Cranston was unsure what to make of an unfamiliar colonel who appeared out of nowhere. "May I ask, Colonel, what a Special Forces officer is doing here?"
"Seeing that these people are allowed to conduct an archaeological survey without interference."
"I must remind you, sir, civilians are not permitted in a restricted military zone."
"Suppose I told you they have the authority to be here."
"Sorry, Colonel. I am under direct orders from General Chandler. He was very explicit. No one, and that includes yourself, sir, who is not a member of the battalion is to be allowed to enter-"
"Am I to understand you intend to throw me out as well?"
"If you can't present signed orders from General Chandler for your presence," Cranston said nervously, "I will obey my instructions."
"Your hardnose position won't win you any medals, Captain. I think you'd better reconsider."
Cranston knew damned well he was being toyed with and he didn't like it.
"Please, no trouble, Colonel."
"You load up your men and return to your base, and don't even think of looking back."
Pitt was enjoying the encounter, but he reluctantly turned away and climbed down into the trench. He began probing the dirt on the bottom.
Giordino and Sandecker idly strolled over to the edge and watched him.
Cranston hesitated. He was outranked, but his orders were clear, He decided his stance was firm. General Chandler would back him if there was an investigation.
But before he could order his men to clear the area, Hollis took a whistle from a pocket and blew two shrill blasts.
Like ghosts rising from the graves of a horror movie, forty forms that looked more like bushes and undergrowth than men suddenly materialized and formed a loose circle around containing Cranston and his men.
Hollis's eyes turned venomous. "Bang, you're dead."
"You called, boss?" said a bush that sounded like Dillenger.
Cranston's cockiness collapsed. "I . . . must report this . . . to General Chandler," he stammered.
"You do that," said Hollis coldly. "You can also inform him that my orders come from General Clayton Metcalf of the Joint Chiefs. This can be verified through communications to the Pentagon. These people and my team are not here to interfere with your excavation on Gongora Hill or get in the way of the General's operations along the river. Our job is to find and preserve Roman surface artifacts before they're lost or stolen. Do you'read, Captain?"
"I understand, sir," replied Cranston, gazing around uneasily at the purposeful-looking men, whose facial expressions appeared frightful under the camouflage makeup.
"Found another one!" Pitt shouted, unseen below ground.
Sandecker excitedly waved everyone to the trench. "He's got something."
The confrontation was momentarily forgotten as the Engineers and SOF men clustered around the rim of the trench. Pitt was on his hands and knees, brushing away loose dirt from a long metallic object.
In a few minutes he pulled it free and very carefully passed it up to Lily.
The flippancy was gone now as she examined the ancient relic.
"Fourth-century sword with definite Roman characteristics," she announced. "Neatly intact with little corrosion."
"May I?" asked Hollis.
She held it out to him and he gently clasped his hand around the hilt and lifted the blade above his head. "Just think," he murmured reverently, "the last man to hold this was a Roman legionary." Then he graciously passed it to Cranston. "How'd you like to fight a battle with this instead of an automatic firearm?"
"I'd prefer a bullet any day," Cranston said thoughtfully, "to being hacked to shreds."
As soon as the Engineers left on the short drive back to their encampment, Pitt turned to Hollis.
"My compliments on your camouflage. I only detected three out of your whole team."
"It was eerie," said Lily, "knowing you were all around us but not visible."
Hollis looked genuinely embarrassed. "We're more used to concealment in jungle or forest. This was a good field exercise for semi-arid terrain."
"An excellent job," added Sandecker, pumping Hollis's hand.
"Let's hope General Chandler buys the good Captain's report," said Giordino.
"If he bothers to hear it," Pitt replied. "The General's most urgent business is to stop half a million aliens from flooding across the border and grabbing the Library's art and knowledge. He doesn't have time to fool with us."
"What about the Roman sword?" asked Hollis, holding it UP "That goes back in Sam's museum collection."
Hollis looked at Pitt. "You didn't find it in the trench?"
"No."
"You get a Turn on digging holes?"
Pitt acted as though he hadn't heard Hollis. He walked a short distance to the summit of the hill and looked down the slope into Mexico. The tent city had swelled to twice what it was the previous day. Tomorrow night, he thought. Topiltzin would unleash the stampede tomorrow night.
He turned to his left and stared up at the slightly higher Gongora Hill.
The Army Engineers were digging exactly where Lily had placed her stakes four days ago. They made two separate excavations. One was at the common tunnel, complete with overhead supports. The other was an open mine, a gouged crater in the side of the hill. Work was going slowly since General Chandler had pulled away most of the Engineers to help in the border defense.
Pitt turned and came back down the trench. He walked up to Hollis.
"Who's your best demolition expert?"
"Major Dillenger is one of the best explosive ordinance men in the army."
"I need about two hundred kilograms of C-six nitroglycerin gel .
Hollis looked at him in genuine surprise. "Two hundred kilograms of C-six? Ten kilos can take out a battleship. Do you know what you're asking? The nitrogel mix is shock-hazardous."
"Also a battery of spotlights," Pitt pressed on. "We can borrow them from a rock-concert group. Spotlights, strobe lights, and eardrum-blasting audio equipment." Then he turned to Lily. "I'll leave it to you to find a carpenter who can knock together a box."
"Why in God's name do you want all that stuff ?" Lily asked, eyes wide with curiosity.
"You don't want to know," Giordino moaned.
"I'll explain later," Pitt hedged.
"Sounds crazy to me," said Lily, uncomprehending.
The lady was only half right, Pitt thought. His plan was twice as crazy as anything she could conceive. But he kept everyone in the dark. He didn't think now was the right time to tell them he planned to take his act on the stage.
The green Volvo with the taxi markings stopped at the drive of Yazid's villa near Alexandria. The Egyptian army guards, who were posted by the personal order of President Hasan, stiffened into alertness at the gate as the taxi sat there without anyone's getting out.
Ammar sat in the back seat, his eyes and jaw heavily bandaged. He wore a blue silk robe and a small red turban. His Only medical treatment since escaping Santa Inez had come during a two-hour visit to a back-street Buenos Aires surgeon before chartering a private jet to fly him across the ocean to the small airport outside the city.
He no longer felt pain in his empty eye sockets. The drugs took care of that, but it was still agony to speak through his shattered jaw. And although he felt a strange sense of tranquility, his mind functioned as ruthlessly and efficiently as ever.
"We ate here," said Ibn from the driver's seat.
Ammar visualized Yazid's vffla in his mind-every detail as if he could actually see. "I know," he said simply.
"You do not have to do this g, Suleiman Aziz."
"I have no more hopes or fears. " Ammar spoke slowly, fighting the pain of each syllable. "It is the will of Allah."
Ibn swung from behind the wheel, opened the rear door and helped Ammar to climb out. He led Ammar up the driveway and turned him so he faced the heavily guarded gate.