John Sneeden

The Hades Conspiracy

To my siblings, whose support has been constant and unwavering.

EPIGRAPH

“And there we saw the Nephilim (the sons of Anak, who come from the Nephilim), and we seemed to ourselves like grasshoppers, and so we seemed to them.”

Numbers 13:33

PROLOGUE

April 8, 2003

National Museum of Iraq

Baghdad, Iraq

Hamid Aram slipped through the shadows at the base of the building, his heart thumping loudly in his chest. He glanced nervously behind him. Save for a stray dog sniffing through trash, Nasir Street was deserted. American forces had already sliced through Baghdad’s perimeter defenses, sending most of the city’s residents scrambling inside.

Easing forward, he peered around the corner. A stiff wind blew a cloud of sand across the square. Once it passed, the National Museum of Iraq appeared in its wake. The building was majestic, with twin stone towers flanking an arched entryway. Nothing had changed since he was last there several years before.

A burst of gunfire erupted a few blocks away. The fighting drew closer. In an hour or so, the Americans would swarm the area. Bullets and mortars would arrive with them. If he didn’t finish before they got here, all would be lost.

He rose and sprinted across the plaza. The twin towers grew larger as he approached. He darted into the shadow of the arched entryway and stopped. He glanced back toward Nasir Street, but there was no movement save the swaying of a few palms. Someone yelled a block away — a parent scolding a child to come inside.

Hamid reached into his pocket and removed the revolver he’d stolen from his mother’s closet. He pushed out the cylinder and made sure all the bullets were in place. It was a small caliber, but that didn’t matter. Just having a weapon gave him some much-needed confidence.

As he prepared to enter the museum, Hamid thought back on the events that brought him there. It all began two nights ago, when he was summoned to the house of his Uncle Omar, one of the museum’s assistant curators.

When Hamid arrived, he was immediately escorted back to Omar’s bedroom. Omar told his nephew to pull a chair close to the bed. He had something to tell Hamid that wasn’t meant for other ears. After a little small talk, Omar told Hamid he’d recently been diagnosed with cancer. His body was riddled with the foul disease, and the doctors said his life would now be measured in weeks not months. Hamid wept bitterly at the news. Omar had been like a father to him. To hear his beloved uncle was about to pass was unbearable.

Strangely, Omar told him that wasn’t the primary reason he’d been called over with such urgency. Something was even more pressing than the disease. Omar needed Hamid to perform a task, something that had to be done before the American forces took control of Baghdad. Hamid agreed to help even before knowing the details. He would do anything for his dying uncle.

In between slow sips of water, Omar spoke of the looting at the museum. Priceless treasures were being whisked away to line the pockets of the greedy and add to the collections of the wealthy. Sadly, Omar had heard that a few artifacts had even been thrown away. But despite the large-scale theft, all was not lost. The looters didn’t know the objects on display in the building were only a portion of the entire collection. Many more — including some of the most valuable ones — were housed in a secret underground chamber, a place known only to the museum’s curators.

Omar lowered his voice to a whisper. He told Hamid there was a relic that was more important than all the others combined. It was one of the greatest archaeological finds in the history of the world, and yet few knew it even existed.

When Omar spoke of the relic, Hamid saw fear in his uncle’s eyes. Was it because he feared losing it or because he feared the relic itself? Originally, Omar and the other curators had planned to leave the relic where it was. The Americans would thoroughly search the museum, but it was unlikely anyone would discover the entrance to the underground treasury, which was hidden in a way no one could find it.

Soon after the curators made the decision to leave everything hidden in the chamber, Omar had heard whispers that one of his colleagues was no longer on board. He had his own plan for the relics and was determined to carry them out. The rumors may not have been true, but Omar wasn’t about to take any chances. He told Hamid he must go to the museum, retrieve the relic, then bring it back to Omar. Hamid asked why he didn’t just send one of the other curators, and Omar’s response was he didn’t know whom he could trust now.

Throughout their meeting, Hamid sensed there was more to the relic than his uncle was letting on. As he stood to leave, Omar’s final words gave him a hint as to why the task was so important. “This relic has a dark secret. It must be brought back to me, whatever the cost.”

The distant rumble of mortar fire pulled Hamid back to the present. It was time to enter. After a final look behind, he stole down the stone pathway between the towers. The museum’s entrance loomed just ahead. Its steel doors hung open, and debris was scattered along the walkway.

Hamid slipped into the dark entrance hall lit only by a splash of moonlight coming through the domed-glass ceiling. Having memorized the instructions, he turned into the gallery on the right. The darkness was heavier here, so he clicked on his flashlight and shone the beam around the space. Stone reliefs of Assyrian warriors and kings stared down at him in silence. They almost seemed angry at his presence. Hamid shuddered. The place frightened him. Once he was finished, he’d waste no time fleeing back to the streets.

As he continued through the gallery, he visualized the route in his mind. He would turn left at the corner of the building, then proceed…

A noise reached his ears. He froze as the sound grew louder. Someone was running toward him, and in a few seconds, they would come around the corner. His heart thumping, Hamid thumbed off his flashlight and looked for a place to hide. A statue stood near the corner, but he’d never be able to reach it in time. Left with no other choice, he removed his revolver and slipped into the shadows.

He was not a moment too soon. Two figures barreled around the corner. To his shock, they were kids — aged ten or twelve at the most. Now more confident, Hamid stepped into the middle of the hall and raised his gun. Both of the boys came to a halt, their eyes widening in shock.

“What are you doing here?” Hamid asked in Arabic, giving his voice an authoritative tone.

The boys looked at each other, trembling. Finally, the taller one said, “We… we were exploring. Just having fun. No big deal.”

Hamid waved his pistol toward the entrance. “Get out! The Americans are coming, and you’re going to be killed if they find you here!”

The boys needed no further encouragement. They raced past him without looking back. Hamid wasn’t sure if it was the pistol or the threat of the American soldiers, but he knew they wouldn’t return.

After the footsteps died away, Hamid turned on his flashlight again and continued around the corner. Five minutes later, after passing through several dark galleries, he arrived at his destination, a short hallway at the rear of the building. On the right was the storage room door he was looking for. He stepped closer. As his uncle had suspected, it had been pried open. Hamid stepped inside and swept his beam across rows of empty metal shelves. Mops, rags, and bottles of cleaning solution were strewn across the floor. The looters must have been desperate to find anything of value.

Hamid walked down an aisle to a tapestry affixed to the back wall. Thankfully, it hadn’t been disturbed. If only the looters had known… Rather than ripping it off, he gently pulled it free, folded it, and placed it on a nearby shelf. Just as he’d been told, the concrete wall behind it was engraved with large, decorative rectangles. Hamid stepped back and aimed his beam at each one. He soon found one that was darker than the others. The secret door. He approached and slid his fingers into the gap on the left. As he pulled, he could tell the panel was not concrete at all, but a light veneer. It slid easily to the right, exposing a dark opening.

Hamid directed his beam inside. A steel door appeared at the end of a short tunnel. He approached and found the keypad on the right. He pulled a folded piece of paper out of his pocket and entered the sequence of numbers on the keypad. A loud click followed.

As he placed his hand on the handle, a noise came from somewhere out in the museum. Although distant, it sounded like the thump of footsteps. Had the boys returned? Maybe they’d brought some of their friends. He doubted it, but one thing was certain — someone was out there. Hamid returned to the veneer wall and pulled it back into place, sealing off the tunnel. If someone happened to enter the storage room, they’d never notice the secret panel.

Returning to the steel door, he opened it carefully. After stepping inside, he closed it behind him and followed a narrow corridor to a set of stairs, which he took down into the darkness. A minute later, he emerged into a cavernous chamber. He shone his light around, scarcely able to believe the sight that met his eyes. Gold masks, weapons, shields, chests, and other relics filled rows of shelving. Other larger artifacts were stacked against the walls. Hamid marveled at the vast quantity of treasure surrounding him. If he had more time, he would love to walk through and examine each one.

According to Omar, the cabinet he was looking for was on the far side of the room. He took two steps. A click carried down the stairs behind him. He turned, his chest tightening at the sound. Had someone found the door? His mind spun through a dozen different scenarios. Perhaps someone had noticed the tapestry was missing. Perhaps he’d left footprints on the dusty floor.

Another click sounded, this time followed by the groan of a door hinge. Someone was coming. His heart thumping wildly, Hamid looked around. To his left, ancient armor hung from a rack. A small sign indicated Assyrian soldiers had once worn the metal covering. It wasn’t a perfect place to hide, but it would have to do. Sprinting over, he slid behind the rack and turned off his light.

He was just in time. Boots thumped down the stone steps. He leaned to his right and peered out. Several beams of light stabbed through the darkness at the base of the stairs. Voices followed, and Hamid’s brow furrowed in confusion. They spoke English, a language he knew from watching American and British television shows with his mother.

As the voices grew louder, Hamid pulled back behind the shield.

“Good heavens,” someone gasped in a distinctly American accent.

“Welcome to our real collection, gentlemen.” The man spoke in English, but Hamid guessed he was an Iraqi.

One of the flashlight beams swept across the armor. Hamid froze. Once it passed, he peeked out again. His eyes widened in surprise. A short Iraqi man wearing pleated trousers stood in front of a dozen U.S. soldiers. The muscular, stern-faced men wielded rifles mounted with lights. One of them — a man in his late fifties or early sixties — carried no weapon and wore a camouflaged cap. Hamid guessed he was the commanding officer.

“There are untold treasures here,” the Iraqi man continued. “It’s—”

“We don’t have time for the grand tour.” The officer cut him off. “Let’s get what we came for and leave.”

“As you wish. This way.” The Iraqi man gestured toward one of the aisles.

“If it’s not here, you can rest assured you’re not getting…”

As the men disappeared from sight, Hamid frowned. What were the Americans doing in the museum? A battle waged several blocks away. It didn’t make any sense.

Burning with curiosity, he slid out from behind the armor. He had to find out what was going on. After a brief glance around, he entered the aisle next to the one the men had taken. He saw the glow of the soldier’s lights one row over, so he followed quietly. The room was much longer than he’d realized.

He stopped near the end of the aisle. The men were only a few feet away.

The Iraqi man spoke again. “You have nothing to worry about. Once we—”

“Just open it,” the officer said. “We need to hurry. We’re in a war zone, and my closest support is a quarter mile away.”

“I understand.”

A door groaned.

There was a long pause, then the officer spoke. “Let’s see what’s in the box.”

“Yes, sir,” one of the soldiers said.

After another pause, Hamid thought he heard someone gasp. Or was it a yawn? He thought of peeking around the corner but knew he couldn’t risk it. If he were spotted, he’d be shot on sight.

“You see? It’s right where I said it would be,” the Iraqi said. “As we agreed, I expect final payment tonight.”

“Don’t worry. You’ll be paid,” the officer said.

A few more inaudible words were exchanged, then the door swung shut, and the men marched off. A minute later, Hamid heard the steel door at the top of the stairs slam shut.

They were gone.

After switching on his light, Hamid continued to the end of the aisle. He splashed his beam across the numbered metal cabinets lining the rear wall. The one he was looking for must be near the one the Americans had opened. A few seconds later, he found it. The locker was fitted with a simple lock. Using the combination he had memorized, Hamid spun the dial back and forth, stopping on the final number. He removed the lock and opened the door.

After shining his light inside, his eyes widened in surprise. It was empty.

Take a deep breath. Don’t panic. It’s here somewhere.

Hamid closed his eyes and thought. Maybe there was a false wall or hidden compartment. Omar hadn’t mentioned one, but he might as well check. He dropped to his knees and ran his hands around the interior. The entire surface was smooth. No ridges, no levers. Nothing.

Omar had been concerned about one of the other curators. Perhaps…

His pulse quickened as he remembered what the Iraqi man had said just a couple of minutes earlier. “You see, it’s right where I said it would be. As we agreed, I expect payment tonight.”

He was the curator Omar had spoken of. He must be selling the relic to the Americans. But why? Why would the Americans risk coming here? Maybe he was doing it to protect the treasure.

As Hamid turned to leave, Omar’s cryptic words echoed in his mind. “This relic has a dark secret. It must be brought back to me, whatever the cost.”

CHAPTER ONE

Present Day

Venice, Italy

Dr. Richard Pauling nervously scanned the crowded square, looking for a place to hide. The man was still close on his tail, but with any luck, Pauling figured he might be able to lose him in the mass of humanity.

A large group of tourists assembled in front of St. Mark’s Basilica. He stared at them for a moment, pondering an idea. For now, it would have to do. Slipping behind them, he took a deep breath and wiped the sweat from his brow. At this point, he had no one to blame but himself for the danger that was closing in. He’d heard from reliable sources that a shadowy group was searching for him, but instead of staying in hiding, he’d made the arrogant and reckless decision to attend the 26th Annual International Conference on Ancient Cultures. In his defense, Pauling had done all he could to mask his presence at the event. He knew the organizers and had asked the administrator to register him under an alias. Unfortunately, the group must have had an inside source who’d tipped them off to his presence.

Pauling had realized he was being followed shortly after leaving the conference a half hour earlier. Once he realized someone was on his tail, he’d made a snap decision to walk to St. Mark’s Square. It was always crowded, and crowds increased his chances of slipping away.

Pauling leaned to the right, which allowed him to see through the maze of heads. The tall Mediterranean-looking man with a black unibrow was still there, smoking a filter-less cigarette while pretending to read a map. As he took another draw, he glanced briefly in Pauling’s direction.

What now? Should he flee or remain in place? Both had their advantages and disadvantages.

The bald man’s lips moved, and Pauling saw something he hadn’t noticed before — a thin wire running out of the man’s ear and into his coat. Pauling’s pulse quickened. If the man was talking through a hidden mic, that meant other watchers were likely hidden throughout the square.

As he pondered his next move, another tour group arrived at the basilica. A middle-aged woman marched in front, holding a sign with the name of her tour company printed on both sides. Once everyone had gathered around her, she spoke with a decidedly British accent. “Welcome to the heart and soul of Venice, St. Mark’s Basilica!”

While she gave the group a brief history of the famous cathedral, a plan surfaced in Pauling’s thoughts. It would involve some risk, but at this point, what didn’t?

“Any questions?” Receiving none, the woman gestured toward the steps. “Fantastic. Everyone, please follow me inside, and please stick together. Remember, I have your tickets and will present them at the door on your behalf.”

Pauling’s heart thumped faster. He looked back. Unibrow still stared at his map, waiting for Pauling’s next move.

“Hurry on now,” the Brit guide implored.

It was now or never. Crouching slightly, Pauling turned and pushed his way into the group.

“Watch yourself, mate!” a man growled.

Two more gave him a gentle bump to convey their displeasure.

“Sorry, passing through,” Pauling said.

Only he wasn’t. Once he arrived in the middle, he turned and walked with them. Fortunately, most gazed up at the arched entrance and failed to notice their new companion.

The group came to a halt at the top of the steps as the guide talked to one of the attendants. Pauling stole a glance behind him. The plan seemed to have worked, at least for the moment. Unibrow was in full panic mode. His eyes swept the square, clearly alarmed his target was no longer in sight. He reached up and touched his ear, then his lips moved, alerting the other spotters.

A moment later, Unibrow looked suspiciously toward the British tour group. Fearing he’d be spotted, Pauling stooped and pretended to tie his shoes. Had he been seen? He hoped not but couldn’t be sure. Thankfully, the group began walking again. Pauling straightened and moved with them. As they passed through the arched entrance, he stole another glance back. Unibrow was gone. Pauling shifted his gaze back and forth but couldn’t find him. Was that good or bad? He didn’t know.

Now in the narthex, Pauling broke from the group and hurried to the right. An attendant guarded the doorway to the stairs. Pauling pulled out his wallet and fished out five euros, the fee to ascend to the Horses of St. Mark — also known as the Triumphal Quadriga — on the second-floor balcony.

After receiving his ticket, Pauling entered and raced up the steps. He had a plan now, and it was predicated on reaching his destination before his pursuers caught up.

Pauling’s lungs burned when he exited onto the second floor. He was an archaeologist, not an athlete, and the short climb left him gasping for air. Most of the tourists were turning right toward the Triumphal Quadriga, but Pauling turned left. Two minutes later, he reached his destination: the restrooms at the rear. Brushing past a man who was leaving, he made his way to the last of three stalls. After entering, he locked the door behind him, sat on the toilet, and prayed he hadn’t been seen.

Several seconds later, the outer door opened slowly. Too slowly. No one entered that way. After several long seconds of silence, the person stepped inside. Pauling froze in place, straining to hear. For now, the person seemed to be standing in one place. Maybe they were listening too.

Seconds later, footsteps approached the stalls. Pauling’s heart beat wildly as he weighed his options. The flimsy metal door offered no protection whatsoever. A teenager could probably kick it in. The more he thought about it, the more he realized there was only one way he could get out of this alive. He would have to preemptively attack — use the element of surprise to his advantage.

His plan settled, Pauling reached out and quietly undid the latch.

The footsteps drew closer. It was obvious the man was going to start on the last one and work his way down. Legs appeared in the gap below the door. Fingers grabbed the handle. Pauling crouched, ready to charge.

Suddenly, the outer door to the restroom opened, and someone called out. “Tyler?” The accent was American.

“What?” said the person standing outside the stall.

Pauling put his face in his hands. The boy standing outside was in his teens.

“Get out here now,” barked the man.

“I have to take a leak.”

“Do you think I was born yesterday? You just went.” Hearing no response, the man continued. “I didn’t pay all of this money for you to sneak off and play video games.”

“Can’t I just—”

“Now!”

The boy let out a sigh of disapproval, then moved toward the door.

* * *

Pauling remained in the stall until the basilica was set to close. It was probably overkill, but he had to make sure his pursuers had given up the chase. People had come in and out during that time, but all seemed to be there for legitimate reasons.

He stood and carefully opened the stall door. As he suspected, the room was empty. After splashing some water on his face at the sink, he exited into the corridor. A security guard turned and walked briskly toward him, clearly surprised someone was still there. He frowned and tapped his watch. “We’re closed.”

“Sorry. I’m leaving now.”

Rather than moving off, the officer remained at his side. It was clear the man was going to escort him all the way out. Pauling thought about asking if there was a back exit, then realized that might raise a red flag. Besides, if the spotters knew he was there, they would be watching the building from all sides.

A minute later, Pauling exited onto the basilica steps. Night had fallen, and St. Mark’s Square was a hive of activity. Tourists moved in and out of the shops and cafes. Locals crisscrossed the plaza, while others just milled around, talking and taking in the sights.

He scanned the crowd. There were a few tall men, but none looked like Unibrow. Nor did he see anyone else looking in his direction. Most seemed to be caught up in their own worlds. Thankfully, it looked like he was in the clear.

Pauling didn’t like lingering in such a prominent place, so he took the steps down and turned toward Calle Canonica, a narrow street at the northeast corner of the square. While hidden in the stall, he’d plotted a circuitous route to his house, one that would eventually take him to the Rio de San Zulan, one of Venice’s largest canals. From there, he’d walk several blocks to a water taxi stand he’d used several times in the past. If all went well, he’d be home in just under an hour. His home had been purchased in the name of a trust, so very few even knew of its existence. The key was to get back without being followed.

Forty minutes later, he rounded a corner and saw the Rio de Sand Zulan a block away. A feeling of relief washed over him. The taxi stand was minutes away. Not only that, but as best he could tell, there was no one on his tail. An aficionado of spy novels, Pauling had doubled back a few times and entered several stores, and at no point had he seen anyone who looked even remotely suspicious. In fact, he was now beginning to wonder if the whole thing had been a figment of his imagination.

Zipping up his coat, Pauling strode briskly toward the canal. It was mostly quiet, save for a television blaring through an open window. The smell of garlic drifted out of another. On any other evening, he might have actually enjoyed the walk.

About halfway down, Pauling heard footsteps behind him. He turned his head slightly but decided against turning all the way around. No need for panic. It was probably a local out for a walk. Just breathe deeply and keep walking. Look like you’re supposed to be here.

As Pauling neared the canal, he picked up his pace. So did the person behind him. Pauling’s adrenaline surged. That was too much to be a coincidence. Whoever it was, they were trying to keep up with him.

Unable to resist looking back, Pauling finally swung around. The area behind him was shrouded in deep shadows, concealing whoever was there. Finally, a dark figure emerged. The hairs on Pauling’s neck stood on end. Unibrow. The soft expression of a fake tourist had been replaced with the steely look of a killer. Needing no further encouragement, Pauling turned and sprinted off. Strangely, the man didn’t run in pursuit.

Upon reaching the end of the street, Pauling turned left along a walkway that ran along the canal. He couldn’t see it from here, but he knew the taxi stand was only two blocks away. He would sprint the entire distance if he had to. He would do whatever it took to survive.

As he looked ahead, Pauling saw a second man striding toward him, the twin of the man behind him, absent the unibrow — tall, muscular, and menacing. Pauling pivoted back. Unibrow rounded the turn and was closing in fast. Aside from diving into the canal, there was no way out. He was trapped inside a closing vise.

At this point, protecting the map had to take priority. Pauling knew he’d probably die, but he would do so without giving them what they came for. He shuddered to think what would happen if it got into the wrong hands, assuming it was authentic. Thankfully, he’d put together a plan to ensure only one person ever found it — someone he could trust, one of the few people who would understand the clues Pauling had left behind.

With the men closing in from either side, Pauling removed his phone and typed out a text. He wasn’t a spiritual man, but he prayed it would work. It had to. If it didn’t…

The two attackers were less than ten yards away. Pauling’s fingers moved quickly over the keys. He entered all the information the recipient would need and nothing more.

Unibrow lifted a gun.

Done. Pauling hit Send. When he received confirmation it had gone through, he flung the phone out into the canal. As it sank into the dark waters, he felt a hard object impact the base of his skull.

He thought about Emily. Then his world melted to darkness.

CHAPTER TWO

Delphi Headquarters

Arlington, Virginia

Zane Watson frowned deeply as he plucked the object from the desk. “You’re telling me this is an explosive device?”

“You have the power of three grenades in your hand right now,” Brett Foster replied.

Zane examined it from all angles. Approximately six inches long, it had the appearance of a small flashlight. Somehow, it didn’t seem possible an object so small could house so much destructive power. He looked at Brett. “Is she ready for the field?”

“Ross is supposed to sign off on everything tomorrow.”

“I’m guessing he’ll keep one of these babies in his glove compartment.”

Both men worked for the Delphi Group, a private intelligence organization with a very simple mission: to assist the United States government by conducting investigations the government couldn’t or wouldn’t associate itself with. That included, but was not limited to, operations related to the bizarre and the supernatural.

Delphi was founded and led by Dr. Alexander Ross, sometimes known as the Oracle. A former Director of National Intelligence and CIA case officer, Ross was regarded as one of the most respected figures in the history of United States intelligence, a man known for his razor-sharp mind and an uncanny ability to assess and combat threats. He was also a connoisseur of cigars and cognac.

Delphi headquarters was housed on the top floor of a modern office building in Arlington, Virginia, a location conducive to its symbiotic relationship with the CIA, the FBI, and other select agencies. None of the other tenants in the building were aware of the organization’s purpose, although a stubborn rumor had persisted it was an import-and-export business with a controversial clientele.

Delphi’s investigative work was conducted by a team of operatives who were ready to deploy around the globe at a moment’s notice. The most crucial operations were led by senior operative, Zane Watson, the organization’s second-in-command, and junior operative Carmen Petrosino. While not technically an operative, Brett Foster was Delphi’s resident computer geek whose official title was Chief Technology Specialist.

Zane knew Brett had been working on a secret project for six months, but his work in the field had kept him away from the details. Zane had brought it up several times with the Oracle, but the chief had been strangely coy, only letting on that it was a revolutionary weapon.

“Assuming it actually works, that’s pretty impressive.” Zane scooted his chair closer to the desk and placed the device under a halogen lamp.

“Not only does it work, it works consistently. Keiko and I field tested thirty of them last week, and we only had one malfunction.”

“Let me guess; Keiko was the one doing the actual testing, and you were several hundred yards away, holding a beer.”

Keiko was the world’s most advanced humanoid. Having the appearance of an Asian woman in her thirties, she could move, speak, and think in a way that blurred the lines between humans and machines. She had previously been an instrument of a criminal enterprise, but due to ethics programming by her maker, she’d eventually changed sides and offered her services to Delphi.

“We can get Keiko a new arm or a leg. Last I checked, we can’t do that for me.”

“Why not be Delphi’s first Cyborg?” Zane sat back in his chair. “Speaking of getting limbs blown off, tell me how this baby works. How long does it take to detonate?”

“You have five or six seconds from the time you trigger until detonation. We felt that was ample time to launch it toward your target. But at the same time, you need to use it with extreme caution. If you try to toss it through a tiny window and it bounces back, you have a big problem.”

“That’s reassuring.”

“That’s the danger of working with any explosive device.” He patted Zane’s shoulder. “I’m not concerned about you, though. Men with wedding bells in their future don’t take unnecessary chances.”

Zane shook his head. “Keep that up, and I’m going to field test this thing right now.”

Zane knew Brett referred to Katiya Mills. Recognized as one of the leading anthropologists in the United States, she had joined the Delphi team on a recent operation to the Amazon rainforest. Even though Zane had tried to suppress the feelings that arose at the beginning of the mission, he couldn’t deny the immediate attraction the two had for one another. As the team traveled deep into the jungle, flirtation ensued. Then, in a moment Zane would regret at the time, the budding romance boiled over in a dark tunnel. Feigning the need for assistance, Katiya called Zane back to help her squeeze through a narrow crevice, only to pull him in for a kiss when he arrived. Zane remembered it as the most passionate encounter of his life, something he didn’t say lightly.

As the operation came to an end, Zane did what he often did: he attempted to suppress his feelings. But any thought that the brief physical encounter was a one-time event was put to rest when the team returned to the States. Zane and Katiya joined Brett and Amanda Higgs for a time of rest in Key Largo, Florida, and rather than fading, their relationship sizzled. The tropical locale became a catalyst for deep romance.

After the trip, Zane returned to his work at Delphi, and Katiya returned to her work as an anthropologist at NYU. They spoke every day, with both expressing their genuine desire to follow their hearts and not let past tendencies cloud what was becoming something serious.

Unfortunately, things unraveled when the two planned a weeklong vacation to Charleston, South Carolina. Zane knew Charleston’s delights personally — the history and the fine Southern cuisine — but the true reason he’d suggested it was because he wanted a quiet place to map out their future. More specifically, he’d wanted the most special woman in the world to know he desired something more permanent.

A week before they were to depart, Delphi was asked to conduct an operation overseas. The stated goal was crucial to U.S. interests. In fact, those interests were so crucial the Oracle insisted Zane take the lead. At first, Zane had vigorously resisted, reminding him Carmen Petrosino was fully capable of handling anything he could. While the Oracle might ordinarily have relented, the clincher came with a call from the president. The operation was of such vital importance he wouldn’t accept anyone else at the helm. Zane knew he had no choice.

As he’d expected, Katiya had been devastated at the news. While she understood the national security concerns, she was also heartbroken their plans had been short-circuited at such a critical time. In the days that followed, Zane did the unthinkable. He ended the relationship. He told his closest friends it wasn’t because he’d lost his love for Katiya — in fact, he loved her more than ever — but it was because of his love for her. Rightly or wrongly, he knew his work at Delphi would always have to come first, and a woman like Katiya deserved a man who could always make her his first priority.

The conversation had been heartbreaking, with Zane holding Katiya in his arms as she wept. She tried to talk him out of it, saying she should have the right to choose who she wanted and how much she’d be willing to accept. But he stood steadfast, doing what he believed was in the best interest of the woman he loved. In the end, she’d said she understood, but he saw in her eyes that she still questioned all that was happening.

After the operation was over, Zane became deeply troubled with the decision. Insomnia became his new friend. Over time, he even found himself taking Katiya’s position. Shouldn’t she be able to make her own choices? If she was fine with the constraints of his work, did he have the right to deny that? Having come to a new conclusion, he reached out to her on several occasions. At first, she didn’t return his calls, so he took the additional step of calling her office at NYU. When he finally got in touch with her, she said she had moved on. She loved him more than she’d loved anyone else, but she didn’t think she could take any more damage to her heart.

Zane was drawn out of his thoughts by Brett’s voice. “Do you want to see how to trigger it?”

Zane shook his head in an attempt to clear away thoughts of Katiya. “Absolutely.”

Brett scooted his chair closer and took the device from Zane. “We decided to make detonation a two-step process. Complete only one of the two steps, and all you have is a flashlight that doesn’t work. Complete both in order, and you have a very lethal weapon.”

“So it’s a flashlight that doesn’t actually light up?”

“Correct.” Brett pointed at the place where the head of the flashlight connected to the body. There was a small black line on the head, which lined up with a small green line on the body. “As you can see, we’re now on green. The first step is to twist the head over to red. That indicates you’re live.”

“Just like a gun.”

“Once you’re on red, you proceed to step two.” Brett pointed at a cap on the opposite end, the place where you’d ordinarily load the batteries. “It’s not a screw-on. It’s a hinged pop-off.” He placed a fingernail along the edge of the cap and applied pressure. A moment later, it popped open, revealing a black button.

“Press it, and the detonation process is complete.” Brett snapped the cap back into place. “As I said before, you have five or six seconds to get it on target.”

“That cap looks hard to get off. Did we really need to make it a two-step process?”

“The Oracle insisted on it. He said he didn’t want any dead operatives.”

“Let me guess; he said it was an OSHA reg.” Zane took the device back from Brett and held it under the lamp again. “I have to admit, this is a pretty sick weapon. What explosive material does it use?”

“It’s a PETN blend,” Brett replied, using the acronym for pentaerythritol tetranitrate.

“A favorite of terrorists.” Zane nodded. “If I’m remembering correctly, I believe the Shoe Bomber and the Underwear Bomber both used PETN.”

“They weren’t the only ones. I could give you a much longer list. It’s widely used, but the key for us was combining it with the right detonating substance.”

Zane ran a hand through his long brown hair. “So you just came up with this yourself? Since when did our beloved computer geek become a ballistics expert?”

“I wish I could take credit, but I can’t. Let’s just say, I got some assistance from a couple of friends at DARPA.”

DARPA stood for the Defense Advanced Research Agency, an arm of the U.S. military involved in the research and development of cutting-edge technology.

“We’re working with DARPA now?”

“Not exactly. I have a couple of buddies at the gym. I—”

Zane’s phone lit brightly and skittered across the desk. He plucked it up and looked at the screen. “The Oracle.”

Brett glanced at his watch. “And to think, we almost made it out. If he asks, I’m not in the building.”

Zane laughed and placed the call on speaker. “Yes, sir.”

“Watson, where are you?”

Zane heard the rush of traffic in the background. “The office, why?”

“How soon can you be at our favorite watering hole?”

“If you’re buying, I can leave now.”

“Unfortunately, we’re not meeting for a friendly drink tonight. I need to bring you up to date on something that needs our immediate attention.” There was a brief pause as the Oracle cursed at a driver. “Where is Foster?”

Zane’s eyes shifted toward Brett, who shook his head vigorously. “He’s right here, showing me the new toy you two have been hiding from me.”

“Tell him he can join us if he’d like. Otherwise, I’ll see him in the morning.”

Brett let out a sigh of relief.

“I think he has plans.” Zane gave Brett a wink.

“Oh, and Watson…”

“Yes, sir.”

“Tell him to give you a couple of the devices before he leaves. You’re going to need them.”

CHAPTER THREE

Washington, D.C.

The snow arrived with a roar. Large, heavy flakes swirled out of the night sky like ashes from a cosmic fire. Spring was less than three weeks away, but winter refused to give up its grip on the nation’s capital.

His windshield was now a mushy mess. Zane switched on his wipers as he turned north on 15th Street. Minutes later, he eased the silver Jeep Cherokee up to the curb in front of the Old Ebbitt Grill. Situated just east of the U.S. Treasury, the iconic eatery was the favorite watering hole of Dr. Alexander Ross, a place where he could shake off the stress of late-afternoon meetings at FBI headquarters. In fact, over time, the restaurant had become Delphi’s unofficial gathering place for social events and impromptu meetings.

After tossing his keys to a valet attendant, Zane crossed the mushy sidewalk and opened the brass-framed door. The noisy din of the main dining area rushed to meet him.

A petite brunette hostess approached. “Good to see you, Mr. Watson.”

“Good to see you, Kaitlyn. I assume my fearless leader is already here.”

“He is.” After mumbling something into her headset, she led him through the main dining area and past the atrium seating. As she neared a door along the left wall, she turned toward him. “It must be something important because all he wanted was water.”

Zane lifted an eyebrow. “It’s Friday, and he didn’t order cognac? Someone must have died.”

Kaitlyn giggled as she opened the door and waved him in. “Enjoy your evening.”

“Watson, you’re nine minutes late.” The Oracle was seated at the far end of the table, his face lit by the screen of his laptop. Amanda Higgs and Carmen Petrosino sat on the left. Zane often referred to them as salt and pepper. Amanda had long, straight blond hair, while Carmen, an Italian by birth, had long raven hair and olive skin. As he came in, Carmen gave him a salute while Amanda looked up from her phone and gave him a little wave.

“I don’t recall committing to a time.” Zane shut the door behind him, tossed his coat onto a nearby hanger, and took a seat at the near end of the table. “And I’m doing fine. Thanks for asking.”

“The ladies got here nine minutes ago. That means you’re nine minutes late.”

“Watch out,” Carmen said. “He’s a little prickly tonight.”

“I see that. Sad what happens to the man when he abstains from cognac.”

The Oracle removed his reading glasses. “Perhaps later, Watson.”

“I’m proud of you for setting aside your usual routine. I’m assuming it’s the heavy subject matter.”

“That’s mostly it.” He patted his belly. “Although I must admit Helen has made a few choice remarks about my expanding midsection, so I may be on a health kick for a while.”

“Expanding midsection?” Zane laughed. “You might weigh one fifty if you hold a medicine ball.”

“You know Helen… It’s always something.”

The door opened, allowing in a rush of noise from the atrium. A thirty-something blond server crossed the room and set glasses of wine in front of Amanda and Carmen. She turned toward Zane. “Can I get you anything?”

“Guinness draft, please.”

“Certainly.”

After the server walked out, the Oracle said, “No flirtatious remark for the new waitress, Watson? You’re disappointing us.”

Zane shook his head. “First, you tell me I’m late for a meeting with no start time, and now, you’ve shifted to the personal insults. You’re in rare form tonight.”

Carmen looked at the Oracle. “You must not have heard the news. Your senior operative has changed his ways.”

The Oracle tossed his glasses on the table and leaned forward. “What news?”

Amanda looked up from her phone, her mouth lifting into a grin. “You didn’t know?” She nodded at Zane. “He’s currently involved with a certain world-renowned anthropologist.”

The Oracle’s eyes narrowed. “Dr. Mills?”

“The one and only,” Carmen said.

“Why didn’t anyone tell me?”

Carmen laughed. “He’s only been to New York every other weekend for the last several months. Did you think that was for pastramis?”

The Oracle shifted his gaze to Zane. “Does this mean you’re abandoning your role as our resident bimbo whisperer?”

“Dr. Ross!” Amanda scolded him. “I haven’t seen his head turn once since we got back from Brazil.”

Zane wondered how he should respond. No one knew about the recent breakup, not even Carmen. Now might be a good time to fill them in since there wouldn’t be time for questions and answers. “Actually, we’re actually no longer an item.”

Carmen’s face morphed into a frown. She seemed troubled at the news. “What? You’re joking, right?”

Zane shook his head.

She held his gaze for a moment. “We need to talk later.”

“So sorry, Zane,” Amanda said. “You know how much we all love Katiya.”

The door opened again. The server entered and deposited Zane’s beer. As far as he was concerned, she couldn’t have arrived at a better time. He would probably talk things over with Carmen later, but now certainly wasn’t the time.

“All joking aside,” the Oracle said after the server departed, “I’m sorry things didn’t work with Dr. Mills. I don’t know her well, but I do know she’s a quality human being and a heck of an archaeologist.”

“Anthropologist,” Amanda said.

“Whatever.”

“I agree,” Zane said. “She’s a special lady.”

The Oracle’s expression turned more serious. He pulled a small notepad from his suit pocket. “Earlier this afternoon, I had an impromptu meeting with the director of the FBI.” He read something on the top page then looked at Amanda. “Are you familiar with an archaeologist named Dr. Richard Pauling?”

“Of course,” Amanda said.

Zane didn’t recognize the name but wasn’t surprised Amanda knew him. A former faculty member at the University of Texas at Austin, she’d been a rising star in the field of archaeology prior to coming on board with Delphi. She’d come to their attention while assisting Delphi in investigating the death of her father, Ian Higgs. During the operation, she’d performed with poise and passion that didn’t go unnoticed by all involved.

For his part, the Oracle preferred hiring operatives with at least some scientific expertise. In that regard, Amanda had fit the bill perfectly. A courtship ensued, with a deal finally being reached which would allow her to work for Delphi and keep her job in academia. While they weren’t completely happy with the arrangement, Amanda’s supervisors at UT agreed to let her have a reduced role at the school. She would teach two classes, both in the fall, and she would make herself available to supervise various digs. She would also continue to publish research papers in order to maintain her standing in the field.

“We don’t have many rock stars in archaeology,” Amanda continued, “but Dr. Pauling certainly is one. He’s made some of the world’s most important discoveries — artifacts that even most laypeople would be familiar with.” Her brows pinched together. “He used to be a professor of Near East archaeology at UCLA. Last I heard, he was doing private work in Spain, Italy, somewhere like that.”

“He’s been living in Venice for the last three years,” the Oracle said.

Carmen smiled. “He’s living in Venezia? Please tell me we’re going to meet with him there.”

“We’ve been in touch with one of Dr. Pauling’s colleagues.” The Oracle shifted his gaze to Amanda. “Do you recognize the name Andrew Rust?”

“I do,” she replied. “I’m not quite as familiar with him, but he wrote one of the textbooks I used in undergrad. If I’m remembering correctly, he’s a professor of Near Eastern archaeology just like Dr. Pauling.”

The Oracle nodded. “They were colleagues at UCLA for the better part of two decades. Rust said they were extremely close during that time, even away from campus. They worked out at the same gym, frequented the same restaurants in Santa Monica, and even worked together at a few major archaeological sites.

“About four years ago, Pauling’s parents died. From all indications, they were loaded. We’re talking major dollars. And guess what? Pauling was an only child.”

“I remember hearing about that,” Amanda said. “After getting his inheritance, Pauling moved off to work on his own. There were whispers he traded on the black market, although I can’t say for sure.”

“Yes, that’s when he moved to Venice,” the Oracle said. “Strangely, Rust told us Pauling didn’t stay in touch very much after moving overseas.”

Zane frowned. “They lost contact completely?”

“Not completely, but the relationship changed. According to Rust, they spoke a few times by phone, and that was about it. Pauling had said he wanted Rust to visit him in Italy, but he never followed up with a formal invitation.”

“Perhaps it’s tied to the new work Amanda referred to,” Carmen suggested. “If he was involved in the black market, perhaps he thought Rust would judge him for that — assuming it’s true.”

“That’s certainly possible,” the Oracle agreed. “In any event, what we do know is the two grew apart over time.”

Zane took a sip of beer then set his glass on the table. “That’s a nice story, but what does it have to do with us?”

“Patience, Watson. I was just coming to that. Rust said he hadn’t heard from Pauling for about two and a half years. That is, until two days ago.” The Oracle flipped to another page in his notepad and slid it down the table to Zane. “What you’re about to see is the content of a text Rust received from Pauling.”

Zane’s brows pinched together as he read the words written on the top sheet: They are coming for me. The document is real. Major implications for humanity and for truth. You can find it. Start with William Albright. After reading it three times and committing it to memory, he passed it to Carmen.

The Oracle waited until all three had read it. “As you can see, the message is very cryptic. In anticipation of your first question, no, we don’t know what document he’s referring to.”

“Let me make sure I understand what you’re saying,” Carmen said. “Pauling texts Rust about a document, and Rust says he doesn’t know what Pauling is talking about? That’s bizarre.”

“Indeed, it is,” the Oracle said.

Zane said, “I hate to keep repeating myself, but what does—”

“Pauling has disappeared,” the Oracle said, anticipating his question. “After getting the text, Rust called him right away but got no answer. In fact, he called him a half dozen times, and each time, it rolled to voice mail.”

“E la polizia?” Carmen asked.

“Rust didn’t contact the Venice police. When he couldn’t reach Pauling, he called a friend who is an FBI agent in Los Angeles. After getting the basics of the story, the agent contacted FBI headquarters in DC, who, in turn, made a courtesy call to the Venice police. They went by his house several times but were unable to reach him. Even so, they still aren’t treating this as a crime.”

“Are they treating it as a missing person case?” Zane asked.

“The short answer is no,” the Oracle answered. “First of all, Italian police don’t handle those types of cases the same way we do.”

Carmen nodded.

“Second,” the Oracle continued, “they’re not sure Pauling is truly missing because he doesn’t work a normal job and lives alone. He does have a daughter here in the States — Florida, I believe — and if she isn’t able to make contact with him in the next seventy-two hours, she’ll be able to file a missing person report.”

Carmen’s brow furrowed. “The text still bothers me. I just find it hard to believe Rust doesn’t have any idea what Pauling was referring to.”

“It’s not really all that strange,” the Oracle said. “Remember, Rust hasn’t had much recent contact with Pauling. And if what Amanda told us is true, Pauling may have been seeking out relics and documents Rust hasn’t even heard of.”

“I think we’re ignoring the elephant in the room,” Zane said. “Pauling said someone was coming for him. Do we know who that might be?”

“That’s the million-dollar question, and that’s why the director called me this afternoon. Obviously, they suspect foul play.”

As the group fell into silence, Zane stood and walked over to the window. Outside, the snow fell heavily. A family of well-bundled tourists walked by, their breath puffing out in clouds. After they disappeared around the corner, he said, “I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but I think it’s safe to say Dr. Pauling is probably at the bottom of a Venetian canal.”

“Unfortunately, you may be right,” the Oracle said. “This means there are two mysteries here: who killed him, and what is the document they’re looking for?”

“I guess that means we’ll start to get a trickle of answers in seventy-two hours,” Zane said.

“That’s when the Venice police are going to get started. The FBI believes an American citizen has likely been killed, and they don’t want to wait in order to find out why.”

“So what next?” Amanda asked.

The Oracle leaned back in his seat. “First, we need to determine whether or not Dr. Richard Pauling is, in fact, dead.”

“I think we know that answer,” Zane said.

“Assuming he’s dead, we need to find out who did it and why.”

Carmen slapped her hand on the table. “I’m ready to go to Venezia. When do we leave?”

The Oracle slid the notepad back into his coat pocket. “The three of you fly out tomorrow afternoon.”

CHAPTER FOUR

Venice

Zane circled the quiet Venetian block three times. He kept his head down, giving the illusion he was immersed in his phone. He counted six people — an elderly woman carrying a bag of produce, three teenagers with skateboards, and a couple holding hands — and none gave him any cause for concern.

On the third pass, he stopped at a weathered green door midway down the Calle de l’Aseo. After glancing in both directions, he used a key to gain entry. Beyond the door was a private stairwell, which he took to the second floor. He crossed the dark landing and pressed an ear against the door. Hearing nothing, he located a panel to the right of the doorjamb. He withdrew a card and swiped it through the slot on the side. When the screen lit, he punched in a five-digit code and waited. A sharp buzz and a loud click followed.

Zane entered and closed the door behind him. Before doing anything else, he stepped over to the sole window and cracked the blinds. With the all-clear signal set, he turned on a lamp, illuminating a familiar interior. The CIA-operated flat looked exactly as it had on his last visit two years before. Like other safe houses, the layout was simple and functional: a living room and open kitchen combination, three bedrooms, and one and a half baths. The furnishings consisted of two couches and a coffee table.

Zane crossed into the kitchen and opened one of the cabinets. Stacked neatly inside were several boxes of MREs — Meals Ready to Eat — along with ten cans of coffee. He picked up one of the cans and read the label. Lavazza. He smiled. Carmen will be ecstatic.

He checked his watch. Carmen and Amanda were due to arrive at any moment. Per Delphi protocol, they had all traveled separately from the airport. Zane left first, taking one of the many transfer boats operating on the lagoon. Amanda left next by taxi, while Carmen departed on board the Alilaguna ferry.

Knowing both of his partners would appreciate a jolt of caffeine, Zane started a pot of the Lavazza. He dropped his bag in one of the bedrooms, grabbed a fresh set of clothes, and headed for the shower. He stood underneath the hard stream for a full ten minutes, letting it invigorate his body and jump-start his circulation. He shampooed his long locks before stepping out and drying off.

As he finished, Zane heard muffled conversation coming from down the hall, so he quickly dressed and made his way back to the front. Carmen stood against the kitchen counter, and Amanda peered through the blinds.

“Sono in paradiso!” Carmen held up her cup as Zane entered. I’m in heaven!

He gave her a wink. “Something told me you’d like that.”

“Not sure I’ve ever seen her this excited before,” Amanda said.

Zane nudged Carmen out of the way and poured a cup for himself. “I guess you haven’t seen her around some of the dark-haired hunks in Florence.”

“Lavazza is better than any hunk I’ve ever met.”

Zane shook his head. “I seriously doubt that.”

“So you’re my shrink now?” Carmen gestured toward the living room. “This way. I have something for you.”

Zane followed her out of the kitchen while Amanda closed the blinds and joined them. Carmen lifted an unmarked box from one of the couches and set it on the coffee table. “I stopped by the courier’s office on the way in.”

Carmen used the edge of a key to cut the tape and opened the lid. A large cache of weapons and tactical items were stacked inside: a Glock 21, a Beretta 92FS, a Walther PPS, a dozen or so magazines, and a lock pick kit.

Zane looked at Carmen. “What about Brett’s bombs?”

Carmen laughed. “Is that what you’re calling them now?”

“I think it’s a great name,” Amanda said. “We can get some T-shirts printed.”

“They’re supposed to be in a separate container.” Carmen pushed some of the items around before finally lifting a metal box. A key was already in the lock, so she twisted it and opened the lid. Inside were two of the explosive devices.

“We’re going to have a blast using these things.” Zane picked one up.

Amanda shook her head and smiled. “Har, har.”

