Текст книги "Lost Empire"

Автор книги: Clive Cussler

Соавторы: Clive Cussler
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Текущая страница: 21 (всего у книги 22 страниц)

CHAPTER 46

SOUTHERN SULAWESI

SAM EASED THE IKARUS INTO A GENTLE BANK AND STARTED BLEEDING off altitude in preparation for landing. Below and to the right, the airstrip emerged out of the haze. Sam lined the nose up with it, then dropped through a layer of clouds, made a few final adjustments, and touched down. He taxied toward the trio of Quonset huts at the edge of the tarmac and followed the hand signals of a ground-crew member to the fuel pumping station. Sam powered down the Ikarus and climbed out. As Selma had already done the legwork, Sam had but to sign a form. He did this, then walked around the edge of the hut. He dialed star six-nine.“You’re cutting it close,” said Rivera.

“I’ve only got sixty seconds or so left on this phone. Are you at the spot yet?”

“We’re ten minutes away.”

“Let me talk to my wife.”

“Tell me the location of Chicomoztoc, and I’ll do that.”

“Not until I’m standing in front of her.”

“You’re pushing your luck,” Rivera said.

“And you’ve already tipped your hand. You said it yourself: You’re not going to let us live. You want Chicomoztoc, then these are my terms. Put her on.”

Remi’s voice came on the line. “Sam?”

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. Where are you?”

“Close. Hang in there.”

Rivera came back on. “We’ll be waiting.”

The line went dead.

TEN MINUTES LATER he was back in the air and heading southeast toward Selayar Island. Another twenty minutes, and he was again dropping through the clouds. Below, the sea was a flat blue. He leveled off at two thousand feet and followed the coastline until the southern tip of the island came into view. He put the Ikarus down a few hundred yards offshore and taxied toward the beach. Sitting on the side of a dirt road was a pair of Isuzu SUVs. As the Ikarus’s skids scraped the sand, the doors to the SUVs opened and out stepped Rivera, Remi, and the three men from Pulau Legundi.Sam shut down the engine, climbed out onto the pontoon, and plodded ashore.

“Check him,” Rivera ordered. One of the men frisked Sam, then stepped back and shook his head. “Search the plane, too.”

Sam said, “I’d like to hug my wife.”

“Go ahead.”

Sam let Remi come forward, hoping Rivera would let her out of earshot. It wasn’t to be. “That’s far enough,” he called.

Sam and Remi embraced. He whispered, “Take the number three seat. Grab the sleeping bag and be ready.”

Despite the cryptic nature of the message, Remi simply replied, “Okay.”

They separated. Sam gave her a reassuring smile, then she stepped back to Rivera’s side. The man Rivera had sent to search the plane waded ashore. “There’s nothing aboard. No weapons. Just some sleeping bags, blankets, and camping gear.” Sam said, “In case we have to stay overnight.”“That’s a relic of a plane,” said Rivera. “Are you sure it will get us where we’re going?”

“Not even remotely,” Sam replied, “but it’s what you get for a twenty-four-hour deadline. We can cancel the trip if you’d like.”

“No, we’re going.”

“I can only carry three of you.”

“Fine. What’s our destination?”

“A bay on the eastern coast. As far as I can tell, it doesn’t even have a name. It’ll take us two and a half hours.”

“If anyone is waiting for us, I’ll shoot you both.”

“And die in the resulting crash,” Sam replied. “I have to admit that has a certain appeal.”

“I can fly a plane as well as you can fly a helicopter. Let’s get moving.”

SAM SHOULD HAVE COMPENSATED for the Ikarus’s edge. It was closer to three hours before the coastline appeared through the windshield. Sam put the plane through an abbreviated checklist and began his descent. He banked gently to the north and pointed the nose at the mouth of the crescent-shaped bay. In the rear seat beside Remi-who, as instructed, had taken the seat behind Sam’s-Rivera leaned forward for a better view.“It’s a small bay,” he remarked.

“A quarter-mile wide at the mouth and three-quarters of a mile at its widest. Six islands.”

“And you’re sure Chicomoztoc is one of them?”

