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."

craig hesitated. "i ... am here on a scientific mission."

"nevertheless, you have ideas in the field of politics? i hope we can be frank with each other."

"well ... i have no intention of being critical. as you know, we—that is, in the united states the church is separate from the government."

the corners of brulieres' mouth quirked. "what you mean, perhaps, is that you do not understand how the church can support a totalitarian government. oh, do not protest; the facts are obvious. we have been called worse names than 'totalitarian.' you do not think it right that the church should take up actual arms."

"i—yes. since you put it into words. we have a different concept of religion."

the priest nodded slowly. "si. once i visited your land. in a way, i envied the priests there. here, we have had more to contend with than the christening of fat babies and listening to trifling sins of appetite. we are in the front line of battle."

craig said stiffly, "do you mean a spiritual battle, or an ideological one?"

this time brulieres nearly smiled. "are you so certain, then, that they are not the same battle?"

damn it, thought craig, i know better than to argue with a priest. he did not answer for a minute.

brulieres said gently, "please forgive me if i am too direct. you do not believe that evil is a real force?"

craig could not meet the penetrating eyes. the old doubt edged into his mind: what if he's right and i am wrong? what if there is a personal god? he pushed the thought away, telling himself as he always did that it was just the exposure he'd suffered before he was old enough to think for himself. he said, "i'm a scientist, padre."

"but not, unless i misjudge you, an atheist?"

"i call myself an agnostic, if you must classify me. i recognize the possibility of some force behind life and mind. i do not believe in a god who is a man with a beard. nor do i believe in a devil with hooves and horns."

brulieres nodded again. "we are not so far apart as you may suppose, doctor. myself, i have always thought that one who claimed perfect faith without the trace of a doubt, was either an idiot or a liar. god surely has his reasons for not removing all doubt. in any case i wish to make my position clear to you. it was not happily that i took up what weapons were at hand. had i the choice, i would choose quite differently." he eyed craig directly for a moment. "the battle is very real and very clear to me, doctor. i have done what i must. i hope you will believe that."

craig's skeptical mind told him that this was just a play for a good press when craig got home.

his emotions though, wouldn't go along. they cried out that he was looking upon sincerity.