad idea.”
“I have them every now and then.”
They stared at the container, unsure of how to proceed now that they’d accomplished the impossible. Drake caught Spencer’s eye.
“I’d buy you a drink to celebrate if there was a bar within five hundred miles,” Drake said.
“And I’d let you. But no dancing.”
“Right. Got to establish boundaries.”
“Exactly.”
Drake brushed dirt off his arms. “You going to call the CIA?”
“And Jorge. I’d say we’re ready for the onslaught now, wouldn’t you?”
“Not that I don’t enjoy hanging out in a cave full of ghosts and sleeping in a tent, praying no snakes get me.”
Together they dragged the container into the cave, and Spencer got on the sat phone while Allie examined the box. He gave Jorge the coordinates and they agreed that the first group would arrive the following day. The next call was to Spencer’s contact at the embassy, who passed him to someone who called himself Mr. Smith. Spencer described Drake’s meeting with the three agents in Atalaya, and Mr. Smith acted noncommittal. As the phone ran low on juice, Spencer lost his patience.
“Get on the horn with this Gus guy, and tell him we’ve located Palenko. I’ll call back in two hours. Write that down. Palenko.” Spencer stabbed the off button and looked around the grotto with annoyance. “Idiot. I hate the way these spooks try to say nothing and milk you for information. It’s infuriating.”
“I’d say you handled that well,” Allie said with a smirk.
“Yeah, well, I have a little problem with authority. We all have our crosses to bear.”
Allie retired for her afternoon rest, her energy still low as the heat rose outside the cave. When Spencer called back later, he was immediately patched through to someone different, and Spencer could hear an engine in the background.
“Who is this?” Spencer demanded.
“Gus. You wanted to talk?”
Spencer handed Drake the phone.
“Hello? Gus?”
“Yes. Mr. Ramsey?”
“Speaking. The battery’s low, so I’ll make this quick. I have what you’re after. We need to do an exchange.”
There was a pause on the line. “You found it?”
“Correct. I have it in my possession. That should be worth a hell of a lot more than fifty million after everything I’ve been through.”
“Name your price.”
Drake covered the mouthpiece with his hand. “He said name your price,” he whispered.
“Damn. Um, tell him a hundred million. And we split it three ways, all right?”
Drake looked at him like he was crazy, but Spencer didn’t flinch, and Drake decided he could learn a thing or two from him.
“Gus?”
“Yes.”
“The number’s a hundred.”
“You have it with you?”
“Yes.”
“Fine. Done. Where do you want the funds sent?”
Drake gave him his bank account number and bank name. “It’s the Menlo Park branch.”
“We’ll figure it out. Son, you wouldn’t be pulling a fast one, would you?”
“Do I sound particularly playful right now, Gus? I’ve got a gunshot wound, and one of my group is dead. You want to make it two hundred?” Drake had already learned one lesson from Spencer.
“Slow down. I was just asking. Because you don’t want to screw us over.”
“A deal’s a deal. It’s yours for a hundred. Going once. Going twice…”
“We’ll do the wire today.”
“And I don’t want any tax problems.”
“We’ll handle that.”
“Okay. Once I verify the funds arrived, I’ll tell you where to find the container.”
“You aren’t going to meet me with it?”
“Gus, I’m in the middle of the frigging Amazon rainforest. Not that I don’t trust you, but no, I’m not going to stand out in some field while you helicopter in, hoping you don’t take a sniper shot at me. You pay, you get the box, and you do whatever you want with it from there. That’s the deal. And then we’re done. Agreed?”