probably rightly, to have criss-crossed every square mile of the Mato Grosso, had never discovered the site of the Lost City. It just could not be seen from the air. But the ancients had stumbled across it, discovered the most invisible, the most inaccessible, the most impregnable fortress ever created by nature or devised by man.
The viewers in the Villa Haydn drawing-room had sat throughout in silence. They knew they had seen something that no white man, with the exception of Hamilton and his helicopter pilot, had ever seen before, something, perhaps, that no-one had ever seen for generations, maybe even for centuries. They were hard people, tough people, cynical people, people who counted value only in the terms of cost, people conditioned to disbelieve, almost automatically, the evidence of their own eyes: but there is yet to be born a man or woman the atavistic depths of whose soul cannot be touched by that one questing finger that will not be denied, that primitive ancestral awe inseparable.1 from watching the veil of unsuspected history being swept aside.
The slowly comprehending silence stretched out for at least a minute. Then, almost inaudibly, Smith exhaled his breath in a long sigh.
'Son-of-a-gun,' he whispered. 'Son-of-a-gun. He found it.'
'If your intention was to impress us,' Maria said, 'you've succeeded. What on earth was that? And where is it?'. :
'The Lost City.' Smith spoke absently. 'Brazil. In the Mato Grosso.'
'The Brazilians built pyramids?'
'Not that I know of. May have been some other race. Anyway, they're not pyramids, they're — Tracy, this is more in your field.'
'Well. Not really my field either. One of our magazines had an article on those so-called ' pyramids and I spent a couple of days with the writer and photographer on the job. Curiosity, only, and wasted curiosity — I didn't learn much. Pyramid-shaped, sure, but those stepped-sided and flat-topped structures are called ziggurats. No-one knows where they originated although it is known that the Assyrians and Babylonians had them. Oddly enough,; this style bypassed the virtually neighbouring country of Egypt, which went in for the smooth-sided and conically-topped version, but turned up again in ancient Mexico where some are still to be seen. Archaeologists and such-like use this as a powerful argument of prehistoric contact between east and west but the only sure fact is that their origins are lost in the mists of those same prehistoric times. My word, Mr Smith, this is going to drive those poor archaeologists up the wall. A ziggurat in the Mato Grosso.'
'Ricardo?' Hamilton said. 'I shall be leaving our friend's place in about two hours' time. I'll be driving - moment.' He broke off and turned to Ramon lounging in the couch in the Imperial suite. 'Ramon, what shall I be driving?'
'Black Cadillac.'
'A black Cadillac,' Hamilton said into the phone. 'I do not wish to be followed. Thank you.'
CHAPTER THREE
There were six people in Smith's drawing-room that sunny afternoon - Smith himself, Tracy, Maria, Hiller, Serrano and Hamilton. All had glasses in their hands.
'Another?' said Smith. His hand reached out to touch the button that would summon the butler.
Hamilton said: 'I'd rather talk.'
Smith raised an eyebrow in slight if genuine astonishment. Not only had he heard from Hiller of Hamilton's reputation as a hard drinker, but his slightest suggestion was usually treated as a royal command. He withdrew his hand from the buzzer.
'As you wish. So we are agreed on the purpose of our visit. I tell you, Hamilton, I have done many things in the past that have given me a great deal of pleasure, but I've never been so excited —'
Hamilton interrupted him, something no-one ever did to Smith. 'Let's get down to details.'
'By God, you are in a hurry. I'd have thought that after four years -'
'It's a lot longer than that. But even after only four years a man starts to become a little impatient.' He pointed towards Maria and Tracy.
The viewers in the Villa Haydn drawing-room had sat throughout in silence. They knew they had seen something that no white man, with the exception of Hamilton and his helicopter pilot, had ever seen before, something, perhaps, that no-one had ever seen for generations, maybe even for centuries. They were hard people, tough people, cynical people, people who counted value only in the terms of cost, people conditioned to disbelieve, almost automatically, the evidence of their own eyes: but there is yet to be born a man or woman the atavistic depths of whose soul cannot be touched by that one questing finger that will not be denied, that primitive ancestral awe inseparable.1 from watching the veil of unsuspected history being swept aside.
The slowly comprehending silence stretched out for at least a minute. Then, almost inaudibly, Smith exhaled his breath in a long sigh.
'Son-of-a-gun,' he whispered. 'Son-of-a-gun. He found it.'
'If your intention was to impress us,' Maria said, 'you've succeeded. What on earth was that? And where is it?'. :
'The Lost City.' Smith spoke absently. 'Brazil. In the Mato Grosso.'
'The Brazilians built pyramids?'
'Not that I know of. May have been some other race. Anyway, they're not pyramids, they're — Tracy, this is more in your field.'
'Well. Not really my field either. One of our magazines had an article on those so-called ' pyramids and I spent a couple of days with the writer and photographer on the job. Curiosity, only, and wasted curiosity — I didn't learn much. Pyramid-shaped, sure, but those stepped-sided and flat-topped structures are called ziggurats. No-one knows where they originated although it is known that the Assyrians and Babylonians had them. Oddly enough,; this style bypassed the virtually neighbouring country of Egypt, which went in for the smooth-sided and conically-topped version, but turned up again in ancient Mexico where some are still to be seen. Archaeologists and such-like use this as a powerful argument of prehistoric contact between east and west but the only sure fact is that their origins are lost in the mists of those same prehistoric times. My word, Mr Smith, this is going to drive those poor archaeologists up the wall. A ziggurat in the Mato Grosso.'
'Ricardo?' Hamilton said. 'I shall be leaving our friend's place in about two hours' time. I'll be driving - moment.' He broke off and turned to Ramon lounging in the couch in the Imperial suite. 'Ramon, what shall I be driving?'
'Black Cadillac.'
'A black Cadillac,' Hamilton said into the phone. 'I do not wish to be followed. Thank you.'
CHAPTER THREE
There were six people in Smith's drawing-room that sunny afternoon - Smith himself, Tracy, Maria, Hiller, Serrano and Hamilton. All had glasses in their hands.
'Another?' said Smith. His hand reached out to touch the button that would summon the butler.
Hamilton said: 'I'd rather talk.'
Smith raised an eyebrow in slight if genuine astonishment. Not only had he heard from Hiller of Hamilton's reputation as a hard drinker, but his slightest suggestion was usually treated as a royal command. He withdrew his hand from the buzzer.
'As you wish. So we are agreed on the purpose of our visit. I tell you, Hamilton, I have done many things in the past that have given me a great deal of pleasure, but I've never been so excited —'
Hamilton interrupted him, something no-one ever did to Smith. 'Let's get down to details.'
'By God, you are in a hurry. I'd have thought that after four years -'
'It's a lot longer than that. But even after only four years a man starts to become a little impatient.' He pointed towards Maria and Tracy.
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