They rose with the canyon, and its upper ramparts began to display
patches of snow. Ahead loomed solid whiteness. They strained upward
and emerged over a snowfield glaring white in the sun, its jagged
peaks casting crisp blue shadows. The copter's own shadow danced along
beneath them like a crazy gnat.
They aimed for a cluster of five or six peaks dominating everything
else. Dientes, twisting nervously in his seat, mumbled something about
"_puesto de los demonios_." They flew between two of the peaks and were
in a basin formed by the roughly circular cluster.
Zero ground of the explosion was as obvious as an ugly dark blotch
on white cloth. Snow had been melted away from an oblong area on the
inner slope of one peak, leaving naked rock. Craig stared at what lay
revealed. A plateau was carved out of the mountainside, so flat and
so precisely oval that there wasn't an instant's doubt that it was
artificial. The uphill wall was vertical, following exactly the curve
of the ellipse. The wall was in shadow, but Craig could make out the
five black tunnel mouths, all of a shape and evenly spaced.
He let out his breath in a grunt as he remembered that this was a blast
area and that they were getting close. Hastily, he unhooded one of the
instruments, his fingers awkward with excitement. He watched the dial.
No serious radiation yet. Rabar looked at him, and he nodded his head
to indicate they could go closer.
The radiation increased a little but was still mild. He pondered. The
blast had been very clean, and of a low order, melting the snow without
even scarring the rock. Apparently it had occurred not far above the
surface and over the center of the plateau. He didn't know of any
existing warheads that fit the explosion, nor could he believe that
either intent or coincidence had placed the blast so exactly.
The copter was hovering now, the other passengers watching him
silently. He met Rabar's eyes, and glanced away, uncomfortable. If the
priest's eyes reminded him of a vulture's, then Rabar's made him think
of a wolf's. They had an odd yellowish tinge, and were at one time
alert and devoid of expression. Craig couldn't know where the man fit
into things, but he didn't ring true as a simple pilot.
Craig needed no diagrams drawn for him, so far as his own position
went. In the first place, the opposition might assassinate him simply
to embarrass the government. On the other hand, if he seemed to
stand in the way of Noriega's project of making political capital of
the explosion, and if Noriega represented a strong faction in the
government, that faction might think it worth while to let something
happen to him and blame it on the communists.
But the hottest potato of all would be whatever he learned at the spot
of the explosion. He could imagine all sorts of fabulous things. So
would others, and some of them would go to considerable lengths to know.
* * * * *
An instrument, dangled at the end of a line, showed no bad radiation,
so Craig said they could land.
When he stood on the plateau the tunnel mouths seemed like converging
black stares. Nevertheless he itched to explore. Impatiently, he led
the unloading and stacking of his equipment.
When that was done the group stood for a minute, evidently all feeling
the awe Craig did. Dientes was first to break the silence, muttering
something under his breath.
Brulieres fixed the Indian with a look that was not entirely severe.
"_Christian_ prayers, _hijo_, if you please." He turned to Craig.
"What can be learned where we stand?"
"I should be able to determine the type of explosion. I will have to
take rock samples, and set up some apparatus."
"How long will that require?"
"Less than an hour, with luck."
Brulieres was thoughtful for a while. "In that case, I believe we shall
begin reconnoitering the tunnels while you work. But first, let us hear
from our expert in demonology."
Dientes squirmed guiltily in his mountain clothing. "I know only what
the old tales say, Padre."
"Tell us, if you please. We will decide later whether you have been
guilty of _paganismo_."
"Si, Padre. This place is the home of the Fire Devils. There is no
question of the fact. It is precisely as described when I was a small
boy sitting at the feet of _los viejos_."
"Well, then. What manner of devils were they?"
"Creatures of fire, Padre, such that the eye could not behold without
being blinded. Brighter than the sun."
"Did they make war upon your people?"
"Those who approached this place were punished with spears of fire. It
is told that in ancient times, they were often seen flying through the
sky, trailing long tails of white feathers. Sometimes they visited the
villages, demanding strange things and frightening the people."
"Do the stories mention these tunnels?"
"No, Padre. The Fire Devils lived beneath the snow. They were seen to
vanish into it."
"Without melting it?"
"They could turn off their fire, perhaps. In any event, Padre, who
knows what is possible with demons?"
* * * * *
"I know that you need and will receive many hours of strict Christian
instruction. How is it that men returned to tell of these things if the
devils pursued them with spears of fire?"
"Some escaped."
"Is it definitely told of individuals who were killed?"
Dientes looked thoughtful, and disappointed. "I do not recall the names
of any who were slain."
"Bah. Why have there been no reports in recent years?"
Dientes shrugged. "_Quien sabe?_ Perhaps the arrival of the true
religion has driven away the devils."
"Perhaps," said Brulieres, the corners of his mouth lifting slightly.
He turned toward the tunnels. "I think, General, that I will ask you
and the lieutenant to explore a little way into one of the tunnels.
Come out at once if you see anything that might be dangerous."
Craig opened his mouth to protest, but held back the words. He did ache
to get into the tunnels, but he wasn't a free agent here. He watched
as the two uniformed men disappeared into the middle tunnel. Their
flashlights were quickly lost as they rounded some turn in the tunnel.
Brulieres said to Dientes, "The doctor and I must take some samples
of the rock. Will you be good enough to remain here and guard the
helicopter?" He laid his hand on the Indian's shoulder. "I see that you
are not comfortable in your helmet. You may remove it if you wish. We
will call to you if we need you."
Craig realized Brulieres wanted to talk to him alone. He went with the
priest. The Indian squatted, apparently quite comfortable without his
oxygen. "He is used to high altitudes," Brulieres remarked. "You or I
could hardly remain conscious here. I wished to talk to you, Doctor."
"About what, Padre?" Craig felt a little awkward with the title.
"About certain things in our country of which you do not approve."