Zane looked at Carmen. “I know you too well. Don’t tell me you aren’t looking forward to tossing one of these babies through a window.”

“Something tells me we won’t be using them anytime soon,” she said. “Although I guess stranger things have happened.”

Amanda grabbed the Wather PPS and sat back on the couch. “So is Pauling’s residence near here?”

“Now is a good time to go over that. Be right back.” Carmen disappeared into one of the bedrooms then reappeared with a tablet and sat down between Zane and Amanda.

“I think his place is on the other side of town. Isn’t it?” Zane asked.

“Just about.” After entering her map application, Carmen pointed at the screen. “We’re here in south central Venice, just west of the lower end of the Grand Canal.” She moved her finger to the northeast end of the island. “Pauling’s house is here, where the Rio di Santa Giustina meets the Venetian lagoon.”

“Switch that over to satellite,” Zane said.

Carmen tapped, and the map transitioned to satellite images. When it finished loading, she zoomed in on the area.

Amanda pointed. “That actually looks like two houses.”

“Pauling’s is the one closest to the water.”

Zane’s brow furrowed. Standalone buildings were rare in Venice. Almost all structures in the city were contiguous. A freestanding home must cost a fortune. “Do you know if he owns both?”

“I don’t have any information on the other one,” Carmen said. “I suppose it’s possible, but I’m running on the assumption it belongs to someone else.”

“The Oracle wasn’t kidding when he said Pauling inherited a fortune,” Zane said. “I’m guessing the prices on those homes are jaw-dropping. In fact, it wouldn’t surprise me if that’s the most expensive residential real estate in Venice.”

Amanda pointed at the screen. “Can we get a look from ground level?”

Carmen toggled over to street view. Zane stared at the image, which was taken from about twenty yards away. Pauling’s home seemed even larger up close. It was three stories high with a red brick exterior. While he had no idea what home prices were in Venice, he guessed this would be at least an eight-figure house.

“Where is the entrance?” Amanda asked.

Carmen swiped the screen a few times to bring up the side of the building furthest away from the canal. She pointed at the door hidden inside an alcove.

“The neighborhood seems quiet.” Zane reached out and moved the view in several different directions. “No pedestrians. No boats passing down the canal.”

“It’s a residential area,” Carmen said. “Of course, there’s no guarantee it’s always that quiet. Probably depends on the time of day.”

Zane grabbed the Glock from the box and slipped it into his waistband. “Google has shown us about all it can. Let’s go have a look inside.”

CHAPTER FIVE

Zane stared at Pauling’s home from the shadows of a nearby building. It was situated at the edge of the famed Venetian Lagoon, which encircled the city. Despite what Carmen had said about seeing a glow in one of the windows, the house looked dark to him.

After watching for a full minute, he pulled back. “I don’t see anything.”

“I’m telling you, I saw it,” Carmen said.

“Maybe it was a reflection from the house next to it.” Then again, that one looked dark as well. Whatever she’d seen, it wasn’t there now.

The loud whine of a boat reached their ears. Zane and Carmen looked toward the water. Seconds later, the running lights of a small craft appeared. It was coming in from the lagoon and seemed to be moving toward the canal that ran alongside Pauling’s home.

“I hope Amanda is out of sight,” Carmen said. While Zane and Carmen kept watch over the area, Amanda had slipped over to Pauling’s house to disable the alarm.

“I’m sure she is,” Zane said.

The boat slowed to a crawl. Zane frowned. Had they seen Amanda? Law enforcement patrols were everywhere on the lagoon, and the last thing they needed was to get arrested for tampering with Pauling’s security system. As the craft came closer, Zane saw it was filled with a half dozen men. They talked loudly and drank bottled beer. He breathed a sigh of relief. Instead of turning down the canal, the boat followed the contour of the city and disappeared from sight.

“Here she comes.” Carmen pointed.

A dark figure strode toward them from the house.

“All done.” Amanda joined them.

“Any issues?” Zane asked her.

“None.”

“Good job.” Zane checked his weapon then looked up. “Ready?”

Both nodded.

Zane led them to the house. A loud conversation drifted out of a window across the canal, but otherwise, the area was quiet. Thankfully, the door was hidden at the back of a shallow alcove, which would allow Zane to open it without being seen. As the other two stood vigil, he removed the lock pick kit and got to work. As he’d expected, the mechanism was high quality. Anyone who could afford this home wouldn’t have cheap locks. A couple of minutes later, a soft click indicated it had surrendered.

Zane reached for the knob with a gloved hand. “Stay here.”

Carmen grabbed his arm. “What if I was right about the light?”

“That’s why I’m going in alone. No need to put us all at risk. I’ll make sure the coast is clear. If it is, I’ll call you up.” He nodded at Amanda. “Remember, we just disabled the alarm. That means it would’ve been difficult for anyone else to get in without setting it off. Unless you think Pauling is alive and up there watching TV.”

Carmen nodded reluctantly. “If you see anything — and I mean anything — come back out, or call us in.”

After chambering a round, Zane slipped inside and pulled the door shut behind him. The bottom floor had no windows, and the darkness was heavy. Zane stood perfectly still, allowing his eyes to adjust. He found himself standing in a large foyer. On the opposite side was a hallway, and to his right was a set of stairs leading to the upper floors.

While the first floor seemed more utilitarian, he decided to clear it before heading up. Hearing no sound, he crossed the foyer and entered the hallway. Thankfully, the floor was covered with commercial-grade carpet, which allowed him to move without sound. The hallway eventually turned right, with rooms opening off the left-hand side. Zane stopped at each one and flicked the light on briefly. Just as he’d expected, most were used for storage. The one at the end contained a washer and dryer.

Finding nothing of interest, he returned to the stairs and began a careful ascent. About three-quarters of the way up, he paused and listened. There was still no sound, so he continued. The room at the top of the stairs took up half of the second floor. Ambient light spilled in through the blinds, allowing him to see. The decor was modern and minimalist: a white leather sectional, a sculpted rug, and a smattering of contemporary tables and lamps. Ancient vases, stone bowls, and oil lamps rested on the surfaces. It wasn’t hard to tell this was the home of an archaeologist.

Zane quickly cleared the other two rooms on the floor: a kitchen and a formal dining area. At this point, the only thing that seemed suspicious was the obsessive neatness of the home. It was almost too sterile — too neat. Had someone come and sanitized a crime scene? Perhaps. Then again, maybe Pauling just had a good maid.

Returning to the stairs, Zane climbed to the third floor, where he found another large room, this one filled with a half dozen rows of shelves and three tables. The shelves were filled with hardcover books of various sizes. It was a private library of immense proportions and would probably be a good place to start their search.

Zane moved to the left and found a hallway leading to the rest of the floor. Since he hadn’t seen any bedrooms yet, he guessed the living quarters were somewhere down the corridor. Interestingly, that was where Carmen had seen the light.

As he continued forward, Zane heard the faint clink of metal from somewhere down the hall. He froze in place, but the noise didn’t repeat. To his trained ears, it sounded like two clothes hangers tapping against one another. And if that was correct, it meant someone was hiding in one of the bedrooms, waiting for him to come down. But who? Was it the people responsible for Pauling’s disappearance?

An idea surfaced. Returning to the stairs, he descended slowly, stepping hard enough to be heard and yet not so hard as to be obvious. When he reached the landing between the floors, he stopped, turned around, and retraced his steps, this time without making a sound. He returned to the library and ducked behind one of the tables in front of the shelves. He removed his Glock and waited.

Despite waiting for several minutes, no sound reached his ears. Zane clenched his jaw in frustration. Maybe he hadn’t stepped hard enough. Or maybe the intruder heard the sound but wasn’t buying the ruse.

Just as he was about to give up, Zane heard the clink of hangers once again, followed by the sound of footfalls coming down the hall. He crouched lower and looked through the table legs. Seconds later, a figure appeared in the doorway.

His heart thumping, Zane lifted his head slightly above the tabletop. It was a risky move, one that would get him caught if the person happened to be looking in that direction. Someone stood at the corner, looking toward the stairs. As the details sharpened, Zane realized it was the silhouette of a woman.

After remaining still for a moment, she moved, forcing Zane to make a decision. Should he stay or follow? Acting on instinct, he stood and fell in behind her. Thankfully, the heat blowing through the vents masked the sound of his steps. As he drew closer, he saw she was younger than he’d thought. She was of medium height with a thin build and dark wavy hair that fell just past her shoulders. She wore stylish jeans and a black sweater — not the attire of a burglar. If she was a thief, she was the hottest one Zane had ever seen.

The girl paused at the head of the stairs. Zane stopped about two feet away. She turned slightly. Had she heard him?

He stepped forward and placed the muzzle of his Glock between her shoulder blades. “Don’t move. Get those hands in the air where I can see them.” He repeated the command in Italian.

The girl stiffened at the sound of his voice. After some hesitation, she slowly lifted her hands. When they reached shoulder level, she pivoted, catching him off guard. Her hands torqued around with surprising speed, knocking his pistol across the room.

Zane had violated one of the major rules of fighting. He’d underestimated his opponent. Perhaps it was how easily he’d been able to draw her out of hiding or perhaps it was the way she was dressed. Whatever the reason, he’d let his guard down and had gotten too close, allowing her to make a simple — but effective — move.

Facing him, the girl threw a right-handed punch at his face. Zane recovered quickly, blocking her fist with his left arm while delivering a crushing blow to her abdomen with his right. She hadn’t been prepared for the counter punch, which sent her reeling. As she fell backward, she let out a cry of pain. Despite her apparent distress, Zane wasn’t going to be lulled into complacency again. He dove on top of her, grabbed her wrists, then pinned both arms to the floor.

She squirmed under him. “Stop. Let me go.”

Zane held her firmly. “So you can try to punch me again? I don’t think so.”

After a few more seconds, she finally stopped moving. The tone of his voice seemed to calm her slightly. Finally, she looked up at him. “Please, you’re hurting me. Let me go.”

“First, you’re going to tell me who you are,” Zane said calmly. “Then you’re going to tell me why you’re here.”

She hesitated then tried to squirm away again. Zane tightened his grip on her wrists, causing her to wince.

“Okay, okay, okay… I’ll tell you who I am.”

Zane smiled. “That’s more like it. And don’t lie. I can tell if you’re lying.”

She studied him closely, as though trying to determine if he were friend or foe. Finally, she said, “My name is Emily.”

Zane’s brow furrowed. He’d heard that name recently. But where? He knew he should recognize it but couldn’t recall where he’d heard it before. He met her gaze. “Emily who?”

“I told you who I was. Now let me go!”

“Emily who?” Zane’s voice was firm.

Her lip quivered. Her eyes darted away for a moment then came back to him. “My name is Emily Pauling, and this is my father’s house.”

CHAPTER SIX

Zane frowned, scarcely able to believe what he’d just heard. “You’re Richard Pauling’s daughter?”

“Yes, I’m Emily Pauling. I can show you my driver’s license if you don’t believe me.” She squirmed some more. “Now, can you please let me go?”

Hearing the name a second time triggered Zane’s memory. He now knew where he’d seen it before — Richard Pauling’s dossier. Zane hadn’t anticipated meeting her, so he’d skimmed through her material, choosing instead to focus on the archaeologist and his work. But now that her face was just a few inches away, he saw the resemblance to the photographs in the file. Her hair was longer, but that was the only difference.

Emily moved again. “So now you’re going back on your word? Let me up.”

Her plea pulled Zane out of his thoughts. He looked at her. “No more self-defense moves?”

She laughed. “You’re probably not going to believe this, but that’s one of only two moves I know.”

Zane studied her. She had wilted pretty quickly after the initial pivot, so she was probably telling the truth.

She laughed again, louder this time. “Look, I promise. I took a self-defense class last year and have been practicing those two moves over and over.”

Zane released one of her wrists and used his free hand to text Carmen, telling her to come to the third floor. He frisked Emily briefly, pulling a phone out of her pocket.

“Hey, give that back,” she said.

“You’ll get it back in a few minutes.” Zane stood, retrieved his gun, and turned on a nearby lamp.

As if sensing he wasn’t going to hurt her, Emily sank into a nearby chair, rubbed her face a few times, and looked at him. “Who are you?”

“This may surprise you,” he replied, “but we’re here to find out what happened to your father.”

“That’s nice, but it doesn’t answer my question.”

“Zane,” he said. “My name is Zane.”

Footsteps came toward them from below. Carmen and Amanda appeared at the top of the stairs. Carmen’s eyes widened when she saw a strange girl sitting at the table. She gave Zane a questioning look.

“You were right after all. There was someone here.” He gestured toward Emily. “Ladies, I’d like you to meet Emily Pauling, Dr. Pauling’s daughter.”

Emily seemed surprised there were others.

Zane nodded at the new arrivals. “These are my associates, Carmen and Amanda.”

“I guess I was right about the light in the window,” Carmen said.

“Emily and I were just getting acquainted,” Zane said.

Emily’s eyes shifted from one face to the other. “Look, you seem okay, but technically, you’re trespassing on private property. I’d really like to know who all of you are, and I don’t mean your full names.”

Carmen gave Zane a look indicating he should do the talking. Zane turned to Emily. “We were asked to come look into your father’s disappearance.” He almost used the word death but caught himself. While it was likely Pauling was dead, Zane didn’t want to poison whatever small hope Emily held onto. “I can assure you our purposes are honorable.”

There was some measure of understanding in Emily’s eyes. She seemed to sense he could hurt her if he’d wanted to. “Who asked you to come here?”

This time, Carmen answered. “We don’t work for the government, but they asked us to look into the case for them. As you probably know, the Venetian police aren’t treating this as a missing person case yet. We’re convinced there was foul play involved and therefore wanted to move before the trail got cold.”

Emily winced at the mention of foul play but also seemed satisfied with Carmen’s answer. “So you’re private investigators?”

“Yes, you might say that,” Zane said. “Now, I have a question. What are you doing here?”

“The same thing as you.” Emily ran a hand through her hair. “The Venice police have been completely unhelpful. I had a spare key, so I came to have a look around, to see if I could find something.”

“And did you?” Amanda asked.

“Nothing so far. I did find a laptop in Dad’s bedroom and had just powered it up when I heard someone coming in downstairs.”

“You’ve got sharp ears,” Zane said.

“I got that from my mom.” She laughed. “Apparently, they weren’t sharp enough though. I didn’t know you came back up.”

“Were you aware of any projects your father was working on?” Carmen asked.

Emily shook her head without hesitation. “I was not into the whole archaeology thing, so we didn’t talk much about it. Why do you ask?”

At this point, Zane couldn’t think of a good reason to keep her in the dark. In fact, she could probably provide them with some helpful information. He held her gaze. “Someone received a cryptic text from your father. It seemed—”

“Who?” Emily leaned forward.

“An old colleague of his.” Zane realized there was no soft way to communicate what he was about to say. “The text seemed to indicate he was in some sort of danger. It was sent on the day—”

“Why weren’t the police told about this?” Emily looked accusingly at all of them. “If they had that information, they might be working on the case right now.”

“We think there is something bigger at play here. That’s another reason we’re involved. Until we know what that is we—”

“I’m his daughter. The FBI never told me anything. They only told me that one of Dad’s former co-workers was concerned.”

“Which is technically true,” Carmen said.

“The text… what did it say? This is my father. I want to know.”

In the interest of full disclosure, Zane pulled out his smartphone and accessed a secure Delphi app. He then found the screen grab of the text and handed it to her. “Here it is.”

Emily read it several times. When she finished, she set the phone down on the table, pressed her hands against her face, and began to cry. Carmen crossed over and sat in the chair next to her, draping an arm across her shoulder.

Zane remained silent, letting her grieve. She’d probably held out hope there was some mundane explanation for her father’s absence — an archaeological dig that was out of range of cell towers or a getaway with a new girlfriend. He didn’t like being the bearer of bad news but felt Emily deserved to know. Besides, if they wanted her cooperation, they needed to tell her as much as they could.

A couple of minutes later, Emily sat up straight again and wiped her eyes with the cuff of her sweater.

Carmen rubbed her shoulder briefly before pulling her hand away. “Don’t give up hope. We’re going to find out what happened.”

After a minute of silence, Zane said, “Anything you can tell us about your father’s work would be helpful.”

Emily sniffed a couple of times then exhaled. “I do know he’d been extremely busy recently, even busier than usual. Normally, we talk regularly… at least every week. Sometimes more than that. But recently, it was every two to three weeks.”

Amanda frowned. “Did he ever mention what was keeping him so busy?”

“Now that I think about it, he did say he was working on something new, something he’d received recently.” She glanced briefly at Zane. “Sorry, I didn’t remember that before.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Carmen said. “You’re under a lot of stress. So he didn’t provide any more details?”

“No. And that’s probably because he knew I wouldn’t be interested.”

“Maybe it was something he couldn’t talk about,” Zane offered.

Emily nodded at the shelves of books. “We could always see if he had a notebook out or something.”

Amanda’s eyes widened as she noticed the library for the first time. She crossed over to one of the shelves and began pulling out books. “Unbelievable. This is an archaeologist’s dream.”

Carmen caught Emily’s eye then nodded at Amanda. “In case you hadn’t figured it out, she’s an archaeologist.”

“Amanda, keep checking those books.” Zane turned to Emily. “Why don’t you show us the laptop?”

“Okay.” Emily stood. Focusing on the hunt for clues seemed to have lifted her spirits slightly. Anything that would get her mind off what might have happened to her father was good.

Emily led them down the hall and into what appeared to be the master bedroom. After flicking on the light, she crossed to a walk-in closet. Moments later, she returned with the laptop and sat down on the bed. Carmen settled in next to her.

“This is bound to have something helpful,” Carmen said.

Zane looked around as Emily opened the device. Like the rest of the house, the room was impeccably neat. Other than a lamp on the nightstand and a decorative vase on the dresser, the room was bare and minimalist — no shoes on the floor, no coat hung over a chair. Nothing. “Let’s hope it has something because there doesn’t seem to be much lying around. Either that’s by design, or Emily’s father has a massive case of OCD.”

Emily laughed. “Dad has major OCD. It drove us crazy growing up. He even had Mom line up the canned goods in the cabinet.”

A sharp beep indicated the desktop had woken up. Zane smiled. In keeping with Pauling’s dislike for clutter, it was almost devoid of icons.

“Not exactly promising,” Carmen said.

Emily opened a few files on the hard drive. “Looks like it’s mostly personal stuff. Bank account information, health records, contact lists.”

“You never know what might be helpful,” Zane said. “We should probably look—”

“Guys!” Amanda called down the hall. “Get down here.”

Noting the tinge of urgency, Zane and Carmen rushed out of the room. Emily followed close behind. What was going on? Was someone coming in? While she seemed concerned, there wasn’t panic in her voice.

When they arrived at the library, they found Amanda standing calmly at a table, holding a closed book in her hand. She looked up briefly then lowered her eyes to the cover again. “I found something.” She turned the cover toward them. “Recognize the name?”

“William F. Albright,” Carmen said.

Zane’s mind shifted back to the dossier. Was it another of Pauling’s colleagues? Then it hit him. He remembered the words of Pauling’s text. You can find it. Start with William F. Albright. He looked at Amanda. “That’s the name Pauling mentioned in the text.”

Amanda nodded then tapped the table. “And guess where I found this? It just happened to be the only book lying out.”

Zane had to admit it certainly seemed significant. What were the odds Pauling would mention Albright in the text then leave a book by Albright on a table in his library. “Let’s take that with us. My guess is there is some clue in there about his work.”

“That’s exactly what I was thinking,” Amanda said.

“Guys.”

It was Emily’s voice. Where was she? Zane turned back and forth but couldn’t see her. He guessed she must have slipped off while they were talking about the book.

“Over here.”

Carmen pointed down one of the aisles. Emily stood at the window, holding the blind slats open with a finger.

“I thought I heard something outside, so I came over for a peek. I think we have company.” Emily stepped back while keeping her finger in the slat.

“Go kill the lamp,” Zane told Amanda.

After she turned it off, he stepped up to the blinds and stared through the gap. The dark waters of the Venetian Lagoon spread out as far as he could see. He saw the running lights of a few boats about a quarter of a mile away, but none seemed to be moving in their direction.

“Closer in,” Emily said.

Zane shifted his gaze to the dock at the edge of the water. As it came into focus, he saw movement. Men disembarked from two boats moored there. They were dressed in black and wore bulky coats. Zane didn’t like what he was seeing — a uniform style of dress, and all of it black. An assault team was on their doorstep.

“What is it?” Carmen asked.

Zane scooted over, allowing her to look though at the same time. All the men had disembarked and were ascending the stairs connecting the dock and the promontory. Their movements were athletic, efficient. Their heads swiveled back and forth as they surveyed their surroundings. Military training.

“How many do you see?” Zane asked.

“Eleven,” Carmen said.

The men moved toward the house. As they drew near, several reached into their coats. Zane had no doubt what they were going to pull out. His pulse quickened.

“Automatics?” Carmen asked.

Zane nodded as the weapons appeared. “Looks like HK-Four-Sixteens.”

He watched as the men fanned out in formation. Six went around one side of the house and five around the other. He let the slat drop. He’d seen enough.

They were surrounded, and within minutes, the gunmen would breach the downstairs door.

CHAPTER SEVEN

There was no time to waste. Zane looked at Amanda and pointed to the stairs. “Go to the second floor, and listen for any sounds of entry.”

“Somebody, please tell me what’s going on,” Emily said as Amanda moved off.

“We’ve got some uninvited guests.”

“Do you think they know we’re here?” Carmen asked.

“The fact that they’re drawing weapons tells me they know someone is here. They may have been watching from the lagoon.” Zane nodded at her pocket. “What do you have on you?”

“One magazine in my gun and a spare. Thirty rounds. And of course, I have our new device.”

“I have the same. Between us, that’s sixty rounds, plus whatever Amanda has.”

“I’m sure they have enough ammo to keep those rifles firing long past the time we run out.” Carmen tapped her pocket. “If we get pinned down, we can always take the nuclear option.”

Zane knew she was referring to the explosive device. For now, he wanted to focus on getting away without a fight. “Only as a last resort.”

“Remember this is the very situation these were designed for.”

Emily’s eyes widened with fear, reminding him there was a civilian under their care. Their top priority needed to be getting her to safety.

“These men are ex-military,” Zane said, “and if that’s the case, I’m guessing they’ll spread out once they come in. While one group clears the first floor, another will move to the second. They’re not going to congregate in one room, which means the device is virtually useless. We’ll fight if we have to, but right now, we need to focus on finding a way to get out without them knowing.”

A dark figure appeared at the top of the stairs. Zane pivoted with his Glock in hand. It was Amanda.

“They’re trying to breach now,” she said. “I could hear them fiddling with the lock and didn’t want them to hear me run up once they got in.”

“This is crazy,” Emily said. “Someone call the police. If you don’t, I will.”

“Go right ahead,” Zane told her. “Then you can wait the ten to fifteen minutes it will take for them to get here. Good luck with that.”

“We need to do something,” Emily complained.

A loud click and a snap carried up from below. A thump followed. The gunmen were inside. Zane sorted through several ideas.

“We do need to get going,” Carmen said.

Amanda looked at Emily. “Is there an attic or some other hidden room?”

“I’ve only been here a few times, so I don’t know much more than you do. There might be an attic…” She snapped her fingers. “Wait, I do know of something. I have no idea if it will—”

“Show us,” Zane said. “At this point, anything might be helpful.”

“This way.” Emily entered the hallway with the others just behind. About midway down, she pointed to the left. “Over here.”

Carmen flicked on her flashlight. A small square-framed door appeared near the bottom of the wall. Zane guessed it was about three feet high by three feet wide. There was some sort of control panel to the right.

“What is that?” Amanda asked.

“Laundry chute,” Carmen answered. “It’s all the rage among the wealthy in Italy now.”

Emily grabbed the handle on the top of the door and pulled it down, revealing an open metal carrier. The whole contraption looked like a miniature elevator.

Amanda’s brow furrowed. “I thought it was just a chute. You toss the laundry in, and it drops all the way to the basement.”

“The chutes are the most common design,” Carmen noted. “But here in Europe, we also use them to transport heavier items to upper floors. Television sets, and so on.”

Zane heard several successive thumps. This time, the sounds were louder. The intruders would be on their floor in a matter of minutes. “Let’s get moving.”

“We get in one at a time and go down.” Emily pointed at the control panel. There were two buttons, one to go up and one to go down. “This can be used to send the carrier down or call it back up. There is another at the bottom.”

Not wasting any time, Carmen sat on the floor and scooted into the carrier. “I’ll go down first. Once I verify it’s clear, I’ll send it back up.”

Zane nodded reluctantly. The plan was fraught with danger. Carmen could step out into a room full of gunmen on the other end. Unfortunately, he didn’t have a better idea. They would have to go with what they had.

Once Carmen was situated, Emily pressed the Down button. There was a low whine, and Carmen and the carrier disappeared. A green light glowed on the panel, indicating the chute was in use. Seconds later, it turned red. Amanda crouched, preparing to scoot in when the time came.

Zane looked at Emily and whispered, “Get in with her when it comes back.”

“I’m not sure it will hold—”

“Just do it,” he said. “We don’t have time for four runs.”

As if on cue, Zane heard the distinct sound of boots on the floor below. Time was running out. Thankfully, the carrier arrived moments later.

“Get in.” Zane motioned toward the opening.

Amanda crawled in on all fours and moved to the back. Emily entered right behind her. She was trying to situate herself when Zane hit the Down button. There wasn’t time to get comfy. Lives were on the line.

As the carrier disappeared, Zane heard soft footfalls on the stairs. The gunmen were on the way. The panel light turned red, indicating the two girls had just arrived on the first floor. At least the other three were safe.

Something moved in Zane’s peripheral vision. He turned and looked down the hall. A beam swept across the library. Seconds later, a dark figure crept into view, facing the shelves of books, making sure no one was hidden there. In a matter of seconds, he’d turn his attention to the hallway. Keeping his eye on the man’s movements, Zane lifted his Glock.

The carrier swished back into view, making a little rattle as it stopped. The figure seemed to be turning around just as Zane crawled inside and pulled the door up. A beam of light shone down the hallway, illuminating the place where he’d been crouching just moments before. The light grew brighter as the gunman drew near. Zane cracked the door slightly and stuck his hand out. He needed to hit the button. There was a strong chance he’d be seen, but he had no choice. Finally, a finger made contact with the round surface. He mashed it down then drew his hand back as quickly as possible.

The carrier moved faster than he’d expected, causing him to fall back against the back wall. As he shot downward, Zane heard boots charging down the hall overhead. A moment later, the staccato popping of gunfire carried down from above. Bullets ripped through the top of the carrier. Zane was the proverbial fish in a barrel, or in this case, a laundry chute. It was only a matter of time before one of the rounds found his head.

The carrier came to a halt. Before Zane could move, two hands grabbed his arms and yanked him out. Bullets shredded the carrier like Swiss cheese.

“Let’s go,” Carmen said as she helped him to his feet.

The two sprinted out of the utility room and down the hall. Amanda and Emily waited near the exit.

“They’re coming,” Amanda said.

Boots charged down the stairs. The gunmen in the hallway must have warned the others what was happening. Zane opened the door and shoved the three outside. There could be more gunmen there, but he’d have to let Carmen deal with that. For now, he had to buy them some time.

A black-clad figure appeared at the top of the stairs. Zane shot him twice in the chest. The man grunted and stumbled backward but didn’t fall. Kevlar. Zane fired another shot, this time at the head. The man tumbled forward.

More gunmen appeared. Zane fired two more shots then rushed outside.

“This way!” Carmen waited for him at the corner of the house. Why was she going toward the lagoon? Venice was a maze of narrow pedestrian streets, tight alleys, bridges, and crisscrossing canals. In other words, it was the perfect city in which to make an escape. And yet she was going the other way.

“We’re better off taking the streets,” he said as they sprinted toward the water.

“No, we aren’t.”

Zane saw she was headed toward the dock and realized what she was trying to do. It was risky. High risk, high reward.

“I don’t know if Emily is in shape,” Carmen said as they rushed down the steps. “If we tried to run, it’s possible they’d overtake us.”

Amanda and Emily were already standing next to the first boat when they arrived at the bottom. The craft was shaped like a gondola, long and thin, with a squared-off stern like a motorboat.

“Get in!” Carmen shouted as she untied the rope attached to a piling.

Zane helped Amanda and Emily board. Carmen joined them seconds later, moving quickly to the motor.

Automatic gunfire strafed the stone blocks above. Zane crouched instinctively. “Everybody down!”

He rose just high enough to see over the edge of the promontory. Three gunmen knelt near Pauling’s residence. Zane squeezed off several shots then ducked down again. He looked toward the stern. Carmen sat next to the outboard, trying to get it started. The engine sputtered for a moment then died.

Another burst of gunfire rang out, this time closer. The gunmen seemed encouraged by their difficulty in starting the engine.

“Carmen, let’s go!” Zane shouted.

When the shots ceased, a siren sounded in the distance. The police were coming, probably by boat. The neighborhood stirred as well. People leaned out of nearby windows. Some yelled in Italian. Others pressed cell phones to their ears.

Another barrage of gunfire erupted. As long as they stayed below street level, they were fine, but it was only a matter of time before their attackers rushed the dock. And when they did, there would be little Zane could do to stop them. He turned back toward the stern. “Carmen!”

“I’m trying to figure out what’s wrong.”

The explosive device. Why hadn’t he thought of it before? If nothing else, it might buy them more time. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled it out. As he did, a gunman appeared at the ledge. Zane fired with one hand, hitting him in the chest and knocking him backward.

Turning back to the device, he twisted its head, completing the first step. He flipped the device around to get to the other end, but it fell out of his hands. As he retrieved it from the bottom of the boat, he heard boots coming toward them. There wasn’t going to be time.

Finally, the engine roared to life. “Got it,” Carmen shouted. “Fuel line was kinked.”

Instead of directing the boat out into the lagoon, which would’ve made them sitting ducks, she turned into the canal that ran alongside Pauling’s house. It would expose them briefly, but it was the right decision, one that would hopefully keep them alive.

“Stay down!” she shouted.

The gunmen arrived at the edge of the promontory and lifted their rifles. Zane pressed the button on the end of the device then tossed it toward them. It wasn’t a perfect throw, but he didn’t need it to be perfect — just close enough to suppress their attack for a few seconds.

As the grenade flew through the air, the attackers unleashed a volley of gunfire. Bullets chewed a trail through the water. In seconds, the boat and its occupants would be filled with holes. Before the rounds reached them, a fireball rose higher than the roof of Pauling’s home. Zane’s throw had been slightly off, but the old adage about horseshoes and hand grenades held true. In this case, close was good enough.

Carmen gave a brief celebratory shout then opened the throttle.

“Do you know where we’re going?” Zane yelled.

She nodded. “Sì, certamente.” Yes, of course.

“Look.” Emily pointed at something behind them.

Zane glanced back. The other boat — full of at least half a dozen gunmen — had entered the canal behind them. Zane hoped the crafts were of equal speed. If so, they’d at least be able to maintain the same distance until one of them ran out of gas.

Over the next several minutes, Carmen wove through the maze of canals, guiding the craft with deft skill. Zane couldn’t tell if she was simply trying to lose the other boat or if there was a method to her madness. A native Italian, she’d been to Venice dozens of times. Hopefully, that meant she knew the canals as well as she knew the streets. For now, he’d have to trust her instincts.

Two shots rang out behind them. One whistled overhead. Emily let out a scream, and Carmen reacted by swerving the boat back and forth. Two more shots were fired, followed by a loud thud.

“We’re hit,” Amanda said.

They were words Zane didn’t want to hear. Reluctantly, he looked back. A hole had opened along one side, and a thin stream of water poured into the bottom of the boat. In weaving, Carmen had inadvertently exposed their port side.

Zane got Amanda and Emily’s attention. “See what you can do to get the water out. Every little bit will help.”

As they worked, Zane fired a couple of shots toward their pursuers. He doubted he could do any damage at this distance, but he might at least be able to keep them down.

Carmen slowed the boat slightly and took a tight right turn. Two gondolas filled with tourists loomed directly ahead. She yanked the tiller sharply. The move helped them avoid a collision, but the wake rocked the other boats. As they passed by, one of the gondoliers cursed in Italian and lifted his middle finger.

After passing under another bridge, Carmen hung a left. A minute later, they emerged onto a large waterway. Dozens of gondolas and motorboats were scattered across the expanse. The scene was familiar. The Grand Canal. Finally, Zane knew where they were. But why had she brought them here? If anything, they were more exposed now.

He looked back at Carmen. “Where are we going?”

She nodded at something ahead but remained silent. Zane faced forward. A quarter mile away, a lighted plaza stood at an intersection with another canal. A large crowd gathered on the plaza, and Zane heard loud music.

“There is always a concert here on weekends,” Carmen shouted.

He knew what she was doing. She was going to dock at the concert, where they would disembark and melt into the crowd. Not only would it provide them with cover, but it would also deter their attackers from following. In Zane’s opinion, it was a brilliant move.

As they approached, loud sirens blared from somewhere further down the Grand Canal. The Venice police were on the way by boat. Zane glanced back at their pursuers. Unfortunately, they were still following, although they seemed to have given up firing for the moment.

Carmen pulled up to the dock and killed the engine. Zane didn’t bother tying it down. There wasn’t time. Instead, he grabbed one of the pilings to give the others time to get out.

“Go!” he shouted.

After they were safely on the dock, Carmen pointed to a set of steps leading up to the plaza. “Walk quickly, but act like you’re supposed to be here.”

The wail of sirens grew closer. Zane expected to see the police craft come around the corner at any moment. At least their pursuers wouldn’t be foolish enough to stick around. As best he could tell, everything was playing out perfectly.

Carmen led Amanda and Emily up the stairs. In seconds, they would be hidden in the crowd. Before following them up, Zane stopped and looked back toward the water. His pulse quickened. He’d expected to see the other boat turning away. Instead, it was already easing up to the dock with the gunmen waiting to stream out in pursuit. At most, they had about a half minute to hide in the crowd. Whatever these men were after, they were willing to do anything to get it.

Turning, he fled up the stairs.

CHAPTER EIGHT

Emily Pauling wished she hadn’t made the mistake of glancing back as she neared the top of the stairs, but she did. The gunmen spilled out of the boat. They were so close she could see the malevolent intent written on their faces. For the first time ever, her life was in danger, and she realized she might not live to see another day.

“Keep moving!” Carmen yelled.

Emily didn’t need to be told twice. She turned and sprinted the rest of the way. The crowd in the plaza was even larger than it had seemed from the water. People pressed in on all sides. A few were in chairs, but most stood in groups, socializing while trance music blared through massive speakers a short distance away.

Zane was already moving to the left. “Everybody, go in different directions. If we diffuse, it will make it more difficult for them to find us. We’ll meet back at the safe house.”

“I don’t know where that is!” Emily yelled back.

“You don’t need to.” Carmen grabbed her wrist and pulled her to the right. “You’re coming with me.”

For reasons she was just beginning to understand, Emily would’ve preferred to go with Zane. Something about him made her feel safe. Maybe it was the strong hands she’d felt minutes before. Or maybe it was the chivalry she sensed in him, letting everyone else go down the laundry chute first. Then again, she knew Carmen was fully capable of protecting her. In fact, Emily had already guessed they were both spies of some kind. They probably worked for the CIA.

As they pushed through the crowd, Carmen finally released her wrist. Emily glanced back toward the dock as she ran. Two gunmen had already reached the top, their heads swiveling back and forth as they scanned the crowd. One’s eyes seemed to rest on Emily. He tapped his partner, and they both ran toward her.

“Let’s go!” Carmen shouted. “Quit looking back!”

Emily ran after her, weaving through the mass of people. She’d been foolish to stop. If she’d kept running, perhaps the men wouldn’t have seen her. Those precious few seconds might be the difference between living and dying.

Emily was surprised at how rough Carmen had become, bumping and shoving people out of the way whenever necessary. Emily could tell the Italian’s stylish looks were deceiving. She was tough as nails. If they got pinned down somewhere, it would be nice having her there for protection.

A minute later, Carmen pointed to the right. “This way.”

Two long rows of kiosks lined the edge of the plaza. Vendors sold everything from food to clothing to glass ornaments. But more importantly, the crowd was even more packed there, making it the perfect place to lose their pursuers.

A gunshot cracked in the distance. Emily flinched in response. Screams broke out everywhere, and panic swept through the crowd. Most ran to nowhere in particular, trampling others in the process. Emily leaped over a woman who’d been pushed to the ground then sprinted after Carmen. A minute later, they entered the rows of kiosks. Some of the business owners were hunkered inside their stands, not knowing whether to stay with their goods or run. Emily guessed thoughts of terrorism ran through their minds.

Carmen kept pushing forward. She seemed to be headed for the city streets, still about a hundred yards away. Another shot rang out. Pure pandemonium ensued. People fought and scratched, pushed and shoved. Despite Carmen’s prior warning, Emily slowed and glanced back a second time. At least one gunman had entered the market — a tall bald man, who seemed to have a permanent snarl etched on his face.

Her pulse racing, Emily began running again. Thankfully, she saw Carmen’s dark hair just ahead. She pushed past a group of women then came to an abrupt halt. The woman she thought was Carmen was much shorter and held the hand of a child. Emily’s heart thumped wildly in her chest. She pivoted. The crowd was now a writhing mass, making it difficult to examine faces for any length of time. A few resembled Carmen, but the real one was nowhere to be seen.

Finally, she gave up. Carmen was gone.

Remembering the tall bald man was right on her heels, she did the only thing she could think of. She dashed toward a nearby vendor tent. Its two owners cowered behind a display of necklaces and bracelets — afraid, but unwilling to abandon their livelihood. Skirting the display, Emily ran to the back of the tent and crouched behind several stacks of boxes. Now hidden, she scooted over and peered through the gap between two stacks. She’d gotten there just in time. Tall Man was at the front of the tent, standing in the exact place she’d been standing just moments before. His narrow eyes panned back and forth, confident his quarry couldn’t have gone far.

Eventually, his eyes rested on the boxes where Emily hid. His brow furrowed. Could he see her? Her blood froze. If he could see her, there would be nowhere to run. He’d be on her in seconds.

A moment later, his eyes averted, and he continued down the aisle.

Emily let out a long sigh of relief and rubbed her face. She’d been that close to being caught. She just hoped Carmen had gotten safely away.

So what now? She had no idea how to find the others. They had all scattered like the wind. Sadness swept over her. Initially, she figured it was the simple fact she’d separated from her new acquaintances. But then she realized there was more to it than that. The real reason was because she knew she’d probably never see Zane again. Even the flash of his face in her mind made her heart flutter a little bit.

What was going on? Normally, it took her weeks — if not months — for her to be attracted to someone. And while she couldn’t explain why it had happened within minutes of meeting this man, she also couldn’t deny it.

Emily willed the thoughts away. The strange feelings could be examined later. Right now, she needed to get out of here alive. She looked around the area. About a block down, a street led away from the square. If she could make it there, she’d find a shop to slip into then wait for the police to get the area under control.

Having settled on a plan, she stood. As she walked off, she heard the shuffle of feet behind her. She tried to turn, but a powerful hand covered her mouth, and the muzzle of a gun pressed into her spine.

“Got you.”

CHAPTER NINE

Zane crossed to the window and peered through the blinds. Sirens still wailed in the distance, but the area surrounding the safe house was relatively quiet. The gunfire and chaos at the plaza still had the Venetian police buzzing around the city like angry hornets. He doubted they’d made any arrests, but at least the show of force had driven their attackers to ground.

Movement on the street drew his eyes downward. A brunette strode past their building with a cell phone pressed to her ear. Her shoulder-length dark hair made Zane think of Emily, whose whereabouts were currently unknown. He hoped she was crawling into a bed at her hotel.

“Come sit down,” Carmen called from the kitchen. “I can assure you we weren’t followed.”

“Venice has always been a tough place to practice the craft. Too many corners, too many cramped streets, and too many eyes staring out windows.”

“Like yours?”

“Like mine.”

“I actually agree with you about Venice. It’s a tough place to work. But we’d know if someone followed us. This is a quiet side of town. Strangers stick out.”

Zane abandoned the window and crossed to the island in the kitchen. Carmen hovered over the stove, preparing dinner. She’d been mostly silent since returning, a sign she was still upset at losing Emily in the crowd. According to her account, she’d searched for the girl briefly but slipped off when the police began roping off the area and conducting pat-downs. Zane assured her she’d made the right choice in leaving. If the authorities had found her with a gun, she’d be sitting in a Venetian jail now.

Zane also felt a tinge of guilt. After all, he’d fired the shots himself in an attempt to create chaos. It appeared to have worked, unless it had somehow led to Emily’s capture. For now, he held onto the belief that she was fine.

After placing a pot of water on the stove, Carmen picked up a few slices of prosciutto and tossed them into a skillet of heated olive oil. She stirred the meat briefly then added small amounts of garlic, parsley, basil, salt, and pepper. As the pungent aroma filled the room, Zane noticed an open bottle of vodka and a plate stacked with several pieces of uncooked salmon on the counter. “Is that what I think it is?”

Carmen nodded. “Si, farfalle al salmone.”

“Oh, my.”

“I remembered you and Amanda enjoyed it at my Christmas party last year,” she said distantly.

“So nice of you not to use up all the MREs. We can tell the Oracle we did our part to cut costs.”

“You’re cooking breakfast, big guy.”

Zane figured it was time to retreat. He entered the living room and sat down next to Amanda on the couch. The book she’d found in Pauling’s library was open in her lap. It was so thick he wondered if she’d ever be able to figure out what the archaeologist was trying to communicate. He guessed it would take a week or two just to read the whole thing. Hopefully, whatever clue he’d left wouldn’t be hard to find.

Amanda looked over at him. “Where do you think Emily is?”

He wished she hadn’t brought it up — not because it was inappropriate, but because Carmen needed time to mentally recover. Then again, it did need to be discussed at some point. He returned her gaze “My guess is she’s sliding into bed at some five-star hotel right now.”

“You really think that?”

He saw concern in her eyes. “I don’t have any reason not to.”

Carmen stopped stirring for a moment and faced them. “Zane may be right. The merchant area was like a funnel, which means there was nowhere else for her to go. If I had to guess, I’d say she probably got past me. And if she did, it means she got away.” She turned back to the stove. “That’s what I’m hoping, anyway.”

“I think it would’ve been easy for her to have gotten turned around,” Amanda said, “particularly if she was looking for you.”

“So what do you think happened?” Zane asked.

“I have no idea, but I don’t rule out a worst-case scenario. Think about how many men were on that boat. We have to face the possibility one of them grabbed her.”

Zane rubbed his chin reflectively. “Let’s assume they grabbed her. Don’t you think she would’ve cried out? And if she did, don’t you think Carmen would’ve heard her?”

Carmen turned toward them. “It’s true… I might have heard her scream. Then again, a lot of people were screaming. It’s something we have to consider.”

“You didn’t see anyone being pulled away, did you?”

“No, but that doesn’t mean it didn’t happen.”

“Look, we should all be concerned,” Zane said. “To be perfectly honest, my stomach is in knots over what might have happened.” He paused for a moment, measuring his words. “I apologize if I’ve seemed uncaring, but when things happen that are out of my control, I’ve learned to block them out. Besides, Brett is trying to get her number as we speak. Once we have that, maybe we’ll be able to contact her and put all this behind us.”

After a long pause, Amanda said, “I guess I, of all people, know what she’s going through.”

Zane knew she was referring to her own father’s death. He was surprised he hadn’t thought of their shared experience until now. She was one of the few people who could understand the emotions and the pressure that must weigh on Emily.

He tapped the book in her lap. “Anything helpful in there?”

“A lot of good stuff, although I’m beginning to wonder if we’re ever going to understand what he was referring to. There is just way too much information.”

“I was afraid of that. What’s the subject matter?”

“Old Testament archaeology.”

“Oh, boy. A foolproof cure for insomnia.”

Amanda shook her head. “I can’t help it if you have bad taste. Old Testament history is exciting.”

“If you say so.”

As she continued to read, Zane picked up the remote and turned on the television. A pretty dark-haired reporter appeared on the screen. She stood at the edge of the square along the Grand Canal, clutching a microphone with one hand while pointing with the other. The scene was still chaotic with police and emergency workers moving around behind the yellow tape. She seemed to be saying a search was still on for suspects. Apparently, the police were still refusing to rule out terrorism, even though no one seemed to have suffered any significant injuries beyond bumps and bruises from the stampede. That last sentence gave Zane some hope Emily might have made it out unscathed. Had she been shot or killed, the authorities would surely know.

Moments later, the scene switched to a male reporter in a different part of the city. He stood not far from Pauling’s home. Behind him, dozens of people were crowded up against a law enforcement barrier. The reporter quoted the police as saying they believed both events were connected, although the nature of the connection was not yet clear.

“Well, we did accomplish something tonight,” Carmen said over the sound of the television.

Zane lowered the volume. “And what’s that?”

“We were able to field test Brett’s new toy.”

Zane still wasn’t sure if the blast had actually killed anyone. After all, the gunmen could’ve run off before the device detonated. But it had done its job, which was to suppress incoming fire and give them the time they needed to get away. “Brett’s bombs.” He laughed. “I have to hand it to him. The triggering mechanism worked to perfection.”

Carmen looked over her shoulder. “And don’t forget we still have one left.”

“Let’s just hope we don’t—”

“What the…?” Amanda sat up straight, a look of shock spreading over her face.

Zane frowned at her.

She met his gaze. “I think I found Dr. Pauling’s message.”

CHAPTER TEN

Zane found it hard to believe what he’d just heard. He hadn’t expected her to find anything tonight. If there was a clue hidden in the book, he’d assumed it would take hours of study. Perhaps Pauling had done something simple like slipping a piece of paper between the pages.

He muted the television. “What does it say?”

“Well, I don’t know yet.”

“What do you mean?” Carmen joined them on the couch. “You said you figured it out.”

“Here, take a look. It’s not what you’re thinking.” Amanda turned the book. Zane’s eyes widened. A square had been cut into the center of the pages that comprised the last half of the volume, and lying in the created space was a small device.

“I was skipping ahead, flipping through the pages,” Amanda continued. “When I got about halfway through, I came to one that wouldn’t turn. At first, I didn’t think anything of it. Book pages often stick together when food or drink is spilled inside. But after looking at it more closely, I realized all of the remaining pages were stuck together. So I peeled a few back and found this.”