“I never said I was sure. It’s my best guess based on everything we know. You seem to be forgetting that we managed to do in a few weeks what you couldn’t accomplish in almost a decade.”

“Belated congratulations,” said Rivera. “How did you find it?” “Long story, but in a minute you’ll see what put the frosting on the cake. The question is, will you recognize it?”As Sam dropped the Ikarus through a thousand feet, they passed between the headlands and into the bay.

“Where is it?” Rivera asked.

“Patience.”

A minute later Sam turned the nose slightly off center to let the thickly forested island pass beneath the starboard wing. “Out the side window,” he said.

Rivera leaned sideways and looked down. “This is it?” he asked incredulously. “It’s tiny.”

“Three hundred yards across and two hundred feet off the water.”

“It’s not big enough to be an island.”

“An islet, then. Either way, it’s what you’ve been looking for.”

“Why is the center concave?”

“It’s called a caldera. You’re looking at an extinct volcano,” replied Sam. “You still don’t see it, do you?”

“See what?”

“Remi?”

With a nod of approval from Rivera, Remi leaned over his shoulder and looked out the window.

Sam said, “Squint. Think ‘big hollowed-out flower.’”

A beaming smile spread across Remi’s face. “Sam, you found it.”

“We’ll soon find out. Do you see it yet, Rivera?”

“No.”

“You’re familiar with the traditional illustration depicting Chicomoztoc? Imagine that illustration viewed from above. Now imagine the points of the island rounded and more pronounced.”After a few moments Rivera murmured, “I see it. Amazing. Amazing! Take us down!”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, damn it, take us down!”

“Whatever you say.”

Passing through two hundred feet, Sam banked the Ikarus one last time, following the bay’s western shoreline until the plane’s nose was again pointed north. Thirty seconds later, the pontoons kissed the surface; the Ikarus’s fuselage shivered and the windows rattled. Sam kept a slightly nose-up attitude, bumping over the surface as his speed bled off.He watched the needle drop to sixty knots, then fifty. When it slid past forty knots, he said, “Remi, how many sleeping bags do we have?”

She leaned forward in her seat, picked up the pile of bags, and placed them in her lap. “I’ve got three.”

“And I’ve got one,” Sam replied, pointing to the bag stuffed between his seat and the passenger seat. “Rivera, how many do you have?”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

Sam’s eyes flicked to the dashboard. The needle hit thirty-five knots. He turned toward the man in the passenger seat. “How about you?”

The man opened his mouth to reply but the words never came out. In one fluid motion, Sam dropped his right hand diagonally down, punched the man’s seat-belt release, then grabbed the sleeping bag, brought it to his chest, and shoved the stick forward.The Ikarus nosed over and slammed into the water.

CHAPTER 47

HAVING NEVER INTENTIONALLY CRASH-LANDED BEFORE, SAM had a plan that was a combination of gut instinct and a fair grasp of physics. Traveling at thirty knots-roughly thirty-four miles per hour-the Ikarus had enough kinetic energy to throw everyone inside violently forward against their seat belts but not enough to throw the seaplane into a nose-over-tail tumble.The impact was also enough to rip the passenger seat and the seat behind it free of the mounts that Sam had preloosened before leaving the airstrip.

Rivera’s man in the passenger seat, already unbelted, was driven headfirst into the windshield, snapping his neck and killing him. Rivera, still belted in, flew forward and slammed into the back of the passenger seat, while Sam, clutching the sleeping bag in front of his face and chest, smashed into the dashboard. In the backseat Remi’s impact was cushioned by two sleeping bags. She was the first to regain consciousness after the impact.

SHE RELEASED HER BELT and heaved herself forward between the seats. She grabbed Sam by the shoulders and eased him backward. Water was gushing into the cabin through the hole left in the windshield by Rivera’s man. Already nose down in the water, the Ikarus began tipping forward under the weight of its engine, lifting the tail from the water.“Sam!” Remi shouted. “Sam!”

His eyes snapped open. He blinked a few times, looked around. “Did it work?” he asked.

“We’re both alive. I’d call that a success.”

“What about Rivera?”

