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datatime: 2022-10-07 01:47:26 Author:naldWrFs

"Not possible," Chaco replied helplessly. "They're still in transit from Miami. Their plane isn't scheduled to land in Lima for another four hours."

Then with shaking hands he gripped the radio transmitter and began sending out an urgent call for help.

"They planned to resurface after thirty minutes."

Where had it come from? Miller wondered, his spirits rising. It obviously didn't have the markings of the Peruvian navy. It had to be a civilian craft.

Miller checked his watch again. "Twenty-seven minutes ago."

Miller said nothing. There was nothing more to say. He broke contact with Chaco and hurried back to the silent group of students, who were staring down into the sinkhole with dread.

Miller said nothing. There was nothing more to say. He broke contact with Chaco and hurried back to the silent group of students, who were staring down into the sinkhole with dread.

"They planned to resurface after thirty minutes."

"I will, I promise you," Miller said grimly.

"Can you send the dive team ahead by helicopter?" asked Miller.

"The nearest naval facility is at Trujillo. I'll alert the base commander and go from there."

The tops of the surrounding trees were whipped into a frenzy as the helicopter began its descent into a small clearing beside the sinkhole. The landing skids were still in the air when the fuselage door opened and a tall man with wavy black hair made an agile leap to the ground. He was dressed in a thin, shorty wet suit for diving in warm waters. Ignoring the younger people, he walked directly up to the anthropologist.

In an expectant hush everyone around the rim of the pool listened. The faint thumping sound of a rotor blade beating the air came toward them, growing louder with each passing moment. A minute later a turquoise helicopter with the letters NUMA painted on its sides swept into view.

"They planned to resurface after thirty minutes."

Then with shaking hands he gripped the radio transmitter and began sending out an urgent call for help.

"I will, I promise you," Miller said grimly.

"We can't afford government meddling. Certainly not now. Can you arrange to have a dive rescue team rushed to the sinkhole?"

In a voice frantic with desperation, Chaco had informed him that the Peruvian navy was caught unprepared for an emergency. Their water escape and recovery team was on a training mission far to the south of Peru near the Chilean border. It was impossible for them to airlift the dive team and their equipment to the sinkhole before sundown. Chaco helplessly shared Miller's anxiety over the slow response time. But this was South America and speed was seldom a priority.

Miller checked his watch again. "Twenty-seven minutes ago."

"Not possible," Chaco replied helplessly. "They're still in transit from Miami. Their plane isn't scheduled to land in Lima for another four hours."

"How long did they plan to stay down?"

"All we need now," he muttered to himself, "are two dead archaeologists in the pool."

"Good luck to you, Juan. I'll stand by the radio at this end."

"They'll come through," offered Chaco in a hollow tone. "Rodgers is a master diver. He doesn't make mistakes."

Where had it come from? Miller wondered, his spirits rising. It obviously didn't have the markings of the Peruvian navy. It had to be a civilian craft.

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