Zane leaned closer. The device appeared to be an MP3 player. Amanda tugged but had trouble getting it out.

“Looks like it’s glued in there,” Carmen said.

Amanda tugged harder, and finally, the player broke free.

“Probably didn’t want it to bounce around if someone happened to pick the book up,” Carmen noted.

Zane was stunned. The subject of Pauling’s text to Dr. Rust had been right here under their nose the entire time. He’d expected the clue would be one of the artifacts detailed in the text, not an audio recording.

Amanda pushed the power button. “Let’s see what we have.”

Zane and Carmen leaned in.

When the device lit up, only one file showed on the screen. Amanda tapped it, and a video began to play. A man appeared, seated in a black leather chair. He had salt-and-pepper hair and wore stylish, wire-rimmed glasses. Zane immediately recognized Dr. Richard Pauling. He had a pleasant expression — the kind of man you felt comfortable with right away.

The footage had clearly not been shot in or around Venice. Pauling sat in a room, probably a private residence. The area around the house was visible through several windows behind him. Beautiful mountains rose in the distance, which Zane assumed were somewhere in Italy, although he had no way of knowing for sure.

After a brief moment, Pauling cleared his throat and began:

Hello, Andrew. I hope this finds you well. The fact that you’re watching this means two things. One, I’m probably dead. And two, you’ve followed my instructions to the letter. Let me first explain what this is all about. A little over six months ago, I got the opportunity to examine an ancient map. From the very beginning, I was skeptical about its authenticity, but after meeting with the seller and performing a few simple tests, I realized it was the real thing.

What is it a map of? It would be too risky to divulge that information here. You’re the best at what you do, and I have no doubt you’ll be able to figure it out for yourself.

Pauling took a drink of water.

So why did I ask you to come here to Venice? Let me explain. Shortly after making the purchase, a close friend told me word had gotten out regarding the existence of the map. Apparently, the seller had talked to the wrong people, and word eventually made its way to a group that had been seeking it for years. They had let it be known they would do anything to acquire it. When you finally understand the nature of the map, you’ll also understand why I can’t let it get into the wrong hands, even if it means giving up my life.

In any event, I had to make sure that, in the event of my death, someone could carry on with my work. Unfortunately, the map is not complete, and some additional work needs to be done in order to find the location it describes. It’s like having a map of the neighborhood, only you don’t know what city that neighborhood is in. I have some strong suspicions about where that might be, but you’ll have to figure that out yourself.

At this point, you’re probably expecting me to divulge the location of the map. The actual map is being held by my attorney, who shall not be named, and will be distributed to an unnamed individual upon confirmation of my death. But don’t worry. You won’t need the actual map because I’ve made a perfectly legible electronic image. Once you find it, you’ll be able to use it in your research.

So where is this image?

There was an odd pause that lasted for several seconds. Pauling’s eyes shifted slightly.

I think you now have enough information to find it. Best wishes, my dear friend. I’m just sorry we couldn’t work on this together.

The video ended. Amanda played it one more time then sat the MP3 player on the table.

Carmen broke the silence. “That’s it? ‘I think you now have enough information to find it’?”

“That was strange,” Amanda said. “No doubt about it. It’s almost as if the video was spliced, like there was something missing.”

Zane sat back and tried to make sense of what he’d just heard. Did Pauling mean Rust would recognize the location? Perhaps, although that would be odd since the two hadn’t had much contact since Pauling moved to Venice.

“Play it again,” Carmen said. “Maybe we missed something.”

Amanda played the file a third time. As Zane watched, he didn’t see or hear anything he hadn’t noticed before. The odd pause at the end seemed to be suggestive of something, but he had no idea what.

Carmen leaned forward, her brows knit together tightly. “Play it again.”

“Did you see something?” Zane asked.

Carmen ignored his question. “And pause it when I tell you to.”

Amanda played the video a fourth time. After the odd pause at the end, Carmen raised her hand. “Now!”

Amanda paused the video.

“What are you looking at?” Zane asked.

“Now, back it up just a little, and play it again,” Carmen said.

Amanda did as she was told. As the video played, Carmen pointed at the screen. “There!” She looked at Zane. “Did you see it?”

Zane shook his head. He had no idea what she was talking about. There seemed to be something unusual about Pauling’s expression, but that was it. Maybe he was looking at something off camera. But what?

Carmen turned to Amanda. “Go back one more time, and when he moves his eyes there at the end, hit pause.”

Amanda rewound a bit then hit pause at the appropriate time. A smile spread over Carmen’s face. She tapped the screen and looked at Zane. “See it?”

Zane narrowed his eyes, focusing on the bottom of the screen. Something was printed there in a tiny font. He leaned closer, and a series of numbers appeared. She was right. That was what Pauling was trying to communicate.

Carmen patted Zane’s leg. “Sorry, I had to focus on getting it right.”

“No, that’s fine.” Zane looked at Amanda. “Can you enlarge it?”

Amanda used her fingers to increase the image size. Zane frowned. What he thought was one long string of numbers was actually two sets of numbers, and the pattern was one he was quite familiar with. “I think I know what it is.”

Carmen turned toward him in surprise. “What is it?”

“They’re GPS coordinates.”

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Emily swam up through the dark waters of her dreams. Her head broke the surface, allowing her a brief moment of consciousness. Men talked somewhere nearby. They seemed to be down a hallway, but she couldn’t be sure. Just as she began to hear the voices more clearly, she sank back beneath the waves. It was the third time she had surfaced, and for the third time, she had failed to break through.

After what seemed like an eternity, she found herself swimming toward the surface again. Light appeared above. The surface was almost in reach. She pushed, kicked, and stroked with all her strength. This time, she wouldn’t be denied. This time, she’d push through for good.

She opened her eyes. She could see. Was it real or just a dream? She twitched her nose then blinked several times. Everything seemed to be working. She was finally awake, and she resolved to never go back.

The space around her was mostly dark. The only light spilled in from a door or window behind her head. The stench of cigarettes and cooked meat filled the air. As her eyes adjusted, she noticed the room had beige walls covered with cracked paint. Probably an old apartment in Venice.

Emily tried to lift her head, but the room spun, forcing her back down. Someone drugged me. The words flashed in her mind. While her memory hadn’t fully returned, she instinctively knew the words were true. But who’d drugged her? And why had they brought her here?

After she lay still for several minutes, her mind sharpened a bit, and the events of the last few hours flashed through her mind. She remembered arriving at her father’s house, although she couldn’t remember when. She’d just begun to search the third floor when she heard someone downstairs. She remembered being caught by an intruder, a tall man with long hair and powerful hands.

Zane. That was his name. A strange feeling of comfort swept through her when she pictured his face. Even though she’d protested at the time, she remembered it wasn’t unpleasant when’d he pinned her arms on the floor. He was strong, but he was also someone who controlled his strength. She imagined the arms he used to fight were the same arms that could tenderly scoop a woman up.

More images came. Gunmen arriving at her father’s house, forcing them to flee. She remembered the chase that ended at the concert along the Grand Canal. At that point, the group had split up. Emily fled with the dark-haired woman whose name she couldn’t remember. At some point, they became separated. Then…

Emily’s heart pounded in her chest as she remembered hiding behind the boxes. She’d been convinced she was safe, only to feel a large hand close over her mouth and a gun press into her spine. After that, her memories grew foggy. She remembered a man — maybe two — dragging her down an alley. Eventually, they came to a canal where she was shoved into the bottom of a boat and hit over the head with a blunt object. She remembered awakening briefly in a chair, only to feel a sharp sting on her upper arm.

That’s where the memories ended.

A man laughed in the distance, bringing her back to the present. Another joined in the laughter, while a third said something in a foreign tongue. Distance muffled their voices. She guessed they were down a hallway or around a corner. She heard the familiar clink of chips being tossed onto a table. Poker. They’re playing poker.

Emily tried to get up. She rose slightly, only to realize her wrists were bound to the bed frame with rope. There was a bit of slack, so she was able to squirm around and finally get up on her knees. A headboard was directly in front of her, and there was a window to her left.

Sliding her legs carefully so as not to make the mattress squeak, Emily scooted closer to the window and peered through the glass. It was dark outside. She doubted she’d been out for twenty-four hours, so she assumed it was the same night she’d been abducted. She shifted her gaze downward. Moonlight glimmered off the waters of a narrow canal. Along the edge, several gondolas rocked gently in the choppy waters. Venice. She was still somewhere in the city. Lifting her eyes slightly, she studied the buildings on the other side of the canal. They looked much the same as they did everywhere in the city. That was the problem with Venice. Unless you were near one of the landmarks, it all looked pretty much the same. That was why a lot of tourists got lost.

Maybe if she could look in one direction or the other she might see something she recognized. The Grand Canal. The Bridge of Sighs. Anything. She lifted her right leg and leaned to the left. As she pressed her face against the glass, her left knee slid out from under her, sending her crashing onto the mattress. The old bed squeaked loudly, and she knew it would be heard throughout the house.

A chair pushed away from a table down the hall. Footsteps sounded in the hall outside her room. She froze. Someone was coming. Seconds later, the dark figure of a man appeared at the door. Seeing she was awake, he stepped into the room. He was bald, wore all black, and clutched a pistol in his right hand. Emily recognized him as one of the men who had chased them across the plaza.

“She’s awake,” he barked over his shoulder in heavily accented English. It sounded Eastern European, maybe Russian. She couldn’t be sure.

Chairs groaned across the floor, followed by the sound of more footsteps in the hallway. Two men entered, both dressed in black and carrying pistols. The taller of the two crossed over and sat next to her on the bed. His eyes moved over her body in a way that made her uncomfortable. He lifted her chin with two of his fingers. “You’re even more beautiful when I see your eyes.”

She pushed his hand aside, causing his face to flash with anger. He grabbed her wrist and held it there.

Emily winced. “Let me go!”

The man’s expression softened a bit. The quick transition of expression was frightening. “She’s like little wildcat.” He looked back at the other two. “I think Viktor will like this one.”

Viktor. The name was undoubtedly important. She needed to gather as much information as possible. “Who is Viktor?”

“You find out soon. He’s going to like you like you.”

The man leaned in closer. His breath was a putrid mix of cigarette smoke and cheap beer. His lips moved toward her cheek. Emily managed to squirm her wrist free and caught his face with the back of her hand. She expected to be punched, but instead, the man laughed and rose from the bed. Looking at one of the others, he said, “Put her back down. Maybe she learn to behave better next time.”

Emily knew what was coming next. “No, don’t do that. I promise not to—”

“Remember this next time.” The tall man shook a finger. “We’re going to have lots of questions for you.”

“I’ll tell you now… please!”

One of the remaining men grabbed her and shoved her down on the mattress while another retrieved something out of a nearby drawer. She squirmed, pleading with them not to do it. The man held her more tightly, then Emily felt a sharp sting on her upper arm.

Seconds later, she sank into the ocean again.

CHAPTER TWELVE

Menaggio, Italy

The white Fiat 500x raced north along the SS340. With one hand on the wheel, Zane looked to his right. The last rays of the afternoon sun glistened on Lake Como. On the far side of the waters sat the picturesque village of Veranna, its buildings splayed along the shore like a jeweled necklace. Zane enjoyed the history of Rome and the culture of Florence, but given a choice, he would always gravitate to the mountain lakes of the north.

Keeping one eye on the road, he lifted his phone and studied the GPS screen. They were under thirty minutes out from their destination, a nondescript point on a rural road northwest of Menaggio. Despite spending the better part of two hours analyzing satellite images the night before, they were unable to see anything significant in or around the location. There were no buildings or structures of any kind, which Zane thought odd.

“How much longer?” Amanda asked from the back seat.

“Twenty-seven minutes.”

“Is she still asleep?”

Zane glanced at Carmen, who was curled up in the passenger seat next to him. Her eyes were closed, but he doubted she’d really slept through their conversation. “I think there are visions of rigatoni dancing in her head.”

Carmen’s mouth turned up in a smile. “Hush. Let me stay there.”

Twenty-five minutes later, Zane made the final turn. As expected, it was a rural road, devoid of structures. The closest building was a small petrol station about two miles back.

Carmen stirred. “Are we there yet?”

“Just about. That’s a pretty amazing body clock.”

Carmen straightened and opened her eyes. “No, I heard the little voice on your GPS.”

As if on cue, a female voice with a British accent spoke from the phone. “You have reached your destination.”

Zane slowed the car and scanned both sides of the road for anything of significance.

Amanda pointed through the gap in the seats. “There’s a gate over on the left.”

Zane brought the car to a stop opposite the gate. Just beyond, a paved drive wound up into a thick forest that covered the crown of the mountain. He presumed it led to a house.

“I guess this explains why we couldn’t see anything from the satellite views,” Carmen noted.

“I’m surprised we didn’t at least see the gate,” Amanda said.

Carmen nodded. “Maybe it was all constructed after the most recent images.”

Not wanting to park so close to the entrance, Zane continued down the road, eventually pulling behind some bushes lining a field on the left. It wouldn’t completely conceal the vehicle, but it would have to do. After killing the engine, he got out, opened the rear hatch, and removed a small piece of luggage hidden under a pile of clothes. He opened it then removed the faux bottom. Underneath were pistols, magazines, and flashlights.

After Zane distributed the gear, the three walked back down the road.

“Nebbia,” Carmen said.

Zane looked at her. “What?”

She nodded to their left. “Fog.”

Zane looked down the mountain. A raft of steel-gray clouds had already covered most of Lake Como and was slowly making its way up the slope, a common occurrence here. A foggy mist would appear over the water at dusk, then fill the entire valley as the evening wore on. To Zane, it added to the charm and mystique of the area. Upon arriving at the gate, they slipped through the shrubs and began the trek up the paved drive.

Carmen looked at Amanda as they entered the cover of the trees. “Any idea why a group might want a map so badly? How could it possibly be so valuable?”

“The first thing I thought of was some hidden cache of treasure,” Amanda replied. “Have you heard of the Copper Scroll?”

“Wasn’t that one of the Dead Sea Scrolls?” Carmen asked.

Amanda nodded. “It was found in Cave Three at Qumran in 1952. It describes a mysterious stash of coins, vessels, gold, and silver. Some have estimated the value of the supposed treasure at millions of dollars.”

“I’ve heard of that scroll but didn’t realize it was a map,” Zane said.

“It’s not a map, per se, but it does describe where the treasure is hidden. Unfortunately, I doubt it will ever be discovered because the places it described either can’t be deciphered, or they no longer exist.”

Zane looked at Amanda. “That reminds me of what Dr. Pauling talked about in the video. He said it was like having the map of a neighborhood, but you don’t know where the neighborhood is.”

“Precisely,” Amanda agreed. “And like the Copper Scroll, the place this map describes may never be found.”

“Maybe it gives the location of Atlantis,” Carmen added. “It seems like every few years, someone claims to have found it. I’m guessing every treasure ring in the world would like to get their hands on its location.”

“Assuming it’s a real place, the discovery of Atlantis would certainly pay financial dividends,” Amanda replied. “Imagine the street value of the artifacts.”

As the group continued in silence, Zane surveyed the woods. The fog wound through the trees like a gray phantom. He saw and heard nothing, save for the occasional flap of wings as birds settled in for the evening. He wondered if the group who’d killed Pauling knew of this location. It was certainly possible. After all, the residence in Venice was not owned in Pauling’s name, yet they’d managed to find it.

Twenty minutes later, the road emerged from the woods near the mountain’s peak. Carmen slowed and pointed. Darkness had fallen, but Zane was able to see the outline of a one-story home just ahead.

“You didn’t see this on the maps?” Amanda whispered.

“To be honest, I do remember seeing a few rooftops near the top of the mountain,” Zane admitted, “but I never related them to the GPS coordinates since they were so far away.”

“It doesn’t look like anyone is home,” Carmen said.

Zane studied the windows. As far as he could tell, she was right. It was pitch black. There was no light anywhere, indoors or out.

“Let’s have a look.” Zane gestured to the right. “Just to be safe, we’ll loop around and come in through the back.”

Zane led them across the open space. The residence was encircled by a short stone wall, which they followed around to the rear. After listening for any signs of activity, Zane moved over to the gate and undid the latch.

Carmen entered first with her gun drawn, sweeping to the right and to the left. “All clear.”

The small courtyard was mostly bare. To the left was an untended garden, and to the right was a table and chairs. Against the wall behind the table was a lawn mower and gas can. Seeing nothing out of the ordinary, Zane walked to the rear door and removed the lock pick kit. The lock was an older model, probably the norm in the relatively crime-free areas surrounding the mountain lakes. Two minutes later, there was a loud click as the lock snapped open.

“I’ll go in first,” Amanda whispered.

As part of her training, Brett had taught her how to disable most commercial and private security systems. If one beeped upon entry, she knew how to remove the casing and turn off the alarm with a series of quick wire cuts. After removing a pocketknife, Amanda opened the door and entered. Thankfully, there was no sign of an alarm, so she waved them in.

“Well, we know this is Dr. Pauling’s house,” Carmen noted as she entered. “Not one bit of clutter.”

A large living room ran from one side of the house to the other. As Carmen had noted, the interior was consummate Pauling. There was very little furniture, and the only personal items in view were a stack of magazines on a coffee table.

Carmen frowned as she looked around. “This is it.”

“This is what?” Zane asked.

“This is the room the video was filmed in. The windows, the curtains, they’re all the same.”

“She’s right,” Amanda said. “If it was light outside, I’d bet we’d see the mountains.”

“At least we know we’re at the right place,” Carmen said.

Zane glanced around the room. “Let’s begin our search. Since we’re using this door as our exit, let’s start at the front and work our way back here.”

He clicked on a flashlight and led them down a center hallway that ran toward the front of the house. They passed a kitchen on the left, followed by a couple of crisscrossing corridors. The house was only one story, but it covered a lot of square footage. As they neared the front, Zane shone his light into a room on the right. It looked like a study, so he signaled Carmen that he’d begin searching there.

Carmen peeked in the room across the hall. “This looks like a bedroom, so I’ll start over here.”

“I’ll see if there is anything further down.” Amanda kept walking.

Zane entered the study. Like the living room, it was simply decorated with a desk and chair on one end and a bookshelf on the other. Unfortunately, there was nothing in plain view — no papers lying around, no stacks of important folders, and no electronic devices. Zane decided to begin his search at the shelf. The first clue had been hidden inside a book, so why not do the same again? Using his light, Zane began a slow examination of the spines. Unlike the library in Venice, these books weren’t exclusively about archaeology. There were a few, but most were a diverse mix of history, geography, astronomy, and travel.

He had just pulled out an atlas when he heard Carmen call to him from across the hall. “Zane.”

After sliding the book back, he crossed to the bedroom. Carmen stood in front of a wardrobe on the right. The doors were open, and she trained her flashlight on something inside. “Check this out.”

As he came alongside, he saw a small laptop on the top shelf. “Who puts their laptop in a wardrobe?”

“An eccentric archaeologist?” She looked at him with a smile. “I think we just found our map.”

“Perhaps.” Zane pulled it off the shelf. “But let’s not get our hopes up until we can take a look at the files.”

As Zane moved toward the bed, he felt a vibration in his pocket. The phone. He frowned. They were using burners, so he knew there were only two possible callers — Amanda or someone from Delphi Headquarters. He guessed the former.

Carmen fished for her phone as well.

Zane unlocked the screen to find a text message from Amanda. Get up here quick.

The urgency bothered Zane. If she’d found the map she’d simply have brought it back to them. He tucked his phone away quickly. “Let’s see what she’s got.”

After setting the laptop back in the wardrobe, the two made their way to the front. After finding the foyer empty, Zane noticed a sitting room through a doorway on the left. Amanda held silent vigil at the window.

She waved them over. “Here we go again.”

Zane and Carmen stood on either side of her. The fog outside was thick now, making it hard to see more than twenty yards or so. A brisk wind swept across the yard, causing the chime on the front porch to sway and jingle. Other than that, Zane saw and heard nothing.

He gave Amanda a confused look.

“The woods,” Amanda said. “Look at the woods.”

Zane shifted his gaze toward the trees.

Carmen’s body stiffened next to him. “I see it.”

Zane saw it too, several beams of light moving back and forth in the fog. Vehicles made their way up the drive.

“It was providential,” Amanda said. “I just had a feeling something was out there, so I came to the window. At first, I didn’t see anything, then a little tiny glow appeared way back in the woods. As soon as I saw the light, I knew it couldn’t be good.”

Zane continued to stare at the trees. A few seconds later, a black SUV broke out of the woods. There were more behind it. “Let’s go. We’ll exit through the back.”

He led them back through the foyer and down the hallway. Car doors were already opening and closing outside. His pulse quickened. They were moving faster than he’d imagined. At most, they had a minute to get out of the house.

If they didn’t, they’d be trapped inside.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Carmen drew her pistol as she followed Zane to the back. She’d heard the doors slamming outside as well but was still confident they could get out without being seen. For one, the new arrivals probably didn’t expect to find anyone here, making it doubtful they’d encircle the home. Zane crossed to the rear door and stared through the glass. A few seconds later, he gave the all-clear signal and reached for the knob.

An image flashed in Carmen’s mind. How could she have forgotten? “Zane, wait. The laptop.”

Zane paused with the door half open. “Hurry. We’ll wait here.”

“No, both of you get out and hide in the woods. This will only take a few seconds.”

Zane hesitated.

“Go!” Carmen shouted. As she turned and sprinted down the hall, she heard them leave through the back door. It was the right thing to do. There was no sense in endangering three people when it wasn’t necessary. Zane knew that. He was just glad she’d remembered the sole item of interest. The house was about to be turned upside down, and there was zero chance the intruders would miss it.

Carmen switched off her flashlight as she ran. It slowed her down but had to be done in order to keep from being seen. She slowly entered the bedroom. There was enough light coming through the window to find her way to the bed. Feeling around, she found the laptop where they’d left it. As she turned to leave, an idea surfaced in her mind. It would take a few seconds but would be worth the time. Moving quickly, she tossed her pistol on the bed and stuffed the laptop into her shirt. Thankfully, it was one of the smaller notebook devices. After situating it over her belly, she tucked in her shirttail and tightened her belt.

As she retrieved her pistol, a loud smash carried down the hallway. She froze. Someone was kicking in the front door. She heard another loud smash, followed by the sound of boots in the foyer. She thought of making a run for it, but spears of light were already slicing down the corridor. Escaping that way was no longer an option.

Carmen looked around. Her heart pounded. She figured she had ten seconds to hide. As the boots neared her door, she did the only thing she could do; she stepped into the wardrobe and slid the door back into place, leaving a crack to see out.

An authoritative voice barked orders from the foyer. “You, take your team and start at the back. Make sure all points of entry are secure. You, stay here with me to search the front. I want this place turned upside down. Go!”

As the men marched off, Carmen breathed a sigh of relief. At least they didn’t realize anyone else was here. They had come for one purpose, and that was to look for the map. There was one huge negative though. Every square inch of the house would be searched over the next hour or two, and that included the wardrobe. She wasn’t safe. She’d have to find a way to get out.

But how? Should she wait until most of the men dispersed then try to fight her way out the front? If it was the same team from Venice, she knew each member would be armed with semi or fully automatic rifles. Not only that, but they were undoubtedly wearing Kevlar armor. Even with her marksmanship skills, she’d face long odds in a gun battle. Trying to make head shots in the dark would be extremely difficult, if not impossible.

Unfortunately, trying to slip out undetected didn’t seem to be an option either. As best she could tell, at least two had remained to search the front.

Footfalls approached, and the leader spoke in the corridor. “Search that room, and I’ll get this one. Let me know if you find anything. And I mean anything.”

“Copy that.”

Carmen readied her pistol. A dark shadow passed across the gap. She tensed her muscles, ready to fight if forced. Fortunately, the steps continued to the other side of the bed. Seconds later, she heard the sound of drawers opening.

Careful not to make any noise, Carmen slid the door open a bit more. A figure dressed in black bent over the nightstand. Once he was done searching it, there was a good chance he’d come to the wardrobe next. That left her a small window of opportunity. She would slip out now then dash from the room and escape through the front door. The only thing that might disrupt her plans would be the presence of guards at the front of the house. She hoped all the men were inside but doubted that was the case.

Carmen took a deep breath. It was time. She had to move. As she prepared to slide the door open, the man turned and marched in her direction. She cursed and slipped as far back as she could, giving her room to lift her pistol and shoot him in the face when the door opened. At this point, it was her only option.

The wardrobe shook as the man felt around for the edge of the door. Carmen gripped her Beretta with both hands. The door began to slide open then stopped. Something buzzed in the room. Carmen frowned in confusion then realized it was a vibrating cell phone.

The man released the door, and Carmen heard the rustling of fabric as he fished his cell out of a pocket. “Yes?”

Surprisingly, he placed the call on speaker, allowing Carmen to hear both sides of the conversation.

“Have you found anything?” someone asked on the other end.

Carmen’s eyes widened in surprise. The accent was distinctly American. More importantly, it had a familiar ring. Where had she heard it before? She guessed it was someone famous, perhaps a politician or someone she’d heard on television. She shuffled through some familiar names but couldn’t place it.

“We just got here. Of course not.”

“I thought you’d be done by now.”

“We waited for nightfall.”

“Is anyone there?”

“No, why?”

“We’ve been updating the satellite feeds. The area around the gate was clear earlier this afternoon, but the most recent image shows a white vehicle parked just down the road. It’s small, probably a European make.”

“Trust me, there is no one here.”

“Don’t be so sure.” The American seemed irritated at the man’s nonchalant response. “Perhaps the girl is leading you into a trap.”

A cold chill ran down Carmen’s spine. There was no question they were referring to Emily. It didn’t seem possible, yet who else could it be? She felt another wave of guilt, this one even more severe than the last, but pushed it quickly aside. She could beat herself up later. For now, she needed to stay alive. That was the only way she could help undo the damage that had already been done.

“Negative. There is no trap. She’s scared half to death, shaking like a leaf.”

“Where is she now?”

“She’s with us. We’ve already told her if we don’t find anything, she’ll be punished.”

Carmen seethed with anger. She felt like taking the man down right now and figuring the rest out later. She might have if it weren’t for the fact that Emily was somewhere close by, probably in one of the vehicles.

“When you finish up, call me,” the American said. “I need to speak to you about the Vatican.”

Carmen frowned. What about the Vatican?

“Something wrong?”

“No. We just need to finalize plans.”

Sensing it was a matter of importance, she tucked the information away for future reference. Her gut told her it was somehow all tied to the map. Perhaps the Catholic Church owned a copy as well.

“Hold on a sec,” the leader said. “I’ve got someone speaking in my earpiece.”

Carmen heard the man breathing as he listened to the message. Had they discovered Zane and Amanda?

Finally, the leader replied, “I’ll be there in a second.” He addressed the American once again. “Let me go. I think they found something.”

Carmen felt a sense of relief. There would have been more urgency in his voice if they had found the others.

“Call me back when you know what it is.”

The leader ended the call without responding then stepped out of the room. After summoning the other man out of the study, the two marched off to another part of the house.

Carmen relaxed her body. She’d been poised to shoot but was relieved it wouldn’t be necessary. As long as there was no one stationed at the front of the house, she should be able to slip away without being seen. She counted to thirty then opened the door and stepped out into the room. She paused at the door and listened. She heard voices, but they were some distance off.

Satisfied she was alone, Carmen moved to the front door and slipped out into the night.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

“This way,” Zane whispered as he led Carmen and Amanda silently through the trees. Zane had been shocked to hear Carmen’s news about Emily but was thankful she might have been delivered into their hands. The news had shifted their priority from getting off the mountain to rescuing her.

For now, Zane’s goal was to get to a place where they could view the vehicles parked in front of the house. Ahead was a row of bushes that would fit the bill. He slowed his pace and crouched behind the foliage. Carmen and Amanda settled in to his right.

“Ten o’clock.” Carmen pointed toward the drive in front of the house.

Zane peered through the tangle of branches. Three black SUVs rose out of the fog about fifty yards away. All faced downhill, which was standard procedure in any type of intelligence or military operation. Always be prepared to depart quickly.

He retrieved a monocular from his pants pocket and lifted it to his right eye. He adjusted the focus ring then began a systematic examination of the vehicles.

“See anything?” Carmen asked.

“Not yet. Wait…” Something moved on the left. Zane swung the monocular in that direction and adjusted the focus. Soon, the silhouettes of two men materialized in front of the lead SUV. They hadn’t been there moments before. A small orange point of light glowed near the face of one then faded. Cigarette.

“I have two tangos leaning against the hood of the front vehicle,” Zane said. “One is smoking.”

“Any others?”

“Negative.”

Zane resumed his search for Emily. If both men were at the front vehicle, then perhaps that’s where Emily was being held. He trained the monocular on each window of the SUV, looking closely for the outline of a head, anything that might indicate she was inside. There seemed to be a slight irregularity to the back seat but nothing that would confirm her presence.

He handed the monocular to Carmen. “I can’t see anyone else, but if Emily is there, I’d have to think she’s in the front vehicle.”

“I agree. Unfortunately, the only way we’re going to find out is by actually looking inside.” Carmen passed the monocular back to Zane then checked her watch. “We need to get going. They’ve been there for fifteen or twenty minutes. The house is pretty bare, so they may not be inside much longer.”

She had a point. They probably didn’t have much time. Then again, they needed to make sure they got it right the first time. If they didn’t, Emily might be killed. As for a plan, he had no doubt they could slither close and take out both men, but what would happen after that? The sound of gunfire would bring the others out of the house. And if there weren’t keys in the SUV, they’d be quickly overwhelmed.

Amanda broke the silence. “We can’t leave here without Emily.”

“We’re not going to,” Zane assured her, “but we can’t do it in a way that will get us all caught or killed. They’re keeping her alive because they believe she’s valuable to their mission, whatever that is.”

“I say we take them out and take our chances,” Carmen said. “If the cars don’t have keys, we grab Emily and take off through the woods.”

“What happens when we find her wrists and her ankles bound?” Zane asked.

“I’ll use my knife to cut her free. I doubt they’re using metal cuffs, and if I’m right, that means I can have her walking freely in ten or fifteen seconds.”

“We don’t know how she’s bound. If she’s wrapped up tight, metal cuffs or not, it’s going to take at least a minute to free her. And we may not have a minute.” Zane held her gaze. “Let’s say you’re able to get her free, and we flee into the woods. I’d give us a fifty-fifty chance at best. As you know, we always have to assume the worst. Remember Venice. I thought our chances were much better than fifty-fifty, and we ended up losing someone.” As soon as the words left his mouth, Zane regretted using them. He hadn’t meant to insinuate Carmen had somehow been at fault, yet he realized she might take it that way. The point he was trying to make was they had much worse odds here. On top of everything else, they didn’t know what sort of condition Emily was in. She might not even be able to walk.

Carmen checked her watch. “I’m just concerned about the time. If we’re going to move, it needs to be done sooner rather than later.”

“And if Emily is here, we may never have another chance like this to bring her back alive,” Amanda said.

Zane sorted through several options. He still didn’t like taking out the men without knowing if the vehicle could be driven or what sort of condition Emily was in. Then again, Amanda was correct in pointing out they might never again have such a good opportunity. In fact, he couldn’t even be sure they’d be able to find Emily again.

“What about a distraction?” Carmen asked. “Something to get them away from the vehicle.”

Carmen’s question triggered a memory of something Zane had seen earlier. It would take some time, but it just might work.

“Zane?”

“I just figured out how we’re going to get Emily back.”

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

“Give me one more,” Petr said in his native Czech tongue. He wasn’t a regular smoker, but he was tired of waiting for the others to finish inside, and cigarettes helped pass the time.

Michal pushed off the hood and walked away. “This time, you’re going to have to wait.”

“Where are you going?”

“To water the plants,” Michal said over his shoulder. “They look malnourished. Time to apply some of my special fertilizer.”

“Give me one before you leave.”

“You’ll live.”

As Petr watched, Michal continued toward a landscaped bed, eventually disappearing in the fog. Seconds later, he heard a zipper being pulled then a loud groan of satisfaction. Petr shook his head and checked his watch. He was ready to get back to the hotel. He’d taken a large poker loss the night before and was ready to recoup the euros he’d lost. He felt it. Tonight was going to be his night to win big at the table. Then again, he always felt that way.

The sound of a zipper carried across the lawn. While waiting for Michal to return, Petr walked around the side of the SUV. When he got to the back window, he saw a mass of wavy dark hair pressed against the glass. Sleeping Beauty.

Hearing footsteps, he saw Michal returning. After taking one last look at the girl, he returned to the front.

Michal set his rifle against the truck then retrieved a pack of cigarettes from his pocket, tapping the bottom until one slid out. “Here. Now quit your complaining.”

Petr took it from him, along with a lighter. After setting his rifle against the front bumper, he lit it slowly, savoring the first few puffs.

Michal lit his own then jerked a thumb toward the back of the truck. “How is our little princess?”

“Either asleep or acting like she is.”

“She’s pretty hot,” Michal said. “Maybe I should go back and make sure she’s not faking.”

Petr took another draw then laughed. “Go right ahead. I’m sure—”

A loud female voice speaking English carried up from below, cutting him off. “You idiot, it’s your fault!”

“What the hell?” Michal grabbed his rifle.

Petr tossed his cigarette aside and picked up his rifle. He stared down the hill but couldn’t see any movement. They were supposed to be alone on the mountain, and if they weren’t, it likely meant trouble.

“My fault?” a second female asked. “I told you to stop for gas in Lugano.”

“I might have if you hadn’t been playing your freaking music so loud, distracting me to no end.”

Two women appeared below. One was a tall brunette and the other a blonde.

“Just shut up,” the brunette said. She spoke in English, but her accent was not that of a native speaker.

“Hey!” Michal shouted in English, raising his rifle.

The blonde let out a little scream and stumbled backward, almost falling down.

Michal marched aggressively toward them. “Get your hands up now!”

“Please!” the brunette said. “Don’t shoot.”

Petr turned on a flashlight and shined it on them. A gas can dangled from the blonde’s hand. He frowned. There was something odd about the whole thing. The loud talking seemed contrived.

Michal shook his rifle threateningly. “I said, get your hands up!”

“Okay, okay.” The blonde tossed the gas can aside and lifted her hands.

“We’re just here to borrow some gas,” the brunette said. “We saw the gate open and—”

“Shut up!” Michal barked. He marched forward and examined each one, looking for any sign of a weapon.

Petr’s eyes narrowed. Something didn’t smell right. Who would hike all the way up the mountain without knowing what was here? There was a petrol station a mile or so away. Why not hike back to it? As that thought hit home, he felt a surge of adrenaline.

If he needed any more evidence, it came when he saw the bulge in the brunette’s pants pocket. He knew the shape of a pistol when he saw it. She was armed. The whole thing was a setup. It was time to bring the ruse to an end.

Petr opened his mouth, but before he could form the words, he heard the soft pad of feet behind him. He turned, but it was too late.

A hard object came down on his head. His world went dark.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

The plan was falling perfectly into place. Carmen and Amanda had retrieved the gas can from the courtyard and were now talking loudly as they approached the two guards. The two men lifted their guns and marched toward them. Zane used the sound of their voice as cover to sprint to the rear of the SUV. Once there, he crept to the front, a few yards from the guards.

Hidden next to the front left wheel well, Zane studied the scene. As he’d expected, one of the guards held the light while the other searched for weapons. Zane crept a few more feet and tensed. When Carmen gave the signal — a cough — they would begin a simultaneous assault. Zane would take out the covering guard with one blow, then Amanda and Carmen would jump the other one, making sure they prevented him from calling out.

Suddenly, the closer guard shone his beam toward Carmen’s pocket. To the trained eye, the bulge of the Beretta was obvious. The guard lifted his rifle and stepped forward. The ruse was up.

With no other options, Zane rushed forward and slammed the grip of his pistol down on the man’s head, dropping him immediately, unconscious before he hit the ground. Unfortunately, his partner heard the noise and pivoted, giving a shout when he saw what was happening.

Realizing what had happened, Carmen jumped the guard from behind. She made sure to grab his rifle when she attacked, turning it away as he squeezed the trigger. The rounds sprayed harmlessly into the air, but the sound echoed loudly across the mountaintop. They might as well have blown a horn. It was only a matter of time before reinforcements came pouring out of the villa.

Zane sprinted forward. Carmen had the man in a tight headlock. As he drew near, she turned the man’s head toward him. Zane lifted his pistol and brought it down on the man’s head. He dropped to the ground, still moving. Zane hit him a second time, this time knocking him out cold.

“They’re coming!” Amanda shouted.

Zane turned. The house was about a hundred yards away, but he saw at least two men coming off the front porch, their gun-mounted lights stabbing through the fog.

“What we discussed earlier,” Zane said. “Go!”

All three knew what to do. They sprinted down the side of the vehicles furthest from the house. Carmen took the lead. Her job was to disable the two vehicles in the rear. Using a rifle she’d just grabbed, she did exactly that, filling the tires with bullets and shooting spider webs into the windshields.

Zane had already seen Emily’s silhouette in the lead SUV, so he told Amanda to get in and remove any restraints. Without hesitating, Amanda slid into the back seat with her flashlight out. Zane hoped the captive was bound with plastic ties or rope. He also hoped he’d find the key.

Gunfire sprayed across all three vehicles.

“Keep us covered!” Zane shouted at Carmen.

While she returned fire, he climbed into the front seat. He took a brief glimpse at Amanda as he settled in. She was already fiddling with Emily’s restraints. Emily groaned in response, a clear indication she was under heavy sedation. If Zane couldn’t get the vehicle started, they’d all be pinned in a metallic grave. At this point, escaping into the woods wasn’t an option.

A shot blew out a portion of the window above the tailgate. Amanda let out a little scream and ducked.

“Stay down,” Zane said.

He placed a hand on the ignition. Nothing. He growled in frustration. The keys had to be somewhere around him. These men had military training, which meant they would’ve left at least one set of keys in each vehicle. It was standard protocol, an insurance policy in case an urgent getaway was needed.

Another shot blasted out the remainder of the glass at the back. This time, Amanda stayed focused on getting Emily free.

Carmen’s voice shouted from somewhere behind them. “I can’t hold them much longer. They’re coming around on our flank.”

Zane glanced in the rearview window, and his blood ran cold. Dark figures slipped out toward the woods. Before long, they’d be encircled by a ring of gunfire. As if to emphasize the point, a shot hit the door just behind him. He prayed it hadn’t gone through.

“Zane.” Amanda’s voice was measured but firm.

“I can’t find the key.”

Emily groaned.

“Did you check the cup holder?”

“Huh?”

“The cup holder. The console. Check between the seats.”

Zane leaned over the center console and saw the glint of metal. A wave of relief swept over him. “Got it.”

“I can’t hold out any longer,” Carmen yelled.

Zane turned his head and shouted through the blown-out rear window. “I’ve got it. Let’s go!”

He faced forward and turned the ignition. Thankfully, the engine roared to life. He looked back at Amanda. “Open the door.”

Amanda turned, grabbed the knob, and pushed the door outward. Zane saw Carmen pull out from between the vehicles and rush forward. As she neared the door, a wave of bullets followed her, shredding metal along the way.

“Go!” Carmen shouted as she dove inside.

Zane floored it before the door closed. He had no choice. If they waited any longer, they’d all be filled with lead.

“I’ve got you,” Amanda grunted.

Zane glanced back as the vehicle took off. The door was still open, and Carmen was only halfway in. Muzzles flashed from all sides, so Zane couldn’t afford to stop. Finally, with one strong tug, Amanda pulled her all the way in. The door slammed shut.

Zane kept the pedal to the floor. The forest rose up ahead. He knew the road would soon wind back and forth, but he kept accelerating.

“Here they come,” Amanda said.

He checked the rearview mirror. Headlights. Gunshots rang out in the distance, one of them finding metal.

“I thought you disabled both vehicles,” Zane said to Carmen.

“I got most of the tires,” she said. “I also fired a bunch of shots through the grill of the third vehicle. It’s not going anywhere. I was about to do that to the second when they started firing.”

The road twisted and turned, forcing Zane to moderate his pace. He needed to maintain speed, but he also knew an accident of any kind would be fatal. He looked in the side mirror. The other driver was throwing caution to the wind, taking turns faster than he should. Even though he was in danger of careening off the road, the gamble was paying off. They were gaining ground.

Zane still couldn’t understand how they were driving on two good tires. He figured they must be self-sealing tires, the kind that would take you several dozen miles even when flat. He doubted they could hold up long after a gunshot, but they might make it a mile or two.

He thought through his options. Should he increase his speed even if it put them in danger of running off the road? Suddenly, he remembered something he’d seen along the road as they’d walked up, and a plan took shape in his mind. It would take perfect execution, but it just might work.

After a sharp turn, they entered a straightaway. Zane believed the place he was looking for was just ahead on the right. He needed to get there before the pursuing vehicle turned onto the straightaway. A moment later, he saw it. It was closer than he’d expected and coming up fast. Clenching his teeth, he reached down and killed the headlights.

“Zane?” Carmen asked from the back.

Ignoring the question, he took his foot off the gas and jerked the wheel to the right, turning into a small grassy clearing. He brought the vehicle to a stop by using the emergency brake then shifted into neutral and released the brake.

The pursuing vehicle came flying around the curve, its headlights spearing down the road to their left. Zane hoped he’d pulled far enough off the road. If the other driver saw them, the plan would fail. So far, so good. He wasn’t slowing down. The driver probably assumed they had already taken another turn, which was exactly what Zane had counted on.

Zane studied the headlights in the side mirror. The approaching vehicle was almost upon them. When it was approximately twenty yards back, he shifted into drive, mashed the pedal to the floor, and turned left. His timing was flawless. The other driver saw him pull out into the road, but it was too late to react. He jammed on the brakes as Zane turned into him. The resulting impact punched the other SUV off the road and into the woods. Inertia and gravity did their work, rolling the vehicle onto its side as it careened through a stand of saplings.

A second later, a deafening bang echoed through the trees as it slammed into the trunk of a towering tree.

After slowing for one last glance, Zane hit the gas and took off down the mountain.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Zane walked quietly down the hotel corridor, a cup of coffee clutched in one hand. When he found the room he was looking for, he rapped softly on the door. A moment later, the peephole darkened and the door swung inward.

Carmen motioned him in. “Welcome. How is your room?”

“Way too small.”

After escaping down the mountain, the team had switched back to their car and traveled to Menaggio, a small town along the western shore of Lake Como. Following a brief search, they’d been able to locate two rooms in a boutique hotel overlooking the Piazza Giuseppe Garibaldi. Zane had argued they should travel an hour or two to the south, a move that would put some distance between them and the gunmen back at the villa, but Carmen had rightly pointed out Menaggio was their best chance at finding rooms at this late hour. Most of the towns lining the southwestern shores of Lake Como were small, and even though early March wasn’t the busy season, there were probably enough tourists to fill up the few hotels. In addition, they needed to get Emily into a comfortable bed where they could monitor her condition.

“Come see our patient.” Carmen shut the door behind him and set the latch.

Zane continued into the large-but-simple room. Amanda sat at the table with Pauling’s laptop under one arm.

Carmen gestured toward the two beds on the right. “As you can see, she’s still pretty groggy.”

Emily was curled up in the fetal position on the bed closest to the window. Zane was glad to see she was finally getting some rest. During the ride to Menaggio, she had improved slightly, although it was obvious some of the sedative still coursed through her veins. She’d even been able to share a few details of the last twenty-four hours.

The bulk of her time in captivity had been spent answering questions from her captors, and for the most part, she’d told them the truth. She admitted she was Richard Pauling’s daughter and that she’d come to Italy seeking clues related to his disappearance. She told them she’d been searching her father’s house when ambushed by a group of American investigators.

During one of the interrogations, Emily had asked the men about her father’s fate. A direct answer never came, but the expressions on her captors’ faces indicated he’d likely been killed. From that point forward, she had fallen into a deep period of depression. For a brief time, she’d even stopped plotting her escape. The news of her father’s probable demise had taken away her will to live.

As she’d continued to share a few details, one in particular grabbed Zane’s attention. At one point, she had awakened to find a man sitting a few feet away. He was gaunt and sallow like a corpse and had the unblinking stare of someone possessed. Emily said she’d never before felt the presence of such evil.

Zane asked Emily for more details, but the only thing she remembered was his name — Viktor. Her fear had been so intense it seemed to have erased much of what went on after that. Zane made a decision not to press her further. If her memory did return, he was sure she’d share it.

Hearing voices, Emily lifted her head. Thankfully, she didn’t seem as pale as before. Carmen had insisted she sip bottled water in the car, and the hydration seemed to have helped restore her color.

Emily’s eyes fell on Zane, and she brightened immediately. “Hey.”

“Hello.” He sat at the foot of the bed and patted her leg. “It looks like they gave you some good stuff. I could use some of that myself.”

Emily gave a little laugh. “Not sure you’d want to go through what I did in order to get some.”

“Try to get some sleep, honey,” Carmen said.

“Okay.” Emily looked briefly at Zane before adjusting her pillow and closing her eyes.

Zane and Carmen crossed to the table and pulled out chairs.

“Find anything?” Zane asked Amanda.

“We were getting Emily situated and haven’t had a chance to look.” She turned the screen so both of them could see then mashed the power button.

“Let’s hope there is something on here,” Carmen said, “because at this point, it’s all we have.”

“That’s not entirely true,” Zane pointed out. “Don’t forget your detective work from inside the wardrobe.”

After Emily had fallen asleep in the car, Carmen had briefed them on the conversation she’d overheard between the leader of the assault team and the man with an American accent. She was convinced the latter was someone she recognized. In fact, she was also convinced he was someone who held a high position within the United States government. Unfortunately, the phone connection was poor and had distorted his voice just enough to hide his identity.

The reference to the Vatican had most captured Zane’s attention. What did the cryptic reference mean? Was the Holy See after the map? Or had the man been referencing some kind of operation against the Vatican? He guessed the latter, although it was only a hunch.

Carmen sat back in her seat and crossed her arms. “Assuming the Vatican reference is a lead, where do we start? Don’t get me wrong. I think it’s significant. I just don’t know what we can do with the little information we have.”

“We’ll need to put our minds together.” Zane nodded at the laptop. “Who knows? Maybe Pauling left us a piece of information linking everything together.”