Remi looked at Rivera, who lay slumped forward, bent at the waist.

“Unconscious or dead. I don’t know and I don’t care. We need to think about leaving, Sam.”

“How about right now?”

“Great!”

Sam braced his feet against the dashboard, fighting gravity, then punched the button to release his seat belt. He tried his door. It didn’t budge. He tried again. “My door’s jammed. Try Rivera’s door.”

“He’s blocking it.” Sam pressed with his legs and arched his back, sliding his upper body into the backseat. “Get his belt.” Remi hit the release. Rivera slid forward into Sam’s outstretched hands. He let gravity do the rest, and Rivera tumbled headfirst onto the remains of the passenger seat and his dead friend.Remi crawled across the seat and grabbed the door handle. “Are you ready?”

“Whenever you are.”

“Deep breath!”

SHE MUSCLED THE DOOR OPEN. A column of water surged into the cabin. They let the cabin fill up, then Remi shoved off and swam out. Sam was halfway out the door when he stopped and turned back. He kicked into the front seat and started probing the floorboard with his hands. Under the dead man’s left boot Sam found what he was looking for: the semiautomatic pistol the man had been holding. He tucked it into his belt.He made his way back out and kicked for the surface. He broke into the air beside Remi. Ten feet to their right the plane’s tail was jutting straight out of the water.

“It’s not going down,” Remi said.

“Probably a pocket of air in the tail. I’m going back down to see what I can salvage. My plan didn’t include that part. I’ll meet you on the beach.”

Sam took in a lungful of air, flipped over, and dove. His outstretched hand found the leading edge of the wing, and he pulled himself across the fuselage, then down into the doorway.He stopped.

Rivera was gone. Sam looked into the tail section, saw nothing, and checked the front seat again. He saw movement out of the corner of his right eye and turned his head. A shadow rushed toward his face. He felt something hard strike his forehead. Pain flashed behind his eyes, and everything went dark.“SAM!” HE HEARD DISTANTLY. The voice faded, then returned. “Sam!”

He felt hands on his face. He knew that touch: Remi. He forced his eyes open. She was leaning over him, her auburn hair dripping onto his face. She smiled. “How many fingers am I holding up?”

“Very funny. None. I’m okay. Help me sit up.”“Just stay there. You’ve got a nasty gash on your forehead.”

“Rivera . . . Where is-”

“I’m here, Mr. Fargo.”

Sam tilted his head backward. An upside-down Rivera was sitting ten feet up the black-sand beach. “Damn,” Sam muttered. “I’ll give you this much, Rivera, you’re one tough bastard.”

Sam forced himself up onto his elbows, then sat upright with Remi’s help. He turned around. Rivera was in tough shape; his nose was broken, one of his eyes swollen shut, and his lower lip was split. The gun in his right hand was held in a rock-steady grip, however.Rivera said, “And you’re too clever for your own good. As soon as you’re feeling better I’m going to kill you and your wife.”

“I may have tried to kill you, but I didn’t lie about this place. I could still be wrong, but I don’t think so.”

“Fine. I’ll kill you both, then find the entrance myself. The island isn’t that big.”

“It doesn’t look big now, but once you get into that jungle it’ll suddenly get a lot bigger. It would take you months to find it.”

“And how long for you?”

Sam checked his watch. “Eight hours from the time we get into the caldera.”

“Why that number?”

“Just a guess.”

“Are you stalling for time?”

“That’s part of it. Also, we want to find Chicomoztoc as much as you do. Maybe more. We’ve just got a different motive than you do.”

“I’ll give you four hours.” Rivera stood up.

Remi helped Sam to his feet. He leaned on her as though dizzy. “Headache,” he said loudly, then whispered in Remi’s ear: “I had a gun.”

She smiled. “You did. I have it now.”

“Waistband?”

“Yes.”

“If you get a chance, shoot him.”

“Gladly.”

“I’ll try to distract him.”

HAVING TOUGHENED THEMSELVES over the past few weeks, first on Madagascar, then on Pulau Legundi, Sam and Remi found the hike up the island’s forested slope relatively easy. Rivera, however, was struggling. His broken nose forced him to breathe through his mouth, and he was now limping. Still, his years as a soldier were shining through. He kept pace with them, keeping ten feet between them and his gun.

