November 5, 1991
Roma, Texas.
Five days later, a few minutes past dnight, the President's helicopter set down at a small airfield a few miles outside Roma. Accompanying him were Senator Pitt and Julius Schiller. As soon as the rotor blades swung and drooped to a stop, Admiral Sandecker walked up to the door and greeted them.
"Good to see you, Admiral," the President said graciously.
"Congratulations on a splendid job, though I must say I didn't think NUMA could pull it off."
"Thank you, Mr. President," replied Sandecker with his usual cocky air.
"We're all grateful you had enough confidence in our mad plan to give us the go-ahead."
"A neat scam, a very neat scam indeed." The President turned and looked at Senator Pitt. "But you have the Senator to thank for my backing. He can be very persuasive."
After a few words between Sandecker and Schiller, they all climbed a short ladder ugh a concealed door into the bed of a huge tandem, ten-wheeler dump truck.
Two of the President's Secret Service agents, wearing work clothes, climbed into the cab with the driver. Four more piled into an old battered Dodge van parked in the rear.
The exterior of the truck had a worn, dusty and faded-paint look. But the interior of the four-and-a-half by two-and-a half-meter bed was converted into a room containing a kitchen bar and six roomy chairs. The top had been covered by side boards and covered with two centimeters of gravel to complete the disguise.
The door in the dump bed was closed, and they settled into the comfortable chairs mounted to the floor and fastened their seat belts.
"Sorry about the unusual transportation," said Sandecker. "But we can't afford to give the show away with choppers flying in and out of the site."
"This is my first ride inside a gravel dumptruck," the President joked.
"The suspension doesn't compare to the White House Lincoln limousine."
"We've converted six of these as undercover transports", explained Sandecker.
"A good choice," laughed the Senator, rapping the metal wall with his knuckles. "They come bulletproofed."
The smile on the President's face died and he turned serious. "the secret has been kept?" he asked.
Sanddecker nodded. "I've seen nothing to indicate otherwise from our end."
"There won't be any leaks from the White House," Schiller guaranteed, picking up on the General's veiled insinuation.
"The lid is nailed tight."
The President was silent for a moment. "We were damned lucky to get away with it," he said finally. "Topiltzin's mob of followers might have gone on an orgy of revenge after they realized he was dead."
"After the shock wore off," said Sandecker. "They wandered around the hill, staring into the explosion's crater as if it was a super phenomenon. Bloody rioting was kept to a minimum because of the presence of women and children, that and the fact that Topiltzin's close supporters and advisers quietly ducked out and beat a fast retreat for Mexico. Unleaderless, and hungry, the crowd slowly began filtering back across the border to their cities and villages."
"According to immigration," said Schiller, "a few thousand took off north, but a third of them have already been rounded UP."
The President sighed. "At least the worst is over. If Congress passes our aid plan to Latin America, it should go a long way in helping our neighbors to the south climb back on their financial feet."
"And the Capisten-e family?" asked Sandecker. "How will they be dealt with?"
"The Justice Department is going after any assets they have in this country." The President's face was expressionless, but his eyes had a steel-like glint. "This is just between us, gentlemen, but Colonel Hollis of our Special Operations Forces is planning an assault exercise on an island in the Caribbean that shall remain nwneless. If any of the Capesterre family happen to be in the vicinity at the time . . . well, that's too damn bad for them."
Senator Pitt gave a sarcastic smile. "With Yazid and Topiltzin gone, our foreign relations will seem pretty tame for a while."
Schiller shook his head negatively. "We've only plugged two holes in the dike. The worst is down the road."
"Don't cry doom, Julius," said the President, now in a jovial mood.
"Egypt is stable for the moment. And with President Hasan stepping aside for health reasons and turning over his office to Defense Minister Abu H d, the Muslim fundamentalists will be under enormous pressure to reduce their demands for an Islamic government. ,
"The fact that Hala Kamil has consented to marry Hamid won't hurt the situation either," Senator Pitt summed up.
The conversation was interrupted as the truck came to a stop. The concealed door was opened from the outside and the ladder set in place.
"After you, Mr. President," invited Sandecker.
They stepped to the ground and looked around. The area was surrounded by an ordinary chain-link fence and dimly lit by widely spaced pole lights. A large sign beside the entrance gate read, sAm sAM'S GRAVEL
COMPANY..
Except for a pair of gravel loaders, a large excavator bucket and several dump trucks and gravel lers, the entire yard was deserted.
The underground security guard units and electronic detection equipment were virtually invisible to anyone walking around the equipment yard.
"Can I meet Mr. Trinity?" asked the President.
Sandecker shook his head. "Afraid not. A good man, Sam.
A good patriot. After voluntarily signing over the rights to the artifacts to the government, he took off on a playing tour of the world's top one hundred golf courses."
"We compensated him, I hope."
"Ten million tax-free dollars," replied Sandecker. "And we damned near had to hogtie him to take it." Then Sandecker turned and pointed out a deep excavation a few hundred meters away. "The remains of Gongora Hill. Now a gravel pit. We've actually made a profit on our sand-and-crushed-rock operation."
The President's face clouded as he stared into the huge open pit that was once the summit of the hill. "Did you happen to dig up Topiltzin and Yazid?"
Sandecker nodded. "Two days ago. We sent their remains through the rock crusher. I believe they're both part of a roadbed."
The President seemed satisfied. "Just what the bastards deserve."
"Where is the tunnel?" asked Schiller, looking around.
"In there." Sandecker gestured toward a well-used mobile home trailer that was converted to an office. A sign by one window advertised the
"Dispatcher."
The four Secret Service agents in the van had already exited and begun patrolling the area while the two in the cab of the truck jumped to the ground and entered the office to check it out as a matter of routine.
After the President's party passed through two doors into a small, ban-en office at the rear of the mobile home, Sandecker invited them to step to the center of the room and hold onto a railing that protruded from the floor. He waved at a TV camera in one corner of the ceiling.
Then the floor began to lower through the trailer and into the ground below.
"Pretty slick," said Schiller admiringly.
"Yes indeed," murmured the President. "I can see why the project hasn't been penetrated."
The lift dropped through the limestone and came to a jerking halt thirty meters under the ground surface. They stepped off into a wide-tunneled passageway lit with fluorescent-tube lights. for as far as they could see the tunnel was lined with sculptures.
A woman waited to greet them.
"Mr. President," said Sandecker, "may I introduce Dr. Lily Sharp, director of the cataloging program?"
"Dr. Sharp, we're all deeply in your debt."
Lily blushed. "I'm afraid I was only a small cog in the wheel," she replied modestly.
After she was introduced to Schiller, Lily began the guided tour of the the Alexandria Library.
"We've ed and catalogued 427 different sculptures," she explained,
"representing the finest work of the early bronze age beginning in 3,000