As they waited for the device to boot, Zane parted the curtains and looked out at the Piazza Giuseppe Garibaldi. The hour was late, and activity in the plaza had slowed considerably. A boisterous group of tourists spilled out of a restaurant to the left. On the opposite side of the square, several couples strolled along the shore of Lake Como.

The laptop chimed. Zane let the curtain fall back into place.

“Let’s see what we have here.” Amanda used the touch pad to maneuver to the device’s documents. When the contents displayed, she let out an exaggerated sigh. “Good grief, this may take all night.”

Hundreds of folders appeared on the screen, each named with a long set of what seemed to be random letters. Amanda clicked on the first folder, only to find another underneath it. The nomenclature was the same as before, a string of arbitrary letters.

Carmen frowned. “It looks like layers of dummy files to me. Keep clicking through.”

Amanda did as instructed. Each time she opened a folder, another appeared underneath. Finally, after clicking through about twenty layers she finally arrived at an empty folder. Dead end.

Zane looked at Carmen. “I’m impressed. How did you…?”

“It has nothing to do with my smarts. I’ve just seen this a couple of times before. It’s a common trick to hide a private file. It will throw off the casual snoop but not a sophisticated hacker.” She nodded at the screen. “Go back to where we started. I think that’s the group we need to focus on.”

Once Amanda returned to the highest level of folders, Zane looked at the names again. “Unless I’m missing something, the letters are completely random.”

“Scroll down, please,” Carmen said.

Amanda did as instructed.

“Who has time to put all this together?” Zane took a swig of coffee. “I’m guessing it would take hours — if not days — to put something like that together.”

Carmen answered without taking her eyes off the screen. “A man who is hiding something of great importance, something others would kill for.”

“Look.” Amanda pointed with her free hand.

Zane’s eyes narrowed. The folder names changed from sequences of letters to sequences of numbers.

“Wait!” Carmen said.

Amanda looked at her. “What?”

“Why didn’t I think of this before?”

“Why didn’t you think of what?” Zane asked.

“The folder names. Look at them.” Carmen’s voice was filled with excitement.

Zane examined the first few. He didn’t see anything special about the names. Like the previous ones, they seemed completely random. “Sorry, I don’t see a pattern.”

“How many numbers are there?” Carmen asked.

Amanda used her finger to count off each digit. “Eighteen.”

Carmen looked at Zane. “Sound familiar?”

Zane set his cup down and ran a hand through his hair. “I must need some sleep because I don’t see a thing.”

“I don’t see the significance either,” Amanda said.

“Here, watch this.” Carmen scooted closer and commandeered the touch pad. She inserted the cursor in the middle of the eighteen-digit number and inserted a space. “Okay, how many on each side?”

“Nine?” Amanda asked.

A look of understanding formed on Zane’s face. “Once again, I’m impressed. If you hadn’t done that, I never would’ve seen it.”

“I still don’t get it, guys,” Amanda said.

Zane looked at her. “They’re GPS coordinates.”

Amanda widened her eyes.

“Assuming you’re right, does this mean he’s giving us another location?” Zane asked Carmen.

“Possibly, but I don’t think so. If that were the case, we’d have no way of knowing which one of these is the right one without spending hours going through each and every folder and subfolder. But I do have a theory.” She reached into her pocket and retrieved her phone. After finding something, she set it down, moved back to the laptop, and scrolled through the folders.

Zane realized what she was looking for. “Let me guess. You think one of the folders has the GPS coordinates of the mountain villa.”

“Very good.” Carmen’s eyes narrowed as she studied the numbers. “I think this is it.”

Zane scooted his chair closer as Carmen clicked through the subfolders. A moment later, she stopped. She had just opened a folder, and instead of finding one underneath, there were two. The first was labeled For Your Eyes Only, and the other was labeled with a number.

“I think we hit pay dirt,” Carmen said.

She clicked on the one labeled, For Your Eyes Only first. Inside was the thumbnail JPEG. She double-clicked the image, and an ancient document appeared, or at least a portion of one. The roughly square piece had two straight sides, the top and the right. The bottom and left-hand sides were both torn.

Zane leaned forward for a better look. The cream-colored document was faded and weathered. But what he found even more interesting was what was written on the surface: dozens of darkly shaded lines.

He looked at Amanda. “Do you know what it is?”

She enlarged the image. “It looks like our map.”

“Are those roads?” Zane asked.

Amanda continued staring at the screen. “It’s possible.”

“Rivers perhaps?” Carmen asked.

Amanda pointed at some of the lines. “You might be right. It does remind me of the Nile Delta, with all its fingers and tributaries.”

Zane noticed one of the lines led to a large square space in the upper right-hand corner of the document. He indicated it with his finger. “If that’s true, perhaps this is a lake or some other large body of water.”

“The parchment is so worn it’s too hard to tell,” Carmen said.

“Technically, it’s not parchment. It’s papyrus.” Amanda zoomed in on one of the document’s torn edges. Small threads protruded. It looked like the edge of a torn cloth. “See those fibers? That’s what’s left of the pith strips, the inner part of a papyrus plant. Ancient Egyptians and other ancient peoples removed the pith from the plant then cut it into strips. The papyri were created by weaving together two perpendicular layers of strips.”

“So essentially, we’re looking at torn plant fibers,” Carmen said.

Amanda nodded.

“Is that important?” Zane asked.

“It is in one sense.” Amanda enlarged the image even further. “I’m an archaeologist, but documents aren’t my area of expertise. That’s a very specialized field. That being said, I can tell you it has the look of authenticity.” She looked at Zane. “In my professional opinion, we’re looking at an ancient document.”

“Obviously, Pauling thought it was authentic.” He looked back at the image. “If this is a system of rivers, is there any way to determine where they might be and the significance? Is there a program that would match the image to something on record?”

“There are any number of image-recognition tools online, but something tells me this won’t show up. Remember, Dr. Pauling was just starting to figure out what he was dealing with. That means it’s not the sort of thing you can pull up on Google. It’s going to take some research — potentially dozens of hours of research — to figure out what the lines represent. At this point, I can’t even say they’re rivers.”

“There was another folder,” Carmen said. “Let’s see what’s in there.”

Amanda backed out of the current folder and opened the other one. Inside was another thumbnail JPEG, which she double-clicked on. Zane’s eyes widened. The photograph showed an open drawer, and resting inside was a polished stone relic. Its shape was odd with spokes or spires sticking out of a circular center.

Amanda leaned closer. “It looks like a star.”

“I was going to say a wheel,” Zane said.

Carmen pointed at a tag next to the relic. “Can we get a better look at that?”

Amanda zoomed in, bringing a number and date into view. “It looks like the kind of labeling we use on the archaeological storage drawers at UT.”

“Maybe this was taken at a university,” Zane suggested.

“It’s possible, but I don’t think so.” She zoomed back out and pointed at the right side of the image. “See all those other drawers? This is a big facility with high-end equipment. We don’t have anything that expensive at UT or anywhere else I’ve visited. I’m guessing this is one of the big museums or the private collection of a very wealthy individual.”

“Or perhaps a government archive,” Carmen suggested.

Amanda turned toward her with wide eyes. “That’s it.”

“That’s what?”

“An archive. This drawer is in an archive, and I’m pretty sure I know which one.”

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

“The Vatican?” Carmen asked after Amanda gave them the answer.

“Are you sure?” Zane asked.

“Give me a minute.” Amanda stood, walked over to her luggage, and pulled out a tablet.

Perhaps the pieces were finally coming together. First, Carmen overheard a cryptic reference to the Vatican. In addition, they found the image of a relic on Pauling’s hard drive Amanda believed might be housed at the Vatican. But what was the connection? Perhaps the group that killed Richard Pauling was trying to get their hands on both the map and the relic. At this point, that was a reasonable conclusion.

“Here.” Amanda offered Carmen the tablet. “Take a look.”

Zane looked over her shoulder. Displayed on the screen was an article about the Vatican Secret Archives. Academics, reporters, and a few members of the general public were being allowed to tour the facility for a limited time. But it was the image at the top of the article Amanda wanted them to see. The photograph depicted a man crouching in an aisle of the Secret Archives. He was pulling out a drawer that looked just like the one in Pauling’s JPEG.

“Mystery solved,” Zane said.

“They call them the Secret Archives,” Carmen said. “I guess they’re not so secret after all.”

“Oh, they’re still very secret,” Amanda said. “The journalists were only allowed into a small, controlled area. This is a wild guess, but I’d say they probably saw less than one percent of the Vatican’s collection. And you can rest assured they didn’t see the things the Vatican wants hidden. Most of the critical documents and artifacts are housed in an underground vault.”

“Maybe that’s where the relic is being kept. And perhaps this group is going to try to break in and get their hands on it,” Carmen suggested.

“Good luck with that,” Zane said. “Vatican City is protected by the Swiss Guard, so unless they’re bringing a small army, an attempt like that would be suicidal.”

Amanda’s brow furrowed. “The Swiss Guard? Those guys in the colorful clown suits?”

While Zane had a great deal of respect for the Swiss Guard, he understood why some might underestimate their capabilities. After all, their traditional renaissance outfits with puffy sleeves and rainbow of colors didn’t exactly exude power and strength. But the image was misleading. “Don’t let the uniforms fool you. They’re a fierce fighting force. Their soldiers are as tough as any out there. I can assure you they’d quickly put down a group of common street thugs trying to punch through and take one of their relics.”

“And how would they do that?” Amanda asked. “With swords?”

“You’re too focused on what the tourists see,” Carmen said. “Being Italian, I know a little bit about them. If you want to start something, they’ll bring some pretty heavy firepower to the fight. Try venturing into an unauthorized area, and you’ll likely be staring down the barrel of a Heckler and Koch MP-Five or MP-Seven.”

“Okay, let’s assume you’re right. That means this won’t be a smash-and-grab operation.” Amanda looked at Zane. “So what then?”

“Based on what Carmen overheard tonight, it’s possible this group has someone inside the U.S. government. And if that’s true, why not the Holy See?”

“An inside job.” Carmen bit her lower lip and nodded. “That might be the only way to steal anything from the Vatican.”

Zane looked at Amanda. “Let’s go back to the relic. Any idea what it might be?”

“I’ve been thinking about that. So far, I haven’t come up with anything.”

Carmen’s eyes narrowed. “What about the tag attached to it? Would that give us any important information?”

“It’s possible,” Amanda answered. “Unfortunately, I zoomed in as much as possible. It’s too blurry. We’re going to need some photo-enhancement software to figure it out.”

“We’ll forward it to Brett and have him start working on that.” Zane nodded at the picture on the screen. “How would you even categorize the relic?”

Amanda tapped her lips with a finger for a few seconds. “You want my honest answer? I don’t have a clue. I’m very familiar with artifacts of the Near East, but this doesn’t resemble anything I’ve ever seen before. If someone held a gun to my head, I’d say it was a decorative piece, but at this point, it’s all complete conjecture.”

“Maybe we should just send the image to the Vatican and ask them what it is,” Carmen said. “They would know. Wouldn’t they?”

“Not necessarily. You have to remember the Secret Archives holds millions of documents and thousands upon thousands of artifacts, relics, and other religious objects. Unless this is something very important to the Catholic Church, I’d say it’s unlikely any of them will know what it is, even the curators. They’re going to need that number.”

A look of frustration spread over Carmen’s face. Zane shared her frustration, and yet, he also realized they were closer to the truth than they were before. Brett should be able to enhance the image, and once he did, it would simply be a matter of getting the number to the Vatican authorities.

“Even before we get the number, we need to contact the Vatican and let them know what might be coming their way,” Carmen added.

“I agree. I’m going to contact Ross tonight and let him go through the proper channels.”

“Why don’t we call them directly? This operation — whatever it is — could be going on right now.”

“Because they probably wouldn’t take my call.”

“I have a close friend who is a priest at Vatican City. I’m sure he could get us the number of the Swiss Guard.”

Zane shared her urgency but preferred they remain out of sight until the powers that be approved a meeting of some kind.

“Let’s see if I can reach Ross first. If he can’t get through tonight, we’ll call your friend.”

“Fair enough.”

Zane dialed the Oracle’s number on the burner phone. He answered on the first ring. “I’m at dinner with the director, Watson. Is this important, or can I call you in an hour?”

“We need to talk now if you can.”

“I understand. Just a moment.”

Zane heard muffled movement in the background. About thirty seconds later, the Oracle came back on. “Okay, I stepped outside.”

“Carmen and Amanda are with me. I’m going to put you on speaker.”

“Certainly.”

Zane set the phone on the table. “Can you hear me?”

“Loud and clear. Did something happen after we last spoke?”

Zane had called him an hour before to deliver the shocking news they’d found and rescued Emily Pauling. He’d also given him a brief sketch of the events at the mountain villa, from the finding of the laptop to the arrival of the gunmen.

As the Oracle listened, Zane brought him up to date on the relic and its possible connection to the Vatican.

After Zane finished, the Oracle asked, “This relic, the stone circle… Amanda doesn’t know what it is?”

She leaned toward the phone. “Dr. Ross, I’ve never seen anything like it. At this point, I can’t even categorize the object, much less identify it.”

Before he could respond, Carmen interjected, “Ross, we need to alert the Vatican.”

“I can. Watson, can you be in Rome by tomorrow afternoon?”

“Absolutely. If we leave in the morning, that won’t be a problem.”

“No, it’s just going to be you.”

Carmen frowned. “What about Amanda and me?”

“The two of you are traveling to Milan.”

Milan? Zane was now thoroughly confused. “Okay, I give up. Why are they going to Milan?”

“Because they’re going to be picking up some very special guests at the airport.”

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Vatican City

The last rays of the sun had disappeared below the horizon as Zane turned onto Via di Porta Angelica. Much to his frustration, traffic was at a standstill here. Tourists crowded the sidewalk to his right, which ran along the eastern wall of Vatican City. The majority walked toward the Tuscan colonnades of St. Peter’s Square a block ahead, while others headed east into Rome, looking for a place to dine.

Zane glanced at his watch. Carmen and the others should be with the new arrivals in Milan by now. They would remain there overnight then begin the journey south in the morning. He wasn’t surprised the Oracle was sending over more team members, but he was surprised one of them was Keiko. Other than a brief foray into the Amazon basin, this would be her first time in the field, a milestone in Delphi history.

As he waited for the traffic to advance, Zane’s mind returned to Katiya. The long drive from Menaggio had given him more time to think about all that had transpired over the last few weeks, and one thing had become crystal clear. He continued to regret his decision to break off their relationship. Unfortunately, she had rebuffed his efforts to restore it. So what now? He could attempt to contact her when he returned to the States, but it was possible she’d reject his offer again. In fact, she might have even moved on with another man by now. And if that was the case, it was better to let things go now.

The sharp blow of a horn brought Zane out of his thoughts. He looked in the rearview mirror. Someone was irritated he hadn’t noticed traffic was moving again. He gave them a little wave in the mirror then accelerated forward. A minute later, he turned right through St. Anne’s Gate, one of the few vehicular entrances to the Vatican. As he came to a stop, two Swiss Guards stepped out into the cobblestone alley, blocking his way. They wore blue regular duty uniforms with black boots and black berets.

One of the guards remained in place, while the other approached the driver’s side. Zane rolled down the window, showed his identification, and gave his reason for being there. The guard seemed to be expecting him but asked him to step out so they could perform a brief sweep of the vehicle. As he exited, two more guards appeared. One waved a metal-detecting wand over Zane’s body while the other circled the car with two German Shepherds. Zane had left all of his weaponry with Carmen, so he knew there was nothing to find.

When the search was complete, he climbed back in.

The lead guard approached again and pointed down the street. “Please go one block down, and take your first left.”

As Zane pulled away, the guard was already speaking into a collar mic. Everything was handled with crisp efficiency inside the walls of the city-state. If someone wanted to steal something from the Vatican’s archives, they were going to need a high level of sophistication.

Zane drove forward. When he arrived at the end of the block, another guard was there to direct him to the left. Zane turned and pulled into one of several parking spots. Although he’d never visited the interior of Vatican City, he knew the sand-colored buildings on the right were the Apostolic Palace complex, the official residence of the Pope. He studied some of the lighted windows and wondered if the Pontiff was there now.

The guard arrived as Zane was getting out. “Good afternoon, Herr Watson. I’m Hauptmann Schluessel.”

A captain. Apparently, they were taking his visit seriously.

“Thank you.” Zane shook the offered hand. “It’s an honor. It’s not every day I get escorted around the Vatican by an officer of the Guard.”

“And it’s not every day Oberst Stegmann gets a visit from American intelligence.” He gestured toward the peach-colored building on the left, the barracks of the Swiss Guard. “This way, please.”

Inside, Zane was directed through a security screening area. After Zane cleared, Schleussel escorted him to an all-glass office on the right. Zane noticed that since entering the walls of the Holy See, he’d been under a strict chain of custody. At every point in the process, he was always under someone’s watch.

“May I get you something to drink? A bottle of water?” Schluessel offered.

Zane waved him off. “I’m fine. Thank you.”

A few minutes later, a man with an air of authority strode through the entrance. He was well over six feet tall, all of it solid muscle. He had a square, chiseled face and closely cropped blond hair. His silver eyes not only conveyed intelligence, but an acute awareness of his surroundings.

After passing through security, he stuck his head in the glass office. “Herr Watson?”

Zane rose and shook the man’s strong hand. “Zane Watson.”

“I’m Commander Stegmann.” His accent was thick, much like that of a certain body builder-turned-actor-turned-governor. “I apologize for running a little late. The Holy Father is entertaining a group of cardinals from South America, and they’re discussing a number of issues that are — how shall I say? — very divisive in the church. Unfortunately, the controversial nature of the visit has brought out all the crazies.”

“I can imagine it doesn’t take much to accelerate the threat level around here.”

“Whatever you can imagine, multiply that by ten.”

Zane laughed. “Thank you for taking the time to meet with me, Commander.”

“It’s my pleasure. When our American friends tell us they have important information, we listen.” He glanced at his watch. “If you don’t mind, we’ll use my office upstairs.”

The commander led Zane down a central corridor. They passed two armories filled with racks of semi-automatic and fully automatic weapons, from Heckler & Koch MP5 submachine guns to SIG SG 550 Sniper rifles. Zane smiled. If Amanda could see their cache of arms, she’d never question the prowess of the Swiss Guard again.

Reaching the end, the two took an elevator to Stegmann’s office on the second floor. It was a simple affair: a mahogany desk, three chairs, a bookcase, and a large safe, which Zane assumed contained the commander’s weapons.

Stegmann stepped behind the desk then gestured toward one of the chairs facing him. “I’ll be quite honest. You don’t look like an FBI agent. For a brief moment, I thought you were an impostor.”

Zane laughed. It was a comment he got quite often. He actually liked the fact he didn’t fit the physical stereotype of an intelligence operative because it meant he drew less attention. A foreign agent was less likely to focus on a somewhat stylishly dressed man with long hair.

“Well, I have a confession to make.” Zane settled into the chair. “I’m not an FBI agent.”

“You’re not?” Stegmann frowned.

“I do work for the U.S. government. Some would say we’re a subset of the CIA, but that’s not exactly—”

Stegmann held up a hand. “Don’t worry. I realize there are some agencies within the world of intelligence that can’t be named publicly. Believe it or not, we have a few of those ourselves. Anyway, I know the director personally, and if you came at his request, that’s good enough for me.”

Stegmann’s phone vibrated. As the commander stared at the lit screen, Zane shifted his gaze toward the office’s sole window. The ribbed dome of St. Peter’s Basilica glowed in the distance, a reminder of how tightly packed the buildings were within the Vatican walls.

“Sorry about that,” Stegmann said after responding to the text. “How do you say it in English? There is always something.”

Zane nodded toward the basilica. “I’m jealous of your view.”

Stegmann sat back in his chair. “When I was first appointed commander, my office was on the other side of the building. But that didn’t seem fitting. So I called in our facilities director and told him that if I’m asked to protect the life of the Holy Father, I wanted to at least be able to look out the window and see his residence.”

“I can imagine it wouldn’t take you long to get over there, if necessary.”

“I can be at the Pontiff’s door in one minute and thirty-seven seconds.”

“Let’s hope you never have to be there that quickly,” Zane said.

“Of course, we have security personnel around him at all times. I’m a worrier by nature. I guess it’s one reason I was a natural for this job.” Stegmann set his phone aside and leaned forward. “Enough about me. Tell me what brings you here.”

“What did the director tell you?”

“To be honest, not much. Unfortunately, when I took the call, I was in the middle of preparations for the convocation of cardinals. I had about five minutes, so he gave me a shortened version. He said your government had reason to believe a group may be planning to steal an artifact from our vaults. He also said this group had already killed someone. As you can imagine, that got my attention.”

Zane realized he’d better start at the beginning. “How much time do we have?”

“As I said, one person has already been killed, and the people may be on their way here. You have as much time as you need.”

CHAPTER TWENTY

Father Luca Cortesi removed his reading glasses and peered out of his window on the third floor of the Vatican museum. Darkness had fallen, bringing dozens of lighted windows into view. In some ways, night was when the real work began at the Holy See.

He pushed aside the large binder and rubbed his eyes. He couldn’t look at the arrangements anymore. His brain was beginning to shut down, the product of his recent spate of fourteen-hour workdays. The Vatican was about to send a collection of relics on a tour of cities across the globe — Vienna, Berlin, Paris, London, New York, Chicago, Sydney, Tokyo, Dubai, and Milan — and Cortesi had been burning the midnight oil, reviewing final transportation and security preparations. If he didn’t get this right, treasured objects could get lost or stolen, and none of those things were acceptable.

Cortesi could’ve retired to his apartment an hour ago if one of their courier services wasn’t running a half hour late. Apparently, the driver had experienced engine problems about a half hour from Rome. Ordinarily, Cortesi would’ve let the security team check the package in and store it in a locker until he could get to it the following day. However, this was a high-priority delivery, which meant the driver and the curator must both witness the item’s storage.

Cortesi’s phone lit. He picked it up and looked at the screen. Someone was calling from the south entrance. He engaged the call. “Sì.”

“Father, the courier has arrived.”

“Thank you, brother. Check him through. I’ll be right down.”

Cortesi stood. The day was almost done. After taking care of the delivery, he’d retire to his chambers with an archaeological journal and a box of pastries. The sweets were compliments of a visiting group of French nuns, and he had already resolved to consume the entire box. Yes, it was gluttony. But he could always confess it tomorrow.

As he made his way to the first floor, Cortesi felt a surge of excitement regarding the package waiting downstairs. It was a small collection of papyri that had recently been uncovered at an archaeological site in Algeria. The dig was centered around the ruins of a fifth-century church near Annaba, the modern name for Hippo Regius. Most of the papyri were torn, and what remained was mostly illegible, but what they had been able to translate suggested something astounding. The writing was similar in content and style to one of the biggest names in the history of the Roman Catholic Church — Augustine of Hippo, better known as Saint Augustine.

Truth be told, Cortesi doubted the writings were from Augustine. After all, many priests and bishops had passed through the church at Hippo. But the text was interesting because it shed light on the beliefs and customs of the time. Regardless of its author, the papyri would make for an interesting read. Unfortunately, that would have to take place another time. For now, there was a tour to put together.

Cortesi arrived on the first floor two minutes later. The archives were still a hive of activity, even at this late hour. Seminary students moved in and out of the library, along with a few members of the archival staff. As he approached the front entrance, Cortesi saw the driver had already been checked through security and stood to one side. He was a bit on the heavy side with close-cropped dark hair. Cortesi recognized many of the drivers but not this one.

“Welcome,” Cortesi said as he approached. “I’m Father Luca Cortesi.”

“Fabio,” the man mumbled.

As they shook hands, Father Coresi noticed the man averted his eyes, which was a bit peculiar. Most of this company’s drivers were outgoing. In the man’s defense, he had just experienced engine trouble and was probably past ready to go home. Everyone was entitled to a bad day.

Father Cortesi led the man across the entrance hall and into a large library with vaulted ceilings. As they walked past the rows of books, he glanced at Fabio. “I understand you had some problems with your truck?”

“Flat tire.”

Cortesi frowned. He could’ve sworn his assistant had said it was an engine problem. He shrugged. It was probably a simple misunderstanding. “Is this your last stop?”

“No, I have one more.”

“Would you like something to eat or drink before you—”

“I’m fine. Thank you.”

The poor man. He just wanted to get this over with, something Cortesi understood completely. He’d had a long day too, and it would probably be good for both of them to continue in silence. He lifted a quick prayer in his thoughts, asking the Lord to bless Fabio.

After reaching the far end of the library, they continued toward a bank of elevators at the end of a short corridor. Cortesi touched a button on a nearby panel, and the elevator doors swished open. After stepping inside, he inserted a card in the slot below the interior panel. He pressed the bottom button, and the elevator began its descent.

Cortesi had often compared the Vatican Library and Secret Archives to an iceberg. Most assumed the upper complex of buildings housed the entirety of the Vatican’s collection of books, documents, and relics. In reality, nothing could be further from the truth. To be sure, the miles of halls housed some remarkable historical documents: a letter from Michelangelo to the Pope, the transcripts from the trial of the Knights Templar, letters sent to Pope Pius IX from Abraham Lincoln and Jefferson Davis, and perhaps its most famous document of all, Pope Leo X’s papal bull excommunicating Martin Luther. But the most secret and valuable objects were held in the underground. The vault served two purposes. It kept the treasures behind additional levels of security, and it also kept them sealed in a carefully monitored environment, which prevented physical decay.

The elevator came to a halt, and the doors slid open. Cortesi stepped out and led the driver down a short corridor to a checkpoint manned by two guards. One stood, and the other sat behind a monitor.

“Good evening, Father,” the sitting guard said.

“Good evening, Hannes.”

Hannes stared at his screen. “I see you’re checking something in.”

“We are.”

“Can you handle this, Hannes?” said the other guard.

“Of course.”

“I’m going to take off then. I have firearms training in ten minutes.”

Hannes looked at Cortesi. “Niklas is always looking for an excuse to leave early.”

“Okay, okay, whatever you say,” Niklas said as he walked toward the elevators.

“Just kidding,” Hannes said. “I don’t want you in a bad mood when you’re firing a weapon.” He looked at the driver. “Your identification please.”

Fabio lifted the badge over his neck and handed it to him.

Hannes swept it over past a scanner while looking at his screen. “Fabio Pinelli?”

The driver nodded.

“You’re all set.” Hannes handed the badge back then stood and motioned for them to proceed through the metal detector. After they came out on the other side, Hannes walked them to a specially sealed glass door at the end of the hallway. The dark vault loomed on the other side.

“How long do you think you’ll be?” Hannes asked.

“Not long.” Cortesi fished the file card out of his pocket and looked at the numbers printed there. “It’s going to be housed in Section Three, so we should be in and out in ten minutes.”

Hannes smiled at the two men. “A friendly reminder: your phones won’t work beyond the seal. If you need help, you can raise me on the intercom.”

After getting nods in response, Hannes stepped over to a flat-screen monitor and entered a series of digits. A loud beep followed. Hannes opened the door, which hissed as the air seal was broken.

Hannes handed Cortesi a flashlight. “We need to replace a few bulbs, so you might want this just in case.”

Cortesi took it from him and slipped it into his robe. “Thank you.”

“My pleasure.” Hannes waved them in.

As Cortesi stepped through the entrance, a strange feeling swept over him. An internal alarm was going off, but he wasn’t sure why. It was a simple delivery, and in ten minutes, it would be over. Cortesi shook his head and pushed the thought aside. The stress of his week was beginning to get to him.

“See you on your way out,” Hannes said as he closed the door.

Cortesi hoped he was right.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

Zane spent the next half hour detailing all that had transpired to date. His trust in the Swiss Guard was complete, so he felt no need to hold back any pertinent information. For his part, Stegmann listened with rapt attention, looking away only to scribble detailed notes on a yellow legal pad.

Mindful of the situation at hand, Zane used the bulk of his time describing what they’d discovered on Pauling’s laptop. Stegmann was impressed Amanda had been able to identify the drawer in the image. He confessed he didn’t know what any of the archive containers looked like. Then again, they typically didn’t relate to his work.

Once Zane finished, Stegmann remained perfectly still, his eyes fixed on nothing in particular. He seemed to be carefully digesting the information.

A minute later, his eyes shifted back to Zane. “Tell me about the gunmen you encountered in Venice and in Menaggio, How many were there?”

“Eleven in Venice. We weren’t able to count the number of men at the mountain villa, but we’re assuming it was the same team.”

“What were they wearing?”

“All black. They weren’t military uniforms, but it was obvious these men planned everything in great detail, including their garb. As I indicated earlier, we believe they’re the security arm of a larger organization, and the conversation my associate overhead in Menaggio seemed to confirm that.”

Stegmann tapped a pen on the edge of his desk. “You described them as paramilitary. Why not military? Perhaps they were working on behalf of a sovereign state.”

“I guess that’s possible,” Zane admitted, “but I doubt that’s the case. Sending a group of that size into another country, particularly a tightly populated city like Venice, would be asking for trouble.”

“Maybe they were desperate.”

Zane lifted a brow. “Desperate for archaeological relics?”

“Assuming that’s truly what this is all about.”

“There’s another reason I don’t believe this is a state-sponsored organization. As I said, my colleague overhead chatter between the team members. She said the men spoke English, but it was accented English.”

Stegmann nodded. “I see your point. They were using English as a common language even though they weren’t native speakers.”

“Precisely. I believe it’s a large organization with an amalgam of nationalities.”

Stegmann leaned back in his chair and stared out the window. “So who do you think we’re dealing with? A crime syndicate?”

“I certainly can’t rule out a ring of some kind. Organized crime families often trade in priceless works of art, so why not ancient relics? The one thing that doesn’t fit is the man my partner heard on the other end of the phone.”

“The one with the American accent.”

Zane nodded. “There seems to be something deeper here. Unfortunately, I just can’t get my mind around what that might be.”

Stegmann straightened. “The relic… the one you believe is housed here. I believe you said you have a picture?”

“I do.” Zane removed his phone. After finding the image, he slid the phone across the desk.

Stegmann’s silver eyes scrutinized it carefully. “That’s one of the strangest things I’ve ever seen.”

“One of my colleagues is an archaeologist, and even she couldn’t identify it.”

Stegmann looked up briefly. “Did she even have a guess?”

“She said it might be a decorative piece, but that’s the best she could do.”

“I’m no archaeologist, but perhaps its value is tied to who or what it was associated with.”

“Can you give me an example?”

“The Shroud of Turin. If we wanted to sell it, you’re talking—”

“Billions.”

Stegmann nodded then pulled a desktop phone closer. “You and I could talk about this all night without making any progress. Let’s see if our resident expert can shed some light on it.” He dialed a number then placed it on speaker. The call rang four times then transferred to voice mail. Stegmann disconnected the call without leaving a message. “Strange. Luca always picks up.”

“Luca is one of your archaeologists?”

“Father Luca Cortesi is a document specialist. He probably knows more about our archives than any living man.”

Stegmann dialed another number. The call was answered on the first ring. “Good evening, sir.”

“Markus, have you seen Father Cortesi? He’s not answering his phone.”

“He’s still here. I believe he had a late document delivery.”

Stegmann frowned. “Would that prevent him from answering his phone?”

“Just a moment.” Markus covered the phone and spoke to someone in the background. He came back on a moment later. “They’re in the vault, sir.”

“Who is they?”

“He and a courier took an incoming delivery down to the vault. There is no signal there, which would explain why he’s not picking up. Would you like me to go down and get him?”

Stegmann looked at Zane then said, “That won’t be necessary. We’ll come over there.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

The hermetically sealed vault door closed with a hiss. Father Cortesi took a deep breath. For better or for worse, they were shut off from the outside world.

“This way.” He motioned for Fabio to follow him. “Thankfully, our drawer is not far.”

Overhead lights clicked on automatically as they walked down the center aisle, illuminating each new area they entered. Like most first-time visitors, Fabio seemed surprised at the immense size of the underground facility. The cavernous room encompassed several acres. Most of the space was lined with rows of shelving, although there were a few open areas with tables used to examine documents and other items.

In order to protect the documents from damage and deterioration, the environmental conditions behind the sealed glass were carefully set and monitored. The temperature was kept at a cool ten degrees Celsius, while the relative humidity was maintained at a steady thirty-five percent. Unlike a few of his colleagues, Cortesi actually found the conditions pleasant to work in.

The motion-sensor lights were also a part of the protective system. Light of any kind was an enemy of document preservation, so the vault was kept in almost perpetual darkness. Even the lights themselves were housed in opaque covers, ensuring a dim luminescence.

Cortesi looked at Fabio. “I don’t believe we’ve met before. Is this your first time here?”

Fabio flinched at the question. The man was obviously not a conversationalist. “I’ve been to the Vatican twice before, but never here.”

Cortesi turned left at the second intersection. “Is Rome your territory?”

“Mostly the central part of Italy, yes.”

A minute later, they arrived at the row Cortesi was looking for then turned right. The relics housed in Section Three were ones that had not yet been examined by any of the curators. Like many organizations, the Vatican Secret Archives operated with a bare-bones staff. That meant many of the relics housed here would never be examined at all. However, that would not be the case with the Augustine papyri. Cortesi had already determined he’d move them to the top of his list.

Cortesi pulled out the flashlight and illuminated some of the numbered containers near the floor. Eventually, he found the one he was looking for and crouched. “Here we are.” He slid the drawer out of its slot. It was empty, save for the log they would both need to sign. He looked back over his shoulder. “May I have the package?”

“Yes.” The man slid the black satchel off his shoulder and placed it on the floor. He opened it and pulled out a flat box, which he passed to Cortesi. After confirming the item number on the exterior, Cortesi opened the box and removed a heavy-duty vinyl envelope. Inside were the clear-plastic sleeves containing the papyri. Cortesi examined each one carefully, making sure they matched the photographs he’d studied the night before. “Perfect.” He slid the sleeves back into the envelope then placed it in the drawer. “Now we just sign the paperwork, and we’ll be done.”

Fabio didn’t say anything, but Cortesi heard a zipper being zipped, followed by a rustling sound.

Cortesi signed and dated the log then held it over his shoulder. “If you don’t mind, I’ll just need your signature confirming everything was successfully put away.”

There was no response, so Cortesi turned and looked over his shoulder. For some reason, the driver was no longer in view. He waved the paper one more time. “Do you mind signing?”

There was a shuffling sound but still no response. Sensing something was amiss, Cortesi stood. A sharp object dug into his back. He shouted in pain and tried to squirm free, but the blade had already reached his vital organs.

Choking and coughing, Luca Cortesi fell forward onto the floor.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

Night had fallen when Zane and Stegmann left the barracks. After a short walk down Via di Belvedere, they entered a tunnel that passed through a coral-colored building at the end of the street. On the other side, they emerged into a courtyard. The Vatican Museum complex rose up around them.

“Welcome to the Belvedere Courtyard.” Stegmann gestured toward the asphalt and the parked cars. “As you can see, we now use it as a parking lot.”

Zane looked up at the lighted windows. “It looks as if there’s still a lot of work going on.”

“The work never seems to end. Many of the curators tell me they can get more work done in the evening.”

“And all of these people need protection.”

“Twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. They say New York never sleeps. I could say the same thing about the Vatican.”

“This is a spiritual place, so I pictured everything shutting down well before midnight.”

“To some extent, it does. For example, the Holy Father retires to his chamber at eight thirty every night. But that’s not the case with all the priests. Are you familiar with the Old and New Gardens?”

Zane nodded. “The gardens on the west side of the Vatican. I’ve never been, but I’ve seen pictures.”

“It’s the most beautiful place within our walls. It’s not uncommon to find priests there throughout the night. Praying, meditating, talking.”

“I can assure that’s not what’s going on in New York.”

The two laughed, then Stegmann suddenly halted. He seemed to be looking north.

Zane stopped as well. “Something wrong?”

“Do you hear that?”

Zane heard only the distant sound of Rome traffic. As he continued to listen, another sound broke above the background noise. It was a pulsating, high-pitched whistle. It was impossible to pinpoint its precise location, but it seemed to be coming from a sand-colored building directly ahead.

Zane looked at Stegmann. “What is it?”

“It’s an alarm.” He was already sprinting forward.

Zane followed him across the parking area. After they skirted a row of buses, the bottom half of the building came into view. The whistle was loud here. Swiss Guards, priests, nuns, and a few parishioners swarmed the sidewalk in front of the entrance. A group of students had just come out, and their teacher appeared to be counting heads.

Two people came out of the building as they arrived. One of them — a nun — coughed uncontrollably. A member of the Swiss Guard was at her side, his head down and his arm around her waist. He guided her to the curb then continued out into the parking lot.

Stegmann pushed past a few people as he led Zane inside. The interior was hazy, and the stench of smoke hung in the air. Swiss guards stood at various points around the entrance hall, directing people toward the door and helping those who needed assistance. Stegmann rushed over to one of the guards barking commands. His nametag indicated it was Markus, who the commander had spoken to earlier.

“What happened?” Stegmann asked.

“A small fire broke out in the library.”

Stegmann’s eyes narrowed. “What was the cause?”

“I think they have it under control now. At least that’s—”

“How did it happen?” Stegmann asked, this time louder.

“We don’t know. All we know is it started in the library. I believe a few books caught on fire.”

“Have you called the fire department?”

“They’re on the way.”

“Good work.” Stegmann motioned for Zane to follow him toward a doorway on the other side of the entrance hall. Once they passed through, Zane knew they were in the library. The haze was heavier here, and water dripped from ceiling sprinklers, forming pools on the floor.

Without hesitating, Stegmann moved toward the bookshelves on the right. A large contingent of Swiss guards gathered in one of the aisles. As he took in the scene, Zane’s instincts told him the fire had been purposefully set. How else would it start among the books? Surely there wasn’t any wiring in the shelves. But why here? His heart beat a little faster as he remembered why he was there. Could the fire have been set to create a distraction? The timing was certainly suspicious.

Zane was about to bring it up when Stegmann spoke to the men. “Give me a sitrep.”

A dark-haired guard crouched in the aisle pointed toward the bottom shelf. “We think it started here.”

Stegmann stepped closer and lowered to one knee, his eyes fixed on the blackened books and shelving.

“Light the bottom, and let it ignite everything above,” Zane pointed out. “A quick way to create chaos.”

Stegmann nodded in agreement.

“Thankfully, the sprinklers did their job, thwarting whoever did this,” one of the other guards said.

“I’m not so sure they were thwarted,” Zane said.

Stegmann looked back at him with a frown. “What do you mean?”

“If someone was trying to burn the place down, they’d never do it by starting a fire here.” Zane nodded at one of the sprinklers directly overhead. “Assuming the fire-protection system was in good working order, they had to know a paper fire would be put out within a few minutes.”

“What are you suggesting?” Stegmann asked.

“I’m suggesting this was a distraction.”

Stegmann seemed to understand where he was going. “We need to find out where the relic is—”

“Sir.” A guard approached and held a radio toward Stegmann. “Hauptmann Auer would like to speak to you. He’s calling from the vault.”

Zane’s gut pinched. They were about to get more bad news.

Stegmann took the radio. “Auer?”

A choppy voice spoke on the other end. “Three of us came down to check on Hannes. He was late in checking out and didn’t respond to our calls.” There was a brief pause before he continued, his voice cracking with emotion. “Sir, we have a man down.”

Stegmann frowned. “Hannes?”

“Yes, sir.”

Stegmann stared into space, trying to make sense of it all. A moment later, he seemed seized with a thought. “Have you found anyone else? I was told Father Cortesi was there with one of the couriers.”

“Not yet, but we’re searching now.”

“Let me know if you find anything.”

Auer spoke again. “Sir, there is something else.”

“What is it?”

“Hannes… his uniform is missing.”

The pieces of the puzzle were slowly being snapped into place. Even though they hadn’t found his body yet, Zane had no doubt Father Cortesi was dead. The courier had used the father for access to the vault, then killed both he and Hannes. He then used the guard’s uniform to cover his escape.

After signing off, Stegmann told the guards to search the entire complex, including the grounds outside. They were to look for an impostor wearing the regular duty uniform of the Swiss Guard. He reminded them the man was armed and dangerous.

After the men left, Stegmann turned to Zane. “Let’s assume he got what he wanted. Why come up here and set this fire?”

“It was meant to be a distraction. From his standpoint, the biggest hurdle was going to be getting out through the security checkpoint. No one would recognize him from a distance, but if he was able to get out of the building…” A memory flashed in Zane’s mind: a Swiss guard escorting a nun to the curb. Zane had expected the man to remain with the nun or re-enter the building, but instead he’d simply walked out into the parking lot. Zane tried to picture the man’s face then remembered he’d been looking down. He’d gotten a general impression of his features, but that was it.

He looked at Stegmann. “Shut down all the exits now.”

“There are guards at every—”

“No, shut them down completely. Close the gates. Don’t let anyone out under any circumstances. No vehicles. No foot traffic. No one can leave.”

Stegmann frowned deeply. “You saw him?”

“He was walking out into the courtyard. And if we don’t stop him in the next couple of minutes, we may lose him forever.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

Dante — the man posing as Fabio Pinelli — strode across the parking lot with confidence. Look like you’re supposed to be here. Five more minutes and this will all be over.

So far, he couldn’t be more pleased with how things had played out. The plan had worked to near perfection. After he’d set the fire, smoke had filled the library, triggering sprinklers and alarms. Less than a minute later, chaos reigned throughout the building. People streamed down stairs and rushed toward the exits. Others had bent over coughing, unable to move in the suffocating haze.

There had only been one hiccup along the way. As he crossed the entrance hall, he noticed two guards coming toward him. If they had seen his face, he would’ve been forced to fight his way out. Fortunately, fate had smiled down on him. Just as the guards drew near, several nuns emerged from a nearby stairwell. One of them looked like she was about to keel over, so he had come alongside her, wrapping an arm around her waist and helping her through the exit.

After emerging outside, he had seen two men running toward him. One wore a suit and had a look of authority. He was just the kind of man Dante wanted to avoid. The other was a civilian — a tall, athletic-looking man with long hair. Thankfully, neither had seen his face.

An ear-splitting thump pulsated overhead, drawing Dante back to the present. He looked up. A helicopter swept through the night sky, its searchlight panning from one side of the courtyard to the other.

The search was already on.

A minute later, he arrived at the van. After climbing in, he moved to the back and placed the satchel in a metal cabinet. Now that the relic was secure, he removed the bulky blue uniform of the Swiss Guard, completing the transformation back to courier.

After climbing back into the front seat, he drove through the tunnel. As he emerged on the other side, two fire trucks whisked past him, sirens wailing. He stopped the van and looked toward St. Anne’s Gate. The iron gate was open, but the guards buzzed around it like bees. They were probably waiting for more fire trucks to pass through. That might mean it was his last chance to get out before they sealed things off.

Reaching into his pocket, he removed the pistol he’d taken from the guard. He chambered a round then placed it between the seat and the center console. While he preferred to slip away without a fight, he wouldn’t hesitate to use the weapon if necessary.

He put the van in gear and drove forward. One of the guards saw him coming and stepped into the road. He was clutching a semi-automatic weapon, and his face was etched with a hard scowl. They weren’t playing games.

The guard held up a hand. “Halt!”

Dante brought the van to a stop and took a deep breath. Now wasn’t the time to hit the panic button. He reminded himself they weren’t looking for a courier, at least not yet, so it was likely they’d let him out. If not, he’d leave by force. Either way, he’d be fine.

The guard approached the driver’s side window. “Turn the vehicle around. No one is allowed to leave.”

Dante shifted the van into park. “What’s going on? I just dropped something off and need to be at my next delivery.”

“It will have to wait.”

“It can’t.”

The guard’s scowl deepened. “Didn’t you hear me? I said no one is leaving. Now back up and turn around.”

“You can’t keep me here against my will.”

His suspicions now aroused, the guard’s eyes scanned the dash and the front seat. “I need to see your identification.”

Dante glanced toward the Swiss Guards standing near the gate. Most were looking in his direction. They seemed to sense something was wrong. Some gripped their rifles tightly.

“Now!” the guard shouted.

“Sorry. I have it right here.”

He reached down and grasped the pistol. In one smooth motion, he pulled it out and shot the guard twice in the face. As the guard fell backward, he shifted into gear and mashed the accelerator. The van lurched forward with a roar. Two guards stood in the road with guns raised, only to step back when they saw he wasn’t stopping.

Muzzles flashed as a wave of bullets ripped across the van’s front. Without taking his foot off the gas, he accelerated past the gate and into the street beyond, his tires squealing as he turned left.

Screaming tourists parted like the Red Sea as he careened down Via di Porta Angelica.

As the gate disappeared behind him, the man smiled.

It had all been so easy.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

“I need a weapon,” Zane insisted.

Stegmann hesitated, weighing the pros and cons of such a decision. Zane couldn’t blame him. Arming a third party within the walls of the Vatican could lead to some very unwanted consequences. If something happened, his job could be called into question. But Zane had no choice but to press his case. At this point, he was the only one who’d seen the man’s face, albeit from the side.

“You can take charge of the vault. There could be others hidden there. I’ll find the imposter. I’m the only one who knows what he looks like.”

The last point seemed to persuade Stegmann. He turned and flagged down a guard running past them. “Give me your pistol.” The man hesitated for a moment, confused, then surrendered his weapon. The commander handed it to Zane. Stegmann addressed the guard again. “Accompany him wherever he wants to go. Give him full access to our resources.” After getting a nod, Stegmann moved off toward the elevators.

Zane headed toward the exit.

“One moment.” Before departing, the guard quickly retrieved another weapon from a locker behind the security checkpoint. When he came back, Zane noticed he was holding a nasty-looking Steyr TMP, or Tactical Machine Pistol. Nice. The fully automatic weapon could fire a blistering nine hundred rounds per minute.

The two rushed toward the door. Emergency vehicles were lined along the curb. Zane heard deafening thumps and looked skyward. Two black choppers circled overhead like angry hornets, their spotlights sweeping across the buildings and open spaces.

Zane jogged down the sidewalk until he reached a place that gave him a better view of the parking lot.

“What are we looking for?” the guard asked.

“The perp is trying to leave by commercial vehicle.” Zane’s eyes surveyed the chaos that reigned across the plaza. “See if you see one moving.”

“There! Behind the trucks… going out.”

