Страница 39 из 136
"During the recovery, you and Al might disturb the bottom and move artifacts from their original positions."
Pitt gazed at her through disbelieving eyes. "You consider that more important than showing respect for Doc Miller?"
"Doc is dead," she said matter-of-factly. "Archaeology is an exacting science that deals with dead things. Doc taught that better than anyone. The slightest disturbance could alter significant findings."
Pitt began to see a side of Sha
"Once is enough," she said with a tight smile. Then her expression turned to one of concern. "Be careful and don't take chances."
Then she kissed him lightly on the cheek, turned and hurried off toward her tent.
Dropping into the water went smoothly, thanks to a small crane and a motorized winch operated under the watchful eye of Rudi Gu
Pitt's full face mask was co
"How are you doing?" Gu
"We've reached bottom and are begi
Pitt obtained bearings from his compass and began sweeping around the shaft that protruded from the silt, enlarging the search pattern while unreeling the line, as if following the path of a pinwheel. He slowly swam above the muck, sca
In the few days since he had seen the body it had changed for the worse. Tiny pieces were missing from the exposed skin areas. Pitt was at a loss to explain this until he glimpsed a strange brightly speckled fish with luminous scales dart in and begin nibbling one of Doc's eyes. He brushed away the carnivorous fish, the size of a small trout, and wondered how it came to be stranded in a deep pool in the middle of a jungle.
He gave a hand signal to Giordino who removed a rubberized body bag from a pack that was strapped to his chest above his weight belt. A decomposing body ca
They wasted no time in examining the body but moved as fast as their hands would let them, pulling the body bag over the corpse while trying not to stir up a cloud of silt. The silt did not cooperate, billowing up in a dense cloud, cutting off all visibility. They worked blind, carefully zipping up the bag, making sure no flesh protruded from the seam. When the grisly job was completed, Pitt reported to Gu
"We have the body contained and are on our way up."
"Acknowledged," Gu
Pitt grabbed Giordino's arm through the silt cloud, signaling for a mutual ascent. They began raising the remains of Doc Miller to the sunlight. After reaching the surface, they gently eased the body onto the stretcher and secured it with buckled straps. Then Pitt advised Gu
"Ready for lift."
As Pitt watched the stretcher rise toward the rim of the sinkhole, he sadly wished he had known the genuine Steve Miller instead of the imposter. The esteemed anthropologist had been murdered without knowing why. No hint was given by the scum that cut his throat. He never knew that his death was an u
There was nothing more to be done. Their part of the body retrieval operation was finished. Pitt and Giordino could only float and wait for the winch to lower the cable again. Giordino looked over at Pitt expectantly and removed the breathing regulator from his mouth.
We still have plenty of air, he wrote on a communications board. Why not poke around while we're waiting for the next elevator?
To Pitt the suggestion struck a harmonious chord. Unable to remove his head mask and speak, he replied on his own communications board, Stay close to me and grab hold if struck by surge. Then he gestured downward. Giordino nodded and faithfully swam alongside as they jackknifed and kicked once more toward the floor of the sinkhole.
The puzzle in Pitt's mind was the lack of artifacts in the silt. Bones, yes, there was an overabundance. But after probing the sinkhole's floor for half an hour, they found no sign of ancient artifacts. Nothing except the armor on the intact skeleton he had discovered on his first dive, and the dive gear Pitt had cast off before his climb out of the well. Two minutes was all it took to relocate the site. The bony hand was still raised, one finger pointing in the direction where Miller had lain.
Pitt slowly drifted around the armor-encased Spaniard, examining every detail, occasionally glancing up and around the dim reaches of the sinkhole, alert to any disturbance in the silt that signaled the approach of the mysterious surge. He felt his every movement was followed from deep within the empty eye sockets of the skull. The teeth seemed frozen in a mocking grin, taunting and baiting him at the same time. The sunlight from above filtered through the slime and painted the bones a ghostly shade of green.
Giordino floated nearby, observing Pitt with detached curiosity. He had no clue to what captivated his friend. The old bones held little fascination for Giordino. The remains of a five-hundred-year-old Spaniard conjured up nothing in his imagination, except possibly the eruption that would occur when Sha
No such thoughts ran through Pitt's mind. He was begi