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Diablo Mesa(90)

Author:Douglas Preston

“I believe we are on the verge,” Tappan finally said in a quiet voice, “of the greatest archaeological find in history.”

The sun at that moment dipped below the horizon and a hush fell over the team. The silent sentinels of Los Gigantes glowed red in the final rays and then changed to a dusky purple as the light vanished.

“Ready,” said Emilio.

The lights snapped on, bathing the hole in brilliant white light.

“Go slow,” Nora told them. “Layer by layer. If you encounter anything, stop immediately. Emilio, you’re in charge of wheelbarrowing the sand. We’re going to focus on the four quads in the center—leave the outer squares for now.”

They began work under the bright lights, in silence, the only sounds the scrape and tang of trowels, and Emilio’s shoveling the sand into a wheelbarrow and wheeling it out to Cecilia Toth. The four quads deepened quickly as work progressed and darkness fell. A multitude of stars began to come out in the vast of night. Nora worked alongside Toth and Tappan, making sure things proceeded methodically, carefully, without haste, troweling down through the soft, damp sand with care, layer by layer.

“Hold it,” Nora said abruptly. The others halted.

After years of dirt archaeology, she had developed a sixth sense for when she was about to expose an artifact, from the texture and firmness of the sand.

“I think we’ve got something,” she said, laying the trowel aside and taking up a whisk.

Everyone crowded in to see. They were now about eight feet below the surface and Nora had an uncharacteristic feeling of claustrophobia. But the wet sand they were digging in had a lot of caliche in it, so the walls were firm and solid, and they had been hammering in braces as they went down. The lights above cast crazy shadows in the dark corners.

Tappan stood behind her as she hesitated. “Well? Are we going to see what it is?”

Nora took a few photographs, feeling impatience radiate from Tappan like heat.

“Can you give me a little more space, please?”

The group stepped back reluctantly. She swept the brush and uncovered another layer of sand…and then something happened: a strange green light could be seen filtering up through the grains of sand still lightly covering the object, dimly illuminating the surrounding faces with an unearthly glow.

Nora hesitated, then readied herself to make the final, uncovering whisk.

From above came a sudden throbbing: the unexpected sound of rapidly approaching helicopters. Nora looked toward the noise and saw, behind the perimeter of lights, two black helicopters coming in fast, doors open, bristling with mounted guns. The two birds swung around on either side of the dig for a landing as the backwash from their rotors whipped the sand into a blinding whirlwind that engulfed the hole and everyone in it.

51

AS NORA SHIELDED herself from the hurricane, she heard commands barked from above. What seemed like a dozen soldiers leapt from the descending choppers. “Hands in sight!” somebody shouted. “Everyone out of the hole!”

“Who the hell are you?” Tappan cried.

There was sudden confusion amid the dust storm. Nora could barely open her eyes to see.

“Out of that hole and back away!” came the command. “Hands in the air—or we shoot!”

“Identify yourselves!” Tappan yelled. This was answered by a burst of automatic fire over their heads.

“You won’t be warned again!”

As Nora and the others scrambled out of the hole, a soldier spun her around and pulled her arms behind her back. She felt zip ties, heard the zing as they were pulled tight—too tight. Meanwhile, six of the soldiers who had leapt from the choppers ran to the two jeeps, started them up, and immediately began heading off into the gloom, three men per jeep.

“Get your hands off me,” Vigil shouted in the confusion.

Nora looked around, half-stunned. The helicopters, rotors still spinning, now had their spotlights on. She recognized them as Black Hawks—no numbers or insignia.

The four of them—Tappan, Vigil, Toth, and herself—were shoved into a line by the soldiers. A man with captain’s bars on his uniform strode out in front.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Vigil shouted, wrenching free of a soldier and advancing on the captain.

“Halt!” the captain said, pulling out his sidearm.

“I did two tours in Afghanistan!” Vigil shouted, taking another step forward. “Don’t you pull a gun on me, you bastard.”

The captain fired two quick shots and Vigil pitched back. Toth, behind him, screamed and fell to her knees, grabbing her leg.

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