Zane shifted his gaze in time to see red taillights of a white van disappearing through the tunnel at the far end. That was likely the thief. Hopefully, the gate was already closed, but that was by no means a certainty. They had to be ready to pursue if he made it beyond the walls. At this point, Zane wasn’t even sure if the Swiss Guard were legally permitted to do that.

He turned to the guard. “Do you have a car?”

He shook his head. “Not here.” He looked around then pointed further down the sidewalk. “But we do have those.”

Zane followed his point. Three motor scooters stood at a rack about twenty yards away. It wasn’t ideal — most had a maximum speed of about thirty miles per hour — but it would have to do.

“Are they ready to go?”

“Yes, the keys are always kept in the ignition, but you can’t—”

Zane was already moving. “Radio the gate, and make sure it’s closed.” He paused briefly and looked back. “And tell them who I am!”

As the guard lifted his radio, Zane sprinted to the closest bike and hopped on. A key dangled from the ignition, so he pressed the Start button. Thankfully, the engine purred to life without any trouble. He squeezed the throttle and headed straight for the tunnel.

If the imposter had already made it past the gate, there was little chance he’d be able to catch him. Hopefully, the guards had done their work and sealed things off. If so, the man wouldn’t be able to leave unless he abandoned the vehicle and hid somewhere among the buildings. He might even try to scale a wall.

After passing two fire trucks in the tunnel, Zane emerged on the other side. St. Anne’s Gate was directly ahead. His heart sank as he took in the view. Mayhem reigned. Several guards surrounded what appeared to be a dead body lying on the pavement. Others had spread out into the street beyond, waving their rifles to and fro.

There was no van.

Zane accelerated up to the gate. The other guard should have radioed ahead by now. Any extended conversation might ruin their chances, so he hoped they would simply wave him through.

Just when he thought he was going to pass unhindered, one of the guards saw him and raised a submachine gun. “Stop!”

Zane cursed and brought the scooter to a halt. The guards were now trigger-happy and wouldn’t hesitate to mow him down. “Call the team at the Secret Archives. I’m a guest of Commander—”

“Get off! Now!”

Zane groaned in frustration but did as he was told. As he slid off the bike, a man in a gray suit was already rushing over. He laid a hand on the guard’s shoulder and said something in his ear. Immediately, the guard lowered his weapon and signaled Zane was free to pass.

“Which way did he go?” Zane slid back on the scooter.

The guard pointed. “After passing through the gate, he turned left on Via di Porta Angelica.”

“Were you able to get the name of the company printed on the van?”

The man in the suit gave him the name.

Zane nodded, thanked them, and squeezed the throttle. He turned north on Via di Porta Angelica, retracing the route he’d come in on. As he passed each street turning off to the right, he slowed and looked for signs of the van. Seeing nothing, he continued to the end, where he was forced to turn right. If the van wasn’t there, it meant the thief had gotten away.

A long line of cars was stopped ahead. As Zane eased up to the back of the line, his pulse quickened. A white van was stopped about ten cars ahead. He squinted and was finally able to read the name printed on the back door. That’s it.

As the wait continued, Zane mulled over his options. Should he run the scooter up onto the sidewalk and launch an assault? Or should he stay back and follow at a distance? Both scenarios had problems. If the thief were heavily armed, which was certainly possible, an attack would be little more than a suicide mission. Not only that, but a gunfight in the street would likely end with collateral damage. The sidewalks swarmed with people at this hour.

If Zane followed at a distance, he would likely lose sight once the van was able to accelerate to higher speeds. The scooter had no chance of keeping up once the traffic thinned. Despite the challenges of following, it was his only option. He couldn’t endanger the lives of innocent bystanders. There was likely a BOLO out on the van already, so at least he’d soon have the help of the Rome police.

The traffic began moving. Careful to keep a low profile, Zane followed his quarry along the streets running north and east of the Vatican. Thankfully, the van kept a moderate pace. That was a bit surprising and was probably an indication the driver didn’t want to draw attention to himself.

Ten minutes later, the van crossed the Pietro Nenni Bridge. On the other side, it turned north along the east side of the Tiber then slowed. Zane’s heart thumped faster. Was the driver looking for a turn or a parked vehicle to switch to? The answer came a moment later when it turned left onto a ramp that ran down to the river. Zane continued on without turning behind him. If he’d followed down the ramp, the driver would’ve realized he had a tail.

Zane drove for one block, made a U-turn, and came back. As he drove down the ramp, he extinguished the scooter’s headlight. At the bottom, the service road turned right along the Tiber. A row of large trees hung over each side. The darkness was both good and bad. Good in that it allowed for a more stealthy approach, but bad in that he might run up on the van without knowing it.

Brake lights flashed ahead. The van had also been running without its headlights. Zane slowed the scooter and rolled to a stop behind a tree. Once he was out of view, he turned off the ignition and slid off. He crept forward and peered around the trunk. The van was parked in one of several parking spaces arrayed in front of a small building situated on the river. Such structures were a common sight on the Tiber. Some were used as storage facilities and boathouses. There were even a few restaurants and cafes built over on the water. As best Zane could tell, this one looked like a boathouse.

Suddenly, there was a flash of light as the driver opened the door and stepped out. In that brief second, Zane saw the man had a black satchel slung over one arm. He guessed it contained the stolen relic.

After a cursory look around, the man crossed the dock and entered the building through the front. Zane waited. It would be foolish to follow immediately. The man might have gone inside to pick something up and could come right back out.

So why had he come here? Was he simply hiding until things blew over? That was doubtful. The fact that he’d come to the river likely meant a boat was either on the way or was already waiting, which meant it was time to act. Zane removed the pistol the guard had given him and ejected the magazine. It contained a single stack of eight cartridges. Not as many rounds as he’d like, but it would have to do. Besides, if he played this correctly, he should only need one.

After snapping the mag back into place, he abandoned the tree and sprinted to the van. He eased up to the open driver’s side window. The keys dangled from the ignition, so he pulled them out and stuffed them in his pocket. There was little chance the man was coming back, but this would cut off his escape if he did. Hearing no sounds from within the building, Zane crossed the dock, stepping softly on the wood planks so as not to send out vibrations. When he arrived at the entrance, he noticed the door was slightly ajar. It seemed careless, but it also signaled that the man had no intention of coming back.

Zane leaned up to the gap and listened for a full moment. Hearing nothing, he nudged the door open and entered. The interior stank of mildew and aged wood. The intensity of the scents seemed to suggest the place had been abandoned. The perfect location for a rendezvous.

Zane’s eyes soon adjusted to the interior. Stacked boxes rose around him, along with a number of unidentified objects. The place was a maze of stored goods. Zane listened intently but still heard no sound. Soon, the outline of a door appeared in the back left corner of the building. He guessed it led to the dock. The thief was probably boarding a boat there now. Zane had to admit the whole thing was brilliant. Escape by boat while law enforcement searched Rome for a white van.

Zane maneuvered down an aisle flanked by two rows of boxes. After traversing about half the distance, he heard a thump and stopped. The sound seemed to have come from the front of the building. He crouched. The front door was still ajar. A dark shadow filled the space. Someone was there. Had the man circled around, or was it someone else?

Suddenly, the door slammed shut, and Zane heard movement in another part of the room.

As he dropped to one knee and raised his pistol, a stark realization set in.

He’d been trapped.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

Rome, Italy

As he hunkered in the darkness, Zane rebuked himself for an earlier oversight. When the man had exited the van, he’d spent very little time examining his surroundings. In fact, he’d almost seemed nonchalant. At the time, Zane had attributed it to overconfidence in a well-executed plan, but now, he realized it might have all been premeditated. Draw in your target by making yourself look like easy prey.

A rustling sound came from the far corner of the room. As he tried to pinpoint the location, the staccato pop of semi-automatic gunfire erupted from the same place. Bullets shredded the boxes around him, knocking them over. He dove behind a stack of pallets to his right. They wouldn’t stop any of the rounds, but they would conceal his profile.

He was pinned down, but there was one positive. As he dove away, Zane had seen the muzzle flashes across the room. He knew there were two shooters, both set up near the rear exit. In an effort to fix their position even further, Zane rose up and squeezed off two shots. As expected, they returned fire, allowing Zane to mark their precise location.

Unfortunately, Zane was down to six rounds. From this point forward, he had to make every bullet count. No more probing fire. If he fired again, it needed to be a kill shot or a distraction to cover his escape.

Another round of gunfire splintered the pallets in front of him. They had fixed on his position as well, so Zane dropped to his belly and squirmed toward the rear wall. Shoot and move. Shoot and move. The words of his old SEAL instructor echoed in his mind.

After traveling about fifteen feet, he found a metal cabinet and slid behind it. The cabinet was lightly constructed, but would provide more protection than the pallets. As Zane took a few deep breaths, a familiar scent reached his nose. He turned and looked behind him.

When he realized what it was, a smile spread over his face.

He’d just found his ticket out.

* * *

Petr and his partner Ivan squeezed their triggers repeatedly, sending a spray of bullets toward the longhaired bastard hiding across the room. This time, they’d managed to pinpoint his location, and there was no chance he’d survive the barrage of bullets raining down on him. It was not a question of if a bullet would hit him but how many.

It felt good to unleash his anger. Fifteen minutes earlier, Dante had radioed he was being followed by a man on a motorbike. When Petr heard the description — a man with long brown hair — he realized it was the same man who’d knocked him out in Menaggio and escaped with the girl.

The temptation to stay and kill the man had been too strong. He had to die for humiliating them, so Petr had ordered a change of plans. Instead of escaping by boat, they would lure him into the building, where they would kill him. The others opposed the idea — after all, Viktor had made it clear the relic must be brought back above all else — but Petr pulled rank. He wasn’t going to lose this opportunity for revenge. Besides, he’d stowed the relic on the boat and had given the driver strict instructions to whisk it away if things inside went bad.

Thankfully, they weren’t going to.

Petr’s ammunition finally ran dry, so he dropped behind the counter. Now safely hidden, he snapped in another magazine. He doubted he’d need it — their target was either dead or bleeding to death — but he wasn’t going to take any chances.

“Do you think we got him?” Ivan whispered from a few feet away.

“Do you hear anything? Of course he’s dead.”

Despite the bravado, Petr knew their opponent was crafty. Not only had he eluded their grasp in Venice, but he’d also managed to get the girl back. In order to kill such a man, you had to respect him first. A faint sound carried from the far end of the room. Petr frowned. The only thing he’d expected to hear was a groan, not movement.

“Did you hear that?” Ivan asked.

“Wait,” Petr hissed.

If he wasn’t dead, surely he was bleeding out. The noise had probably just been the man writhing in a pool of blood. Seconds later, a clank came from the same location. It was an odd sound. What’s going on? Petr looked around the edge of the counter. Suddenly, a square-shaped object hurtled toward them out of the darkness. It landed about ten feet away then slid to within a few feet of where Petr was hidden. He saw it and smelled it. It was a metal can, and he knew what was in it.

Suddenly, Petr understood what was happening. “Get out!”

Without waiting for a response, he rose from behind the counter. At most, he had a second or two to make it through the back door, so he sprinted. A gunshot carried from the far end of the room, and Petr knew the target was the can.

Out of options, he did the only thing he could do — he braced for the explosion.

* * *

After the canister of gasoline slid to a stop, one of the men shouted a warning. Zane already had his pistol in the air. Throwing the can accurately had been the toughest part of the two-step plan. Shooting it would be easy.

Someone rose and moved for the exit. He’d probably figured out what was going on and was trying to escape. It wouldn’t matter. Zane took aim and fired twice, hitting the can. A fireball erupted to the ceiling. The explosion had been even more powerful than he’d expected. No one within ten feet would survive.

As he rose and stepped from behind the cabinet, a boat motor started outside. The relic. Zane sprinted toward the exit. As he neared the counter, something moved to the left. One of the gunmen rose awkwardly and lifted his weapon. He was badly burned but still alive. One of them was about to die, and it wasn’t going to be Zane. He shot him twice in the chest. The man’s body thrashed, his rifle spraying bullets harmlessly into the ceiling. He teetered for a moment then fell forward.

There was no time to waste. Zane rolled the man over and retrieved his rifle. He might need the extra cartridges. The boat motor whined outside. The others were leaving, and they were taking the relic with them.

Zane pushed through the door and onto the dock. The boat was moving off to the right, trying to angle around another building downriver. He lifted his rifle and saw muzzle flashes at the rear of the craft. Rounds struck the water close by, arcing toward him. Zane squeezed off a couple of shots of his own then ran to the right to avoid being hit.

Once out of range, he lifted his rifle again, but the boat had already disappeared.

The relic was gone.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

Vatican City

Zane and Jonas Stegmann followed the priest up the dark stairwell. The cleric clutched a brass candleholder in his right hand. Its flames cast gargoyle-like shadows against the wall.

“This way,” the priest said when they reached the third floor. “We’re almost there.”

He led them down the dimly lit corridor, eventually stopping at an oak wood door on the left. He used his free hand to fish a skeleton key from the folds of his cassock. It looked as though it had been forged in the Middle Ages. He inserted it into the cast iron lock and turned it sharply. The door surrendered with a loud groan.

Stepping aside, he motioned them into a simple reading room with two large windows overlooking the Belvedere Courtyard. The musty air was filled with the scent of books. The simple furnishings consisted of a table and four chairs on the left and a bookshelf on the right.

They had come to meet with Father Silvio Fiori, the assistant curator of the Secret Archives. Zane figured Stegmann had chosen the secluded room in order to get away from the chaos below. There were important matters to discuss, and he didn’t want to be constantly interrupted by his investigative team.

Stegmann looked at the priest. “I believe you said Father Fiori is on his way?”

“Yes, sir.” The priest lit two candles on the table with the one he was holding. After he finished, he looked at the commander. “Can I bring you anything?”

Stegmann shook his head. “That won’t be necessary. Thank you.”

He bowed slightly and stepped out of the room, closing the door behind him.

Zane crossed to one of the windows and looked down. The courtyard was still a hive of activity. Priests, students, and Swiss Guards moved in and out of the building. Paramedics attended to people on the sidewalk while firefighters placed giant fans at the entrance.

A sharp buzz drew Zane’s attention back to the room. Stegmann retrieved his phone and stared at the screen. He shook his head and stuffed it back in his pocket.

“Do you need to take that?” Zane asked.

“Not yet.” He settled into one of the seats at the table. “It’s the polizia.”

“The Rome police?” Zane abandoned the window and sat down across from the commander, surprised Stegmann hadn’t taken the call.

“They spoke to one of my captains earlier. It seems they’re a bit upset about me setting you loose on the streets of Rome.”

Zane frowned. “Did you tell them who I was?”

“Not exactly. We only told them it was someone working on our behalf.”

“I’m assuming that’s a problem?”

Stegmann waved it off. “I’ll talk to them later. For now, we need to follow the trail while it’s still warm.”

Zane was relieved, yet couldn’t help thinking there would be fallout. While the police might look the other way if a Swiss Guard ventured onto their streets, he wasn’t quite so sure they’d feel the same way about an armed and unidentified American doing so.

Stegmann must have sensed his concern. “Don’t worry. We have a very good relationship with the authorities here in Rome. In emergency situations, they tend to look the other way.”

“I didn’t realize the relationship was that deep.”

“We have the largest network of ears on the planet. When Rome needs some little piece of information — something crucial to an investigation — we’re always there to help if we can. In return, they extend copious amounts of grace when our investigations take us outside these walls. Besides, I can assure you, incidents like this one rarely happen.”

Stegmann pulled a folded piece of paper from his suit coat pocket and placed it on the table. It looked like a satellite image of Rome. “I want to get some information from you while we wait.” He indicated the blue line representing the Tiber River. “Show me where the gunfight took place.”

Zane scooted closer to the table. Once he oriented himself, he used his finger to trace the route he had taken from the Vatican to the Pietro Nenni Bridge. After locating the line of structures along the east side of the river, he tapped the first one. “Here.”

“You’re sure?”

“Positive.”

Stegmann moved one of the candles closer and leaned forward. “That’s a bit further north than I thought. I’m not too familiar with the area.” He looked at Zane. “You said this was a boathouse. Was it in use?”

“It seemed to be abandoned.”

Stegmann nodded. “They probably chose it for that very reason.”

The commander was about to continue when the door pushed open. A priest dressed in a crisp black cassock entered, shutting the door behind him. As he came into the light, Zane noted he was in his late sixties or early seventies. He had a receding hairline and wore a pair of square, wire-rimmed glasses. He carried a laptop, which he set on the table. Skeleton keys and laptops. Only at the Vatican.

Stegmann introduced the two men, and all three took seats at the table.

Stegmann gestured toward Zane. “As I told you on the phone, Herr Watson came to warn us of the theft that just took place.”

“I only wish I had been a bit sooner.” Zane fixed his gaze on the priest. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

“Thank you. Luca was a special man.” His lip trembled slightly as he gathered his words. “I expect I’m going to be in for a long period of grief, although I must say it still seems surreal. I keep thinking I’m going to wake up, and Luca will still be here.”

Zane nodded his understanding. “I’ve only been here a short time, and I’m already hearing great things about him.”

“He was a giant in his field, a brilliant man with an encyclopedic memory.” The priest opened the laptop and powered it up. “But it’s not his mind I’ll remember most. It’s the man himself. You’ll never meet a finer person. He always put the needs of others before his own.”

“Father Cortesi’s work ethic was second to none,” Stegmann added. “I would often find him in his office late at night, poring over some document or flipping through a book that was six inches thick.” He laughed at the memory.

“And he always did so without complaint,” Father Fiori said.

Stegmann nodded at the laptop. “So you have some information for us?”

“I have a little. I’ve just come back from the underground archives. I was trying to piece together what happened after Luca and the courier entered the vault.” He looked at Zane. “We affix sensors to each storage container. Two were triggered in succession. The first was related to the Augustine papyri.”

“The package that just came in?” Zane asked.

Father Fiori nodded.

“And the other sensor?” Stegmann asked.

“A relic in another section of the vault.”

“Let me give you a number.” Zane pulled out his phone and scrolled until he found the photograph from Pauling’s laptop. He slid the phone across the table. “Is that it?”

Father Fiori donned a pair of reading glasses and examined the screen. After staring at the image for a moment, he looked back at his laptop. “Yes, that’s it. The item number and the image both match our database.” He looked up at Zane. “You knew what they were looking for?”

Zane nodded.

Stegmann looked at Father Fiori. “What can you tell us about it?”

“I’ve never seen it before. But I can tell you it was housed in Section Seven, which holds some of the most valuable relics in all the Secret Archives. In order to be housed there, a document or artifact must meet two very specific qualifications.”

“What are they?” Zane asked.

“One, it must relate directly to events in the Bible — a personal item owned by one of the disciples or a New Testament manuscript, something like that. And two, it must currently be under review.”

Zane’s eyes narrowed. “So someone on your staff would have been actively studying this relic.”

“Not necessarily. Even though Section Seven houses one of our smallest collections, it still contains hundreds of objects. And with our small staff, we can only go through so many at any given time. I’ll look though.”

As Father Fiori searched for more information, Zane’s thoughts turned to the map. There was little doubt it was connected to the relic in some way. But how? If someone were working on the relic, perhaps they would know.

“Here we are,” Father Fiori said. “It seems Luca was working on it. Strangely, there aren’t any notes.”

“Another dead end.” Zane immediately regretted his choice of words.

Father Fiori pulled off his reading glasses and stared into space. After a moment, he turned toward Stegmann. “I apologize. How could I forget? I need to tell you a quick story. About two weeks ago, a small personnel issue developed among the staff. Luca and I wanted to discuss the matter privately, so we decided to take lunch at his favorite cafe near the Piazza Cavour.”

Stegmann looked at Zane. “This is a very common practice. Some say the Vatican walls have ears.”

Zane smiled. The same could be said of Delphi.

Father Fiori continued. “While we were waiting for our meal, Luca told me about his new project. I remember it related to a relic from Section Seven. He was convinced it was a hoax but said it had come to them from a reputable source who thought otherwise. What got my attention was what he said next. He said if he was wrong and the relic was real, it could be one of the greatest finds in archaeological history.”

Stegmann straightened. “Did he say what it was?”

“No. Just as he was about to give me a little more detail, our food arrived, so he told me if there were any interesting developments, he’d let me know. We also knew we had to discuss the personnel matter.”

“If he never named the item he was working on, technically, you can’t say it’s the one that was stolen tonight,” Zane pointed out.

“That’s correct. But I find it interesting Luca told me the story two weeks ago, then we discover a relic from the same section has been stolen.”

“How did the Vatican obtain the relic?” Zane asked.

Father Fiori slipped on his glasses and turned his attention back to the screen. Almost immediately, his mouth turned down in a frown. “That’s odd. There is no source listed. That information is always recorded. Always.”

Zane looked at Stegmann. “Your network may have been compromised. This group — whoever they are — must have removed some of the information.”

“I’m guessing that’s because the seller might have been able to identify them.”

“Assuming the seller is still alive,” Zane added.

Stegmann turned to Father Fiori. “Can you think of anything else that might be helpful? Perhaps someone on the staff that Father Cortesi might have consulted with?”

“I don’t know of anyone here, but I do of someone he consults with outside of the Vatican.” His eyes widened. “In fact, Luca would often contact him regarding some of our more bizarre pieces.”

Zane’s interest was piqued. “An archaeologist?”

“He’s a collector, but don’t let the title fool you. While some might not care for him, he’s one of the most respected authorities on Near East artifacts. In fact, he probably knows more than most of the archaeologists out there.” He looked at Zane. “I’d be shocked if Luca hadn’t mentioned this relic to him.”

Stegmann took out a small notepad and pen. “And what is his name?”

“Lawson… Roger Lawson. He’s an Australian living in Israel.”

Roger Lawson. Zane had never heard the name before.

“He’s an extremely rich man who inherited all of his wealth,” the father continued. “He’d always had a love for antiquities, and the inheritance allowed him to indulge in his favorite hobby. Luca once told me Lawson can purchase objects some museums can’t afford.

“I said earlier he’s a brilliant man. And he is. But you should also know he has his detractors. Some believe he deals in fakes and frauds. In my opinion, most of that is jealousy.”

“You said he lives in Israel,” Stegmann said. “Where exactly?”

“Just outside Jerusalem.”

“And how can we get in touch with him?”

“He typically doesn’t take calls unless he knows you.”

“Will he take yours?”

Father Fiori thought for a moment. “Probably.”

“Call him,” Stegmann ordered.

“Now? It’s late, and I doubt—”

“Several people have died tonight, Father. He may have more information on the relic. Who knows? He may even know who might want it. So yes, call him.”

Father Fiori nodded then reached into his cassock and withdrew his phone. After placing the call, he pressed the phone to his ear. “It says his number is no longer in service.” He ended the call.

Stegmann frowned. “That’s strange.”

“Roger Lawson has a lot of enemies. Some have even threatened to kill him over deals gone bad. I’m guessing his number changes on a regular basis.”

“Well, if we can’t call him, there is only one thing left to do,” Zane said.

Stegmann gave him a questioning look.

“We’ll have to pay him a visit.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

Somewhere Over the Mediterranean Sea

Zane opened his eyes to the dimly lit interior of a Gulfstream G550. Sitting up straight, he looked to his right. The seats around him were empty. The others must have retired to the rear of the plane. He opened the window shade a crack. The Mediterranean Sea spread out below, its placid waters broken only by a few whitecaps snaking across its surface.

He checked his watch. He’d been asleep longer than he’d expected. They were due to arrive at Ben Gurion within the hour. Even so, he didn’t regret his siesta. His body needed the rest after staying awake for most of the night. After meeting with Stegmann and Father Fiori, he’d called Carmen to brief her on all that had taken place then spent the next several hours searching the Internet for information on the elusive Roger Lawson. Not surprisingly, the Australian had done a good job of keeping a light online footprint. His name occasionally surfaced on archaeological news sites — mostly whispers about some strange artifact being found — but there was precious little information on the man himself, save for his charitable work with several global hunger organizations.

Shortly after four a.m., Zane had finally retired to the guest room in a small building near the Swiss Guard barracks, a place typically reserved for visiting dignitaries and politicians. Zane had planned on checking into a local hotel, but the Swiss commander wouldn’t hear of it. They had already made arrangements for him to stay at the Vatican and made it clear they weren’t going to take no for an answer. It was the commander’s way of expressing gratitude for the warning, even though it had come too late.

In the meantime, the Oracle had arranged for the team to take a CIA-owned plane to Tel Aviv. The craft was dispatched from Ankara, Turkey, so they weren’t able to board until after lunch.

Zane heard soft conversation behind him. He stood and walked to the open area at the rear of the plane. The plush-but-simple furnishings consisted of a table and brown leather sectional on either side. Sitting around the table on the left were Keiko and Delphi field operative, Connor Reid, who was cleaning a .40 caliber Smith & Wesson. Reid was a short, well-built former US Navy SEAL with close-cropped blond hair. Often underestimated due to his size, he was one of the most pugnacious men Zane had ever worked with.

Carmen, Amanda, and Emily sat around the table on the right. Carmen sipped a cappuccino as she studied something on her tablet, while Amanda and Emily spoke in low tones. Emily still looked groggy, although she always seemed to perk up whenever Zane was around. This time was no exception.

Carmen looked up from her tablet. “Well, if it isn’t Rip Van Watson.”

“Yeah well, some of us actually worked last night.”

Before she could respond, Miranda, the craft’s sole flight attendant, came from the rear of the plane. She and the two pilots comprised the three-person crew. “Can I get you something to drink?”

“Coffee,” Zane replied. “Cream and no sugar, please.”

“Certainly.” Miranda walked away.

Zane looked around. Someone was missing. “Were is Bull?”

As if on cue, there was a loud snap, and a small lavatory door popped open behind the tables. A tall, well-muscled man with shaggy brown hair slid out of the cramped space. “Right here,” he said in his Southern twang, “so don’t get your panties all in a wad.”

James “Bull” Pratt, a Georgia-born former US Army Ranger, was the latest addition to the Delphi team. Although he was large in stature — six foot four and two hundred twenty-five pounds — his nickname came from his penchant for charging fearlessly into dangerous situations. His aggression was often helpful, but there were also times when it had to be reined in.

“Just wanted to make sure you weren’t up front trying to fly the plane,” Zane said. “I know how you get after too much caffeine.”

“You mean it gets worse?” Carmen winked at Pratt.

“Just be thankful he’s only had three cups this morning,” Reid warned. “You don’t want to see him when he hits double digits.”

“Keep talking… Keep talking.” Pratt sank into a seat across from Reid. “We’ll see how alert all you peeps are gonna be later tonight. If any of you softies need bailing out, don’t come calling me!”

Reid nodded at the pistol parts spread out in front of him. “The only two people I’m going to call are Mr. Smith and Mr. Wesson.”

Emily caught Zane’s attention and patted the cushion next to her. “Come sit down.”

After he took a seat, Miranda appeared and set a cup of coffee in front of him. After making sure everyone else was good, she disappeared into the back.

Carmen wore a serious expression. “Any progress on identifying the thief? I’m guessing the Vatican has security cameras every ten feet.”

Zane took a sip of coffee. “Nothing yet. They did get a few good shots of his face but haven’t been able to match it up with any of their facial recognition software.”

“Something tells me their database is pretty sparse. Have they disseminated the image?”

“I’m not so sure you’re right about their database,” Zane replied. “The threats to the Holy See are global now, so I’m guessing their database is as good as any. Anyway, in answer to your question, Commander Stegmann told me he was going to run it through Interpol. I also encouraged him to send a copy to Brett so we could start searching as well.”

“What about the boat?” Amanda asked.

“Stegmann gave me an update this morning. The authorities found it abandoned at a dock adjacent to an industrial park southwest of Rome.”

“They’re long gone,” Emily said.

“Which brings us to Roger Lawson.” Zane looked at Amanda. “Didn’t you say you were familiar with him?”

Amanda nodded. “I’ve never met him, but I do know a little about him.”

“What can you tell us?”

“Unfortunately, not much beyond what you already know.” She crossed one leg over the other. “To be honest, he’s not well thought of in our profession.”

Zane frowned. “The assistant curator told me Lawson was brilliant, despite what others thought of him.”

“Not only that, he’s also very altruistic.” She paused for a moment of reflection. “It’s his collection some scoff at. He trades in a lot of questionable objects.”

“Such as?” Zane asked.

“Have you heard of the ossuary of Pontius Pilate?”

“I remember my father talking about that,” Emily said. “Didn’t they find it on Cyprus?”

Amanda nodded. “Those conducting the dig knew it was important because of its location, but they didn’t realize how important until someone translated the name engraved on one end.”

“Pilate?” Zane asked.

“I believe it read, Pontius Pilate of Samnium,” Amanda said. “Some believe he was born in the Samnium region of Italy.”

“Was he supposed to have died on Cyprus?” Zane asked.

“It depends on who you ask,” Amanda said. “There is no hard evidence to indicate where Pilate spent his last years. Most believe he was executed by Caligula. But other legends arose, including several suggesting Caligula may have sent the dishonored prefect into exile. One of those legends named Cyprus as the place of his death, which is why some believed the ossuary was real.”

Carmen’s brow furrowed. “Didn’t the Romans practice cremation?”

“They did practice cremation, and that was one huge red flag that was ignored. While no bones were found, they did find two large nails inside. It’s not hard to guess what some began to claim about those nails.”

“The crucifixion,” Pratt said with wide eyes.

“So it was all a fraud?” Zane asked.

“The whole thing.”

Zane sat back. “An interesting story, but what does it have to do with Roger Lawson?”

“Roger Lawson purchased it from the dig sponsors then was very outspoken in promoting it as Pilate’s ossuary.”

“It’s hard to criticize him if he didn’t know it was a fraud,” Carmen said.

“It’s true he bought it in good faith,” Amanda said. “I think most believe he should’ve noticed all the red flags.”

“So how did they find out it was a fraud?” Zane asked.

“The ossuary became very controversial, with many in the archaeological community expressing doubt about its authenticity. Eventually, it reached a boiling point. To his credit, Lawson brought in a number of world-renowned epigraphers to examine the engraved name. After completing their analysis, they concluded it was a forgery. A well-crafted forgery, but a forgery nonetheless.”

“So you’re saying we should take anything he tells us with a grain of salt?” Zane asked.

“I think we’re doing the right thing to talk to him, particularly since he’s familiar with most of the bizarre artifacts out there. I just think we need to verify any information he passes along. As I said before, he’s not a bad man. After all, he was willing to bring in the very best to examine the Pilate ossuary.”

The voice of the pilot crackled through the overhead speakers. “Ladies and gentlemen, we are about to begin our descent into Ben Gurion Airport. Please take your seats, and fasten your seat belts. I hope you enjoyed the ride.”

Zane drained the last of his coffee then set the cup on the table. “Time to get some answers.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

Beit Zayit, Jerusalem

“I think that’s it.” Carmen pointed through the windshield.

Darkness had fallen, but Zane saw the turn just ahead. They had almost reached their destination.

“Let’s check in one last time before going up.” Zane slowed the Kia and pulled off the road. Coming to a stop, he cut off his headlights and glanced in the rearview mirror. A white cargo van containing Reid, Pratt, Keiko, and Emily pulled up behind him.

Zane glanced at the time on the console. They were due at Lawson’s residence in ten minutes. The meeting had come about more quickly than expected. Father Fiori had managed to find a good number for the Australian collector, and Zane contacted him upon arriving in Tel Aviv. During the call, Zane told him they were a private investigative team looking into the disappearance of Dr. Richard Pauling. He also said they were attempting to obtain information on an ancient document Pauling had been working on. While he didn’t go into much detail, he did say the trail of clues had taken them to the Vatican. He also said the Vatican had suggested the meeting.

Lawson had agreed, although it came on the condition the meeting take place at his residence in Beit Zayit, a mountaintop community west of Jerusalem. Zane accepted immediately. He would’ve preferred to meet at a neutral location, but he also realized they were the ones asking for help. He got the impression Lawson was not someone who cared for public appearances.

Zane spoke into the mic on his cuff. “All set?”

“Yes, sir,” Pratt responded from the van.

“We’ll proceed up the mountain from here. Give us about two minutes then come in behind us.”

“Copy that. Do you have any idea how long the meeting will last?”

“Negative. It depends on how much information he has to offer. We’ll stay as long as we need to. We’ll let you know if anything comes up.”

“Copy that.”

Zane pulled back up the road then turned left up the mountain. After passing through a grove of trees and a columned gate, they entered Beit Zayit. The homes were all high-end. In fact, it seemed the higher the elevation, the more upscale the homes. The better the view, the higher the price.

Their plan was simple. Zane, Carmen, and Amanda would travel to Lawson’s home, while those in the van continued up to the community swimming pool, which Carmen had located on a satellite map. While Zane didn’t anticipate any problems, it made sense to have the rest of the team close by.

“I think that’s his gate on the right,” Carmen said.

Zane pulled up to the metal post. Immediately, a voice came through the speaker. “How may I help you?” someone asked in accented English.

“We’re here to see Mr. Lawson. I believe he’s expecting us.”

There was no answer, but the gate swung inward. Zane drove around the circular drive and stopped at the front entrance.

“Pretty snazzy,” Amanda said from the back seat.

The white stucco ranch with a red-tile roof looked like something from Santorini or Mykonos, a place befitting a man of Lawson’s wealth. Zane imagined the view was stunning.

A man in khakis and a white button-down shirt waited for them as they stepped out. “Welcome. My name is Eitan.”

Zane extended his hand. “I’m Michel Bergeron, and these are my associates, Mariella Bigatton and Madison Stewart.” All the names were aliases regularly used by the operatives.

“The pleasure is mine.” Eitan motioned toward the door. “Please come in.”

After entering the home, he led them across the foyer and through a doorway on the other side. Lighted alcoves filled with large statues and expensive-looking vases lined the wide corridor beyond.

As they passed a hall, Zane caught movement in his peripheral vision and glanced to his left. A woman exited one of the rooms and turned toward them. She was young — probably late twenties — with shoulder-length curly red hair. She wore a white T-shirt and black leggings that revealed a physically fit figure. Her slightly damp hair suggested she’d just hopped out of the shower. She held Zane’s gaze for a moment then crossed the hall and entered another room. Who was she? Lawson was married, but Zane had no information on his wife’s appearance.

A minute later, Eitan led them through a set of French doors at the rear of the home. A massive tiled patio opened outside. Without stopping, Eitan crossed and led them down a series of wide steps. At the bottom was a Roman-style concrete pool, its shimmering waters glistening in the light of several torches arranged around the perimeter.

Eitan gestured toward a table and cushioned chairs. “Please, make yourselves at home. May I get you something to drink? Water? For those who are interested, we also have something stronger.” He smiled.

“Water would be good,” Zane said. Carmen and Amanda asked for the same.

As they settled into the chairs, Reid’s voice came through Zane’s earpiece. “We’re in place.”

“We’re at the pool in the back,” Zane whispered.

“I hate you,” Pratt said.

“I have my job, and you have yours,” Zane said. “You’ll be pleased to know we’re not in the water.”

“I still hate you.”

“We’re going radio silent now.”

“Copy that,” Reid said.

“What a view,” Amanda said.

Zane shifted his gaze past the cypress trees on the other side of the pool. The dim outline of mountains rose to the west, their steep slopes adorned with a smattering of lights. An incredible view indeed.

“Gorgeous,” Carmen said. “I could get used to this.”

“I’m glad you like our little sliver of paradise,” someone said from behind.

Zane turned to see two people crossing the patio, a man and a little girl. The lights from the house made it hard to see their faces, but he assumed the man was Lawson. And if that was Lawson, the little girl was likely his daughter.

The man spoke again. “It was love at first sight for both of us.”

As he came down the steps, Zane immediately recognized Roger Lawson’s features. He was a handsome man in his early forties with a high forehead and dark hair combed back with copious amounts of gel. He clutched a pipe in his right hand, something Zane had seen in most of the Australian’s online photographs.

When the two arrived at the table, Zane shifted his gaze to the child.

His eyes widened in surprise. It wasn’t a child at all.

* * *

The person Zane had thought was a small child was actually a mature woman. She was certainly an attractive woman, with wavy blond hair and soft facial features that made her look younger than she probably was.

“Jerusalem was a bit crowded for us,” Lawson continued, “so we figured the surrounding hills were a perfect substitute.”

Carmen rose and extended a hand. “I don’t think any of us would argue with your choice.”

Zane noticed Lawson leaned down and draped an arm across the woman’s shoulder, suggesting she was his wife. But if so, then who was the woman inside?

“I’m Roger Lawson.” He shook Carmen’s hand. “And this is my wife, Camilla.”

Amanda addressed Lawson. “A pleasure to meet you. I must say I was impressed with some of your pieces inside. Egyptian?”

“Brilliant,” Roger said. “You must be the archaeologist. The statues are a part of my Heracleion collection.”

“I’d narrowed it to Heracleion or Alexandria.”

Roger turned to the others. “My apologies. Heracleion — or Thonis-Heracleion to some — was a prosperous port city on the coast of ancient Egypt. It was built around a series of majestic temples and canals. Unfortunately, it sank into the ocean about two thousand years ago and has been shrouded in mystery ever since.”

“Dear, that’s enough.” Camilla nudged her husband’s leg. “They aren’t here for a history lesson.”

“No, that’s fine,” Zane said. “I’m not a historian, but I find it fascinating.”

“Just don’t talk to him about the Old Testament,” Amanda joked.

“Please.” Roger gestured toward the chairs.

As everyone settled into their seats, Eitan returned with five bottles of San Pellegrino. He set them gently on the table then retreated to the house.

“I was shocked at the news from the Vatican.” Lawson removed a pouch of tobacco and filled his pipe. “I still find it hard to believe my friend is dead.”

“Roger and Luca were like brothers,” Camilla said.

“My condolences,” Zane said. “I heard nothing but good things about him.”

Roger lit his pipe and took a few puffs before speaking. “There aren’t many people I trust in this business,” he said around the stem. “Luca was someone I’d trust with my life. He often asked for my help, and I was happy to oblige.” After a brief pause, he looked at Zane. “Do they know who did it?”

Zane shook his head. “As of this morning, they have very few leads. To be perfectly honest, it’s one reason we’re here.”

“I see,” Roger said.

Carmen leaned forward in her seat. “We want to thank you for agreeing to meet with us on such short notice. I hope we haven’t inconvenienced you.”

Roger and Camilla exchanged a brief glance. “You actually caught us at a good time. I’m in between projects.” He gestured toward the pool with his pipe. “As you can see, I’m a very blessed man, and I don’t take that for granted. When I came into all this wealth, I made a pact with myself… the more my material things grew, the more I would try to help my fellow man. Besides, you’re here investigating a mystery, so how could I refuse?” He beamed.

Camilla laughed. “Roger is like a little boy when it comes to these sorts of things. He’s been talking about your visit all day.” She reached over and placed a playful hand on his leg.

“It’s certainly a mystery,” Carmen said. “And it’s one that has a lot of pieces. In fact, I don’t even know where to begin.”

“Why don’t we start at the beginning?” Roger sank back in his seat, puffing on his pipe.

“Do you know Dr. Richard Pauling?” she asked.

“I’ve run into him at a few digs,” he said through a cloud of smoke, “but I don’t know him well. Someone told me he’s gone missing.”

“He did. Unfortunately, he’s presumed dead.”

“My heavens.” Roger removed the pipe from his mouth. “What on earth is happening? Surely this isn’t all related?”

“We believe it is.” Carmen looked at Zane. “Why don’t you take it from here?”

For the next half hour, Zane told the story from beginning to end. He divulged everything he knew about the map, the relic, and the shadowy group that seemed to be after both. He’d previously thought about withholding a few pieces of the puzzle but decided full disclosure was the right path. Lawson might be able to provide some crucial answers, and he couldn’t do that unless he had all pertinent information. There was a risk in putting all your cards on the table, but that was the only way to make progress.

When Zane finished, Roger puffed his pipe in silence, digesting all he’d heard.

Carmen said, “You indicated you had a good relationship with Father Cortesi. Did you ever discuss the stolen relic with him?”

“I haven’t spoken to Luca in months, and your description doesn’t sound familiar. Do you have a picture of it?”

“Yes, I have an image.” Amanda was already pulling it up on her smartphone.

“What are your thoughts?” Roger asked.

Amanda spoke as she searched through her files. “I’ve examined it for hours. Not only do I not recognize it, but I’ve never really seen anything like it before. My latest theory is that it might be some sort of ceremonial object.”

“That doesn’t sound like something anyone would kill for.”

“We agree,” Zane said.

“Here, have a look.” Amanda passed him the phone.

When Roger looked at the screen, his eyes widened. He stared at it silently for several minutes then enlarged the image and held the phone close to his face. Finally, he looked at Amanda. “You’re sure this is what was taken from the Vatican?”

She nodded.

Roger passed the phone to his wife.

“You recognize it?” Zane asked.

“When I first looked at the photograph, I immediately recognized the shape,” Lawson said. “I’d seen it before but couldn’t remember where or when. Then it hit me. I went to dinner with another collector several years ago, and he told me about rumors of a strange relic that had come on the market. Supposedly, it had been stolen from the American government, or at least it was held by the Americans at some point.”

“The U.S. government?” Zane asked.

Roger took the phone back from his wife and looked at the image again. “It was held at the National Museum of Iraq and was given to the Americans when they entered Baghdad in 1993.”

“It’s a well-known fact the museum curators turned over a lot of artifacts because they feared they might be taken by looters,” Amanda said. “As best I remember, it was done by mutual consent.”

“That’s correct. I’m not saying the Americans were at fault. In fact, it may have passed to them for safekeeping.” Roger took a few more puffs before continuing. “In any event, my dinner companion didn’t have a photograph, but he drew me a picture on a napkin. I think I may still have it in my office.”

“So you never saw the relic itself?” Carmen asked.

“Never. The rumors faded, so I assumed it was either a hoax, or someone had purchased it.”

Amanda sat forward in her chair. “So what is it?”

Roger set his pipe on the table and chuckled. “That’s the interesting part. It’s a key.”

“A key?” Zane frowned. That wasn’t the answer he’d expected. “A key to what? A building?”

“No, nothing of the sort.” Roger glanced briefly at his wife. “It’s a key to Sheol.”

“Sheol?” Carmen asked. “Why does that name sound familiar?”

“It’s a Hebrew word. You might know it better by its Greek equivalent, Hades.”

“Hell?” Zane asked.

“That’s right,” Lawson said. “Your relic will supposedly open the gate to hell.”

CHAPTER THIRTY

A stunned silence fell over the group. A key to hell’s gate? Even though Zane doubted it truly opened a gate to the underworld, it might open the gate to a lost city. And if that was the case, the group was likely hoping to get there before anyone else and loot its treasures. The connection with the map was now becoming clearer. The map likely led to the gate.

Carmen broke the silence. “You’re one hundred percent sure that’s what this is?”

“In the world of archaeology, you never say you’re one hundred percent certain about anything.” Roger tapped his pipe on an ashtray. “I’m reasonably certain that’s what it is though. As I said, the drawings match the outline perfectly.”

A look of confusion spread over Amanda’s face. “I’ve never even heard of the existence of such a key.”

“I doubt the relic would appear in any textbook, and you certainly won’t find it on Google.” Roger used his thumb to pack his pipe with fresh tobacco. “And the only images have been circulated among a select group, people like me who have the resources to pay for it.”

“If it was being offered on the black market, how did it end up at the Vatican?” Amanda asked.

Roger struck a match then dangled the flame over the bowl of his pipe. “First of all, I don’t like the term ‘black market’ because it implies all the items are being traded illegally. Yes, some objects have indeed been obtained by questionable means, but there are others that are completely legal but are of questionable origin. In other words, items that have been rejected by museums, academia, and the like.”

“Except in this case, it was a relic that seems to have been taken from the U.S. government,” Amanda noted.

“Not necessarily, and that’s my point. The Americans did have it at one time, but the National Museum of Iraq is open once again, so it’s possible they transferred everything back once Baghdad became more stable.” Roger took a few puffs. “The bottom line is I have no idea what the chain of custody was before falling into the Vatican’s hands.”

“Do you think Father Cortesi knew what the relic was purported to be?” Carmen asked.

“One would assume so,” Roger replied. “But again, I haven’t talked to Luca in quite some time.”

Carmen looked at Roger. “So tell us more about the key. Are there people who actually believe hell is a physical place here on earth?”

“Not on the earth, in the earth,” Roger said through a cloud of smoke. “Literature and films often depict hell as a place under the earth’s crust. What you might not know is that there is a biblical basis for that.”

Zane looked at Amanda to see her reaction. As a Christian who took her faith seriously, she’d surely know whether or not this was true. She saw him watching her and spoke. “Some Bible scholars do believe that hell is physically located in the earth, at least for the time being.”

“What do you mean, at least for the time being?” Zane asked.

“Heaven and hell are a bit more complicated than most people think. Let’s go back to the first century. The place we call hell was known as Sheol in Hebrew and Hades in Greek. The Bible tells us that prior to the crucifixion of Christ, all of the dead were sent to Hades.” Seeing confused looks, Amanda explained. “Hades was divided into two sections or regions separated by a wide gulf. The Old Testament saints who died went to the region known as Abraham’s Bosom, while the wicked — unredeemed sinners — were sent to the region most people think of when they think of hell.”

“The bad place,” Zane said.

Amanda nodded. “Luke tells us it’s a place of agony and torment. Peter also tells us the fallen angels of Genesis chapter six are chained in a place of darkness, which I believe is also somewhere in Hades.”

“I’ve studied the Bible a bit, and I’ve never heard of the good region, the one you called Abraham’s Bosom,” Carmen said.

“It comes from the sixteenth chapter of Luke, the story of the rich man and Lazarus. The rich man lived a life of luxury in a gated home and wore the finest of clothes. Lazarus, on the other hand, lived outside the rich man’s gate. He was so sick the dogs came and licked his sores.”

“I do remember that story,” Carmen said. “The rich man dies and goes to hell, while Lazarus goes to heaven.”

“Essentially, yes,” Amanda said. “Remember I said Hades is divided into two regions. The passage tells us that when the rich man went to Hades, he was able to look across the gulf and see Abraham on the other side. And guess who was next to him? Lazarus, the same man who had been lying at his gate. Luke tells us angels carried Lazarus to Abraham’s bosom, which is where the name comes from.”

Roger removed the pipe from his mouth and laughed. “I find the Bible fascinating, but it always seems to beat up on rich people. It’s as though the very state of having money puts you on God’s bad side.”