At last they reached the top. Below them, the caldera’s slopes dropped a hundred feet to the valley floor. The bowl shape, having acted as a rain funnel for centuries, had caused the trees and vegetation to grow faster than their cousins on the exterior.“What now?” asked Rivera.

Sam turned around in a circle, orienting himself. “My compass was in the plane, so I have to estimate this . . .” Sam walked to the right, picking his way through the trees for another fifty feet, then stopped. “It should be right about here.”“Here?”

“Below us.”

“Explain.”

“Right after which you shoot us. No thank you.”

Rivera’s mouth tightened in a thin line. His eyes never leaving Sam’s, Rivera shifted his gun slightly right and pulled the trigger. The bullet punched through Remi’s left leg. She screamed and collapsed. Rivera shifted the gun back onto Sam, stopping him in midstep.“Let me help her,” Sam said.

Rivera glanced at Remi. His eyes narrowed. He limped over to where she was lying, crouched down, and picked up the pistol that had fallen from Remi’s waistband. Rivera stepped back. “You can help her now.”

Sam rushed to her side. She gripped his hand hard, her eyes squeezed shut against the pain. Sam patted his pockets, came up with a bandanna, and pressed it against the wound.Rivera said, “Do I have your full attention now?”

“Yes, damn it.”

“The bullet hit her in the quadriceps muscle. She won’t bleed to death, and, providing she doesn’t stay out here more than a couple days, there’s not much chance of infection. Between these two guns I’ve got thirty more rounds. Start cooperating or I’ll keep shooting.”

CHAPTER 48

THEY MADE THEIR WAY DOWN TO THE VALLEY FLOOR, SAM IN THE lead with Remi cradled in his arms and Rivera trailing behind. They found a small clearing in the approximate center of the bowl, and Sam laid Remi down. Rivera sat down on a fallen log at the edge of the clearing. His gun never wavering from Sam’s chest, Rivera lifted his shirt up; on the left side of his abdomen was a black softball-sized bruise.“That looks painful,” Sam said.

“It’s just a bruise.”

Sam knelt beside Remi. He lifted the bandanna on her thigh. The bleeding had slowing to a trickle. He whispered, “Rivera’s bleeding internally.”

Through clenched teeth Remi asked, “How bad?”

“I’m not sure.”

“Stall until he keels over dead.” “I’ll try.”

“Stop your whispering!” Rivera barked. “Move away from her.” Sam complied. “Tell me your theory about the entrance.”

Sam hesitated.

Rivera pointed the gun at Remi.

“It’s based on the illustrations,” Sam said. “Chicomoztoc is always a cavern with seven smaller caves around it . . . like a flower. The cavern is beneath a mountain. The drawings vary, but the big details are the same-including the location of the entrance.”“At the bottom,” Rivera said.

“Right. But if I’m right and this is the place, it means the exterior shape of the island was as important to them as the interior.”

“How could they have gotten an overhead view of it?”

“They didn’t. They sailed around it and mapped it. As small as this island is, it would have been easy to do it accurately.”

“Go on.”

“If you’re looking at the illustration face on as a two-dimensional image, the entrance to Chicomoztoc is down. If you look at it from overhead-and they oriented themselves on the four cardinal directions like most cultures do-then the entrance lies to the south.”Rivera considered this, then nodded slowly. “Good. Now go find it. You’ve got four hours. If you don’t find it by then, I’ll kill you both.”

RIVERA MADE THE GROUND RULES clear: Sam would search for the entrance while he, Rivera, guarded Remi. Rivera would call Sam’s name at random intervals. If Sam didn’t answer within ten seconds, Rivera would shoot Remi again.

AS HE AND REMI HAD DONE on Pulau Legundi, Sam made do with what was at hand: a sturdy six-foot-long stick and patience. Facing what he thought was due south, he started up the caldera’s slope, prodding ahead of him with the stick.

