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d　flicked　on　the　switch。　The　beam　flashed　on　and　lit　up　the　cockpit。
　　　　〃Score　one　for　the　home　team；〃　he　muttered　to　himself。
　　　　Pitt　carefully　made　his　way　into　the　cargo　partment。　The　hurricane　of　shells　had　torn　it　into　a　jagged　mess；　but　nothing　seemed　vandalized　or　removed。　He　found　his　nylon　carry　bag　and　pulled　out　the　contents。　His　shirt　and　sneakers　had　escaped　unscathed　but　a　bullet　had　pierced　the　knee　of　his　pants　and　caused　irreparable　damage　to　his　brief　boxer　shorts。　Removing　the　shorty　wet　suit；　he　found　a　towel　and　gave　his　body　a　vigorous　rubdown　to　remove　the　sinkhole's　slime　from　his　skin。　After　pulling　on　his　clothes　and　sneakers；　he　then　rummaged　around　until　he　came　upon　the　box　lunches　packed　by　the　chef　on　board　their　research　ship。　His　box　was　splattered　against　a　bulkhead；　but　Giordino's　had　survived　intact。　Pitt　wolfed　down　a　peanut　butter　sandwich　and　a　dill　pickle　and　drained　a　can　of　root　beer。　Now；　he　felt　almost　human　again。
　　　　Back　in　the　cockpit；　he　unlatched　a　panel　door　to　a　small　partment　and　pulled　out　a　leather　holster　containing　an　old　。45…caliber　automatic　Colt　pistol。　His　father；　Senator　George　Pitt；　had　carried　it　from　Normandy　to　the　Elbe　River　during　World　War　II　and　then　presented　it　to　Dirk　when　he　graduated　from　the　Air　Force　Academy。　The　weapon　had　saved　Pitt's　life　at　least　twice　in　the　ensuing　seventeen　years。　Though　the　blueing　was　pretty　well　worn　away；　it　was　lovingly　maintained　and　functioned　even　more　smoothly　than　when　new。　Pitt　noted　with　no　small　displeasure　that　a　stray　bullet　had　gouged　the　leather　holster　and　creased　one　of　the　grips。　He　ran　his　belt　through　the　loops　of　the　holster　and　buckled　it　around　his　waist　along　with　the　sheath　of　the　dive　knife。
　　　　He　fashioned　a　small　shade　to　contain　the　beam　of　the　flashlight　and　searched　the　campsite。　Unlike　the　helicopter；　there　was　no　sign　of　gunfire　except　spent　shells　on　the　ground；　but　the　tents　had　been　ransacked　and　any　useful　equipment　or　supplies　that　could　be　carried　away　were　gone。　A　quick　survey　of　the　soft　ground　showed　what　direction　the　exodus　had　taken。　A　path　that　had　been　hacked　out　by　machetes　angled　off　through　the　dense　thickets　before　vanishing　in　the　darkness。
　　　　The　forest　looked　forbidding　and　impenetrable。　This　was　not　an　expedition　he　would　have　ever　considered　or　undertaken　in　daylight；　much　less　nighttime。　He　was　at　the　mercy　of　the　insects　and　animals　that　found　humans　fair　game　in　the　rain　forest。　With　no　small　concern　the　subject　of　snakes　came　to　mind。　He　recalled　hearing　of　boa　constrictors　and　anacondas　reaching　lengths　of　24　meters　（80　feet）。　But　it　was　the　deadly　poisonous　snakes　like　the　bushmaster；　the　cascabel；　or　the　nasty　fer…de…lance；　or　lance…head；　that　caused　Pitt　a　high　degree　of　trepidation。　Low　sneakers　and　light　fabric　pants　offered　no　protection　against　a　viper　with　a　mean　streak。
　　　　Beneath　great　stone　faces　staring　menacingly　down　at　him　from　the　walls　of　the　ruined　city；　Pitt　set　off　at　a　steady　pace；　following　the　trail　of　footprints　under　the　narrow　beam　of　the　flashlight。　He　wished　he　had　a　plan；　but　he　was　operating　in　the　unknown。　His　chances　of　dashing　through　a　murderous　jungle　and　rescuing　the　hostages　from　any　number　of　hard…bitten　bandits　or　revolutionaries　were　plain　hopeless。　Failure　seemed　inevitable。　But　any　thought　of　sitting　around　and　doing　nothing；　or　trying　somehow　to　save　himself；　never　entered　his　mind。
　　　　Pitt　smiled　at　the　stone　faces　of　long…forgotten　gods　that　stared　back　in　the　beam　of　the　flashlight。　He　turned　and　took　a　last　look　at　the　unearthly　green　glow　ing　from　the　bottom　of　the　sinkhole。　Then　he　entered　the　jungle。
　　　　Within　four　paces　the　thick　foliage　swallowed　him　as　if　he'd　never　been。