“Not at all,” Amanda said. “Remember Abraham himself was an extremely wealthy man, perhaps one of the wealthiest of his day. Job was also rich, as was Joseph of Arimathea, the man who put Christ’s body in his personal tomb. This parable implies this particular rich man relied on his wealth and the temporal comforts of life, while Lazarus relied on God. Faith in God — trusting in Him to forgive you and save you — is the Bible’s consistent teaching on salvation.”

“Earlier, you seemed to imply the location or the nature of hell changed at some point,” Zane said. “What did you mean?”

Amanda nodded. “Things changed after the crucifixion. Remember what Jesus told the thief on the cross: I tell you the truth. Today, you will be with me in paradise. There is some debate as to whether the word paradise referred to Abraham’s bosom — the place I was just talking about — or whether it referred to the heaven we typically think of today. I’m in the latter camp. We know Jesus later ascended to heaven to sit at the right hand of the Father, so in order for the thief to be with him, he would also need to be there. That means heaven moved to the literal heavens after the resurrection.”

“But the unrighteous are still in Hades?”

“Yes, and some believe that’s actually located under the earth.”

Zane looked at Roger. “Here’s the million-dollar question. Where is this gate?”

“Let’s go back to the Bible. Some say it describes a cosmic battle between two opposing powers: good versus evil. The seed of the woman versus the serpent. Christ versus Satan. And while that may be true, the Bible also describes two opposing geographic locations. Holy ground and unholy ground.”

After getting a quizzical look from Zane, he explained. “Jerusalem has always been the Holy City, the place the God of the Bible lifted up above all others. Abraham was asked to sacrifice his son Isaac on Mount Moriah, the same ground upon which Jerusalem would later be built. Israel’s kings lived in Jerusalem. The faithful are told to pray for Jerusalem. Jerusalem is where the temple was built — more than once. Jerusalem is where God’s only Son, Jesus Christ, was buried. There is even a place for Jerusalem in the future, after the present age has long since passed. Revelation states that in eternity, a new Jerusalem will come down from heaven like a bride adorned for her husband.”

“What about the unholy ground?” Carmen asked. “Where is it?”

“The answer might surprise you. It’s a place we know today as the Golan Heights, the region encompassing Israel’s border with Syria and Lebanon. In ancient times, it was referred to as Bashan. Mount Hermon lies in that region, and it’s always been associated with evil.” Roger nodded at Amanda. “Your friend mentioned the fallen angels earlier. The sixth chapter of Genesis says these fallen ones — who some call the Watchers — came down to earth and procreated with women, producing giant offspring known as the Nephilim.”

Zane knew the story well. On a recent Delphi operation in Brazil, the team had discovered evidence some of the Nephilim might have dispersed as far away as South America. Amanda had told them the theoretical diaspora took place after Joshua drove them from the land.

Amanda seemed to know where Roger was going. “The Book of Enoch fills in more detail. It tells us when the Watchers first fell, they descended upon Mount Hermon.”

“Bravo.” Roger gestured toward her with his pipe. “Not only is she a Bible scholar, but she knows her apocryphal works.”

Amanda reddened. “I’m not a scholar, just a Christian who likes to read the Bible.”

“So Mount Hermon is associated with evil because of the Nephilim?” Carmen asked.

“The sin of the fallen angels was the event that seemed to trigger a kind of spiritual darkness that has reigned ever since. For example, the Nephilim giants were there even after the flood. Remember I said the region was once known as Bashan? The king of Bashan was a man named Og. Strangely, he was also a Nephilim, probably part of a second incursion. He was so large his bed was said to be somewhere around thirteen or fourteen feet long. God told Moses to conquer the land and slay the hybrid beings. Og was killed during one of the battles.

“But even after the Nephilim were killed or dispersed, Mount Hermon became a place known for occult practices, idol worship, and the dark arts. In fact, there were more temples built at Mount Hermon than any other part of the Near East, and most of those were built by cults.”

“It almost sounds like it became the capital of Satan’s kingdom,” Carmen said.

“In some sense, that’s true. But later, something very interesting took place there,” Roger said. “Someone representing the forces of good would enter that territory with bold aggression. He would stand at the very foot of Mount Hermon and announce that Satan’s kingdom would one day be brought to an end.”

“Who was that?” Carmen asked.

Roger beamed. “Jesus Christ.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

“Jesus Christ went to Mount Hermon to challenge Satan?” Carmen asked.

Before answering, Roger picked up his pipe and tapped it against the inside of an ashtray. He filled a third bowl. “Well, he wasn’t technically on the slopes of Hermon, but he was in the shadow of Hermon, and it was no coincidence he chose that location.”

Roger sat back in his chair. “In the sixteenth chapter of Matthew, it says Jesus went to Caesarea Philippi. If you look at it on a map, you’ll see it’s squarely in the middle of ancient Bashan, the place I referred to before.”

“Why don’t I just read it?” Amanda pulled up the passage on her phone.

“Please do.”

Roger lit his pipe as Amanda cleared her throat and began reading:

When Jesus came to the region of Caesarea Philippi, he asked his disciples, “Who do people say the Son of Man is?”

They replied, “Some say John the Baptist; others say Elijah; and still others, Jeremiah or one of the prophets.”

“But what about you?” he asked. “Who do you say I am?”

Simon Peter answered, “You are the Messiah, the Son of the living God.”

Jesus replied, “Blessed are you, Simon son of Jonah, for this was not revealed to you by flesh and blood, but by my Father in heaven. And I tell you that you are Peter, and on this rock, I will build my church, and the gates of Hades will not overcome it. I will—

“Stop there.” Roger held up a hand. “Notice the last part of the last verse: ‘and the gates of Hades will not overcome it.’ Can his use of those words truly be a coincidence? Think about it. He spoke of the gates of hell with Mount Hermon towering in the background.

“Now ask yourself this. Who was his audience? Was it just the disciples assembled in front of him? Of course not. I think the whole event was calculated. This was a battle cry against all the forces of darkness who called Mount Hermon their home. He was telling them his death, burial, and resurrection would bring about their spiritual destruction.”

“I thought it was interesting he referred to the gates of Hades,” Carmen noted.

“Precisely!” Roger seemed pleased she comprehended his point. “He could’ve simply said Hades, but instead, he chose his words carefully.”

Zane frowned. “I think I’m with you so far. Jesus may have been indicating the very gates of hell are somewhere near Caesarea Philippi. So where, exactly?”

“That’s a good question,” Roger said. “There is an oral tradition among Jewish sages and mystics, as well as a few cults, which indicates Mount Hermon holds the entrance to the underworld, a deep chasm that descends to the very center of the earth. These same traditions claim the Watchers — the fallen angels — constructed underground temples at the entrance. Supposedly, they were the forerunners to the temples that would later be built outside on the mountain’s slope.”

“And the key?” Zane asked.

“The legends say the Watchers knew they were going to be punished by God, so they sealed off the gate and forged a key. It is said that no one can pass through the gate unless they have that key. Some even believe only those committed to the powers of darkness can use it.”

“So how did this key make its way to the National Museum of Iraq?” Zane asked.

Roger puffed on his pipe for a few seconds. “The Iraq we know today has only been around for about a hundred years. Do you know what nation occupied that real estate in ancient times?”

“Babylon,” Amanda answered for him.

“Correct. And like Bashan, Babylon was also a place known for occult practices and dark arts. There is no way of knowing for sure, but the thinking is somehow it came into the hands of King Nebuchadnezzar during one of the raids on Israel. At this point, who knows?

“All we know for sure is that, in the nineties, word got out that Saddam had shown the key to a number of visiting foreign dignitaries. During some of the galas, he would take some of the drunken guests on a tour of the museum’s vaults, showing them treasures that would never be shown to the public.”

“Why didn’t word get out?” Amanda asked.

“I’m sure it did in some circles,” Roger answered. “But most thought it was some stunt fabricated by a dictator trying to impress his guests.”

Silence fell over the group. Roger puffed on his pipe while the others remained lost in their thoughts.

Zane’s mind had already transitioned to another topic. “Some group now has the key. Do you have any idea who they might be?”

“At first, I had no idea who it might be. But as I shared a few things with you tonight, a name entered my thoughts. It’s an organization that has been around for a long time. Some say they’ve been around in some way, shape, or form for several millennia.”

“What’s the name?” Zane asked impatiently.

“They’re known as the Order of Baal,” Roger answered.

“The same Baal mentioned in the Bible?” Amanda asked. “The false idol worshiped in Canaan and Phoenicia?”

He nodded. “And don’t forget the slopes of Mount Hermon. He was worshiped there as well. In fact, the leadership of the Order claims to descend from some of those early adherents.”

“Why would they want the key?” Zane asked.

“My guess is it’s related to their reputed interest in pagan worship. I’ve read they have an apocalyptic worldview, so they may hope to usher in the end by opening this gate.”

“Which is probably why they want the map as well,” Carmen noted. “At this point, I think it’s safe to assume Pauling’s map shows the location of the gate.”

Roger pulled the pipe out of his mouth. “Didn’t you say you have a picture of it?”

“I have a digital copy.” Amanda picked up her tablet and searched for the image. A few seconds later, she found it and handed him the device. “Here it is.”

Roger took out his own phone. “Do you mind if I take a picture?”

“Not at all.”

After taking a photograph of the screen, Lawson set aside his phone and studied the image closely. “There is something about it that seems familiar, but I can’t quite place it.”

Camilla scooted her chair closer to his. The two sat silently for a long time, their eyes moving back and forth as they studied the image. At this point, it was hard to tell what either was thinking.

After several minutes, Camilla’s eyes seemed to widen slightly. “Oh, my heavens.”

“What?” Roger looked at his wife, who whispered something Zane couldn’t hear.

“You really think that’s it?” Roger asked.

“Look at the way it forks here.” Camilla pointed at something on the screen.

The last comment seemed to have an effect on him. He continued staring for a moment. “I think you might be right.”

Zane was already tired of the cryptic conversation. “Mind filling us in?”

“Until I get a chance to compare it to some other images we have, it’s impossible to know for sure,” Roger said. “But the map looks like a system of tunnels we’re familiar with.”

“It’s a partially excavated archaeological site here in Israel,” Camilla said. “It showed early promise but was later abandoned due to a lack of funding.”

“Where is it located?” Zane asked.

Roger and Camilla looked at each other, then Camilla answered, “That’s the interesting thing… The tunnels are located under Mount Hermon.”

Zane’s pulse quickened. An ancient order was trying to open the gate to hell. They had the key, and the only thing they needed was the location of the gate.

“The archaeologists didn’t find much in the tunnels. Therefore, many didn’t think they were significant.” Camilla looked at her husband. “But Roger and I always believed it held great significance. We just didn’t know what.”

“I’m not familiar with that site,” Amanda said. “Can you show me where it is on a map?”

“We can do better than that,” Roger said. “We can take you there.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

Jerusalem — Mount Hermon

Zane looked toward the horizon with a sense of dread. A wall of dark clouds moved in from the west like some giant curtain being pulled across the sun. The wind had picked up as well, blowing sand and debris across the highway. He hoped they’d reach the tunnels before the worst of the storm hit.

Carmen seemed to sense his angst. “The good news is we’re almost there. I’d say another hour or so.”

“Let’s hope it moves through fast.”

Carmen looked down at her phone. “Don’t think so. It’s a monster storm, and I think it’s going to sit for a while. The good news is it’s going to turn to snow in the higher elevations.”

“How is that good news?”

She shrugged. “I’d rather deal with frozen stuff than be soaking wet.”

“Are we there yet?” Pratt asked, enjoying how much the phrase irritated the senior operative.

Zane looked at Carmen. “Did we pick up some teenagers at the last stop?”

“Bite me,” Pratt retorted.

Zane stole a quick glance in the mirror. The rear of the CIA-owned cargo van was customized with leather seats and several light metal storage cabinets. All of the windows were outfitted with heavily tinted bulletproof glass. It was probably overkill for this operation, but Zane wasn’t about to argue with the arrangements the Agency had made on their behalf.

The group in the back seemed subdued. Amanda and Emily rested with their eyes shut, while Reid and Keiko watched the passing terrain in silence. Pratt was the only one moving around. At the moment, he was wiping down his Heckler & Koch pistol.

Zane turned his attention back to the road. A green Land Rover cruised a few car lengths ahead. Roger and Camilla Lawson were two of the occupants, along with the redhead Zane had seen in the hallway the night before. The mystery of her identity had been solved earlier in the day when they rendezvoused at a petrol station outside Jerusalem. Her name was Kimberly Blake. Roger had introduced her as the project manager of his digs, but her physique and steely gaze told Zane she probably provided security as well.

Roger was surprised to learn there were four other members of Zane’s team. At first, he seemed concerned he hadn’t been told, but after some interaction with the group, he appeared to be more at ease. Zane didn’t reveal Keiko’s identity. That was one of several things he’d held back. The robot wore thick clothing and a baseball cap she pulled down over her face. In addition, Carmen had given her strict instructions not to engage in conversation unless absolutely necessary.

“This is interesting.” Carmen stared at something on her phone. “There is a place called Banais at Caesarea Philippi. It’s a nature reserve now, but it used to be a Greco-Roman city in the time of Christ.” She traced something on the screen with a finger. “At the northern end of the reserve is an ancient site known as the Grotto of Pan. An ancient cult worshiped the Greek god Pan there. Anyway, the reserve sits against the foot of Mount Hermon, and there are a series of caves in the rocky slope there. Guess what they’re called?”

“The gates of hell,” Amanda answered. “Banais is where some believe Christ spoke those famous words about the gates of hell.”

“Maybe that’s where we’re going,” Carmen suggested.

Amanda shook her head. “No, I asked Roger last night. He said that’s a common belief, but the real caves — the ones that cut into the heart of the mountain — are located at higher elevations.”

“The pictures look really creepy,” Carmen said. “You can almost believe it’s the gate to hell.”

Zane leaned forward and looked up. The leading edge of the storm was directly overhead now. “We may be thankful to get inside those creepy caves if these clouds open up.”

A mixture of snow and rain began to fall as the two vehicles entered the farming community of She’ar Yashuv. The elevation would rise from here, meaning the precipitation would soon make a full transition to snow. Carmen was right, Zane thought. With the cold temperatures arriving, snow would be preferable to soaking rain.

After leaving She’ar Yashuv, the caravan passed through Caesarea Philippi then made its way up the southern end of the Hermon mountain range. Twenty minutes after beginning the ascent, Roger turned onto a rural route that cut west into the mountains. There was no traffic here. In fact, there seemed to be no life at all.

Brake lights shone ahead. The Land Rover was slowing.

“Looks like there’s a turnoff,” Emily said.

On cue, Roger turned left onto a dirt road that ran straight up the mountain. It was darker here, with cedars and pines closing in on both sides. Unfortunately, the road itself was sprinkled with potholes, and some of those were already covered with snow. Between the potholes and the steep ascent, Zane began to wonder if the van would make it. Much to his relief, the Land Rover came to a halt about a half mile up the slope. The climb was over. The road ended in a clearing, so Roger used the space to turn around and face the Land Rover downhill. Zane did likewise.

As everyone exited, a stiff breeze howled down the slope, bringing with it a cloud of snow. The three in the Land Rover had already hopped out and were headed their way. Despite her diminutive size, Camilla seemed nimble and athletic. During their conversation the night before, Roger had told them his wife had been a gymnast years ago. Zane believed it.

Kimberly wore dark jeans and a lightweight jacket. Despite her attempt to conceal it, Zane noted the familiar bulge of a semi-automatic pistol in her pocket. The presence of the weapon confirmed what he’d thought before — the athletic twenty-something was also a bodyguard for the Australian collector and his wife.

“I apologize for the foul weather,” Roger said. “The few weeks before spring are often a crap shoot in northern Israel.”

“I think we’ll live,” Zane said.

“Don’t worry. I’ll make sure he brings his coat.” Pratt gave him a wink.

As everyone checked their things, Zane glanced back down the road. Ever since leaving Jerusalem, he’d felt as though they were being watched. On several occasions, he’d seen the same car pass them along the highway. It might have been coincidence, but it was also an old espionage trick to vary your position when tailing another party. Interestingly, the feeling they were being followed was still with him here on the mountain. Someone was out there. He could feel it. What made it more of a concern was their remote location and the darkness of the storm. There would be no moon to illuminate anyone coming through the trees.

“I’ll get the ladder,” Kimberly said to Roger as she turned back toward the Land Rover.

Pratt followed. “I’ll give her a hand.”

Zane smiled to himself. I’ll bet you will, big guy.

The two untied the ladder and carefully lifted it off the truck. Zane was surprised at the length. Roger had told them the tunnel entrance was at the bottom of a pit, but he’d assumed it was one they could simply lower themselves into.

Roger clicked on a flashlight and directed the beam toward the trees. “Shall we go?”

As everyone set out, Carmen drew alongside Zane. “What’s wrong?”

“Is it that obvious?”

She nodded. “I’ve worked with you long enough to know when your radar is on.”

“My radar is always on.”

“This is different. I know you, Zane.”

When they arrived at the edge of the clearing, Lawson led them to a trail that wound up through the forest.

Zane and Carmen walked slowly, allowing the others to get ahead. “Have you seen anything out of the ordinary?”

“When?”

“All day.”

“No, why?”

“Just a feeling.”

Carmen nodded. “Anything specific trigger those feelings?”

“Just a few things on the road — the kind of things that could easily have a simple explanation. Part of it is just a feeling.” He nodded at the trees. “Even here, I feel like there are eyes out there.”

“I think you need to trust your gut, and now that you’ve told me, I’ll be on the lookout as well.” She put one hand in her coat and drew out her matte black Beretta P226. After checking the magazine, she tucked it away again.

Soon, the path turned sharply upward through a grove of cedars. The rock-strewn ground was lightly covered with snow, making the walk slippery and a bit treacherous. Fortunately, the climb wasn’t long, and a few minutes later, they emerged on a plateau.

“Here we are.” Roger pointed his flashlight ahead.

Dark shapes rose up around them as they moved forward. Amanda let out a little gasp of delight. The beams illuminated an acre of scattered ruins. There weren’t many structures — a dozen or so crumbled columns and walls — but it was apparently enough to get an archaeologist excited.

“We believe this site dates back to the first or second century BCE,” Roger said.

Amanda approached one of the columns. “The architecture looks Greco-Roman.”

“Camilla and I believe it was a temple built to worship Zeus or one of the other Greek gods. The only things that confused us were the tunnels. Now, we may have our answer.”

As the group entered the ruins, Carmen looked at Roger. “Didn’t you explore the tunnels yourself?”

“We have been in them numerous times. Unfortunately, they end about a hundred yards in. The archaeologists who worked this site assured us the tunnels were simply rooms used to store the temple’s implements, but we always suspected there was a greater purpose.”

Carmen frowned. “If they end a hundred yards in, what are we doing here?”

“There are several branches of the tunnel that all end about a hundred yards in, but we know from your map that’s simply an illusion. I believe there is a false wall or a cave-in of some sort… and tonight, we’re going to find it.”

Another strong gust of wind swept down off the mountain, sending snow swirling through the ruins. Zane and Carmen kept their eyes trained on their surroundings. The snow was heavier now, indicating the heaviest clouds had moved directly overhead. At this point, the only thing visible was the ring of cedar trees around the site.

A minute later, Lawson slowed. Just ahead, yellow warning tape encircled four largely intact columns. The columns formed a rectangle — all that remained of an ancient temple. As Zane stepped closer, he saw several pieces of plywood lying inside the perimeter.

After setting the ladder down, Kimberly approached one of the boards and grabbed it with both hands. “Let’s move these aside. Watch your step.”

Reid and Pratt moved to help, as did Zane and Carmen. Several minutes later, all of the covering boards had been cast aside, exposing the mouth of a pit. Zane probed the darkness with his light, illuminating sides of mortared stones and a dirt bottom. It was a good thing Lawson brought the ladder. The pit was at least twenty-five feet deep.

“Good heavens,” Carmen whispered.

Emily pointed to the north end. “There’s the tunnel.”

Roger shifted his beam in that direction, exposing a stone archway. “That’s where we’ll begin our search.” He looked at Kimberly. “Do you mind bringing over our stairs?”

She and Pratt stepped away then reappeared with the ladder, which they extended to full length.

“How deep is it?” Zane asked Roger.

“A little over twenty-nine feet, which is why I brought my thirty-two footer.”

Over the next few minutes, they went down, one at a time. Zane told Amanda, Keiko, and Carmen to go down first. He would go after them, followed by the Lawsons and Kimberly. He asked Reid and Pratt to remain at the surface. He was still concerned about unwanted company, and it made him feel better to have two former soldiers keeping watch up top.

When it was his turn, Zane descended carefully. The rungs were already slick with moisture, so he grabbed each one tightly, not releasing until he was sure his foot was safely on the next one down. As he neared the bottom, the smell of must and dirt rose up to meet him.

“You’re almost there.” Carmen trained a light on his feet.

After stepping off, Zane turned and splashed his flashlight around. Amanda and Keiko were already at the far end, examining the tunnel entrance.

“I’m down!” Zane shouted to the top.

Carmen grabbed Zane’s shoulder. “I’m proud of you, old man.”

“Let’s see how well I do going back up. Something tells me the temperature is going to drop another ten degrees before this is all over. It’s going to be like holding onto icicles.”

“I told you to bring gloves, but you wouldn’t listen.”

Zane turned back to the ladder, tucking his flashlight into his coat. The next person should have been on their way, but the ladder wasn’t moving. Nor did he hear the sound of feet on the rungs.

Frowning, he lifted his head again. He could see the dim outline of silhouettes at the top, but they weren’t moving.

“Roger, come on down.”

There was a bit of movement, then the Australian’s voice carried down to the bottom of the pit. “I’m afraid we won’t be joining you.”

There was something in his voice that seemed odd, a tone Zane hadn’t heard before. Was this a joke? If so, now was a strange time to horse around.

Carmen stepped back from the ladder and directed her beam upward. When it reached the rim, Zane’s blood ran cold.

Reid and Pratt were both on their knees with their hands in the air, guns pressed to their heads.

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

Mount Hermon, Israel

Two bright beams stabbed down into the pit, forcing Zane to cover his eyes with a hand.

“Put down your flashlights, or I’ll blow your friend’s brains out,” Kimberly barked from the rim. “And don’t reach for your guns either.”

Zane had little doubt she’d pull the trigger if necessary. He’d discerned her toughness from the moment he first saw her, and he wasn’t about to test that assessment now. He and the others complied, tossing aside their lights.

“Very good,” Kimberly said. “Do as I say, and your friends won’t be hurt.”

“What’s going on, Roger?” Zane called. “Why are you doing this?” He didn’t expect a helpful answer but thought it might buy some time.

There was a short pause before the Australian replied. “I’m afraid we have another appointment, and this one is at the actual tunnel.”

“So this was all a ruse? There’s nothing in the tunnel?” Zane positioned his hand near the bottom edge of his coat, just an inch or two away from the Glock tucked into his waistband. It would be virtually impossible to hit a target with a light in his eyes, but if Lawson tried to shoot Reid or Pratt, he wasn’t going to sit and watch.

Roger chuckled. “It goes back about twenty feet. As best we can tell, it was a storage room for the temple.”

“He’s right,” Amanda whispered from behind him. “Keiko and I looked a moment ago and were just getting ready to warn you something wasn’t right.”

As the words sank in, Zane thought back over the last twenty-four hours. He remembered Lawson taking a picture of the map the night before. It’s what he wanted all along, and it’s why he’d so readily accepted the meeting. It all seemed clear now. But what about Reid and Pratt? Was he going to kill them? While he couldn’t be sure, Zane guessed they were probably safe, at least for the moment. Right now, he needed to buy some time. “Are you a member of the order?”

Lawson chuckled. “You disappoint me. Do I look like the kind of person who would be involved in a cult? You might say we have a symbiotic relationship. Their purpose is a spiritual one, while mine is more… professional.”

“So you’re in it for the money?” Zane asked.

“If the legends are right, we’re going to find things that will make Tutankhamen’s tomb look like a pile of dirty arrowheads in Oklahoma.”

Carmen spoke at Zane’s shoulder. “You’re committing murder to get your hands on a few relics. You’re better than this, Roger.”

“How many people have you killed over the years? I haven’t killed any. That’s the thing. As long as you get what you want, you imperialists think your killing is sanitary, reasonable, even righteous.” He laughed again. “And then you squeal like little pigs when others kill in order to advance what they believe is a righteous cause.”

“We’re not imperialists,” Zane said. “We’re trying to help a family—”

“Shut up. You’re not on some sort of moral mission. We know exactly who you are and why you’re here.”

Does he really? At this point, it was hard to tell whether he was telling the truth or just trying to project control. In the end, it didn’t really matter what he did or didn’t know. At this point, what mattered were the two pistols pointed at his men’s heads.

“Throw your guns up here,” Kimberly called down. “Nice and easy. Don’t be a hero. If I see your finger anywhere near that trigger, your friends die.”

At this point, they had no other choice than to comply. Zane was a skilled marksman, but with light shining in his eyes he had no chance of hitting anything at the rim. He was just as likely to hit his own men as intended targets.

“Now!” Kimberly yelled.

Zane pulled out his pistol, making sure to dangle it between his thumb and index finger to show he had no plans of firing it.

“Now throw it out of the pit. Remember, if I see any strange movement, your friend dies.”

Zane flung it as hard as he could, hoping it would travel so far Lawson would decide not to retrieve it. Unfortunately, the pit was so deep it only traveled a short distance.

“Now you.” Kimberly ran her beam up and down Carmen’s body.

Carmen looked up. “I don’t have—”

“Throw it now!”

“Just do it,” Zane whispered.

Reluctantly, Carmen pulled her Beretta from her carry holster and threw it out.

“Everyone empty your pockets.”

After they complied, the ladder was pulled up into the darkness. Kimberly then had Zane and Carmen throw their phones up, as well as their knives.

“Get on your knees,” Roger said.

What was he going to do? If they planned on killing them, they could’ve already done so. Zane lowered to the ground, as did the others. He looked up. Despite the blinding light, he saw Camilla moving around behind Reid and Pratt. He guessed she was handcuffing their wrists. A good sign.

A couple of minutes later, Roger’s voice carried down again. “And with that, I thank you for your cooperation.”

“Get up,” Kimberly barked.

Reid and Pratt rose to their feet.

“This is not going to end well for you, Roger,” Zane shouted. “You haven’t hurt anyone yet, so there’s still time to give this up without spending the rest of your life in jail… or worse.”

“Said the man at the bottom of a pit without a weapon.” Roger laughed.

“What are your plans for us?” Zane asked.

“Don’t worry. We’ll be back. We have important business to take care of right now, but we’ll return later with some friends. They’re looking forward to finding out more about you. And if you’re not in the mood to talk, they have a remarkable ability to make that happen.”

His words gave Zane hope. He had no idea how they would get out of the pit, but at least they had a fighting chance. “What are you going to do with my men? I’m holding you responsible for their safety.”

Roger ignored the question. “Make sure you bundle up. It’s getting cold.”

“Move it,” Kimberly said to Reid and Pratt.

Seconds later, they disappeared from view.

“Roger?” Zane shouted.

There was only silence.

Zane held up a finger, indicating everyone should remain silent. He didn’t want to discuss anything until he could be sure they wouldn’t be heard. A breeze whipped around above, shaking the trees. A few minutes later, an engine started in the distance.

“I can’t believe we didn’t figure them out,” Carmen said. “I keep trying to think of something we missed.”

“I found their agreement to meet with us inconsistent with their biographical profile,” Keiko said.

Carmen looked at her. “Well, thanks for the heads up.”

A cloud of snow made its way down into the pit. Emily crossed her arms and shivered.

“Now isn’t the time to second-guess ourselves.” Zane picked up a flashlight and moved toward the nearest side of the pit. After clicking it on, he ran the beam over its surface.

“What are we going to do?” Emily asked.

“We’re going to find a way out of here.” Zane ran his hand across the stone, looking for any imperfections that might indicate they could climb out.

Amanda joined him at the wall. “I looked at the masonry when we got down here. The craftsmanship is actually quite good, so unless we can find a few imperfections, it’s going to be too smooth to climb out.”

“Well, it won’t hurt to have a look around.” Zane nodded toward the south end. “Let’s take a look inside the tunnel. Make sure Roger was right. Something tells me he doesn’t know this place as well as he claims.”

Keiko walked beside Zane. “I thought of constructing a human pyramid in order to get to the top.”

Zane lifted an eyebrow. “And?”

“Unfortunately, our combined height wouldn’t be enough to reach the rim. Not only that, I don’t believe we’d be coordinated enough to construct it.”

“Lovely.”

The tunnel was narrow, so Carmen and Amanda went in alone. After climbing in on their knees, they used their flashlights to examine the walls. Amanda had experience with ancient tunnels, so Zane hoped she’d find something to give them hope. Several minutes later, they crawled out. Their expressions indicated the news wasn’t good.

“Nothing.” Carmen stood.

“Lawson was probably right,” Amanda said. “There’s a good chance it was used for underground storage.”

“The back wall seems to be caved in. If, by chance, it was a tunnel, we’d need a stick of dynamite to blow through it,” Carmen added.

Zane swiveled around at the word dynamite. “Wait a minute. That’s it…”

Carmen’s brow furrowed. “That’s what?”

Zane stared at the tunnel, his mind making a series of calculations.

“What are you thinking?” Amanda asked.

He faced Carmen and shone his flashlight on her pants. “Where’s the device?”

“Huh?”

“Brett’s device. The explosive. You should still have yours.”

Carmen patted her pants.

Zane was already moving toward the other end, playing his beam around on the ground.

“If you detonate that in the tunnel, the whole thing is going to cave in,” Amanda said. “It’s not going to get us anywhere. And we’ll have wasted our last grenade.”

“I’m not trying to get us further down the tunnel.” He continued to search.

“There!” Carmen rushed forward and retrieved the device, which had come to rest against one of the walls.

“Excellent.” Zane took it from her and walked back toward the tunnel.

“You mind filling us in on what you’re thinking?” Carmen asked.

“Give me a sec.” Zane leaned forward and examined the arched stonework. A moment later, he stuck his finger into a crevice where mortar was missing. “Perfect.”

“So you do want to cave in the tunnel,” Carmen said. “You’re not making any sense.”

Keiko stared at the arched entrance then shifted her gaze toward the rim. “I believe I know what Zane Watson is trying to do.”

“I’m glad someone does,” Amanda said.

Zane patted the stone archway. “Think through what will happen if we trigger the device here.”

Carmen ran her eyes up the wall. As they neared the top, a look of understanding spread over her face. She gave him a little smile. “You’re going to bring down the whole wall.”

He nodded. “And in so doing, create a slope of stones to climb out on.”

“You really think it will work?” Emily asked.

Keiko tilted her head. “I think he may be on to something. I calculate at least a fifty-percent chance.”

“And that’s fifty percent more than we had before.” Zane nodded toward the other end. “Get down there, and huddle in one of the corners. Keiko, position yourself in front of them.”

Carmen grimaced. “I remember the fireball in Venice. This is crazy, Zane. Let’s try something else first.” She nodded at the entrance. “We’ll use this as a last resort.”

“There is no other way. Not unless you have a thirty-foot ladder on your Swiss Army knife.” Zane waved them off. “Just go. Everybody on the other end.”

There was a moment of hesitation, then the group moved off. Zane could tell Carmen wasn’t happy, but he knew this was likely their only chance to get out alive. Once everyone was settled in a corner at the far end, Zane turned his attention to the device. It was wet from lying in the snow, but he doubted it was enough to disable the mechanism. They’d find out soon.

Zane located the crevice and scraped out a few loose pieces of rubble. Thankfully, there was plenty of room. The bigger concern was going to be getting away in time once the device was triggered. Carmen was right. The blast in Venice had been ferocious. He remembered thinking he wouldn’t have wanted to be anywhere near it when it went off.

Unfortunately, they had no Plan B. It was either bring down this wall, or face certain death in a few hours.

Pushing aside his concerns, he focused on the task at hand. He twisted the head until the notch aligned with the green indicator. He popped open the cap at the end then slid the device into the crevice headfirst. Thankfully, it was almost a perfect fit.

Zane took a deep breath. A vision of Katiya flashed in his mind. It seemed significant he was thinking of her at the very moment his life was on the line. He’d address those thoughts later…if there was any later.

After taking another deep breath, he pressed the button, turned, and sprinted toward the other end. He had only taken two long strides when his foot caught an imperfection in the stone floor, causing him to lose his balance.

He tumbled forward.

As a bright light appeared, he realized he wasn’t going to make it out of the blast zone in time.

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

As Zane stumbled forward, instinct overruled cognition. Somehow, he managed to plant his right foot and push into the air. As he launched, a bright flash filled the space, followed by a clap so loud it would’ve ruptured an eardrum a few feet away. The blast wave hit Zane full on, sending him spinning across the space. His body smashed into the far wall, knocking the air out of his lungs and dropping him to the ground.

Rocks and debris fell out of the sky, peppering his body. He remained on his side, trying to determine if all his appendages were still there. A hand grabbed his shoulder. With a groan, he rolled onto his back. Pain seared down the arm that had taken the bulk of the impact. A flashlight clicked on, and three faces appeared above him.

Amanda’s lips moved. It was like she was speaking underwater. Finally, her voice broke through. “How do you feel?”

“Please tell me I have two arms and two legs.”

Keiko hovered over him, her eyes taking in his body. “All of your appendages are intact, sir.”

“I don’t think he was serious,” Amanda said.

“Yes, I was.” He rolled back on his side and tried to push up.

“Whoa, cowboy,” Carmen said.

“I’m fine. I’m fine.” He looked toward the other end. The intervening space was filled with snow, dust, and smoke. Nothing was visible. “Help me up.”

Carmen seemed concerned. “Zane, I don’t think—”

“I feel fine. Honestly.”

Keiko lifted him easily. Once on his feet, he took an inventory of his body. He was sore all over but didn’t think he had any broken bones.

“Look.” Emily pointed to the far end.

Everyone turned. The smoke was beginning to drift away, slowly revealing the far end. What used to be a wall was now a massive pile of stone. It would be a steep climb with some tricky steps, but they should be able to make it out. Amanda was already moving in that direction.

“Yes!” Zane pumped his fist.

“Easy… be careful,” Carmen warned Amanda as she stepped onto one of the stones at the bottom.

Zane tested one as well. It wiggled but wasn’t going anywhere. “One step at a time.”

After cautiously testing the pile, the group began their ascent. The steps were much too precarious to walk on, so they all crawled. Ten minutes later, the entire group stood on the rim.

Zane told Amanda to remain with Emily behind some nearby bushes. He took Carmen and Keiko back to the trail, where the humanoid used her enhanced hearing to listen for any sounds. Despite doing so for several minutes, she failed to detect anything. At this point, Lawson and the others were probably miles away.

Confident the coast was clear, Zane used his flashlight to signal Amanda and Emily to join them. Once the group was together, they made their way back down the trail. When they arrived back at the road, the van was exactly where they had left it.

Carmen looked at Zane. “You do still have the keys, don’t you?”

“I should.” He reached into his pocket. “They were the first thing I picked up after they left.”

“If he doesn’t have his key, I can start it without one,” Keiko said.

Zane held up the key.

Amanda moved toward the panel door at the back. “I can’t wait to get out of this place.”

As Zane got in, he remembered what Roger had said about coming back. It was likely too soon for that, but he wanted to be prepared in case they did. They had no weapons, so if they met someone on the way down, they’d have no choice but to scatter into the woods. That was all the more reason to drive out as quickly as possible.

After sliding into the seat, Zane inserted the key and turned it. Nothing. Not even a cough. The temperature was dropping fast, but it wasn’t cold enough to disable the ignition. He returned the key to its starting position then tried again. Still nothing. Even the dash lights remained dark.

“Don’t tell me.” Carmen put her head on the dash.

Zane rubbed his face in frustration. Somehow, Lawson had sabotaged the van, an insurance policy in case they managed to escape. Zane should’ve known it was too easy.

He turned toward Keiko. “Let’s have a look.” If it was something simple, she could probably fix it. Unfortunately, his gut told him it wasn’t going to be simple.

After popping the hood, he shook his head. Cables dangled over the battery platform. Roger had taken it with him. Zane slammed the hood.

Carmen and the others came out. “What’s the bad news?”

“They took the battery.”

“Do you think they might have hidden it somewhere close by?” Keiko asked.

“No, it would stand out in the snow. Roger Lawson is too smart for that.” He looked down the road. It was dark and silent. Foreboding. “We’ve got a long hike back, folks. Get what you can out of the van.”

Fortunately, there were some spare clothes in the back of the van. Amanda found a second coat, and they all donned gloves. Zane even found a couple of tactical knives in the cabinet. Guns would’ve been better, but at this point, he’d take anything he could get. Once they retrieved as much as they could, they set off down the mountain. The wind blew strongly, tossing the tree branches back and forth. The temperature had dropped as well, so in some ways, it was better to be walking than standing still.

Carmen fell in beside Zane. “What now?”

“First and foremost, we try to stay alive. Second, we look for any signs of Roger because finding him is our only way of finding Connor and James. Although I don’t think it’s likely, the other site could be somewhere close.”

“Something tells me he’s miles away.”

“You may be right, but he did say he’s coming back. That tells me they’re not more than ten or twenty miles away.”

After reaching the bottom, they followed the highway south. Zane reminded them to stay on the shoulder and enter the woods if they saw headlights. He’d briefly considered flagging someone down, but at this point it, would be too risky. As long as they could keep warm, he was certain they could make it back to one of the towns by morning.

“Any idea where the other site might be?” Emily asked Amanda.

“I’m wondering if it might be the Grotto of Pan back at the Banias Nature Reserve. He told us there was nothing there, but in looking back, that answer seemed too convenient.”

“Guys, look,” Carmen said.

Zane followed her gaze. Ahead, another road turned off the highway. It looked like a mirror image of the one they’d just come down.

“I say we stay on the highway,” Amanda said.

“No, that’s not what I’m talking about.” Carmen hurried forward and trained her beam on something in the road. A set of tire tracks was visible in the snow. It was clear someone had come through within the last half hour or so.

Carmen looked at Zane. “You think it was Lawson?”

He crouched and studied the marks. “I’d say it’s likely.”

“Who else would be up here this time of night?” Emily asked.

Zane shifted his gaze further out in the road and saw more tracks. These had turned in from the opposite direction. “And it looks like Lawson wasn’t the only one.”

“I think it’s the order,” Carmen said. “They’re all here.”

Zane’s eyes followed the tracks up the slope. She was right. This was where they were all gathered. Somewhere up the mountain was the real tunnel entrance. He looked at the others. “Ladies, I think it’s time to crash the party.”

After having everyone extinguish their lights, Zane led them up the road. The terrain was mostly bare during the first stretch, broken only by a few small trees and boulders. Keiko should be able to hear an approaching vehicle, but what bothered Zane even more was someone approaching on foot — perhaps a sentry watching from higher ground. If the order were on the mountain, they’d surely have a security perimeter in place.

A short time later, woods closed in on either side. Zane felt less exposed, although he realized the trees could also provide cover for others.

Keiko held up a hand and stopped. She tilted her head, turning her auditory receiver toward the higher elevation. “I heard a car door close.”

“How far?” Zane asked.

“Approximately a quarter mile away.”

Zane nodded toward the trees. “We’ll take the woods from here. Let us know if you hear anything, and I mean anything.”

“Yes, sir.”

They walked parallel to the road. At this point, Zane didn’t have a plan except to approach as close as possible and conduct due diligence. Roger had admitted there were tunnels, so perhaps most or all would already be underground.

About five minutes later, Keiko tapped Zane on the shoulder and pointed through the maze of trunks ahead. Zane squinted but saw nothing.

“I can see a line of vehicles along the road,” she whispered. Along with her hearing, Keiko possessed advanced eyesight. Brett often said she made hawks seem myopic.

“Let’s get closer.” Zane signaled everyone forward. If they could find Lawson’s Land Rover, they might find their weapons.

They saw the line of cars through the trees. Zane led them to a group of saplings near the first vehicle.

“I see the Land Rover,” Keiko said.

“Any sign of security?” Zane asked.

Keiko shook her head. “No movement of any kind.”

“Okay, come with me. Everyone else, stay here.”

The two moved slowly through the trees until they drew even with the Land Rover. Seeing no one around, Zane crossed to the vehicle and carefully tried the doors. All were locked. Not only that, he couldn’t see any weapons inside. He was mulling the possibility of breaking a window when he noticed a van parked two cars ahead.

Just the kind of vehicle you’d keep weapons in.

He motioned for Keiko to follow him forward. Having the humanoid with him was like having a permanent security team in place. If someone approached, she’d know it.

Zane grabbed the van’s back door handle and pulled. To his relief, it was unlocked. The interior light came on. He immediately hopped in and turned it off manually.

He looked back at Keiko. “Give me some light.”

She extended her hand, and a soft blue beam shone from a finger. Not only would it allow him to work with both hands, but the dim luminescence would draw less attention than a flashlight. He opened a metal cabinet. Bingo! Half a dozen pistols were stacked inside, as well as ten or so magazines. He grabbed four of the guns and two magazines for each. He handed one of the pistols to Keiko then scooted out and closed the door behind him.

After slipping back into the woods, Zane signaled the others to come forward. When they arrived, he passed guns and magazines to Carmen and Amanda.

“From here on, we only speak when necessary,” he whispered. “If you see or hear anything, let me know.”

As they slipped through the trees, Zane watched for movement. He was concerned they hadn’t come across any sign of security. He’d seen the order’s assault team operate in Venice and in Menaggio. They were professionals, and professionals always established a perimeter. They needed to find it before it found them.

Ahead, Zane saw the woods coming to an end. A clearing opened just beyond.

Keiko leaned her head close to him. “I hear voices, but they’re still some distance away.”

“Can you pick up the conversation?” Zane asked.

She shook her head. He’d figured as much. Zane led the group over to a clump of bushes. It was a good place to take cover while they determined their next move.

Carmen crouched next to Zane. “Let’s you and I get closer and see what we’re dealing with. Keiko and Amanda can stay here and watch Emily. No sense in getting her in too deep right now.”

“Excellent point.”

After informing the others of their plan, Zane tapped Carmen’s shoulder and pointed to several large pines. “Let’s rendezvous there and scan the clearing for patrols.”

“Copy that.”

After giving the signal, the two walked forward in a crouched position. Zane settled behind one of the pines and peered around the trunk. The clearing opened up in front of them. There was no movement of any kind. Still no security. The whole thing smelled like a trap, but there was nothing substantive to justify those fears. At least not yet. For now, he was going to have to rely on his senses to keep him safe.

Zane gave Carmen the signal to proceed. He would give her a few seconds then follow. She rose and stepped out from behind the tree. As she started forward, something caught Zane’s eye — a soft light low to the ground. His brow furrowed.

Then he realized exactly what it was. He called out for Carmen to stop, but he feared it was too late.

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

Carmen froze at the sound of Zane’s voice. Was a patrol coming? She turned her head and looked back at him. He seemed to be staring at something on the ground in front of her. Maybe she was about to step into a hole. She faced forward but saw nothing that would indicate trouble.

“Down and to your right,” he whispered.

While keeping her body still, she turned her head to the right. She saw a flash of bright color through the foliage. As her focus sharpened, a tiny red light appeared on the trunk of a nearby pine. Motion-sensor detector. No wonder there weren’t patrols walking through the woods.

Carmen eased back as Zane came and stood next to her. He crouched and drew a line in the thin layer of snow. After he finished, he stood and leaned in close to her. “The laser should be about six inches in front of that line and two feet off the ground.”

“We going over or under?”

“I’m going under,” he answered. “Too easy to slip in the snow.”

“I’ll go first.” Carmen lowered onto her belly and slithered forward through the snow. Just to be safe, she continued for several feet before standing.

After Zane came through, they both crept to the forest edge and settled behind two bushes. Carmen parted the branches. The land sloped downward from there, forming a bowl-shaped ravine. At the bottom of the hill were the crumbled ruins of another temple complex. It almost seemed like a carbon copy of the last one.

“Look.” Zane pointed past the ruins.

Carmen lifted her gaze. A row of thick cedars stood on the other side, and beyond it, a towering rock wall. Between the two, she saw the faint glow of light.

“That must be where the tunnel entrance is.”

“If we can somehow get over to those cedars then—”

Zane grabbed her shoulder and pulled her down. Carmen remained still. The sound of voices carried up from the ravine.

“Ten o’clock,” Zane whispered.

Carmen looked up. About thirty yards away, she saw the red glow of a cigarette. Two men with rifles slung over their shoulders walked past the ruins. Their conversation continued as they disappeared to the right.

“This might be our only chance for a good look,” Zane said. “Let’s go.”

The two rose and sprinted down the slope. As they passed through the ruins, Carmen kept her eyes peeled for movement. That might not be the only patrol. In fact, the ruins would be the perfect place to set up watch. A minute later, they entered the row of cedar trees on the other side. Now out of view, they dropped on all fours and crawled through the tangle of limbs. The light was brighter here, and the sound of voices reached their ears.

When they reached the other side, Carmen’s eyes widened in surprise. A large camp was assembled on the plateau in front of the rock wall. Dozens of men and women in gray ceremonial robes moved around under portable pole lights, hoods pulled over their faces. Many gathered around tables stacked with an assortment of caving gear: helmets with headlamps, rope, picks, oxygen tanks, and ladders. Armed guards walked the perimeter.

Zane tapped Carmen on the shoulder and pointed. Men with lights and equipment moved in and out of an open crevice at the base of the wall. Carmen found herself staring at a group of men at the right of the entrance. One man towered above the others. His hood was off, exposing wispy blond hair and thin, sallow face. While the others talked, his cold eyes surveyed the activity around him. At one point, he seemed to look toward the trees. Carmen drew back.

“Do you see Connor and James?” she asked.

He shook his head and pointed at a tent off to the left. “If I had to guess, I’d say that’s—”

He was cut off by a voice bellowing out of a bullhorn. “Please make your final preparations. We enter in thirty minutes.”

“They’re going in,” Carmen whispered.

“I’m guessing they’ll take the prisoners in with them, which means we need to enter as well.”

“No chance.” She nodded toward the guards hovering around the entrance. “I count at least two dozen security personnel, and all of them are heavily armed. My guess is they’ll leave a few outside to make sure the entrance is protected.”