The first pass to the top took him twenty minutes. On the rim he sidestepped to the right and started back down the slope. He felt ridiculous. Though his method was sound and still used in certain cases, the gravity of where he was, what he searching for, and the clock that was ticking on Remi’s life blended together, giving him a nagging sense of helplessness.The afternoon wore on. In twenty-minute intervals he hiked up the slope, then down the slope. Up, down, repeating until he’d made six passes, then eight, then ten.

Shortly before five o’clock, with the sun dropping toward the western horizon, he was picking his way through a particularly dense cluster of trees when he stopped to catch his breath.Initially, the sound was just a faint hiss. Sam held his breath and strained to pin down the location. It seemed to be all around him.

“Fargo!” Rivera hollered.

“Here!” Sam called back.

“You have thirty more minutes.”

Sam picked his way ten feet farther down the slope. He paused. The hissing had faded slightly. He stepped ten feet to the left, listened again. Louder now. He repeated his test, box-stepping up and down the hillside, until he found himself standing before a bulge in the slope. He poked the bulge with his stick; the tip disappeared.His heart thumped in his chest.

He dropped to his knees and shoved his head into the opening.

The hissing doubled in volume.

“Waves,” he whispered.

He pulled back, dug into his pocket, found his penlight. He clicked it but nothing happened. “Come on . . .” He unscrewed the bottom and dumped the batteries on the ground and used his shirt to dry each one in turn. He reassembled the flashlight and clicked the button. He was rewarded with a bright beam.

He stuck his head back into the opening and shined the light around. A three-foot-wide, smooth-walled shaft descended diagonally into the slope. At the edge of Sam’s flashlight beam the tunnel curved right into darkness.“Fargo!” Sam pulled his head out. “Here!”

“Twenty-five minutes left.”

He had a decision to make. With no idea where this tunnel led and without proper gear, he could easily find himself beyond earshot of Rivera or, worse still, he would hear Rivera’s check-in call but be unable to answer it within the allotted ten seconds. He had no doubt that either of these circumstances would lead to Remi being shot again.“He’s going to kill us anyway,” Sam said to himself. “Roll the dice.”

Feet first, Sam wriggled into the opening and started downward.

HE HADN’T GOTTEN ten feet when Rivera shouted: “Fargo!”

Sam scrambled back up the chute and stuck his head into the light. “Here!” He checked his watch: nineteen minutes.

He backed into the chute and let himself slide, braking with his toes and palms until he reached the bend, where he had to curl his body to navigate the angle. The chute steepened, continued for ten feet, then suddenly widened out. Sam felt his legs dangling free. He clawed at the walls, trying to arrest his slide, but gravity took over. He slipped from the chute and started falling. CHAPTER 49

HIS PLUNGE LASTED LESS THAN A SECOND.

He landed feetfirst in a pile of something soft, rolled backward in a reverse somersault, and came to rest on his knees. His flashlight lay a few feet away. He crawled over, grabbed it, and cast the beam about.

The pile into which he’d fallen was almost pure white. His first thought was sand, but then he smelled it: the distinctive tang of salt. The rush of the waves echoed around him, bouncing off the walls, fading and multiplying as though he were caught inside a fun-house auditorium.Sam checked his watch: sixteen minutes.

He looked up. The chute from which he’d fallen was ten feet above his head. He turned around, panned his flashlight. The wall nearest to him sparkled as though encrusted in tiny mirrors. He stepped up to it. “Salt,” he murmured.

Beneath the faceted white veneer he could make out a darker streak. It was green-translucent green. The stripe rose up the wall, widened into a foot-thick band, then turned again, forking into dozens more veins. The branching continued until it was a giant latticework beneath the white salt veneer.

The cavern itself was roughly oval and no wider than forty feet in diameter. Eyes fixed on the ceiling, he started across the cavern. He felt a jet of air blow up his leg. He stopped and crouched down.

The four-foot-wide hole in the floor was perfectly disguised by a crust of salt, punctuated by pencil holes through which the air was being forced. Sam stood up, looked around. Now knowing what to look for, he could see dozens of holes within the beam of his flashlight.