　　　　Soaked　by　a　constant　drizzle；　the　prisoners　were　herded　through　a　moss…blanketed　forest　until　the　trail　ended　at　a　deep　ravine。　Their　captors　drove　them　across　a　fallen　log　that　served　as　a　bridge　to　the　other　side　where　they　followed　the　remains　of　an　ancient　stone　road　that　wound　up　the　mountains。　The　leader　of　the　terrorist　band　set　a　fast　pace；　and　Doc　Miller　was　particularly　hard　pressed　to　keep　up。　His　clothes　were　so　wet　it　was　impossible　to　tell　where　the　sweat　left　off　and　the　damp　from　the　rain　began。　The　guards　prodded　him　unmercifully　with　the　muzzles　of　their　guns　whenever　he　dropped　back。　Giordino　stepped　beside　the　old　man；　propped　one　of　Miller's　arms　over　his　shoulder；　and　helped　him　along；　seeming　oblivious　to　the　pummeling　provided　by　the　sadistic　guards　against　his　defenseless　back　and　shoulders。
　　　　〃Keep　that　damned　gun　off　him；〃　Shannon　snapped　at　the　bandit　in　Spanish。　She　took　Miller's　other　arm　and　hung　it　around　her　neck　so　that　both　she　and　Giordino　could　support　the　older　man。　The　bandit　replied　by　kicking　her　viciously　in　the　buttocks。　She　staggered　forward；　gray…faced；　her　lips　tight　in　pain；　but　she　regained　her　balance　and　gave　the　bandit　a　withering　stare。
　　　　Giordino　found　himself　smiling　at　Shannon；　wondering　at　her　spirit　and　grit　and　untiring　fortitude。　She　still　had　on　her　swimsuit　under　a　sleeveless　cotton　blouse　the　guerrillas　had　allowed　her　to　retrieve　from　her　tent；　along　with　a　pair　of　hiking　boots。　He　was　also　conscious　of　an　overwhelming　sense　of　ineffectiveness；　his　inability　to　save　this　woman　from　harm　and　degradation。　And　there　was　also　a　feeling　of　cowardice　for　deserting　his　old　friend　without　a　fight。　He'd　thought　of　snatching　a　guard's　gun　at　least　twenty　times　since　being　forced　away　from　the　sinkhole。　But　that　would　only　have　gotten　him　killed　and　solved　nothing。　As　long　as　he　somehow　stayed　alive　there　was　a　chance。　Giordino　cursed　each　step　that　took　him　farther　and　farther　away　from　saving　Pitt。
　　　　For　hours　they　fought　for　breath　in　the　thin　Andes　air　as　they　struggled　to　an　altitude　of　3400　meters　（11；000　feet）。　Everyone　suffered　from　the　cold。　Although　it　soared　under　a　blazing　sun　during　the　day；　the　temperature　dropped　to　near　freezing　in　the　early　hours　of　morning。　Dawn　found　them　still　ascending　along　an　ancient　avenue　of　ruined　white　limestone　buildings；　high　walls；　and　agricultural　terraced　hills　that　Shannon　never　dreamed　existed。　None　of　the　structures　looked　as　though　they　were　built　to　the　same　specifications。　Some　were　oval；　some　circular；　very　few　were　rectangular。　They　appeared　oddly　different　from　the　other　ancient　structures　she　had　studied。　Was　this　all　part　of　the　Chachapoya　confederation；　she　wondered；　or　another　kingdom；　another　society？　As　the　stone　road　followed　along　raised　walls　that　reached　almost　into　the　mists　rolling　in　from　the　mountain　peaks　above；　she　was　astounded　by　the　thousands　of　stone　carvings　of　a　very　different　ornamentation　than　she　had　ever　seen。　Great　dragonlike　birds　and　serpent…shaped　fish　mingled　with　stylized　panthers　and　monkeys。　The　chiseled　reliefs　seemed　oddly　similar　to　Egyptian　hieroglyphics　except　that　they　were　more　abstract。　That　unknown　ancient　peoples　had　inhabited　the　great　plateau　and　ridges　of　the　Peruvian　Andes　and　constructed　cities　of　such　immense　proportions　came　as　a　thrilling　surprise　to　Shannon。　She　had　not　expected　to　find　a　culture　so　architecturally　advanced　that　it　erected　structures　on　top　of　mountains　as　elaborate　or　extensive　as　any　in　the　known　ancient　world。　She　would　have　given　the　Dodge　Viper　that　she　bought　with　her　grandfather's　inheritance　to　have　lingered　long　enough　to　study　these　extraordinary　ruins；　but　whenever　she　paused；　she　was　roughly　shoved　forward。
　　　　The　sun　was　showing　when　the　bedraggled　party　emerged　from　a　narrow　pass　into　a　small　valley　with　mountains　soaring　on　all　sides。　Though　the　rain　thankfully　had　stopped；　they　all　looked　like　rats　who　had　barely　escaped　drowning。　They　saw　ahead　a　lofty　stone　block　building　rising　a　good　twelve　stories　high。　Unlike　the　Mayan　pyramids　of　Mexico；　this　structure　had　a　rounder；　more　conical　shape　that　was　cut　off　at　the　top。　It　had　ornate　heads　of　animals　and　birds　carved　into　the　walls。　Shannon　recognized　it　as　a　ceremonial　temple　of　the　dead。　The　rear　of　the　structure　merged　into　a　steep　sandstone　cliff　honeybed　with　thousands　of　burial　caves；　all　with　ornate　exterior　doorways　facing　onto　a　sheer　drop。　An　edifice　on　the　top　of　the