“That won’t matter,” Zane said, “because we’re not going to use force.”

Carmen frowned. “Then how do you suggest we get in?”

“Follow me, and I’ll show you.”

* * *

Carmen and Zane slipped back through the ruins, taking cover behind a crumbling wall as the patrol appeared again. Once the guards disappeared from sight, the two sprinted into the trees and slid under the motion detector. Zane flashed his light twice at the line of bushes ahead.

“Back already?” Amanda asked as they moved out of hiding.

“Only for a few minutes. Then we’re all going back.”

Amanda looked at Carmen. “What did you see?”

“The order is massed by the mouth of a cave, which they’re getting ready to enter.”

Zane checked his watch. “We have about twenty minutes.”

“Did you see Connor and James?” Amanda asked.

“No,” Zane said, “but we think we saw where they’re being held. I have to assume they’re going to take them into the cave.”

“So how do we reach them?” Keiko asked Zane.

“By following them in.” Zane looked at the confused faces. “I have a plan. It’s risky, but I think it might work.” He looked up at the snow sifting down through the trees. “And I think this weather is going to help us.”

“Let’s hear it,” Carmen said.

“Follow me.”

Amanda looked at Carmen and lifted an eyebrow. The Italian shrugged. After Keiko checked for sounds and movement, Zane led them back to the van where he’d found the pistols. While the others waited in the trees, Zane and Keiko entered again. They emerged a minute later. Zane appeared to be holding a pile of towels. Carmen frowned. What on earth is he thinking?

“Voila.” Zane held out the pile. “Our new attire.”

Carmen saw they weren’t towels at all. They were robes, the same hooded, ceremonial robes worn by the members of the order. A covert infiltration using their own attire. She loved the idea.

“So you saw these in the van before?” Carmen asked.

“I remembered seeing stacks of gray clothing at the top of the cabinet, but I didn’t know what they were. After seeing the order, I put everything together.”

“Let’s see how they fit.” Amanda pulled hers over her head.

Carmen did likewise. It was too big, but she soon realized that was a good thing. The hood swallowed her head completely.

“Do you happen to have another shade?” Amanda said. “Gray has never been one of my colors.”

“Sorry, they’re all out of pink.”

Carmen’s big concern was the poor access to her weapon. If she needed to use her pistol, it could take several seconds to hitch up the robe and pull it out. And those seconds could be crucial. But if things went as planned, they shouldn’t have to use their guns.

Emily reached for a robe, but Zane pulled them back. “No, ma’am. You’re staying right here.”

Amanda turned quickly toward him. “We can’t leave anyone behind.”

“We’re not going to. Keiko is going to stay with her.”

“You’re going to need all the help you can get.”

“What we need is stealth. My plan doesn’t involve taking down their entire security team.”

“So what is the plan?”

“We join them. We keep our eyes and ears open, learn what they’re doing. Then after we’ve conducted our due diligence, we’ll move to free our people at the right time and place. And while it’s not our top priority, we’ll also try to get as much information on this underground city as we can, assuming it’s there.”

“I don’t like the idea of separating. I say we all stick together.” Carmen tugged on the fabric of her robe. “To be honest, I think your plan is brilliant. If we stay covered up, I think we’ll all be safe.”

“I also believe it would be best to keep the group together, sir,” Keiko said.

“Let me guess, you already made a few calculations,” Zane said.

Keiko tilted her head in confusion.

The painful memory of losing Emily in Venice suddenly filled Carmen’s thoughts. It was one of the worst mistakes of her career, and she was determined to make sure nothing else happened to the girl. Keiko was the best possible protection any of them could have, but she was subject to malfunctions and a drained battery. Right now, the humanoid didn’t have much of a track record in the field.

Carmen caught Zane’s eye. “I’ll keep Emily with me.”

Zane stood in silence, churning over his decision. Finally, he met her gaze. “We get even a whiff of trouble, you bring her back here.”

“Absolutely,” Carmen said. “You have my word.”

He checked his watch again. “Let’s get moving.”

After they donned their robes, Zane led the team through the woods and under the motion detector. Instead of passing through the ruins, Zane circled to the left and approached the camp from the end of the road. Carmen was beginning to understand what he had in mind. A few members of the flock were still moving back to the vehicles to collect additional gear, which made it the perfect place to come in.

As they approached the camp, Zane said, “Keep your hoods down over your face. Don’t look up, and don’t engage anyone in conversation. If someone says something to you, mumble a short response.”

Carmen looked ahead. The tall man with the gaunt face stood near the entrance, speaking to his flock with a bullhorn. “My people, let us gather together.”

“Oh, my,” Emily said from under her hood. “That’s him. Viktor, the man who came to my room in Venice.”

“Make sure you don’t get anywhere close to him,” Zane said.

Viktor spoke through the bullhorn again. “It’s time for us to enter the sacred place.”

A minute later, they arrived at the back of the crowd gathered at the tunnel entrance. Carmen settled in next to Zane. The man Emily called Viktor was about twenty yards away. His features seemed even more sallow up close. He smiled, but it seemed forced.

He pointed to the sky. “Look up, my friends. Evil powers are aligned against us. The tears of our enemy fall down upon us. It’s a sign our time has come.” His lifeless eyes swept the crowd. “Are you ready to lay hold of our destiny?”

The flock raised their hands in ecstasy, and a great shout went up. Zane lifted his, and the others followed suit.

“Let us enter!” Viktor shouted.

The crowd cheered again, this time even louder. They seemed to be whipping themselves into a spiritual frenzy. Carmen imagined most had been brainwashed for years. Zane nudged her gently and nodded to the right. She followed his gaze. A moment later, her eyes rested on a man near Viktor. He wore a toboggan pulled down over half his head, but she recognized him. Roger Lawson. And if he was there, she knew Camilla and Kimberly couldn’t be far away.

The crowd pressed toward the cave mouth.

“Remember to stay together,” Zane whispered as they began walking. “If any of you get separated, don’t panic. Wait until we gather inside, then move to the right.”

“Look.” Amanda tried to point without being obvious.

Carmen looked up in time to see three men with canvas bags over their heads being shoved through the entrance. The two in the back were definitely Reid and Pratt. So who was the third?

Carmen saw two guards flanking the cave mouth. Their narrow eyes scanned each person as he or she passed through. Not wanting to take any chances, she lowered her head and kept moving. Amanda and Emily did the same on her left. A few seconds later, they arrived at the tunnel mouth. The members filed in quickly. Most looked anxious to get inside, so Carmen reminded herself to give the same impression.

As she stepped forward, a strong hand grabbed her arm. “Stop!”

She flinched and looked up, trying to keep her face concealed as much as possible. The man glowered at her. Did he recognize her? He didn’t look familiar, but perhaps he somehow remembered her from Venice or Menaggio. If so, it was going to be impossible to get her gun in time to defend herself.

The man nodded at Emily. “One at a time.”

Carmen let out a sigh of relief. “Sorry.”

After Emily disappeared into the cave, the man released Carmen’s arm. “Go.”

Carmen wasted no time in slipping into the tunnel. Emily was just ahead. She seemed to have slowed down in order to let Carmen catch up. While they weren’t going to communicate, the plan was for the entire team to stay within sight of one another.

A few minutes later, they emerged into a large cavern. The members of the order waved their flashlights across the space. The rocky walls glistened with moisture, probably from the snow seeping through somewhere above. Despite the natural beauty around her, Carmen kept moving. She thought about stealing a glance behind her, but she couldn’t take the risk. She’d just have to hope the others made it in safely.

The line passed into another tunnel. Emily had just gone in. Carmen entered behind her. It was darker here, and the path sloped sharply downward.

She took a deep breath then began her descent into the abyss.

CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

Zane walked through the cavern, taking in the scene along with everyone else. The two figures he believed to be Carmen and Emily walked about twenty yards ahead. Although he hadn’t looked back, he assumed Keiko and Amanda were somewhere behind him. Earlier, he’d watched the situation at the entrance with a sense of dread and concern. When the guard grabbed Carmen’s arm, Zane had slid a hand under his robe and grasped his pistol. Fortunately, he never had to pull it out. The situation defused, the guard allowed her to enter.

Zane entered the second tunnel right behind Carmen. The descent was steeper here, with lamps hung at intervals to illuminate the path. If not for the light, he guessed it would be impossible to see more than a few inches, if that.

It wasn’t hard to see why a map was necessary to navigate the tunnels. The route down was crisscrossed by a maze of tunnels that seemed to diverge in a number of different directions. Not only that, but they all looked the same. Without some sort of tracking device, one could be lost in minutes.

Coming around a bend, Zane saw Carmen and Emily. A few seconds later, one of them dropped to a knee and adjusted her shoe, allowing Zane to catch up. As he drew alongside, she stood and walked next to him.

Carmen’s whispered voice came out of the hood. “Any visual confirmation Keiko and Amanda made it in?”

“They were behind me as we approached the entrance, so I’m assuming they’re still there.”

“Just wanted to make sure my little incident didn’t get us all separated.”

Zane turned slightly toward her. “We’ll confirm their position at the next stop.”

Carmen nodded as they continued in silence. A few minutes later, Zane noticed an armed guard in the middle of the path, directing everyone to take a right into an intersecting tunnel. Zane, Carmen, and Emily all lowered their heads as they passed. Surprisingly, the path was even steeper here. If it got much steeper, it would be hard to walk.

After putting some distance between themselves and the guard, Zane whispered, “I’m a bit concerned about oxygen levels.”

“I think we’ll be fine,” Carmen said. “I’m no expert on caving, but from what little I know, I don’t think it matters how far you are from the surface. I think the danger is getting into areas with high concentrations of carbon dioxide. Besides, I’m guessing they’ve been exploring this place for a while and would know if there were trouble spots.”

While she was probably right, Zane also knew the order had only received the remainder of the map the night before. That meant the next section of tunnel would encompass unexplored territory. Who knew what dangers might lurk there, including lethal quantities of CO2? In the end, they had no other choice but to continue. Their mission to recover Reid and Pratt meant staying with the group all the way down if necessary.

Zane still had no idea how he was going to get them back. Right now, the only thing he knew for sure is he wanted to avoid a confrontation at all costs. A team of armed guards surrounded the three hostages. Not only were Zane and Carmen outgunned, but any exchange of fire could result in the deaths of innocents, including the very people they were trying to save.

Carmen nudged Zane. Bright lights illuminated a section of tunnel just ahead. Two piles of boulders lined each side of the space. As they drew near, Zane also noted two compact excavators parked on the right, and his nostrils detected the scent of cut stone. Apparently, the order had only recently punched through.

“I’m thinking this may be where our piece of the map begins,” she whispered.

As if confirming her statement, there were no more hanging lamps past that point, forcing everyone to rely on their own sources of light. Zane pulled out his flashlight and clicked it on. He’d tried not to use it lest he accidentally illuminate his own face, but now he had no choice.

Emily moved closer. “Sorry, I don’t have a light.”

Zane was concerned they were communicating too much. Then again, the line of people had spread out as they descended through the caves.

“Look down,” Carmen said from his left.

Zane lowered his gaze. Up until this point, the cave floor had been a combination of dirt, rock, and debris. Now they were walking on cut stone tile mortared together like a cobblestone street.

“Odd that it started here,” Emily said.

“Maybe it’s been underfoot all along, and we just couldn’t see it. If you think about it, the upper parts of the cave have been exposed to the elements for who knows how long. That means water and wind could blow in tons of dirt and debris over time.” Zane waved his beam around the tile. “Conversely, this part has been sealed, preserving the original floor.”

Carmen nodded. “It may not look much different than it did several thousand years ago.”

Emily held a finger to her lips, indicating they should remain quiet.

The people ahead of them slowed as they approached a stone archway. To Zane, the stones looked the same as the ones they were walking on. After passing under the arch, they entered a short, tight passageway that soon opened into a cavernous space. The order gathered there. Some looked up, while others played their beams around in the dark. A few let out exclamations of awe.

As they continued forward, Zane realized something odd — the cavern seemed to have its own source of light.

Carmen seemed to have noticed the same thing. She pointed upward. “I can’t believe it… Look.”

Zane followed her gaze. A million points of light sprayed across the ceiling. Most were various shades of blue. Azure. Cobalt. Cerulean. It was like a swath of sapphire stars, and it reminded Zane of lying out in a field at night as a child, taking in the Milky Way. It was beyond breathtaking.

“What causes that?” Emily asked.

“It’s bioluminescence,” Carmen explained. “They’re millions of tiny organisms that give off light. My guess would be glowworms or bacteria. It’s also a sign oxygen is present here, perhaps coming down through vents and shafts.”

As more came in, the crowd continued to push forward, drawing Zane and the others along with them. There was a commotion at the front. Some cried out in excitement.

Carmen tugged on Zane’s elbow. “We need to get to the front.”

He followed her to the right. As they wove through the crowd, he realized they were walking on an elevated plateau some distance above the cavern floor. The further they went, the more he was able to truly appreciate the immensity of the space.

When they arrived at the front, Zane was able to take in more of their surroundings. At their feet was a broad set of steps that descended into darkness. As he moved his gaze out, he saw the vague outline of shapes rising from the cavern floor. As his eyes continued to adjust, the shapes took form.

His eyes widened in awe.

There, spreading out before them, was an underground city.

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

Carmen stood in reverent silence. She remembered Roger Lawson speaking of an underground city but hadn’t truly expected it to be here. She’d believed it — like Atlantis — was a legend that had been passed down through the centuries, devoid of any real truth. Adding to the majesty was the sheer size of the place. This was no tiny village, a smattering of crumbling buildings. This was a city in every sense of the word, stretching for hundreds of yards, if not miles. Columned temples, spires, streets, and houses. A massive tangle of stone construction.

“Most of the architecture looks like Ancient Rome,” a familiar voice said.

Carmen and Zane turned to find Amanda and Keiko behind them.

“You found us,” Carmen whispered back.

“Keiko had you marked the entire time.”

The members of the order pushed forward now. A few of them gasped with excitement while others seemed overwhelmed at the sight, dropping to their knees and lifting their hands in spiritual ecstasy.

“You think Rome built this?” Zane asked Amanda.

She continued to stare at the buildings. “The more I study it, the more there seems to be a mix of styles. It’s almost like many different cultures came to live here.”

“Or perhaps a group incorporated differing architectural styles,” Emily said.

“That’s actually possible,” Amanda admitted. “The Watchers of the Bible — the fallen angels of Genesis six — were said to have passed along a number of things, including technology. Why not architecture?”

Carmen held a finger to her lips then pointed toward the front. Viktor held up his hands to silence his flock.

“My friends, welcome to Bashan!” Claps erupted for a moment. “I know you’re all excited, but we have work to do. As I’m sure you’re aware, we all seek the entrance to all that is good.” He swept his hand in an arc. “You can now be our feet and our eyes. This will be your opportunity to make history, to usher in a new age in which all the powers of old are brought crashing down.”

As the people cheered again, Carmen surveyed those assembled at the front. Eventually, her eyes settled on the three captives. Their heads were still covered with canvas bags. She nudged Zane. He looked in that direction then nodded slowly.

“Strange that there are three,” Carmen mused.

“Maybe we should try to create a diversion right now, while we’re near the exit,” Amanda suggested. “Fire a few shots, and this crowd would go crazy.”

“I guess you haven’t looked behind us,” Zane noted. “There are a half dozen guards at the exit. If shots are fired, they’ll immediately smell a rat and block anyone from leaving. We need to wait until they find this gate to the underworld. That’s the distraction that will give us our chance. I’d also prefer to be in the city when we make our move because we’ll have a maze of buildings to escape through or hide in.”

“Please spread to all corners of the city. Roger has told me the gate may be located within a temple. If you find it, use your radios to contact the leadership team. And if you hear this, then report immediately.” Viktor lowered the bullhorn. “Now, let us begin our search!”

The crowd, filled with energy and excitement, moved down the stairs. Carmen and the others moved with them. The steps seemed to go on forever. It reminded Carmen of the ones running up the sides of Mayan temples. Once at the bottom, they found themselves at one end of a plaza that extended for an entire block. Most of the space in the plaza was taken up by a long, decorative pool. It currently held no water but was filled with an array of giant statues, some twenty feet tall. At the center stood a multi-tiered fountain.

Carmen studied the buildings. They seemed much larger at ground level, many several stories high. Interestingly, the entire place seemed clean, devoid of any debris or remains. Carmen frowned. It was almost as if the people had gathered their things and left. If that was true, what made them leave so quickly?

“Which way?” Amanda asked as they walked down the right side of the pool.

“Unfortunately, I left my map back in the car,” Zane said. “We’ll have to play it by ear.”

Carmen looked left, across the pool. Viktor walked with a group of men clothed in red robes. They seemed to be some sort of inner council. Just behind them, she saw Roger and Camilla Lawson as well as Kimberly Blake. The redhead’s eyes roamed back and forth, always alert for danger. If only she knew who was walking a few yards away.

The captives and their contingent of guards brought up the rear. Zane was right. It would be foolish to attack now. There was still time to find a more suitable place and more suitable circumstances.

After crossing the plaza, the group arrived at a street. Zane moved to the right “This way.”

“I thought you didn’t have your map,” Amanda said.

“Yeah, well… it looks prettier this way.”

They had only walked a few yards when Carmen was filled with the sensation they were being watched. She stopped and turned back toward the plaza. People were passing the pool. For a brief instant, she thought she saw someone on the far side looking in their direction, but the crowd soon swallowed them up. She continued to stare for a moment but never saw the face again.

She turned and hurried after the others. The buildings seemed dark and deserted, and yet she felt as though something — or someone— lurked there, hidden in the shadows.

Waiting, watching.

* * *

Camilla Lawson walked slowly through the plaza, taking in the magnificence of the city. Goose bumps swept over her arms as she imagined the thousands of relics that must be hidden amongst all the stone. It might be the largest cache of treasure in the history of humankind, and soon, it would all belong to her and Roger.

She cast her light toward a temple on the left. She envisioned a scene from millennia past. Robed men and women walked in and out through the columned portico on their way to perform sacred rituals. But who were they? Who were the people who’d lived here in ages past? Roger believed it might have been an extinct race, the mysterious ones the world religions called the Watchers. Perhaps aliens descended here, passing along their technology to primitive man. That might explain some of the strange architecture.

Despite the excitement of the moment, Camilla couldn’t shake the sense of unease at leaving the Americans at the other site. Instead of killing them, Roger had chosen to play games, something he did all too often. His ego drove him to make everything a show.

Camilla pushed aside the thoughts. In the end, there was little chance the Americans would escape, and worrying about it wouldn’t make matters any better.

As they came to the end of the plaza, Camilla looked across the pool. A few members of the order were walking there. She was about to bounce her eyes away when a strange movement kept them there. One of the robed members had a distinct gait. Camilla slowed and examined the person more closely. Where had she seen that walk before? It was stiff and awkward, almost robotic.

She fought to recover the memory. An image flashed in her mind — someone else she’d seen walking earlier in the evening.

She stopped. Her chest tightened as she realized who it was she’d seen before — the Japanese woman who’d accompanied the Americans. Her walk was so odd Camilla thought she must have been in an accident at some point.

But was it really her?

Camilla looked at the group the woman walked with and counted their number.

Five.

Her eyes narrowed with suspicion. It didn’t seem possible, and yet…

She looked ahead. Roger and the others were now some fifty yards away. She’d let them keep going. She had work to do.

Reaching into her pocket, she made sure her tiny revolver was still hidden there. The five had turned right and were disappearing down a dark street. Camilla hurried in that direction, slipping into the shadows behind them.

CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

“Am I the only one who is really creeped out by this place?” Emily asked as they continued down the street.

“If you weren’t, I’d think you were strange,” Zane replied. “Just keep reminding yourself it’s deserted. The only thing we’re going to find here are stones and bones.”

Carmen disagreed but remained silent. She still felt the presence of something out there but had no proof beyond vague intuition. And in the absence of proof, there was no sense in making everyone unnecessarily jumpy. After all, they had important work ahead of them.

Zane looked at Keiko. “How deep are we below the surface?”

“We’re approaching a thousand feet, sir.”

“Good grief. That’s almost a quarter mile down. How are our oxygen levels?”

“Oxygen levels are satisfactory, and there are very low levels of carbon dioxide.”

As they walked, Carmen looked at a building on their left. For some reason, her eyes came to rest on a bottom-floor window. The shadows seemed to twist slightly, as though something pulled back out of sight. She stopped and stared, but nothing moved again.

Keep walking. It’s only your imagination.

Amanda looked up. “The architecture is so fascinating. As I said before, it’s a mix of so many different styles. Some of the structures — the columns, the fountain — remind me of known ancient cultures, but others look strange, almost futuristic.”

“I noticed the same thing,” Emily said. “Maybe successive cultures came and lived here.”

“Maybe,” Amanda said, “although it’s not the way you’d normally see it. In archaeology, you typically find one civilization built on top of another, not side-by-side.”

As they passed through an intersection, Carmen heard something down a street to the left. It sounded like the faint shuffling of feet. She froze, letting the others move on. A few seconds later, she heard it again, this time further away. This time, she wasn’t imagining things. This time, she was going to find out who or what was out there.

She hurried forward. “Zane.”

He stopped and turned.

She nodded down the street to the left. “I’m going to take a quick look at something.”

He glanced briefly in that direction then looked at her. “Okay, I’ll go with you.”

“No, this will only take a second. The rest of you need to keep moving.”

“What is it?” He frowned.

“It’s probably nothing. Just wanted to take a quick look around… Make sure we don’t miss anything.”

Zane seemed to suspect she was withholding something. “Is there—”

“I’ll let you know.” She put a hand on his shoulder. “Give me two minutes. If I don’t find anything, I’ll come back and catch up.”

Zane stared at her for a moment then nodded.

As Carmen moved off, he called after her. “Remember, two minutes.”

She probably should have let him come with her, but she felt the need for stealth. Two people might make too much noise. Besides, it might turn out to be nothing.

Alone, Carmen thumbed off her flashlight, plunging the street into greater darkness. She removed her pistol and made sure there was a round in the chamber. She stopped about three buildings down. It was impossible to know exactly where the noise had come from, but for some reason, this felt right. She focused on a building to the left. Like the others, it was three stories of mortared stone. Two windows flanked the ground-level entrance.

The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end. It was the same feeling she’d had at the pool, only this time stronger. Someone was watching her, staring at her back. Somehow, it always seemed to come from behind. She spun around, raising her pistol at the same time. The building was an exact duplicate of the one she’d just been looking at. Her gaze swept across the windows, one by one. There! A head hovered in the shadows of a second-story window. She shifted the sights of her gun, but the silhouette melted back into the darkness.

She raced to the entrance and slipped her robe over her head. She wore black underneath, which might make her less noticeable in the dark interior. After listening briefly, she slipped inside. The darkness swallowed her. When her eyes finally adjusted, she found herself in a foyer. A corridor ran toward the back, and there was a stairwell on the right.

A scratching sound carried down from the upper floors.

Carmen started for the stairs then paused. What if this was a trap? What if someone had purposefully lured her away from the others? She pushed the possibility aside. Whoever it was and whatever their purpose, she was relatively sure they didn’t have a gun.

She took the stairs. Thankfully, the stone steps absorbed the sound of her footfalls. She paused near the second-floor landing and listened. She thought she heard something again, but it was so faint she wondered if it might be coming from another building. She took a few more steps, bringing her eyes high enough to see the second floor. From her vantage point, it seemed most of the space was open, save for a few piles of stone on the left. Seeing and hearing nothing, she climbed the rest of the way. She cleared every direction with her pistol, but the room was empty. If something had been here before, it wasn’t now.

A large dark blotch drew her to the right side of the room. As she approached, she spotted a jagged opening in the wall. It started about four feet off the ground and stretched to the ceiling. She assumed it led to the building next door.

Maybe that’s where the person went.

Slipping her pistol into her waistband, she climbed onto the ledge. She balanced herself and peered into the abyss on the other side. It was pitch black. If someone was hidden there, she had little chance of finding them.

As she reached for her flashlight, she heard a scratching behind her. She turned back to the room. The scratching grew more intense, and it seemed to be coming from the rear wall. As she lowered her gaze, she noticed a large hole near the floor. Strangely, she hadn’t seen it before. The noise seemed to rise through it.

The scratching grew louder, then something emerged from the hole. It looked like an animal, a creature of some kind. Its nose sniffed the floor as it warily moved out into the room. Seconds later, two others followed. Before long, there were a half dozen creatures crawling around. Carmen gripped her pistol tightly. What on earth are they?

She leaned forward and squinted, trying to make out more detail. Finally, one of the creatures moved into the light spilling through the front window. Carmen’s blood froze. A massive rat sniffed the air. She guessed it was three feet long and a foot high at the shoulders. It was essentially a pit bull with the legs of a rat.

As it continued in her direction, she noticed the animal was hairless. Gray skin stretched over rippled muscles. Carmen’s family had always joked about some of the big rats they’d seen in Rome, but these creatures were unlike anything she’d seen outside of a horror film. One of them would have no trouble killing a child. She shuddered to think what a dozen could do.

The closest rat was only about five yards away now, its nose a mere inch or two from the ground. Carmen noticed something bizarre — the animal had no eyes. Cave dwellers. Possessing no vision, they likely hunted by hearing and smell.

What now? She was way beyond the two minutes Zane had given her, but right now, that was the least of her concerns. Shooting one of the rats should be enough to send them all scurrying back into the hole, but the sound of the shot might draw the order’s attention if any of them were close by. Still, she might have no other choice. She was extremely fit, but the massive rodents might swarm her if she tried to sprint through.

Carmen stood slowly, balancing herself on the ledge. She pulled her pistol from her waistband. She would take out two or three of the animals then hope the others would flee back into the crevice. That was the plan, anyway.

She raised the pistol with two hands. As she adjusted her position, the nearest rat swiveled its head in her direction. Had it felt her move? She trained her gun on its head. As she did, a loose rock on the ledge fell to the floor. The rat, hearing the noise, moved toward her. Its sudden move made Carmen flinch. She tried to hold her balance, but soon, inertia took over, and she tumbled forward into the room. Her body hit hard, sending her pistol spinning across the floor.

She turned with her fists in balls, ready to punch the rats that would surely converge on her. Instead, they scurried toward the pistol. They circled it cautiously, gnashing their teeth and snarling. They’d probably never smelled metal or polymer before. Finally, one moved in and bit the barrel, thrashing it around. That seemed to encourage the others, who attacked the gun en masse. She could only imagine what that would feel like if it were her leg.

Although her body ached, Carmen knew she had to take advantage of the distraction. She had to get up and sprint for the stairs. Wincing, she rolled onto her side. It was a risky — but necessary — move. She needed to push off on one arm in order to get up.

One of the rats turned in her direction, sensing something had moved. It sniffed the air, trying to determine what was there.

Carmen couldn’t afford to wait any longer. She rose up on one elbow, careful to move as slowly as possible. The rat’s nose twitched excitedly. Carmen froze again. The animal’s head was turned toward her now. Like it had radar, it had locked in on her position. It knew she was there.

Carmen slid one foot into position, readying herself to push up. Feeling the movement, the rat let out a long hiss. Before she could get off the ground, it charged.

CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

Its teeth bared with lust, the rat bore down on Carmen with shocking speed. The other rats, drawn by the movement, ran just behind. In seconds, they would swarm over her soft flesh. Carmen wanted to retrieve her pistol, but at this point, she knew her only option was to get back to the ledge and hope the rats couldn’t climb. She pushed off the ground as they closed in. Turning, she took two steps and leaped. The minute she left the ground, she realized she was too far away. Her lead foot hit the wall right under the ledge, and she slid to the floor.

Forced to climb, she grabbed the ledge and pulled herself up. Just when she thought she was going to make it unscathed, teeth sank into her lower leg. She cried out in pain as she pulled her legs up. The rat snarled and bit harder, shaking its head back and forth. Carmen grabbed the cold, hairless neck with one hand, while pounding its head with the other. At first, the rat held on, but finally released her to defend itself from the blows. The minute it let go, Carmen flung it away. It dropped into the swarm of rats below, who were in such a frenzy they momentarily thrashed their comrade. Seeing the frenzy of oily gray skin turned her stomach.

Finally, the rats realized their mistake and shifted their attention back to the wall, trying to climb on top of each other to reach their prey. To be safe, Carmen brought her legs up onto the ledge. As they hissed and snarled below her, she pulled out her flashlight and directed her beam into the next building. It might be her only way out. As she’d feared, the entire structure had been gutted, including what looked like a partially exposed basement. It was at least a thirty-foot drop, something she’d only attempt if it were her only option.

The sound of claws scurrying across the floor drew her attention back to the room. The rodents moved back toward the crevice in the rear wall. Strangely, they were silent. No more snarling and snapping. Something was either drawing them out of the room, or something had scared them off.

Carmen looked around. Nothing moved, but there was a change in the atmosphere. Maybe it was the chilled feeling at having her leg gnawed on by a hairless rat. Dropping off the ledge, she retrieved her pistol. If they came back, at least she’d be able to fill a few of them full of lead.

She was about to start for the stairs when she felt the air grow cold. The eyes had returned, and this time, they were in the same room. Turning slowly, she looked back toward the front window. There, in a dark corner to the left, something moved. She took a step back.

A figure stepped out of the shadows. Carmen flinched in surprise. It was a child — a young boy, no more than five or six years old. Strangely, he wore a suit. Even stranger, it looked like the ones worn by people in the nineteenth century.

What was a child doing this far beneath the earth? Did people still live here? Carmen knew there were large groups of people living in abandoned tunnels beneath Paris and other places around the world, but she doubted anyone could survive here. What would they eat?

The boy took a step closer. The cold preceded him.

Carmen remained in place but gripped her pistol more tightly. “Who are you?”

The boy remained silent.

“What’s your name?”

“May I come over there?” He spoke with an awkward cadence, like someone who wasn’t used to speaking. Something seemed odd about the boy. The strange voice, and his face twitched.

“Not until you tell me who you are.”

The boy ignored her question and took two more steps. “Is it time to eat?”

Carmen frowned. “Are you hungry?”

“Yes, I’m hungry. May I come closer?”

Carmen’s inner voice told her not to give him permission. The boy remained in place, as though hindered by some invisible wall. She stepped toward him for a better look. As she studied his features, she recoiled. The child’s eyes were black. Pitch black. Opaque lifeless pits, devoid of emotion. Carmen took a step back. She didn’t know what it was, but she knew it was no boy.

“May I come closer? I’m hungry.” His voice was like a recording stuck on an endless loop.

Carmen wanted to turn and run, but the same inner voice that had spoken before told her not to turn her back. Instead, she backed up a few steps.

Without warning, the boy’s head swiveled sharply toward the stairs. The movement was surprisingly quick, as though his previous lethargy had been a ruse. It was obvious he could be fast if he needed to be. Carmen was tempted to look back to see what he was staring at but was afraid of taking her eyes off of him.

A sound came from the ground floor. Something or someone had entered the building. Was it another child? If so, she was going to be pinned. Footsteps came up the stairs. Someone was on the way up. Carmen debated her next move. On the one hand, she didn’t want to take her eye off the boy. On the other, she didn’t want to be attacked from behind. She struck a compromise, shifting in such a way that would allow her to see both the stairwell and the boy.

A dark figure appeared at the top of the stairs. This one seemed to be moving faster than the other. Her instincts kicking in, Carmen aimed her pistol and slid her finger over the trigger.

“Carmen! No!”

Zane. He’d spoken just in time. She lowered her gun.

“Did you find anything?” he asked.

The boy. She turned, but he was gone. She pivoted in every direction, but the room was empty. Either he’d climbed out the window, or he’d passed through the gap in the wall.

“Carmen, what’s going on?”

She faced him. “Did anyone pass you on the stairs?”

“Of course not.” His eyes narrowed. “What are you talking about?”

“Someone was up here. A… a child.” She held Zane’s gaze. “You sure you didn’t see anyone?”

“A child?” His frown conveyed a tinge of disbelief. “I didn’t pass anyone on the stairs, and I didn’t see anyone here except you. What did he look like?”

Carmen didn’t answer. She’d worry about convincing him later. To be honest, she still wasn’t sure what she’d seen. She met his gaze. “How did you know I was here?”

He took a step toward her and held out her robe. She smiled. She might as well have left a sign out front.

“Put it on. We need to get out of here.”

Carmen took it from him and slipped it over her head. “Something happen?”

“We found something you need to look at.”

“What is it?”

Zane started toward the stairs. “We’re not sure yet, but we think it’s something big. I’ll fill you in on the way.”

* * *

Camilla Lawson hovered at the window, her eyes fixed on the building across the street. The two should be coming out at any moment. As usual, her instincts had been correct. After noticing the one with the strange gait, she’d followed at a distance, eventually managing to approach from the rear. Familiar voices reached her ears. Now it was impossible to deny it. They were here. All of them. Once she came to grips with the truth, her shock transitioned to anger. She’d warned Roger that leaving them in the pit was a mistake, and it was now obvious she’d been right. Some way, somehow, they’d found a way out.

Eventually, the olive-skinned woman — the one who’d used the name Mariella — had broken off from the others and ventured down a side street. Curious as to why, Camilla had followed her, watching as the woman took off her robe and entered the building Camilla was looking at right now. Not wanting to be seen when the woman came back out, Camilla had slipped into the building across the street. A short time later, she saw someone else coming down the street. She couldn’t see his face, but based on his height, she guessed it was the longhaired man. After picking up the other one’s robe, he’d pulled out a pistol and disappeared inside.

There was movement across the street, pulling Camilla back to the present. The two were leaving now. What were they doing? She thought of calling a team in to kill them then realized it might be helpful to watch a while longer. Something was going on, but she couldn’t figure out what.

Besides, there would be plenty of time to kill them later.

CHAPTER FORTY

“You came looking for me because you found a chasm?” Carmen asked as they walked. “I’m guessing there are dozens down here.”

“It’s not just a chasm. It’s located inside some sort of temple and has a low wall built around it, which seems to indicate it has some significance.”

“That does sound strange.”

The two continued on in silence.

Carmen had decided against sharing any details about the boy, at least for now. It was obvious Zane thought it was some sort of hallucination. She did tell him about the rats since they were something they might encounter at some point going forward. Fortunately, Zane had heard something going down through the walls when he arrived at the building, confirming her story.

A columned temple rose at the end of the street. Massive stairs ran up on all sides, giving it a look similar to the Parthenon, a place Carmen had visited many times.

“I wasn’t expecting anything this big,” she said as they mounted the steps.

“You’re only seeing one end. It runs back around a hundred fifty or two hundred yards.”

They climbed the stairs and passed under the columned portico. Inside, Carmen saw the glow of flashlights a short distance away. Amanda and Emily were bent over a circular stone wall that resembled a well.

Amanda lifted her head as they approached. “We can feel a draft.”

Carmen joined them and directed her flashlight into the void, but the beam was swallowed by darkness. If there was a bottom, they certainly couldn’t see it from the surface. As she hovered over the gap, her face was caressed by a slight waft of air. Surprisingly, it was warm.

Carmen patted the wall as she straightened. “Odd that they didn’t cover it. I wonder if it’s a well of some kind.”

“That’s one thing we did figure out.” Emily aimed her beam deeper into the temple. About ten yards away was a stone block with streaks of red stains.

“An altar?” Carmen asked.

Amanda nodded. “It looks like sacrifices made at the altar would be brought over here and dropped into the chasm.”

“For what purpose?”

“To worship some being or beings in the underworld.”

Footfalls approached. Carmen saw a flashlight beam coming toward them from further back in the temple. Soon a silhouette appeared. Keiko. And she carried a large stone block under one arm. Carmen frowned at the sight.

Amanda saw Carmen’s confusion. “We’re going to conduct a test.”

“A test?” Carmen lifted an eyebrow.

Keiko set the block on the wall. “I’m going to drop this into the hole and see how long it takes to hit bottom. I will then make all the calculations necessary to determine the depth.”

“Okay.” Carmen had to admit it would be interesting to find out exactly how deep it was.

Keiko lifted the block with both hands and extended it over the chasm. Despite seeing such displays many times, Carmen still marveled at the humanoid’s strength. The block weighed at least a hundred pounds, and yet she was able to hold it like a pillow.

After keeping it in place for a few seconds, Keiko let the block go. Immediately, it swished out of sight. Carmen leaned over the edge and cupped a hand to her ear. She waited but never heard anything. Finally, she straightened and looked at the others. They all shook their heads.

Keiko remained still for another minute before finally straightening. She looked at Zane. “I registered no sound, sir.”

“You didn’t pick up anything?”

“Nothing, which is strange because my auditory sensors are able to pick up sound waves from up to a mile away.”

“A mile?” Emily asked skeptically.

“Any significant sound, yes.”

“It doesn’t seem possible,” Carmen whispered.

Zane looked at Keiko. “What if the stone hit water?”

“I would’ve heard that.”

Amanda seemed focused on something else. “Where did you get the stone?”

Keiko turned and pointed. “From a structure on the far end of the temple.”

“What kind of structure?”

“A monument perhaps? I’m not sure.”

“I’d like to see that,” Amanda said. “Can you take me there?”

“Let’s all have a look,” Zane said.

As they moved through the temple, Zane fell in beside Carmen. “I wanted to apologize.”

“For?”

“For my cynicism earlier. I know you saw something back in the building. You don’t lie, and you weren’t hallucinating.” He hesitated for a moment then continued. “Even though Keiko said the oxygen levels are fine down here, I’m just not sure they are. I’ve felt a little dizzy a couple of times, and I guess I translated my issues to you.”

“Don’t worry about it. If I hadn’t seen him with my own eyes, I might not have believed it myself. By the way, are you okay? Being dizzy isn’t a good sign.”

“I’m fine. Thankfully, it didn’t last long.”

“I think you’re hallucinating.” Carmen elbowed his side.

Zane laughed. “I wonder if there are people living down here. You’re heard the stories before… people isolated and yet surviving for centuries without being discovered.”

“Ordinarily, that might make sense, but in this case, his attire didn’t fit.” She walked in silence for a moment, debating whether or not to share all the details. At this point, what did she have to lose? He said he believed her. She looked at him. “Zane, he was wearing a suit like people wore back in the eighteen hundreds. I know you think I’ve gone stark raving—”

Zane held up a hand. “You saw what you saw. I believe you. We just need to figure out who he is and why he’s down here.”

Carmen was about to respond when she realized the others had stopped ahead, training their beams on something. As Carmen approached, she saw a stone box resting atop a mortared stone foundation. It looked like a coffin, but it was much longer than any coffin she’d ever seen.

“A tomb,” Emily said.

“It’s actually a sarcophagus, which contains the remains of the dead,” Amanda explained.

Emily shot her a look. “Isn’t that the same thing as a tomb?”

“Actually, a tomb would be the building or vault housing the burial containers.” She played her beam down its length. “I’ve seen quite a few of these over the years but never one this large.”

“You can’t think of anything that might explain the size?” Carmen asked. “Maybe there’s more than one person inside.”

“Not typically. A burial container of this size is highly unusual.” Amanda ran her hand along the top. “The only way to know for sure would be to move this off and see what’s inside.”

“Why don’t we all give it a push?” Emily asked.

“Too heavy,” Amanda said. “We’d need a crane to lift that off.”

“Thankfully, we have a crane…Sort of.” Zane nodded at Keiko. “Think you can move it?”

She sized it up for a moment. “Yes, I believe so.”

“Have at it,” Zane said.

Keiko stepped to the center and rested her hands on the slab cover. Carmen heard the hydraulics whine as Keiko pushed. If anyone could get it off, it would be her. According to her specs, she had the strength of six men.

Initially, the slab resisted the humanoid’s efforts. Was it too heavy even for Keiko’s strength? Then, just when it seemed the humanoid might be about to give up, the sound of stone-on-stone grating came forth. The top began to move.

After she pushed it half way across, Zane held up a hand. “Stop.”

Everyone pressed forward with flashlights. Amanda gasped at the contents. There, spread out along the bottom, was the largest skeleton Carmen had ever seen.

“Good heavens,” Emily said.

“I’m guessing that’s the center for the Bashan basketball team,” Zane said.

Carmen moved her beam up the giant’s leg. The femur had the girth of a baseball bat. The rib cage was so large a child could probably curl up inside. The head was equally impressive. The cranium was the size of a melon, and the enormous eye sockets, bulging frontal bone, and heavy brow gave it a menacing appearance. Carmen shuddered to think what this man must have looked like alive.

Emily was looking at something beyond the skull. “Guys, check it out.”

Carmen moved closer, adding her beam to the others. A gold crown twinkled in the cones of light. It lay on its side, having fallen off the skull at some point. Carmen leaned over and studied it. Intricate designs were carved on its surface, and the gold encrusted jewels. Some of the precious stones glistened with colors she’d never seen before.

“A king,” Amanda said. “The question is, ‘king of what state?’”

“I think I may have the answer,” Emily said.

Everyone looked around, unable to locate her. Finally, Carmen pointed to a glow at the end of the sarcophagus. When they arrived, they found Emily on her knees, illuminating three lines of letters engraved in the stone.

“What is it?” Zane asked her.

“I don’t know.”

Amanda lowered next to Emily. Her eyes narrowed as she ran her fingers across the surface. “The letters are mostly worn, but I can see enough to tell it’s Hebrew.”

“Don’t you read Hebrew?” Carmen asked.

“I have some knowledge of it, but I can’t read this.”

“Let me see it,” Keiko said.

Amanda scooted over, and Keiko lowered down beside her. The humanoid studied the script for several minutes. “I can only read the first line. The rest is too worn.”

“And what does the first line say?” Amanda asked.

Keiko ran a finger from right to left. “Here lies Og, King of Bashon.”

Amanda’s eyes widened. “Are you sure that’s what it says?”

“Yes.”

Carmen thought the name sounded familiar — very familiar — but she couldn’t quite place where she’d heard it before. “So he’s a king?”

“Not just any king.” Amanda beamed. “He was a Nephilim giant.”

CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

Amanda stood and stared at the sarcophagus as though seeing it for the first time. “Og sheds light on the whole thing.”

“Sheds light on what?” Zane asked.

“This city, everything. Let’s go back to the beginning. The Book of Enoch tells us the fallen angels descended on Mount Hermon. Shortly afterward, they took human females as wives and produced giant offspring known as the Nephilim. This was an act of abomination to God, and one of the reasons he brought the worldwide flood was to clean up the tainted gene pool.”

Amanda pulled out her phone and searched for something. “In the same chapter, we also find a very interesting tidbit of information about the Nephilim. Verse four reads, ‘The Nephilim were on the earth in those days, and also afterward.’” She looked up. “That means they were present even after the flood.”

“How can that be?” Emily asked. “Weren’t they destroyed by the flood?”

“Presumably, the ones from the initial incursion would have been destroyed, yes. We can only infer the fallen angels continued to commit the acts post-flood, producing more Nephilim. Or perhaps, a few survived the flood. We’re not told.

“What we do know is that giants were present after the flood. I’m sure all of you are familiar with the stories. For example, I know you remember the account of Moses sending spies into Canaan. When those spies came back, they reported seeing giants there. In fact, the giants were so large the spies said they felt like grasshoppers in their sight. And who can forget the story of David and Goliath? Goliath was also a giant.”

Carmen listened with interest. The subject of the Nephilim had also come up on a recent Delphi operation in the Amazon rainforest. She wasn’t present for most of that operation, but she knew about the mountain temple the operatives discovered there. Amanda believed the temple might have been built by the Nephilim because statues had been erected in honor of the fallen angels. Unfortunately, the temple and all other evidence had been destroyed by a massive explosion.

Amanda continued. “So we know Nephilim giants were present after the flood. That brings us back to Bashan, the northern region of Israel. The Books of Numbers and Deuteronomy both tell us God sent Moses to conquer the area that included Bashan due to the continued presence of Nephilim tribes, and in one of those battles, the forces of Moses killed King Og.” Amanda patted the sarcophagus for emphasis. “Guess what? Og was a Nephilim — or at least a descendant of Nephilim.”

“The man whose bones rest in this sarcophagus was slain by the forces of Moses,” Carmen said. “That’s pretty amazing.”

“It’s possible Moses might have slain Og himself,” Amanda said.

“Assuming this really is Og,” Zane said with a hint of skepticism. “At this point, who knows?”

“Well, the size of the skeleton seems to fit the biblical description.” Amanda was looking at her phone again. “Listen to this passage from Deuteronomy. ‘For only Og, king of Bashan, was left of the remnant of the Rephaim. Behold, his bed was a bed of iron. Is it not in Rabbah of the Ammonites? Nine cubits was its length and four cubits its breadth, according to the common cubit.’” She looked at Zane. “In other words, he was about thirteen or fourteen feet tall.”

Zane nodded.

“You’ve sold me,” Emily said.

“So do you believe the legend is true?” Zane asked Amanda. “Do you really believe we may be near the entrance to the underworld?”

“I’ll admit I’ve been a bit skeptical about the map and the key. Then again, the map did lead us to this underground city. Not only that, but now we find a burial box containing what appears to be the bones of Og. So is hell’s gate somewhere down here? At this point, it would be intellectually dishonest to say it’s impossible.”

Carmen wondered if it was time to let the entire group know about the child she’d seen. Admittedly, Zane’s initial doubts had rattled her, but she didn’t take it personally. After all, Zane held himself to the same standard. During a recent Delphi operation at CERN, he’d traveled to the facility’s underground tunnels to save a man who’d been kidnapped. While there, both he and the man saw something — a large creature, perhaps a Nephilim — and yet for a time, Zane had labeled it a hallucination, the product of smoke inhalation.

That brought her back to the child. At this point, why should she hide what she saw? The group deserved to know what was out there.

She turned to Amanda. “Do you think it’s possible there is demonic activity here?”

“Absolutely. Why?”

She let out a sigh. “I saw something earlier… when I left the group.”

Amanda’s eyes widened. “What? Why didn’t you tell us?”

“I did tell Zane but wasn’t sure if I should tell everyone until I was sure of what I’d seen. Hearing you talk about the history of all the things that happened here gave me the little nudge I needed to share what I saw.”

“So what exactly did you see?” Amanda asked.

“From the moment we entered this cavern, I sensed something was out there, something dark. And it wasn’t just the general creepiness of being in a strange place. There was more to it than that, and yet, I couldn’t put my finger on what that was.

