The lead man of the search team cautiously entered the tunnel, a long flashlight tucked under his armpit, lighting his path. He stepped slowly from the tunnel into the first chamber, crouched in a firing position, and pivoted his body from right to left, swinging his flashlight as he moved. All he saw was the skeleton of the old sailor, the rotting furniture, and the seal hides that hung from one wall.
He relaxed, lowered his gun, and spoke into a radio set that was clamped around his head. "This is Number One. There is nobody in the tunnel and cave except the bones of an old seaman who must have been a castaway on the island. Do you read me?"
"I read you, Number One," came the voice of the helicopter pilot, accented by the roar of the engines above and behind him. "You're certain there is no sign of the NUMA agents?"
"Believe me. They're not in here."
"Soon as Numbers Four, Five, and Six reach you, I'll conduct a search of the sea cliffs."
Number One switched off his radio. It was the last act of his life. Giordino sprang from behind the sealskins and rammed one of the ancient obsidian-tipped spears into the man's throat. There was a ghastly coughing, gurgling sound, and then silence, as the searcher crumpled to the floor of the chamber, dead.
Giordino snatched away the assault rifle almost before the man struck the ground. Quickly, he pulled the body off to the side of the tunnel portal and removed the headset radio, placing it on his own head. Next he wadded up his foul-weather gear into a ball and pressed it against the muzzle of the rifle.
"Number One," shouted a voice from the archway tunnel entrance, "what have you found?"
Giordino cupped his mouth with one hand and shouted toward the rear of the chamber. "Only an old skeleton."
"Nothing else?" The second searcher seemed reluctant to enter the cave.
"Nothing." Giordino decided to take a risk. "Come on in and see for yourself, Number Two."
As if he were a buck sniffing the air, Number Two warily entered the chamber. Giordino switched on a flashlight with the beam aimed at the intruder's eyes and shot him once in the head between the eyes, the foul-weather gear muffling the gunfire. Gunn came rushing into the chamber, assault rifle at the ready, not knowing what he would find.
"Now it's two against three," Giordino triumphantly greeted him.
"Don't get cocky," Gunn warned him. "Once the helicopter returns, we're trapped in here."
"If they buy my act as Number One Eke Number Two did, maybe I can play P T Barnum again and sucker them inside."
The next batch of searchers were not nearly as guileless as the first. They approached on the road leading to the cave with the same degree of wariness as a postal inspector examining a possible letter bomb. While the helicopter hovered overhead, they advanced one by one, two covering their comrade, who dropped flat before covering them in a leapfrog tactic that moved them ever closer to the archway at the tunnel entrance. They were on their guard because Giordino was staying off the radio as much as possible and not responding to their calls, for fear of their wising up to a strange voice.
Gunn and Giordino stripped one of the bodies that closely matched Giordino's shoulder and waist size. After slipping into the black coveralls that were two inches longer in the sleeves and three inches in the pants length, he simply folded them back, slung the assault rifle over one shoulder, and boldly stepped outside. He spoke out of one corner of his mouth into the headset's microphone, trying to use the same pitch as had the man he'd killed.
"What's taking you so long, Number Four?" he asked, unruffled, without looking up at the helicopter. "You're acting like old women. I told you, there is nothing inside the tunnel and cave but the rotting bones of a seaman who was a castaway on the island."
"You do not sound yourself, Number One."
Giordino knew he couldn't fool them any longer. "I've got a cold coming on. Not surprising in this intolerable weather."
"Your cold must have cost you four inches in height."
"Make jokes if you will," mumbled Giordino. "I'm getting out of the rain. I suggest you do the same."
He turned and reentered the cave, certain he would not receive a bullet in the back, not until the searchers were positive they would not be shooting one of their own men.
"They're wise," said Gunn. "I heard your exchange over the radio."
"What's plan Two-A?" Giordino asked laconically.
"We crawl back through the roof collapse in the next tunnel, and ambush them from there."
"We'll be lucky to hit one or two at the most."
"At least that will put the odds in our favor," Gunn said, almost cheerfully.
They had only a few minutes, so they worked feverishly to reopen a crawl space through the rock into the tomb vault. Despite the damp cold, they were sweating heavily by the time they dragged the two dead bodies through the narrow opening and snaked in themselves, dragging their backpacks after them. Their timing was near perfect. They had no sooner propped the rocks back in place and looked into the outer chamber through tiny peepholes than Number Four leaped into the chamber and dropped to the floor as Number Five raced in just behind, both rotating their lights and their gun muzzles in swift arcs from wall to wall.
"I told you so," Giordino whispered softly in Gunn's ear, so it would not be picked up by the microphone in front of his mouth. "They left Number Six outside as reserve."
"There is no one in here," said Number Four. "The cave is empty."
"Impossible," came the voice of the helicopter pilot. "All three were approaching the tunnel not fifteen minutes ago."
"He's right," agreed Number Five. "Numbers One, Two, and Three have disappeared."
They talked in undertones, but Gunn picked up every word over his headset radios. Still on their guard and alert for any movement, they nonetheless relaxed to a small degree when they saw no possible hiding place for anyone inside the chamber.
"Take the one standing," Giordino whispered softly. "They're wearing body armor, so aim for the head. I'll take the one on the ground."
Slipping their gun muzzles into holes no larger than an inch and a half in diameter, just enough to see over the front sight, they lined up on the men who had come to kill them and squeezed off two shots in unison that sounded like a thunderclap inside the rock-walled chamber. The man on the ground merely twitched, while the one standing threw up his hands, gasped, and folded wearily over the body at his feet.
Giordino brushed away the rocks in front of his face, extended the flashlight through the hole, and studied their handiwork. He turned to Gunn and made a slashing gesture across his throat. Gunn understood and switched off his headset radio.
"We must remain where we are," Giordino muttered.
Before he could explain, a voice burst over the radio. "What happened in there?"
No longer interested in subterfuge, Giordino replied, "No big deal. We shot a rabbit."
"Rabbit?" demanded the helicopter pilot. "What sort of nonsense is that?"
"I fear our comrades are dead," said Number Six, soberly. "Those NUMA devils must have killed them."
"Those were the rabbits I was talking about," announced Giordino, adding insult to injury.
"You will surely die," said the helicopter pilot.
"As the old gangsters used to say to the cops, come and get us."
"That won't be necessary," said the pilot.
"Duck down!" Giordino hissed to Gunn. "Here it comes."