He reached the center of the cavern. Spaced at regular intervals around him were what looked like salt-encrusted stalagmites, each one approximately five feet high. There were seven of them. These were ceremonial cairns, he realized. Each cairn a metaphor, perhaps.“The Place of the Seven Caves,” Sam murmured. “Chicomoztoc.”

Careful of his footing, he strode over to the nearest cairn, knelt down, and pressed the head of his flashlight against the surface. Beneath the crystallized salt he saw a dull green glow. He used the butt of the flashlight to lightly hammer the surface. On the third blow, a scab of salt fell away, followed by a Ping-Pong-ball-sized rock. He picked it up. It was a translucent green, the same as the maleo statuette. The stone absorbed the beam of his flashlight, swirling the light until the interior seemed to glow and sparkle of its own accord. Sam pocketed the stone.“. . . argo!” Rivera’s faint voice called.

“Damn!” Sam muttered. He whirled around, casting his light wildly about. He needed a plan. He needed something . . . His beam fell on the salt pile. The kernel of an idea formed. It was sketchy at best, but it was all he had.

Dodging holes, he sprinted back to the salt pile. He grabbed a handful of it and stuffed it into his pocket. He scanned the flashlight along the wall beside him. It curved to the right. He followed it. The floor sloped down, then up, then left. The hiss of waves faded behind him. To the right he glimpsed a faint light source. He ran toward it. The walls closed in, and the ceiling descended until he was running hunched over.He stumbled through a wall of foliage and fell forward.

“. . . argo!”

Sam rolled onto his back, caught his breath. “Here!”

“Eleven minutes.”

Sam lay still for thirty seconds, picking at his plan until satisfied it could work. But, then again, could was a far cry from would. He had no choice, no other options, and virtually no more time.He picked his way to the bottom of the bowl, then made his way back to the clearing. “I found something.”

“Are you lying to me?” Rivera replied.

“No.”

Rivera stood up. “Let’s go.”

“Give me a minute.”

Sam walked over to Remi and sat down beside her. She opened her eyes and smiled at him. “Hi.”

“Hi. Does it hurt?”

“No. It’s dull throbbing. I’ve been counting my heartbeats to pass the time.”

Sam chuckled. “Never bored, are you?”

“Never.”

“I found something. I’m taking Rivera there now.”

“Is it-”

“I think so. I think we found it.” He leaned over and kissed her on the cheek. “I’m going to take him in there,” he whispered. “With any luck, I’ll be coming out alone.” “Then I’ll see you when you get back.”

Sam stood up and turned to Rivera. “Ready.”

“Lead the way.”

SAM TOOK RIVERA to the exit, then handed him the flashlight and stood to one side as Rivera ducked his head into the entrance. Rivera tossed the flashlight back to Sam.

“What’s in there?”

“I didn’t go far.”

Rivera paused. Sam knew he was debating whether the Fargos had suddenly become extra baggage.

“But as far as I went, I got lost three times. In one of the side tunnels there’s a drop-off; beyond that, I saw something on the wall. A symbol of some kind.”

This did the trick. Rivera gestured for Sam to enter the tunnel. He stepped inside and hunch-walked until the walls and ceiling widened out. Rivera was a few steps behind.

“Which way?”

Sam feigned confusion for a few seconds, then headed right and followed the sloped floor’s dips and rises and turns until finally they emerged into the salt cavern.

“Are those waves?” Rivera asked, looking around.

“I think so. There’s probably a maze of sea caves down there.”

“And the walls? Crystallized salt?”

“Sea salt, blown up from the caves. Do you see the dark streaks?” Sam pointed the flashlight at the nearest wall. “Take a look.”

His gun fixed on Sam’s chest, Rivera sidestepped to the wall.

Sam said, “It’s some kind of mineral deposit. Emerald or jade.”

Nodding absently, Rivera followed the veins with his eyes as they spiraled up the wall and across the ceiling. “Where’s this side tunnel?”

Careful to keep the beam off the floor, Sam shined the flashlight across the cavern. He held his breath, half expecting Rivera to notice the cairns and their arrangement, but he didn’t.“Go on.”

