Temple

Gaby Lopez sat on the other side of the little anthropologist, her excitement at being in the presence of a legend obvious. After all, as she had said to Race -on their first day in Peru, nine years ago Marquez had entered the jungles to study primitive Amazonian tribes—and had never returned.

'Doctor Marquez,' she said, 'please, tell us about this tribe.

Your experiences here must have been fascinating.'

Marquez smiled. 'They have been. These Indians are a truly remarkable people, one of the last remaining untouched tribes in the whole of South America. Although they tell me that they have lived in this village for centuries, like most of the other tribes in this region they are nomadic. Often the whole village will just up and move to another location—in search of food or a warmer clime—for six months or even a year at a time. But they always return to this village. They say that they have a connection with this area—a connection with the temple in the crater and the cat gods that dwell inside it.'

'How did they come to possess the Spirit of the People?'

Race asked interjecting.

'I'm sorry, I do not understand?'

'According to the Santiago Manuscript,” Race said, 'Renco Capac used the idol to seal the rapas inside the temple. Then he shut himself inside the building with them. Did these Indians at some stage enter the temple and get the idol out?'

Marquez translated what Race had said for the Indian chieftain, Roa. The chieftain shook his head and said something quickly in Quechuan.

'Chieftain Roa says that Prince Renco was a very clever and brave man, as one would expect of the Chosen One. The chieftain also says that the members of this tribe take a special pride in being his direct descendants.'

'His direct descendants,' Race said. 'But that would mean Renco got out of the temple…'

'Yes, it would,' Marquez replied cryptically, translating the chieftain's words.

'But how?' Race said. 'How did he manage to get out?'

At that, the chieftain barked an order to one of his Indian warriors and the warrior scurried off into a nearby hut. He returned moments later carrying something small in his hands.

When the warrior arrived back at his chieftain's side, Race saw that the object in his hands was a thin leather- bound notebook. Its binding looked positively ancient, but its pages appeared uncreased, untouched.

The chieftain spoke. Marquez translated.

'Mister Race, Roa says that the answer to your question lies in the construction of the temple itself. After Renco and Alberto's famous battle with Hernando Pizarro, yes, Renco did enter the temple—with the idol. But he also managed to get out of it—with the idol. The full story of what happened after Renco entered the temple is contained in this note book.'

Race looked at the notebook in the chieftain's hands. He craved to know what was inside it.

The chieftain handed the little notebook to Race.

'Roa offers it to you as a gift,' Marquez said. 'After all, you are the first person in four hundred years to pass through this village who would actually be able to read it.'

Race opened the notebook immediately, saw about a half-dozen cream-coloured pages filled with Alberto Santi ago's handwriting.

He stared at it in awe.

It was the real ending to Santiago's story.

'I have a question,' Johann Krauss said suddenly, pompously, leaning forward from his place in the circle.

'How have the rapas managed to survive for so long inside the temple?'

After consulting with the chieftain, Marquez replied, 'Roa says you will find the answer to that question in the notebook.'

'But—' Krauss began.

Roa cut him off with a sharp bark.

'Roa says that you will find the answer to your question in the notebook,“ Marquez said firmly. Clearly, while Roa's hospitality to Race was limitless, his grace toward his com panions extended only so far.

The rain began to fall more heavily. After a few minutes, Race heard the rumble of distant thunder over the horizon.

Doogie and Van Lewen also turned at the sound.

'Storm's coming,' Race said.

Doogie shook his head as he looked up into the sky. The rumbling of thunder grew louder.

'No it isn't,' he said, grabbing his G-11 out of the dirt.

'What are you talking about?'

'That ain't thunder, Professor.'

'Then what is it?'

At that moment, before Doogie could answer him, a mas sive Super Stallion helicopter roared by overhead.

It was closely followed by another, identical helicopter, swooping in low over the village, its rotors thumping loudly, shaking the trees with its powerful downdraft.

Race, Doogie and Van Lewen leapt to their feet, while at the same time all of the Indians reached for their bows.

The roar of the two Super Stallions hovering above the little village was deafening, all-consuming. And then suddenly eight zip-lines were hurled out from within each helicopter. In a second, sixteen men dressed in full combat attire began to slide quickly down the ropes, guns in their hands, ominous shadows against the predawn sky.