"Looks like they left the bottom of the gorge here and headed up that way." Skunk was squatting beside Harley, checking the tracks. "Gonna be a little tougher following them up there. It's mostly rock."

"That mean you can't?" Claude asked.

"It means what I said it means, pal. And I'm getting' mighty sick and tired of your attitude." Harley thumbed down the volume on his Ipod and slipped it into his pocket.

Vincent didn't want to lose any potential allies and he immediately stepped between the two men. "Can we keep this little outing sociable?"

"Just tell your friend to mind his mouth." Harley went back to searching the ground for tracks.

"Can't you just once be pleasant to someone?" Vincent glared at Claude, who shot him a flat deadly look and lit up another cigar. "I figured as much."

They climbed for another hour and then stopped for a rest and some food. Vincent reminded Feldman about his concern over Claude and then set up the radio and powered it up.

"Who you calling?"

"I already told you, Claude, I'm checking to see if they have their radio on so I can lock in on their GPS."

"Show me how."

Vincent felt like he'd been stabbed. This was the worst possible scenario. Once Claude knew how to work the radio, Vincent was expendable. "It's uh- it's too complicated to get into now." He began shutting down.

"I said, show me how, Vincent."

"Look, I-" The shout from Harley startled them all and Vincent looked up to heaven, giving thanks to something or someone he had never before considered.

They stood on the lip of the small canyon that hid the giant stone statue and through the mist they could make out that the entrance was open and no one was around.

"That's one mother of a statue, boys," Harley laughed.

"Looks like they're already inside," Feldman observed. "Wonder how they managed that."

"Isn't that what they do?" Vincent reminded him.

"Let's get down there," Skunk began a running descent down the overgrown side of the canyon.

"Get down there and make sure he doesn't go inside, Harley." Feldman pushed his man ahead and followed at a more careful pace.

They climbed down in uneasy silence after the two men, halting when Harley let out a shout that he found new tracks. Everyone congregated about the spot on the ledge overlooking the statue and listened to his explanation.

"I would guess they stopped here to use the radio." Harley said. Vincent felt a bead of sweat run down his side.

"How do you figure they used the radio?" Claude asked, impervious to the foul looks he received.

With a rare chance to show off, Harley took up the challenge. "See this here? Somebody came over here and put something on the ground. Check out the bottom of Vincent's radio, you'll see the feet that make this impression."

"Why over here?"

"Wadda ya mean?"

"Why walk over here to use the radio. Why not back there with the others?"

"Well gee, Claude, I don't think I can answer that one. Wait a sec!" Harley got down on his knees and placed his ear against the marks. "Nope. Nothin'. They ain't talkin'." He dusted his hands and stood just in time to feel Claude's hand around his neck. Feldman and Skunk raced forward and grappled with the two men, wresting Claude's hand from Harley's throat and dragging them apart.

"Are you nuts?" Feldman's face was red and angry as he stood facing the impassive Claude. "I don't know what your problem is, DeGeer, but keep your hands off my men, got it?" Claude straightened his jacket and reached for another cigar. "I said, have you got that?"

"Don't ever touch me again, Feldman." Claude pushed past and continued climbing down in the same direction they'd been heading.

Vincent shook his head and stood listening to Feldman tear a strip off his hide over Claude. When he was done, Vincent tried to explain that it was Gravestone's idea and also what Vincent felt about the reason for his being along.

"I say we do the bastard now." Harley growled.

"Let's not be jumping into a shootout here, okay. I say we just keep an eye on the guy and if he makes a move against one of us we take him down."

As reassuring as it was to be included, Vincent felt he had to warn them. "Be very aware that if Claude makes a move, you will be that much too late to do anything. Trust me, I've seen him at work."

"Fine, then we keep eight eyes on him, but let's not do something that's gonna get us on Gravestone's bad list." Feldman pointed down grade and told them to get a move on.

"Why are you concerned with Gravestone?" Vincent puffed alongside the gangly mercenary.

"His long arm. Pedro and Herman were just two of the dozens he can reach out to down here if he needs to. I don't wanna spend my nights listening for hired assassins."

"So why hire you guys then? Why not just use the local talent?"

"In a case like this he feels he can trust us more than the Mexicans."

Vincent felt Feldman's expression stir up a whole new nest of doubt.

*****

The workmanship was unimaginable. How anyone had managed to construct such complex fittings inside the hollow of this chunk of rock left Arnold with his jaw dragging. They had moved with considerably more care and in the process uncovered a few clues that led them to an alcove with an intricately chiseled stairway leading up between two walls.

"Who built this stuff?" Arnold, amazed at every aspect, followed the undulating bottom of Gretta who led the way up the stairs.

"Olmecs. At least this is their signature work . . . the statue. I'm kinda surprised about this other stuff though," she said, referring to booby trap and the drawbridge entrance.

"Quite similar to some features uncovered in Egypt though," the professor chimed in from below, his mood and his confidence returning quickly.

"Maybe they did cross the ocean somehow," Arnold mused.

"Maybe . . . hold it. What have we here?" Gretta stopped and stepped off the stairs onto a ledge. "You okay with heights, Arny?"

"Sure wh- holy crap!" He joined her on the ledge and looked down into the blackness below. "I can't see the floor!"

"Forget the floor, look here."

Arnold leaned over to see what she was pointing to when she flipped on her flashlight. "Aaah, Jesus! Give me a heart attack why don't you."

"What have you found, Gretta?" The professor joined them on the ledge and shouldered Arnold aside for a look.

"Hey guys, if you turn around and I'm gone, I'm down there."

"Okay."

"Okay? OKAY!" He blew out a noisy breath and stepped back onto the stairs to make more room on the ledge.

"It's another keyhole slit, Arny. There must be an entrance off this ledge into the upper part of the statue."

"You mean it goes higher?" He shone his light up only to find the ceiling about eight feet above his head. "Can't be a very big room."

"Sure it can. I bet we're only around the eyes somewhere. Shine your light over here and see if you can help us spot another one of those coat hangers."

"I left my pack on the floor," the professor said. "I'll go back and fetch it, we'll probably need the battery lamp."

"Sure," Gretta said. "Don't forget the rifle too. Have you got mine up here, Arny?"

"Yes, Bwana, you ready to kill again?"

"I'm getting in the mood," she replied through gritted teeth. Arnold gulped and clamped his mouth shut.

Gretta searched without luck for the symbol and then stepped back onto the staircase for a wider look. "You know what he's doing down there, don't you?"

"The radio?"

"Yep."

"Why would he be in cahoots with Vincent or Gravestone?"

"The best reason of all, Arny. Money."

"But he said-"

"The glory? The esteem?" She shook her head. "After a while those things lose their currency, whereas currency doesn't."

"So what are you going to do?"

"Not sure, just wait and-" The metal clang resonated throughout the interior of the statue followed by a horrific shriek that trailed off into a painful moan. "We've got company."

The professor scrambled back up the stairs carrying his pack and his rifle, his face a study in fear. "They've found us!"