Excavation

For a few rows, he sped faster, glad to escape the dead man. Neither of the other two spoke as they followed. Only the scuff of boots indicated they continued behind him. Farther across the room, he could hear Ralph and Norman mumbling nervously, but their words were too quiet to make out.

At last Sam stepped onto the four gold tiles that made up the pictograph of janan pacha. Bending in relief, Sam leaned his hands on his knees. He closed his eyes and thanked the heavens for his safe passage.

Maggie and Denal joined him.

“You both okay?” Sam asked, straightening.

Maggie could only nod. Her face shone with a sheen of sweat. Denal’s cigarette trembled between his lips, but he bobbed his head, too.

Sam glanced to the wall. They were now grouped at the upper left of the pictograph. The last row of tiles was all silver. Only the statue itself, in the middle of the wall, stood upon a gold tile amid a small pile of gold and silver trinkets and offerings. “Now what? How do we reach the statue from here?”

Maggie turned in a slow circle. “Listen.”

Sam frowned. “What -?” Then he realized what she meant.

Denal did, too. “It stopped.”

Sam cocked his head. There was no trace of the ticking machinery that geared the booby trap.

“It ended as soon as we arrived here,” Maggie said.

Sam nodded. “Our following the path correctly must have deactivated it.”

“So it should be safe to follow the silver tiles to the statue?” Maggie asked, glancing toward Denal.

The Quechan boy shrugged. “I no know.”

Sam took a girding breath and stepped off the gold tiles and onto the row of silver. He cringed for a heartbeat, but nothing happened. He glanced to Maggie.

“The gears are still silent,” she said, meeting his eyes. “It must be okay.”

Sam continued tile by tile to the golden statue. The others followed. Soon they stood before the Incan warrior. He seemed to be glaring down at them from under a headdress. The three studied their adversary.

The statue stood almost a full two yards taller than most men, posted with his back to a narrow silver archway in the granite wall. He bore a staff in one hand and a typical Incan bola in the other, three stones slung on llama tendon.

“Look at his llautu crown,” Sam said, pointing to the figure’s braided headdress topped by three parrot feathers and a fringe of tassels. “It definitely marks this one as a Sapa Inca. One of their kings.”

“Yes, but the facial detail an’ depiction of realistic musculature is unlike the Incas’ usual stylization,” Maggie whispered. “It’s as perfect a work as Michelangelo’s David.”

Sam leaned closer to study the ancient king’s face. “Strange. Whichever Sapa Inca is represented here was clearly worshiped as no other.”

A step away, Denal cleared his throat. “The wall… it is not stone.”

Sam turned away from the statue. The boy’s gaze was not on the golden idol, but the black wall behind it. Sheer granite spread all around. “What do you mean?”

Maggie gasped. “Denal means it’s not stonework. Look there are no seams or joints. It’s not stacked stone blocks like the temple.”

Sam moved to the rock and ran a palm along it. “It’s a wall of solid granite.”

A voice called from across the room. “Did you find anything?” It was Norman.

Sam turned his head and yelled, “We found the mountain!” Sam arched his neck and examined the wall. “The pyramid must have been built at the base of this cliff face.”

“But why?” Maggie asked.

Sam thought out loud. “The Incas revered mountains. But why build a huaca, or holy place here? What was so special about this cliff?”

Maggie answered after a moment, “Wh… what if there was a cave?”

Sam slapped his hand against the granite wall. “Of course. Caverns were considered to be pacariscas, mystical places joining the three worlds of their religion. They were often used as places of ritual. It makes sense!”

“But where’s the entrance?” Maggie asked.

“I don’t know, but the statue must be a key. Did you notice the silver archway behind the statue? It’s large enough to cover a narrow opening.”

Maggie and Sam returned to the statue. Sam leaned his shoulder against it and tried to shove the idol aside.

“Be careful,” Maggie warned.

Denal stood with one fist clenched at his throat.

But nothing happened. The statue could not be budged. “Damn it,” Sam swore, taking off his Stetson and swiping his damp hair back. “The thing must weigh close to a ton.”

Maggie frowned at him. “Brute force isn’t the answer. With the complexity shown here, there has to be a mechanism to unlock the pathway.” She elbowed Sam aside and approached the statue. Stretching on the tip of her toes, she examined it closely, her nose only inches from the golden surface. Slowly she worked her way down the statue’s physique.

Sam grew impatient, especially when the floor began to tremble again. “This place isn’t going to stand much longer,” he mumbled.

“Aha!” Maggie exclaimed. She turned to Sam, her face at the Incan king’s waist. “Here’s the answer.” She pointed to the statue’s belly button.