Sam started across the floor. Heart thudding in his chest, he tried to keep his pace steady, watching the placement of his feet as he stepped over holes or along their edges. As he crossed the cavern’s center point, there came a crackling sound, like pond ice giving way. Rivera cursed.Sam turned around.

“Don’t shine that in my eyes, damn it!”

Rivera had stepped into one of the smaller holes and fallen through up to his crotch. He struggled to extricate himself, straining to get his free leg under his body. He tried twice more, then stopped.“You’re going to come over here and help me up. If you-”

“I know,” Sam replied. “You’ll shoot me.”

Flashlight in his left hand, Sam strode forward. He flicked the beam into Rivera’s eyes, then down again. At the same time he stuffed his right hand into his pocket, grabbed a fistful of salt, and pulled it out again.“Damn it!” Rivera growled. “Keep the light-”

“Sorry.”

“That’s close enough. Just give me your wrist. Don’t grab ahold of me.”

Sam extended his wrist. Rivera grabbed it and used Sam’s counterweight to pull himself free. Sam felt Rivera’s weight shift forward. He twirled the flashlight in his fingers, shining the beam directly into Rivera’s eyes.“Sorry,” Sam said again.

Even as he said the words he was moving, sidestepping left, using Rivera’s momentary blindness to get the gun barrel off him. Sam swung his right hand forward as though throwing a baseball. The salt hit Rivera squarely in the eyes. Knowing what was coming, Sam dropped to his belly.

Rivera screamed and started pulling the trigger. Bullets thudded into the walls and ceiling. Salt crystals rained down, sparkling in the glow of Sam’s flashlight. Rivera spun wildly, trying to regain his balance as he staggered across the floor, the gun bucking in his hand.

Sam pushed himself to his knees, coiled his legs like a runner in the starting blocks, then pushed off and charged. Rivera heard the crunch of Sam’s footfalls and spun toward the sound, firing. Still running, Sam dropped back to his belly and skidded across the floor, the salt crystals ripping at his chest and chin. He went still. Held his breath.

Rivera whirled again, trying to pinpoint the sound. He lost his balance again, lurched sideways, and stepped squarely into another hole. With a zipperlike crackling sound, Rivera’s legs plunged through. He spread his arms to arrest his fall. The gun dropped from his hand and skittered across the salted floor, coming to a stop beside Sam’s face.He grabbed the gun and climbed to his feet.

“Fargo!” Rivera screamed.

Sam walked over to the hole. Rivera arms were fully extended. Only the palms of his hands were touching solid ground. Already his arms were trembling; the tendons in his neck strained beneath the skin. Still blinded by the salt, Rivera rotated his head wildly from side to side.Sam crouched down beside him.

“Fargo!”

“I’m right here. You’re in a bit of a pickle.”

“Get me out of this thing!”

“No.”

Sam shined his flashlight into the hole. Salt-encrusted rock outcroppings jutted from the walls like barbs, leaving only a two-foot-wide gap in the center. Far below, Sam could hear the roar of waves crashing against rock. He grabbed a nearby softball-sized stone, dropped it into the opening, and listened to it ricochet off the rocks until the sound faded.

“What was that?” Rivera asked.“That’s karma calling,” Sam replied. “About a hundred feet of it, based on Newton’s Second Law.”

“What the hell does that mean? Get me out!”

“You shouldn’t have shot my wife.”

Rivera growled in frustration. He tried to press himself upward but managed only a few inches. He slumped back down. His head dipped below the level of the floor. Beneath Rivera’s shirt, his muscles quivered with the strain.

“I just realized something,” Sam said. “The more your palms sweat, the more the salt dissolves beneath them. I think that’s what financial experts call diminishing returns. It’s not a perfect metaphor, but I think you get my point.”“I should have killed you.”

“Hang on to that thought. Soon it’s all you’re going to have left.”

Rivera’s left hand slipped off the edge. For a split second he clawed at the ground with his right hand, his nails shredding, before he tipped sideways and started to fall. He landed back first on one of the outcroppings, shattering his spine. He screamed in pain, then slid off and kept tumbling, his head slamming on rock after rock before disappearing from view.