Arno entered the cave cautiously; rivers of sweat streamed from his hairline down over his eyes and mouth. The flame from the torch wavered with each step he took, casting startling shadows over the rock face of the cave's interior. The ground beneath his boots felt soft and spongy in places and he avoided looking down because he didn't want to know the reason.

As far as he knew the rest of his party had met their grizzly fate in this very cave and Arno feared his outcome might be the same but he had to know what happened. Where did all their hard work ended up? A fortune in artifacts and jewels couldn't just disappear. He held the torch as high as he could and ducked his head to see past the glare into the tunnel ahead.

Arno felt his arm muscles trembling from the weight of the torch and he leaned for a moment against the wall, lowering the light to relieve the strain. Taking a deep breath he pushed off the wall, raised the torch and screamed.

CHAPTER 1

Captain Miguel Warez studied the several page report on his desk and initialed the corner of the cover, indicating he had seen it then slipped it into the red folder marked confidential. His lieutenant, Sander Jivaro, passed him another sheet of paper and stepped back from the desk.

"What is this, Sander?"

"It is from the constable representing the Bijawis, sir. He has come from the mountains with the village elder for a personal audience with the Captain. The constable has continued to the capital to make a formal report to the governor."

Miguel glanced at the paper, scanning the brief plea for permission to meet and the extravagant signature marking made by the elder of the Bijawi village.

"Where is he? What is this about?"

"He's here, sir. Right outside. I- he said it was for the Captain's ears only."

Miguel checked his watch and waved an impatient hand. "Send him in but stay close, I haven't got time for long drawn out ritual meetings over some village dispute." He checked his uniform in the wall mirror beside his desk and made some small adjustments. Sander spun on his heel and marched out of the office returning a moment later with the Bijawi elder.

"Captain Warez, this is Imjin Kapta, elder of the Bijawi village." Sander saluted and stepped outside of the office.

"Please sit, Senor Kapta." Miguel resumed his own seat and sat forward, arms resting on the desk and fingers laced. "How may I help you?" He contained his surprise at the bearing of the man, the obvious intelligence in eyes that scanned the office and the certificates on the wall behind the desk-and the fact that he was white.

The old man looked about the office with restrained amusement, strangely uncomfortable in the sterile décor. He felt many years removed from such orderly accommodation. His own lodging was little more than bamboo walls and a palm leaf roof and had been for years now with a dirt floor packed solid from years of trampling. He gathered his colourful blanket about his bony shoulders and licked his thick dry lips noisily.

"Captain, sir." He began in his most formal voice. "I come from the mountain village of Bijawi, many long steps to the east."

Miguel sighed inside and clenched his teeth, knowing that getting to the point was going to be another long journey.

********

Lieutenant Sander stood at ease behind his Captain, awaiting a response to his query.

"I can't ignore it, if it should turn out to be something the governor would come down on me like the Chimú ruins."

"I could dispatch a couple of men to investigate; it should only take a few days."

Captain Warez watched from his office window as the old man took the rope from the young boy minding his mule and hand him a token of payment. His pace was slow and steady as he began his journey back to his mountain village.

"It will take the old man longer than that to reach his home. Without him there, sending men now would be waste of time." He returned to his desk and opened a file drawer, riffling through the pages until he found a folder, and withdrew it onto his desk. "There is a group holding a convention in Callao at the Military History Museum of Peru. I understand that one of the attendees is a representative from the Congress of International Antiquities."

"I'm not familiar with that institution, sir." Sander said politely.

"No . . ." Miguel tapped the folder with a long finger. "They are, shall we say, an unusual group of extremely dedicated people- secretive people, Sander. Are you familiar with the incident of the Olmec treasure in the State of Vera Cruz, Mexico?"

"They are killers!" Sander dropped his formal posture and leaned on the Captain's desk.

Miguel closed the folder. "In that case no, they killed the killers according to the final report. The point is if anyone could do a thorough job on this Bijawi thing, it might be that group. It's certainly worth sounding them out."

"Do you know how to contact them, sir?"

"Not personally, but when you arrive in Callao and go to the Museum ask for a Professor Stilton."

"Sir?" Sander stepped back in surprise.

"Just tell him the story we heard from Imjin Kapta and explain that our small force is unable to undertake an investigation at this time. From what I've heard about this group, they are more than eager to pursue this type of story." Warez stood and handed Sander the letter he had penned while talking. "Give this to the professor as well, the old man left it with me; I'm certain it will influence his decision. You can leave immediately there are flights every three hours from Huánuco airport."

********

Professor Chester Stilton sat on the corner balcony of the Casa de Oro Hotel in Collao overlooking the broad expanse of the Pacific Ocean. He lowered the papers he was reading to watch the flight of an aircraft leaving the airport as it left the mainland over the ocean and then turned inland for its flight to wherever. He coughed and made a face, wiping his mouth with a well-used hanky. The convention had been on the list of Congress duties for the current year and he had elected to be one of the representatives because Peru was the site of his very first mission for the CIA way back when he was a young man.

The door chime rang and he turned in his chair, peering through the curtained balcony doors to see the woman enter, drop some things on the table and stride directly toward him.

"Cheesy, you're looking much better, how do you feel?" She pushed the door to behind her and took the vacant lounge, swinging her long legs up comfortably.

"Not as well as I apparently look I'm afraid. The cough is getting worse."

"What did the doctor say?"

"Rest, plenty of fluids and these dreadful pills he prescribed." He waved the papers toward a small bottle on the side table.

"Maybe you should consider heading home and take this up with your own physician."

"The final speeches are tomorrow, I can hang in 'til then and I'll probably take your advice."

"Well I'm not taking no for an answer, I'm booking the flight now and you' will be on it immediately after the convention ends."

Chester nodded, smiling. "You are such a bully, Gretta, honestly."

"One needs to be, with you." She went back inside and rang the desk asking for the airport reservations desk.

"You're booked on United 487 departing at two- thirty." She said, returning. "You have to switch in Dallas but it's the quickest way home. I'm having the tickets delivered to the hotel. By the way, there was a policeman asking for you earlier. Don't you check the desk for messages when you come in?"

"No. A policeman?" Chester set his reading aside and climbed out of the lounge. "What did he want?"

"I have no idea, the clerk told him to try again this evening. You haven't been naughty have you, Cheesy?" She chuckled and gave him a hug.

"Not that I'm aware of. Anyway, we'll see tonight, I'm eating here in the room if you'd care to join me."

"Arny was hoping to go to that restaurant with the waterfall but we could do that another night if you'd like the company."

"No, no. Don't spoil your time down here on my account. I'll meet this policeman and let you know what's up."

"Sure?"

"Sure."