“Sí!” Blanco fed on his brother’s excitement. “Disneyland have nothing like this. We could put one in Cuzco, or even in Lima.”

“You have no idea of its range,” Fewick pointed out.

The brothers ignored him. Manco waxed rhapsodic. “People would not have to fly into the selva or take the road through Paucartambo.”

“The Incas did this,” announced Da Rimini with sudden conviction. “The stonework inside the caves is theirs. The goldwork is theirs. I don’ know how, but they were responsible.” She kept repeating “they were responsible” as if it was some kind of sanity-preserving mantra.

The evening breeze chilled Carter, still clad in his jungle gear. He gazed longingly toward the curl of smoke and the plowed fields. Even with his hands bound behind him he thought he could outrun the Fernández brothers. He might run into a farmer with a truck, or tourists in a four-by-four.

Da Rimini did not share her partners’ ecstasy. “I read your mind through your eyes, Jason Carter. Don’ try it. You cannot outrun a bullet.” The wildness had returned to her expression.

With a sudden move she jerked Fewick’s pistol from its holster. He was a second too late with his hand.

“Madam, you are a witch. We had a bargain.”

She grinned nastily. “So complain to your ambassador.” She started backing toward the entrance to the cave. “Come on, everybody. We goin’ back to Paititi.”

“Now, wait a minute,” Fewick began. Da Rimini glared at him.

“You say yourself you think it work both directions.”

“Yes, but …”

“Vámonos! Now.” She gestured meaningfully with the pistol.

The Fernández brothers eyed one another. Looking resigned, they raised their rifles and gestured for the prisoners to move.

“Oh, good,” said Trang Ho delightedly as they started back the way they’d come. “Another journey. This time I can take notes.”

“Ain’t you maybe just a little concerned this crazy gadget might not work right this time?” Ashwood asked her.

“Vang, yes. Of course it will,” the reporter said confidently. “It worked the last time, didn’t it?”

Da Rimini used the mini-egg to close the entrance behind them. On the way back to the central cavern one of the two flashlights gave out. Everyone walked a little faster.

“Everybody stand where they were standing before.” The reckless way she waved the automatic pistol around as she spoke made Carter more than a little nervous. “I wouldn’ want to leave anybody behind.” Ashwood reluctantly assumed her position near the egg as best she remembered it.

“Now what?” Manco asked her.

She hesitated. “Run your fingers over the top of the thing, where the cat was standing.”

A dubious Fernández complied. Carter tensed reflexively, but nothing happened.

“Keep trying,” she ordered her associate. Fernández did so until his arms grew tired and he was forced to stop.

“Tough luck,” Ashwood sneered. Da Rimini glared furiously at her.

“The cat made it work before,” observed Blanco Fernández with childish logic. Before Fewick could protest, the younger brother bent and scooped Moe off the floor, depositing him atop the ovoid.

“Coincidence.” There was pity in Fewick’s voice. It lasted until the egg began to hum. Da Rimini looked smug.

“Get ready, everybody.” Carter tensed, but Da Rimini was staring straight at him, the pistol leveled at his chest. He tried to decide whether to risk it anyway. If he timed it right she might only wing him, and his chances were bound to be better here than back in the jungle.

He was preparing to run for it when the white light filled his eyes.

As he fought to clear his vision he could hear Fewick commenting thoughtfully, “I was afraid of this.”

X

The roofless circular stone chamber had vanished. There was more than enough light present to make their flashlights and lantern redundant.

They no longer stood in the cave at Nazca, however. Nor had they returned to Paititi. For one thing, the ceiling was much farther away and composed of something smooth and shiny instead of unhewn stone.

On the far side of a wide black and silver walkway strange objects and shapes were arraigned equidistant from one another. Some were enclosed in transparent cases while others stood exposed to the air, which, Carter noted, was now pleasantly cool and dry. Both the fetid humidity of the selva and the desiccated chill of Nazca had been banished.

“Look at this.” Like everyone else, he turned at Fewick’s call. With an effort, the archaeologist had knelt to inspect one of the ovoid’s four legs.

“What about it?” an uneasy Da Rimini asked, unable to take her eyes from the astonishing chamber in which they now found themselves.

“See the color? It’s different. More of a greenish blue.” He struggled erect, touched the egg. “I think this is different too.”

“Impossible!”

Ashwood was studying their silent, softly lit surroundings.

“So is this, but I don’t think I’m dreamin’.”

Manco Fernández let out a cry. Like the egg, they found themselves standing on a platform fashioned of green and yellow ceramic hexagons joined seamlessly together. The platform seemed to run the length of the chamber and matched the one attached to the far side of the black and silver walkway. Both were less than a foot high.

Now he ran to his right and removed from a perch composed of some transparent material the most spectacular single artifact they had thus far encountered. It was a crown fashioned of solid and hammered gold, lined with the iridescent feathers of jungle birds, emeralds, and other gemstones. The workmanship was breathtaking. Furthermore, it looked brand-new, untouched by the ages.

Carefully he raised it high and placed it atop his head. Despite his quarter-Spanish heritage he looked very much the part of the noble Inca. Even Ashwood was impressed. Blanco Fernández executed a mock bow, grinning at his brother.

Fewick, for once, did not lose himself in contemlation of such artifacts. He was much more interested in their new surroundings.

“We have emerged somewhere else,” he commented unnecessarily. “This is a modern structure, fashioned by modern means. It most emphatically was not built by people who did not know the wheel.”

Carter took another deep breath. Not only was the air here more agreeable than at Paititi or Nazca, it was lightly perfumed, faintly redolent of frangipani.

Trang Ho snapped a picture of Manco Fernández posing in the glorious crown, then moved to cross the walkway to inspect the objects on the far side. As she went to step off the mosaicked platform she stumbled, caught herself, and retreated a step. Cautiously she advanced again, holding both palms out in front of her.

Carter was watching. “Something wrong?”

The reporter spoke without looking back at him. “I can’t get down. There’s some kind of barrier here.”

Further exploration revealed that while they could move to the left or right, they could not get off the platform. The invisible wall was soft, springy, and impervious.

“Someone’s coming,” Igor announced tersely. Everyone turned to their left.