“That all changed when we actually began walking through the city. I realized someone or something was watching us. I never saw them. I just felt the eyes.”

Carmen recounted the events inside the building, from the killer rats to seeing the child. She also shared how he seemed to vanish when Zane came up the stairs.

When she was finished, Emily asked, “Are you sure it wasn’t a member of the order?”

“No. As I said, this was a child. Correct me if I’m wrong, but I don’t recall seeing any children on the way down.”

“Nor did I,” Keiko said.

“You said he spoke a few words to you,” Amanda said. “What did he say?”

“It was weird. He asked me if he could approach. He also mentioned wanting something to eat. Honestly, it’s all so bizarre. None of it makes any sense.”

“No, that’s fine. You’re sharing what you saw.” Amanda frowned. “You also mentioned his eyes looked strange. How so?”

“They were black — black as night. I can’t begin to tell you how frightening they were. It was like looking into the pits of hell.”

“What do you mean when you say black?” Amanda asked. “Some people have eyes so brown they appear black.”

Carmen shook her head. “No, his eyes were completely black. Not just the iris… the entire eye.”

A look of understanding spread across Amanda’s face. “I think I know who you saw.”

Zane’s brow furrowed at her remark. “You know who he is?”

“They’re called black-eyed children, and they’ve been seen all over the world. Most believe they’re a hoax, an urban legend, but others believe they’re something that has crossed over from the supernatural realm. There are even those who believe they’ve been created via genetic manipulation — modern-day Nephilim, if you will.”

“It sounds a bit far-fetched to me,” Zane said.

“I’m not saying I agree with them. I’m simply saying those are the theories. If they do exist, I believe they’re somehow related to demonic activity. Perhaps they’re demons masquerading as children. As I said before, the whole thing could just be an urban legend.”

“Put me in that camp,” Zane said.

“Fair enough. That’s certainly possible.” Amanda gestured toward Carmen. “But that leads us back to her story. How do we explain what she saw?”

“I believe her story. I saw it in her expression when I arrived. She’s telling the truth.”

“Maybe I got everything right but the eyes,” Carmen suggested.

“We may never know what—”

Amanda was cut off by a distant sound. At first, it was hard to hear. As the group fell into silence, Carmen realized it was the loud blast of a horn. She also realized what it meant.

The order had discovered the gate.

CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

Zane led the team out of the temple and into the streets. The bullhorn had blown for several minutes. As best he could tell, the sound came from the far end of the cavern. When they turned on to the main avenue, members of the order filed in the same direction. A few wandered too close for comfort. It would be hard to avoid contact for much longer, something that concerned Zane greatly. If exposed, they could probably fight their way back to the surface, but it would also mean they’d have to leave Reid and Pratt behind — unacceptable.

“Do we know what we’re going to do when we get there?” Amanda asked as they walked.

“We need to go through our due diligence then formulate a plan,” Zane replied. “It’s impossible to come up with specifics until we know what we’re dealing with.”

“We’re going to need a diversion,” Carmen added.

Zane was thinking along the same lines. While he still held out hope Reid and Pratt might be held somewhere away from the action, it didn’t seem likely at this point. They were being taken along with the rest of the order, probably for some nefarious purpose.

“Anything specific in mind?” Zane asked.

“Only that it needs to be something that will create a high level of chaos, something that will have them scrambling in every direction.”

“Gunfire perhaps?”

Carmen raised an eyebrow and nodded.

“I can peel off and take shots from a distance,” Zane said.

“I was thinking Keiko,” Carmen said. “She’s unlikely to be harmed by return fire and can also better fend for herself if we get separated.”

Zane nodded. “I like it. Anything that keeps me alive is a great idea.”

Carmen smiled.

“I think we’re almost there,” Amanda said.

The city ended two blocks ahead. Beyond, the flock gathered at a natural alcove in the cavern wall. Zane checked to make sure no one was directly behind them then signaled the team to step into an alley. There, Carmen laid out her preliminary plan. After entering the alcove, they would first attempt to determine the location of the hostages. Once that was established, Keiko would slip off to a remote location while Zane and Carmen moved as close to Reid and Pratt as possible. Keiko would shoot at the guards, not just to take them out but also to create chaos. Hopefully, the incoming fire would draw the guards out of the alcove. If it worked, Zane and Carmen would take out any remaining guards and free the hostages.

The more Zane contemplated the details of the plan, the more he liked it. Not only was it tactically sound, giving them the best possible chance to save their fellow operatives, but Keiko was the perfect one to fill the shooter role. Her titanium-plated armor made her impervious to all but the most carefully placed shots. Not only that, but she was an outstanding shot.

After the briefing, the team returned to the main boulevard and traversed the final two blocks. Most of the order already crowded around the mouth of the alcove. Zane had wanted to get as close to the captives as possible, so he led the group to the right where the crowd was sparser. With a little maneuvering, they were eventually able to make their way to the front, where a line of guards prevented them from going any further.

The alcove was about fifty yards deep and was lit by two large lanterns. Viktor stood at the back of the space, along with several members of his council. Roger Lawson and Kimberly were there as well. Zane couldn’t see Camilla, which was odd. Perhaps she was obscured by the others.

After receiving orders from Viktor, a guard moved one of the lanterns to the back of the alcove. A cave mouth. At first, Zane thought it was open then noticed it was sealed with a black stone wall.

“The gate,” Amanda whispered, as though reading his thoughts.

Viktor pulled out a flashlight and splashed the beam across the wall. While difficult to see, there appeared to be something etched on the surface. There were drawings at the top, and below was a series of characters from an alphabet Zane had never seen before.

Zane scanned the alcove for Reid, Pratt, and the other captive. The fact that he hadn’t seen them yet gave him a brief surge of hope that perhaps they were being held somewhere else. Unfortunately, his eyes fell on them a few seconds later. They were lined up against the right wall, about twenty yards away. They were being guarded by two gunmen with AR-15s, which Zane didn’t think was entirely bad. As long as there was chaos and as long as the other guards moved out in search of Keiko, he had no doubt he and Carmen could handle the remaining two.

Zane soon thought of something else, a twist that might give them some additional assistance. Once Keiko began firing, he and Carmen would take out the two lanterns. Hitting them at this distance would be easy. The darkness should create additional chaos, as well as providing some cover for them to sneak up on the two guards to their right.

He was about to tell her his idea when he noticed Viktor turn from the cave mouth and come toward them. Once he was about ten yards away, he spoke. “My friends, we are finally here.” He swept his hand toward the gate. “As you probably guessed, this is the entrance to another world. In just a few minutes, we’re going to open it, and when we do, it will usher in a new era here on Earth.”

A cheer erupted. Many raised their hands in the air and babbled incoherently. A few dropped to their knees.

Zane leaned toward Carmen again then pulled back when he sensed movement behind him. He turned slightly and saw several hooded figures pressing up close behind him. Either they were late arrivals or were pushing forward for a better look. Whatever they were doing, he didn’t like that they were so close.

“As we prepare to open the gate,” Viktor continued, “let us remember to thank our lords, the ones who brought us here. Were it not for them, none of this would’ve been possible.”

Carmen turned toward Zane. “What a whack job.”

Viktor lifted both hands. “My friends, are you ready to change the world?”

The crowd erupted again, this time with even more fervency. Feeling the energy of his flock, Viktor stepped closer. Zane understood why Emily had been so frightened to find the man in her room. His sunken eyes and sallow skin made him seem more like a zombie than a human.

Viktor’s expression suddenly changed. His visage darkened as his eyes swept over the crowd. For unknown reasons, Zane felt a pinch in his gut. There was something about the crazed look that bothered him. When Viktor’s eyes moved in their direction, Zane lowered his head slightly.

The order fell silent. They seemed to sense the change in atmosphere.

“It has come to my attention there are traitors among us.”

An audible gasp passed through the crowd. Zane stiffened, his internal alarms blaring. Was he referring to them? If so, how was that possible? Not wanting to look guilty, Zane lifted his head. Viktor’s eyes moved across the faces, as if trying to determine who the offenders were. Zane reminded himself to remain calm. At this point, he couldn’t even be sure Viktor was talking about them. Perhaps members of the flock had betrayed their leader.

Suddenly, Viktor’s eyes turned in their direction and stopped. The hairs on the back of Zane’s neck stood on end. Viktor pointed at them. “There… those are the traitors!”

Zane’s instincts told him to take action. Take out the lamps, and create chaos in the crowd. If they were all taken, they would all likely die. Reaching down, he grabbed the side of his robe. Carmen seemed to be doing the same.

As he began to lift up the hem, the muzzle of a gun pressed into his back.

CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

Zane slowly lifted his hands, and the others followed suit. No slick move would get them out of their predicament. His draw was lightning fast, but any attempt to lift his robe and remove his pistol would be suicidal. If he were by himself, he might have considered a quick counter-move, but not with so many people around.

While the muzzles remained pressed into their backs, several more guards stepped forward to remove their robes and guns. As they patted him down, Zane wondered how they’d been discovered. Had they known all along? Had someone seen them approach the camp from the surface? He didn’t think so, although at this point, anything was possible.

The answer came a moment later when a female voice spoke from behind him. “Bind their wrists, and put them with the others.”

Camilla Lawson. Zane had thought it strange she wasn’t by her husband’s side. At some point, she must have seen their faces. Even though they’d tried to keep their heads down, all it took was the briefest of glances to blow their cover. She also must have been one of the ones who came in behind them.

After binding their wrists with zip ties, the guards ordered them forward. As they moved past the others, they were pushed, yelled at, and spit on. So much for peace, love, and tranquility. Moments later, they were shoved roughly into a nook on the right side of the alcove. They were close to the other captives but not close enough to communicate. He wondered if Reid and Pratt had heard what happened.

Viktor and the Lawsons came over to examine their catch. Camilla’s eyes were slits of hate. It was obvious she’d taken their escape personally. Her transformation to ruthless huntress was shocking to witness. Zane guessed she was a cold sociopath who could transition back and forth with little effort.

Now only a few feet away, Viktor seemed to focus on Carmen. He stepped close and ran a hand over her hair. “This one is beautiful. I might let her live.” He cupped her chin with both hands and pressed his lips against hers. Carmen jerked away. Two guards came over and grasped her arms. Zane tried to step over to defend her but was forced back with a rifle.

Roger looked at Zane. “I must give you a small measure of credit for your little Houdini act. Unfortunately, you weren’t smart enough to flee when you had the chance. And now, you’ll pay with your lives.”

Camilla looked at her husband with contempt. Others may not have noticed, but Zane did. It was obvious leaving them in the pit hadn’t been her idea.

“Forgive me for not trusting your ability to predict the future,” Zane said. “Your record isn’t very good so far.”

Roger glowered at him. “Oh, you’ll die. And I’m going to be there to enjoy it.”

“We’ll all be there to enjoy it,” Viktor said.

“I hope you’ll forgive me, but I’ve already made other plans.” Zane gave him a quick wink.

Viktor laughed. “All eight of you have an appointment with death.” He looked at Carmen again. “Or maybe seven if this one calms down.”

“You son of a…” Zane surged forward, but was pushed back again.

“I think I’d rather die.” Carmen sneered.

“Playing hard to get.” Viktor tapped her nose with a finger. “That’s fine, I’m an acquired taste.”

“You’re a sick bastard,” Carmen said.

“Sick? Maybe a little.” He held her gaze. “But I know what I like.”

“And I know what I don’t like.”

Before Viktor could respond, a member of his council came up and whispered in his ear. When he finished, Viktor looked at the Lawsons. “The preparatory prayers are now complete. Come.”

As Roger and Camilla moved off toward the gate, Viktor addressed his followers. “It is time to enter the holy place. Prepare yourselves.”

Viktor joined the Lawsons at the back of the alcove. He said something to Roger, who signaled two guards who were standing guard over a large black case. After shouldering their rifles, they picked up the case and followed him to a stone obelisk at the right of the cave mouth. Zane hadn’t noticed the obelisk before. It looked like a miniature version of the one at the Vatican. There was something etched on its surface, although he couldn’t tell what it was.

Roger opened the case and carefully removed something. Zane squinted. The relic. After examining it for a moment, Lawson crossed to the obelisk. Although his body blocked the view, it seemed as though he pressed it into the pillar.

Amanda leaned closer to Zane. “The key.”

A moment later, the obelisk began to shine. A gasp ran through the crowd. Something was happening. Roger backed away. A kaleidoscope of colors came out of the obelisk, exotic hues of blue and brown. A few were unlike any Zane had ever seen. Despite the sinister purpose, he found the mosaic beautiful beyond comprehension. It was as though the luminescence shone out of heaven itself.

Fascinated by the sight, Zane remembered the photograph of the relic and the precious jewels encrusting its surface. Those same stones lit with brilliance.

“My heavens,” Amanda said.

A loud hum echoed across the alcove. The ground shook, causing the guards to lift their rifles.

“The gate… it’s moving,” Amanda said.

The black wall covering the cave mouth slid slowly to the left as the relic opened the gate. Viktor and Roger approached with flashlights, waving the beams around in the dark interior. The crowd gasped as the rock walls of a cave came into view. While hard to see, the floor seemed to run downward at a steep pitch.

This might be the distraction they were looking for. Zane shifted his focus to their immediate surroundings. Two guards stood about five yards away, their attention focused on what was happening at the gate. It was exactly what he’d hoped. Now, if they could just get out of their cuffs…

Suddenly, Zane remembered something. It seemed so obvious he was shocked he hadn’t thought of it before. He got everyone’s attention and indicated they should move closer. Once they were gathered around, he looked at Keiko. “I assume you’ll have no trouble breaking your cuffs.”

“Already done, sir.” Keiko held out her unencumbered hands. “I snapped them off the minute we were put against the wall.”

“Excellent.” If the situation weren’t so serious, he would’ve laughed. “Listen up. We need to make our move now.”

The guards still faced the opposite direction, so Zane whispered a brief set of instructions. When he finished, he signaled Keiko to begin unfastening their cuffs. She did as instructed, snapping the plastic ties one by one. A minute later, they were all free.

“Keep your hands positioned as though you’re still tied up,” Zane whispered. If this had all happened in broad daylight, his plan would have little chance of succeeding. But here in the darkness was a different story. In fact, Zane liked their chances better now than he did before they were captured. For one, they were closer to their comrades. Two, the guards in front of them were turned in the other direction. The primary issue now was execution.

Zane signaled Keiko to take action. After a brief check of the area, she stepped from the wall and slipped up behind the nearest guard. Thankfully, the darkness helped mask her movement. With the speed of a jungle cat, she clamped a hand over his mouth with one hand, while delivering a crushing blow to his head with the other. As he sank to the ground, she took the rifle from his hands. She unleashed a spray of bullets, mowing down all the guards in the vicinity.

The sound of gunfire triggered the pandemonium Zane had hoped for. The crowd yelled and screamed. Some ran. Viktor, Roger, and Camilla came out of the cave, clueless as to what was going on.

On cue, Zane and Carmen grabbed the rifles off the dead guards and ran behind a row of massive stalagmites. With two quick shots, they blew out the lamps. The only source of light was the relic, and its radiance only extended for a few feet.

A few seconds later, Emily and Amanda arrived at the stalagmites with the captives. Keiko scooted over and began snapping off the zip ties that bound Pratt and Reid.

“Just those two,” Zane yelled. “Leave the other one tied up for now.”

“Where are Viktor and the others?” Carmen yelled.

Zane looked toward the cave mouth. The three no longer stood there. “I don’t know. We’ll worry about them later.”

Some of the guards had finally figured out what was going on and were firing on their position. It wouldn’t be long until the rest joined in.

“Give me a gun.” Pratt pulled off the hood.

Carmen nodded toward one on the ground.

Zane fired a few shots then stopped to assess the situation. He had hoped the crowd would scatter in every direction, allowing them to sneak out in all the confusion. Instead, most had retreated back toward the city, and the guards were now setting up a perimeter along a row of boulders and stalagmites at the alcove’s opening. Essentially, they were being trapped. That meant there was only one thing that would keep them alive.

Zane turned to the others. “We’re going into the cave.”

“I don’t think we can make it,” Pratt said.

“If we stay here, we die,” Zane said.

“Zane’s right,” Carmen said. “We’re cornered like rats, and our ammo won’t last forever. They probably have enough ammo to last all night.”

Zane laid out how they were going to reach the gate. First, they would lay down a brief round of covering fire. Once cover was established, they would all sprint to the cave. Keiko would take the third captive, carrying him if necessary. Zane still didn’t know who he was, nor did he have time to figure it out. If they all survived, they could worry about that later.

After he finished, everyone nodded in understanding.

“Let’s do it,” Reid said.

Zane gave the signal. Those with guns rose and squeezed their triggers, sending a spray of bullets across the stalagmites where the guards were hidden. As expected, heads ducked out of sight. It was the result they were hoping for. Everyone rose in unison. Keiko grabbed the captive, while everyone else sprinted off. Zane couldn’t resist stealing a glance at the lighted relic as he passed by. If anything, the radiance seemed even more beautiful up close.

Unable to control himself, he stopped. A siren voice called from the light. It was beautiful, feminine, flowery. It beckoned him to stop and enjoy her beauty…

Zane closed his eyes, and the spell broke. Falling behind the others, he dashed toward the gate.

Using her great speed, Keiko entered the cave first, the captive under one arm. The others followed.

“Get as far back as you can!” Zane shouted as he entered.

A volley of return fire from the guard chased them inside. It would be a miracle if they all made it unscathed.

“Against the wall!” Zane shouted. “Reduce your profile.”

Everyone dispersed. Zane ran to the right and scooted behind an irregularity in the wall. Carmen did likewise on the other side. Moments later, the gunfire died. Apparently, the gunmen were conserving ammunition. Or maybe they were preparing for an assault.

A loud hum broke the silence. The relic’s glow snuffed out as well. Zane frowned as he looked toward the cave mouth. Something was moving. A dark curtain was being pulled across the opening. What the…?

Zane’s blood ran cold as he realized what was happening. Someone was closing the gate.

And in a few seconds, they’d be sealed inside.

CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR

Zane watched in horror as the wall slid shut, plunging the cave into darkness.

He wondered if he’d done the right thing. It was true. They were safe from the gunmen outside. Then again, there might be no other way out of the cave. If the only exit was through the gate, they were at the mercy of those on the other side.

At this point, it was obvious Viktor or Roger had hidden behind the obelisk after the shooting began. Zane blamed himself for not looking on his way by. Instead, he’d been transfixed by the strange siren call of the light. If he could’ve somehow taken Viktor hostage, it would’ve been their ticket out. The cult wouldn’t dare let their leader perish.

A soft blue glow erupted in the darkness. Keiko stood a few feet away, holding her lighted finger aloft. “I thought this might help.”

The others stirred, coming out from the wall and clicking on their flashlights. As Zane stood, he heard a soft groan behind him. He directed his beam deeper into the cave. Reid was on one knee about twenty feet away. Carmen already moved toward him.

“What’s wrong?” Zane asked as he arrived at Reid’s side.

Several rivulets of blood flowed down his arm and spilled onto the cave floor. One of the incoming rounds had found its mark. Carmen lowered to one knee and looked for the wound.

“I felt a little sting as I came into the cave,” he said through clenched teeth. “To be honest, I didn’t know what it was. It didn’t feel like a gunshot, not that I’d know what one feels like.”

“That’s a common reaction,” Carmen said. “Sometimes adrenaline takes over and blocks the bulk of the pain until you’re better able to deal with it.”

Reid flinched noticeably as Carmen continued to probe. Zane rested a hand on his shoulder.

“Would this help?” Emily held out a bottle of water.

“You have water?” Amanda asked, surprised.

“I always keep a bottle with me. I had it in my coat. People tease me about drinking so much.”

“Perfect. Thank you.” Carmen poured it slowly over Reid’s skin. Now that it was clean, she rotated the arm back and forth. “I don’t see an exit wound, so I’m thinking it’s a graze.”

“Flesh wound,” Zane said. “You’re going to live.”

Carmen splashed a little more water on the wound in an effort to clean it up as best she could. “Can one of you give me something to wrap it with?”

“Done.” Pratt peeled off his sweater and his T-shirt then handed the T-shirt to Carmen. “I guess he’s worth a tee.”

Carmen wrapped it around Reid’s arm and tied it off. “We’ll need to clean it up better when we get out of here, but that should do for now.”

“No longer a gunshot virgin!” Pratt slapped his partner’s good shoulder.

“Hurts like the devil.” Reid grimaced.

“Let’s not mention that name down here,” Amanda said with a laugh.

With a little help from Pratt, Reid rose to his feet. “Good as new.”

Zane was pleased to see he looked fine. As best he could tell, the wound was superficial. He’d lost blood but not enough to be a serious issue.

Zane looked at Reid and Pratt. “Are you both up for a little walking?”

“Absolutely.” Reid bent and retrieved his rifle.

“I certainly don’t want to sit around here,” Pratt said.

“How about scouting the cave? See if there are any alternate routes to the surface. I can’t believe this is the only way in or out.” Zane looked at Reid. “You sure you’re up for this?”

“I feel as good as I did a half hour ago.”

Zane doubted that was completely true, but the operative did look good, all things considered. Zane patted him on the back. “Come back if you find something.”

“Copy that.” Pratt turned and marched off with Reid.

Zane looked at Keiko. “Where is our captive?”

She pointed down the cave. “I placed him just past the turn to keep him shielded from incoming fire.”

“Did he say who he was?”

“He mumbled something on the way in, but I wasn’t listening.”

“If you don’t mind, make sure he’s still there.” Zane doubted the man could get far with bound hands, but he didn’t want to take any chances.

“Was it Viktor who shut the entrance?” Carmen asked.

“One of the three, yes. I’m fairly certain they hid behind the obelisk when they saw what was happening.”

“They waited until we ran inside then removed the relic,” Carmen said.

Keiko returned. “He’s still there.”

Zane nodded.

“What now?” Pratt asked.

Zane sighed. “We explore and try to find another way back to the city or up to the surface.”

“It doesn’t look too promising,” Emily said.

Reid looked at Zane. “And what if we can’t find a way out?”

“Then we come back here and prepare to fight.”

“You think they’ll come in?” Emily asked.

“At some point.” Zane wiped the sweat off his brow. The temperature was noticeably higher here. “I told the Oracle we’d check in with him by midnight. If he doesn’t hear from us, he’ll send out a team.”

“It’s snowing on the surface,” Amanda said. “The order will have every trace cleared away within the next few hours. And what they don’t clear away will get covered in snow.”

“Ross won’t give up until he finds us,” Zane said. “He’s a bulldog when it comes to protecting his people.”

“It will take days for them to trace our whereabouts,” Amanda said.

“We’re going to be fine,” Carmen said. “Worrying about it isn’t going to help. We need to look around, find out what’s down here. My guess is there is an alternate way out. Remember the maze of caves up near the surface? I’m guessing we’ll encounter the same down here.”

Zane looked at the group. A couple needed encouragement. “We’re going to get out of here. Period. Some of us have been in much worse predicaments than this.”

“At least we’re armed now.” Pratt patted the AR-15 hanging across his chest.

“Speaking of weapons, how do we look?”

A quick inventory showed they had six guns — four rifles and two pistols. There were no spare magazines, which meant they’d have to use their ammunition judiciously.

“Let’s check on our captive. Maybe we can find out who he is and why he’s here.” Zane slung his rifle over a shoulder. “After that, we begin our search. Keep your eyes and ears open for anything that might indicate a way out… vents, side caves, cracks in the wall, a draft.”

As they walked down the cave, Reid drew alongside him. “Do you think they’ll come in behind us?”

“At some point, yes. I don’t think the gate and whatever is down here matters to Roger and Camilla Lawson, but it means a lot to Viktor and his loonies.”

They found the hooded man just around the bend sitting against the wall. His head turned in their direction as they approached. In addition to his wrists, Keiko had bound the man’s ankles with his own socks.

Zane crouched, untied the socks, and tossed them to the side. “I might be willing to do the same thing with your wrists, but I’m going to need a little information first. For starters, we need to know who you are.”

The man mumbled something Zane couldn’t quite understand. The hood muffled his voice. Emily took a step toward him, a frown spreading over her face.

“What did you say?” Zane asked.

“I said I’m not one of them.”

Emily let out a little gasp then turned toward Zane. “Take off the hood.”

Zane shook his head. “We need to—”

Emily seemed frantic. “Please, I’m asking you to take it off.”

Zane didn’t know what she was trying to do. He had a couple of questions he wanted to ask, and having the man tied up would facilitate answers.

Before he could give an answer, Emily lunged toward the man. Carmen grabbed her from behind.

“Let me go.” Emily tried to twist free.

Carmen squeezed her even more tightly and dragged her toward the center of the cave. “Emily, what’s going on? Why are you telling us to do that?”

Emily sobbed, her body convulsing repeatedly.

Zane stood and frowned. Something wasn’t right. He knew everyone’s nerves were shot, but this was something deeper.

Emily shook for a while longer, then her body seemed to relax.

Zane approached and gently grasped her arm. “Emily, why are you doing this?”

She wiped her nose and looked at him. “Because that man is my dad.”

CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE

Viktor sat in front of the gate, his back erect and his eyes shut. He was alone, save for several guards positioned a short distance away. The members of his council would be back to set up the circle soon. Until then, he would use the time to pray.

Unfortunately, he couldn’t shift his thoughts from all that had happened in the last hour. Although he wasn’t sure how they’d been able to do it, the prisoners had somehow managed to free themselves and kill several guards in the process. If it weren’t for his quick thinking, many more might have died.

Roger Lawson was solely to blame for the debacle. Roger should have killed them all when he had the chance. But instead, he’d decided to play games. Viktor seethed with anger. The Australian would pay once they were done here. For now, he needed to consult with the masters to see what they wanted him to do next.

Soft footfalls carried across the alcove — the council returning. A moment later, he heard them placing the votive candles around him, a necessary step in warding off unwanted spirits. After it was done, someone approached to within a few feet. Viktor slowly opened his eyes. Brutus, the most trusted member of his council, stood before him.

Seeing Viktor’s eyes open, Brutus bowed at the waist. “The circle is complete.”

“Thank you. Gather the others, and return to the city. Don’t come back until I call you.”

Brutus bowed again. “Yes, my lord.”

Once the footsteps died away, Viktor closed his eyes and waited. A minute later, a dark spirit slipped into his consciousness. Viktor felt its anger, and he trembled in its presence.

You allowed poison to enter our abode. The voice was like the hiss of a serpent.

Viktor’s voice shook with nervousness. “It wasn’t I who did that… It was the other one.”

We blame you because you invited him in.

“I’m sorry… please… I needed him to locate—”

We could’ve told you where it was! The voice was ominous, threatening.

“Please forgive me,” Viktor whimpered. “I promise I won’t fail you.”

The people beyond the gate must be killed.

“How… how will we do that?”

You won’t do anything! There was a long pause. We’ve released two merchants of death. They’re coming up even as we speak. Once their work is finished, you may enter, but not before.

Viktor was about to thank him, but the spirit had already departed.

He sat in silence. Viktor’s mind suddenly plunged into the dark abyss. Clouds swirled. An image appeared. He knew immediately it was no dream. Two dark figures moved through the cave. At first, the image was fuzzy, but soon, it sharpened, and their features appeared.

Viktor recoiled at the sight. They were horrifying beyond belief.

And for a moment, it seemed as though they were coming for him…

CHAPTER FORTY-SIX

Carmen watched as Emily rushed into her father’s arms. Sobs followed in waves. She squeezed him tightly, as though she never wanted the embrace to end. Richard Pauling seemed as moved as his daughter, resting his head on her shoulder.

Emily pulled back and used her father’s sleeve to wipe the tears from her eyes. “I love you, Dad.”

“I love you too, darling.” He stared into her eyes.

“I never completely gave up hope. There was something inside me… I can’t even explain it. I felt you were out there somewhere.”

He held her face with both hands. “You were right. I was always there. And I never gave up hope that I might see you again.”

The two finally pulled apart, giving Zane the opportunity to make introductions and bring Pauling up to date on all that had taken place since entering the mountain. The archaeologist seemed shocked to learn they had passed through an underground city.

After Zane finished, Carmen asked, “Forgive me for being so blunt, but how are you still alive? I find it shocking you weren’t killed.”

“To be perfectly honest, I think it was because of you,” Pauling answered.

Zane’s brow furrowed. “Because of us?”

“Did you break into my home?”

“Yes.”

“That’s why I was spared.” Seeing the looks of confusion, he explained. “Let me start at the beginning. When I was first taken, they threw a hood over my head and pressed a needle into my arm. The next thing I know, I’m awake on a bed, surrounded by bad men with big guns.”

“Were you still in Venice?” Carmen asked.

“I believe so, but I can’t be sure. I don’t even know how long I was out. I could’ve been in Venice, or I could’ve been somewhere a few hours away. In any event, shortly after I woke up, they began to ask me about the map. At first, I resisted, so they made life hard for me.” He glanced at Emily briefly. “It got so bad I finally told them it was in a file at my house. I even told them which desk it was on.”

“Was that true?” Amanda asked. “We never saw a file lying out.”

Pauling shook his head. “No, but I thought it might buy me some time. I still held out hope the authorities would find me, or perhaps I’d find a way to escape. When your back is against the wall, you’ll always look for any little splinter of hope.”

Carmen nodded. Emily squeezed her father’s hand.

Pauling smiled at her. “Later that night, they returned, and I overheard them talking about what happened. They weren’t able to locate the file, so they assumed you took it.” He looked at Zane. “That’s what I meant when I said you saved my life. Had you not shown up, they would’ve known I was lying and might have killed me.”

“What did they do next?” Carmen asked.

“They figured I had another copy of the document — a scan, a photograph, something. They told me they were watching Emily and would kill her if I didn’t produce a copy. And while I knew the map held great importance, it certainly wasn’t worth my daughter’s life.”

Zane gave a nod of understanding. “Then the same thing happened at Menaggio. They arrived at the villa, only to discover we were already there.”

“Yes,” Pauling said. “It couldn’t have played out any better. They actually believed I was telling the truth, and that saved my life.”

“Divine providence,” Amanda said softly.

“What happened after that?” Carmen asked.

“To be honest, I’m not really sure. Their focus seemed to shift to finding out who you were. From that point forward, they didn’t talk to me very much. They kept me isolated until this morning when I was thrown into a vehicle and taken here.” Pauling looked at Zane. “And how did you get here?”

“Unfortunately, we walked right in their front door,” Zane said.

“How so?”

Zane gave a very brief overview of what had transpired after Menaggio — the Vatican theft, the meeting with Lawson, the trip to Mount Hermon, and being trapped in the pit.

After he finished, Carmen looked at Pauling. “Do you know Roger and Camilla Lawson?”

“Everyone in my line of work knows those two, and many of those same people don’t trust them.”

“I wish we hadn’t,” Carmen said.

“Don’t beat yourself up,” Pauling said. “Despite their reputation, I don’t think anyone would’ve suspected they were capable of kidnapping or murder.”

“Why do you think you’re still alive?” Carmen asked. “I’m surprised they didn’t kill you after they struck out in Menaggio.”

Pauling considered his answer. “They were aware of my expertise and probably figured I could help them once they got their hands on the map. There was also some nonsense about a sacrifice.”

“Lawson was working with a group called the Order of Baal,” Carmen said. “I’m sure it somehow related to one of their rites.”

“That’s probably why they took Connor and James,” Zane noted.

Carmen looked at Pauling. “Wouldn’t you like to stand?”

He smiled. “I’d love to.”

Zane helped him up. Pauling stretched his arms and legs. Carmen guessed it was probably the best stretch he’d had in his life. Emily beamed as she watched her father move around.

“Zane.” Amanda seemed to be looking at something down the cave.

Carmen turned. Two beams of light moved toward them, bouncing around like light sabers. Connor and James. That’s awfully quick. They’d only been gone for a few minutes. They seemed to be running. She frowned. Either something was wrong, or they’d found a way out.

As they drew close enough to see their expressions, she knew it was the former. When they arrived, the two operatives stopped and put their hands on their knees, gulping for air.

Pratt eventually looked up at Zane. “Something’s coming up from below.”

Zane’s eyes darted down the cave. “What?”

Reid straightened, his face etched with concern. “We don’t know, but it’s extremely large.”

Zane looked again. “If you don’t know what it is, how—”

He was cut off by a faint-yet-distinct tremor.

“That’s how,” Pratt said.

They all felt it now.

Pauling’s brow furrowed. “Perhaps it’s a shifting of tectonic plates or some other geologic phenomenon.”

“No,” Pratt said. “Something is walking, moving. We could hear it better down there.”

Carmen already knew what he meant. The vibrations pulsated like a pile driver. No doubt about it, something was walking.

Keiko crouched and placed her hand on the cave floor. “Whatever it is, there are two of them.”

“Lovely,” Zane said.

“But there is good news,” Reid said. “We think we found a way out. James noticed a crevice in the wall, and when we put our lights in there, we discovered another cave.”

“How far does it go?” Zane asked.

“We’re not sure,” Pratt replied. “About the same time we started to squeeze up in there, the vibrations started. Once we figured out something was coming, we focused on getting back here.”

Zane nodded. “You did the right thing.”

Carmen looked at her feet. The tremors seemed more intense. Whatever was out there was getting closer.

“I think we need to go,” Amanda said. “It’s our only chance to get out.”

Pratt looked at Zane. “If we’re going to go, we need to do it now. The fissure is at least three or four hundred yards away. It’s going to be a race to see who gets there first.”

“Just realize that we don’t know anything about this other cave,” Reid pointed out. “We don’t know how far up it goes or what challenges we’ll face.”

Carmen knew they had to take the risk. She had a feeling of dread about what might be coming up. In fact, it seemed as though opening the gate had somehow triggered the movement, like a spider sensing something at the periphery of its web. She shuddered at the thought.

Zane turned to the others. “We need to try to make it. That cave may be our only way out. Make sure you have everything you brought in… lights, weapons.” He looked at Richard and Emily Pauling. “Can both of you run?”

They nodded vigorously. Carmen couldn’t tell if that was because they were sure they could or whether they knew it’s what he wanted to hear. Either way, they had to try.

“If you can’t, let me know.” Zane nodded at Keiko. “We have someone who can help you.”

Once everyone had retrieved their things, the group set off at a jog. Keiko took the lead with her lighted hand held aloft. They kept a steady, manageable pace. Thankfully, the cave sloped sharply downward.

The tremors grew more intense by the minute. Carmen guessed the creatures — whatever they were — were less than half a mile out now.

A few minutes later, Pratt came alongside Zane and Carmen. “We need to pick up the pace, sprint the last hundred yards.”

He was right. The entire cave shook. Carmen half-expected something to appear in Keiko’s light at any moment.

Zane turned back to the others as he continued to jog. “We need to go faster. Can everyone keep up?”

Most nodded. Emily’s face already showed signs of giving out. She shook her head.

“Keiko.” Zane pointed to Emily. The humanoid understood. Keeping her lighted hand aloft, she dropped back and scooped Emily up with the other. Emily wrapped her legs around Keiko’s waist like a child.

“Alright, let’s go,” Zane said.

The group broke into a run. The intense heat and distance began to take their toll. Richard Pauling and Amanda seemed on the verge of collapsing. Unfortunately, there was no way to carry anyone else. Everyone had to make it on his or her own.

“I think we’re almost there,” Pratt said a half minute later.

Carmen was thankful. Her lungs burned. She was a long distance runner, but heat and dehydration were overriding her training.

“There!” Amanda pointed to the right.

Everyone came to a halt, gasping for air. Flashlights clicked on, and cones of light swept a narrow crevice in the wall. It was going to be a tight squeeze, but they should all be able to get through.

The tremors were so intense Carmen pictured feet thumping against the floor.

Keiko approached and thrust her light into the gap. Carmen looked over her shoulder. A cave sloped upward into the darkness. It was steep, but steep was good. Steep would get them to the surface quicker.

A guttural growl carried up from below. Everyone pivoted toward the sound, rifles raised. Carmen had never heard anything like it before. It sounded like some exotic predator — a beast from another world — and yet there was a human quality as well.

“Good heavens.” Richard Pauling’s face was pale. “What on earth is that?”

It was hard to tell how far away it was, but Carmen guessed a hundred yards.

Zane gestured toward the opening. “Everybody, get in! Ladies first.”

Keiko took the lead and stepped inside with her light. Emily and Amanda were right behind. After the others entered, Zane waved Carmen forward.

“No, you go,” she said. “You need to be with Emily and her dad. I’ll watch the rear.”

Zane hesitated for a moment then ducked through the opening. Apparently, he wasn’t in the mood to argue. Carmen stepped in behind him. She felt safer in the tighter space. Before going up, she paused. A sense of curiosity gripped her. She had to know what was coming up through the cave. She had to see what sort of creature could make such a noise.

Just thirty seconds.

Carmen turned off her flashlight and turned back toward the cave. She eased out just enough to look down the slope. She frowned. Strangely, the tremors had stopped. It seemed eerily quiet. Had the creatures sensed their prey was gone and given up the hunt? She stepped all the way out into the cave. As her eyes adjusted, she saw nothing, save for a slight bulge in the wall about ten yards away.

They were gone — disappeared, just like that. In a way, she was disappointed. She’d been dying to see what could possibly survive this far below the earth. Now it would be left to her imagination.

A putrid stench wrapped around her like a cloud. It seemed intense — like something close by — and yet there was still no movement in the cave. Perhaps a draft had carried it up from below.

Carmen remained still for a moment, listening for the slightest sound. Nothing. She shrugged. Time to catch the others. As she turned to reenter the crevice, something caught her eye. The rocky bulge in the wall seemed to shift. Carmen’s chest tightened. Did it really shift, or were her eyes playing tricks on her? Suddenly, the bulge moved with speed. The creature had been hiding there all along, waiting to ambush her. She dove back into the crevice, but it was too late.

Fingers closed around her ankle.

CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN

Carmen tried to scramble up the path but soon realized it was a losing battle. Whatever held her was stronger than she was. Now she knew what a rat felt like in an eagle’s talons. She reached out for something, anything, to hold onto. She found a few bulges along the floor, but the limestone was too slick. Little by little, she was pulled backward.

Out of options, she turned and looked back. Massive fingers the size of PVC pipe clutched her leg. What on earth had digits that large? The crevice was narrower than the cave, preventing the creature from entering. That was why it was so desperate to pull her out.

Her hand closed on a nearby rock. Finally. She lifted it and smashed it against the exposed knuckles. The creature roared and loosened its grip, allowing Carmen to wiggle free for a moment. As she tried to scramble to her feet, a fist came down on her leg, crushing her knee against the hard floor. She cried out in pain, but fortunately, the blow had been a glancing one. Had it been straight on, it would’ve turned her knee to jelly.

The pale hand groped around the space, looking for a leg, a foot, anything. Carmen pushed off the ground. Her knee throbbed, but she blocked it out. Even if her ligaments were snapped in two, she’d have to keep moving. Better to bear the horrific pain than die a horrible death.

Now on her feet, she took a brief moment to balance. Unfortunately, the lone second she waited was one second too long. The enormous fingers found her leg and pulled her off her feet. She slammed into the cave floor, knocking the breath out of her.

Sensing it had an advantage, the creature pulled with greater violence. It was like a bird yanking a worm from turf. Once her feet came out of the crevice, it would all be over. The creature would then be able to seize her with both hands.

As she slid along the floor, Carmen felt a familiar pinch against her hip.

The pistol. I have a pistol.

Why hadn’t she thought of that before? Despite the pain, she felt like screaming for joy. She was only a few feet from the opening. At most, she had a few seconds. Twisting, she yanked the gun out of her pocket. She knew she had four rounds left. Hopefully, she only needed one.

Maneuvering into position, she fired at the giant hand. With a loud roar, the creature released her. Carmen rose up on one leg. Her right knee couldn’t take much weight, forcing her to hop as fast as she could up the steep path.

Something moved behind her. She glanced back. A bloodied hand shot toward her. She fired a second time. For a second time, the creature roared, and the hand pulled back.

Now out of reach, Carmen stopped and cupped her hands. “Zane!”

There was no response. Surely, they were close enough to hear.

“Zane, can you hear me?”

The echo of her question died without an answer. At least for the time being, they were gone. As she started hopping again, she felt the rock underneath her shake. She pulled out her flashlight and aimed it back toward the crevice. At the edge of the light, she saw two hands holding a large rock that comprised one side of the opening. If somehow the creature could pull that down…

Carmen turned and continued up the path. She clenched her teeth, fighting off the burning pain that seared through her knee. It was almost unbearable, but she had to keep moving. If she didn’t, she would never get out of here alive.

As she pressed on, Carmen took in her surroundings. Strangely, she wasn’t traveling through one cave but a maze of crisscrossing caves. She’d only gone about twenty yards and had already seen three caves branching off to the right and the left. In one sense, that was good news. Even if the creature got through, she might still be able to lose it.

Carmen heard a thud behind her that was so powerful it shook the rock beneath her feet. Something had fallen over, and Carmen didn’t have to think hard to know what it was.

Turning, she pushed herself to go faster. She couldn’t worry about the creature right now. Instead, she needed to focus on covering as much ground as possible. She still had her gun, and she still had her wits. She would survive.

A few minutes later, a fork appeared in the tunnel. She stopped and directed her beam down each side. Both looked the same. Which should she take, the right or left?

Don’t worry about it. Just pick one and go.

She was right-handed, so she chose the right. That seemed like reason enough. She grimaced. Even her good leg was beginning to tire. All the hopping sapped her strength. Her mind was willing, but at some point, her body wouldn’t respond.

After hobbling another fifty yards, Carmen stopped and looked around. The cave suddenly looked different. She stood in a large, cavernous space. As best she could tell, it was about a hundred yards long.

She looked up, her gaze drawn to a bright glow overhead. A countless multitude of bioluminescent organisms covered the ceiling, giving off a rainbow of brilliant blue hues — azure, sapphire, cerulean, indigo. She didn’t think she’d ever seen anything so breathtaking beautiful. It was a cathedral of color.

Her energy sapped completely, Carmen hobbled to the center of the cavern and collapsed. As she hit the ground, her flashlight rolled across the floor and disappeared from view. She rose up on an elbow, trying to figure out what happened. She could now see what she hadn’t noticed before — half of the cavern was a chasm. She hadn’t heard the flashlight hit bottom, so she wondered if it was as deep as the one in the temple.

Carmen let out a long sigh and lay back down. She needed time to catch her breath. Thankfully, her knee wasn’t throbbing as badly as before, which she hoped was a good sign. Maybe it was just sprained. Once she’d had time to rest, she’d hobble to the far end and call out again. Surely, Zane and the others were looking for her.

A faint noise reached her ears from somewhere outside the cavern. She rose up one elbow, her senses on alert. Were the others already here?

She cupped her hands around her mouth. “Zane?”

There was no response, but she thought she heard another noise, this time a bit closer.

“Zane, is that you?”

If the others were out there, she needed to make contact. Her voice would help them negotiate the maze of caves. With a groan, she sat up. Hearing a sound behind her, she looked toward the place where she’d come in.

As she waited, the shadows shifted.

Something had entered the cavern.

CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT

Zane saw Emily stop, bend over, and place her hands on her knees. The sharp ascent, coupled with the irregularities in the floor, made the climb through the caves challenging, even for someone as fit as he was. When he reached Emily, her father was already at her side, an arm looped around her waist.

Zane rested her hand on her shoulder. “You okay?”

“Yeah, I think so.” She stood up straight. “Just needed to catch my breath for a moment.”

“You sure?” Richard asked.

She nodded. “Yep, I just need to walk slowly for a few minutes.”

Zane wanted to maintain a fast pace, but with everyone experiencing dehydration and exhaustion, he couldn’t push her. If she couldn’t run, she couldn’t run. They’d have to make do.

As Emily and her dad continued up the path, Zane looked back and frowned. Carmen hadn’t caught up yet. At one point, he’d heard her coming up behind. She should be here by now.

He cast aside any thought she might be too fatigued to keep up. She was an avid runner. In fact, she’d completed several marathons over the years. No, she wouldn’t lag due to any physical limitation. The only thing that might stop her was a twisted ankle. But if that were the case, why hadn’t she called him?

He lifted his hands to his mouth. “Carmen!”

No response.

He tried again. “Carmen, are you there?”

Silence.

Maybe she’d passed him when he stopped to help Emily. It didn’t seem possible. Then again, nothing else did either. He should at least make sure she hadn’t slipped. If she hadn’t, he’d need to organize a search. This place was a maze, and the longer they waited, the lower the odds of finding her.

He turned and ran up the path. The cave leveled off a few minutes later. Keiko and the others waited for him.

As he drew near, Keiko was talking to Amanda. “According to my positioning system, we’re now level with the city.”

“And it’s in the direction we’re going?” Amanda asked.

“Yes.”

“Are we near the gate?” Reid asked.

Keiko shook her head. “We’re coming in from a different direction.”

Zane got everyone’s attention. “Have any of you seen Carmen?”

“We thought she was with you.” Pratt frowned.

Zane shook his head. “I saw her once. She was coming up behind, then she just disappeared.”

“Maybe she got past us,” Amanda said.

No one said a word. They knew it wasn’t even remotely possible. Zane looked back. The cave was dark, silent, foreboding. Something was wrong.

Very wrong.

CHAPTER FORTY-NINE

Her heart racing, Carmen rose to her feet. Her bad knee throbbed but provided some support. She couldn’t run, but she might be able to walk. She removed her pistol and focused on the shadows. Nothing moved, but a familiar foul stench had entered the space. It was putrid and nauseating, the worst scent that had ever invaded her nostrils. She didn’t know what death smelled like, but she imagined it was much like this.

The shadows moved. Carmen raised her pistol. She could see the creature. It had the shape and appendages of a man but was much bigger than any man she’d ever seen. It stood at least fifteen feet tall, all of it rippling muscle.

A memory surfaced in Carmen’s mind. Amanda stood over the sarcophagus in the temple, reciting a verse of Scripture: Og was a Nephilim, or at least a descendant of Nephilim. Is that what moved toward her now? A man of old?

The creature stepped forward, its features visible in the dim light. Its face was that of a man, and yet the structure was different, more menacing and wild. She lowered her gaze. A tattered robe hung over a pale but heavily muscled body. It had shaggy red hair and a thick beard that looked like it had been growing for centuries.

The giant gave a low, menacing growl, poised to attack.

Carmen assumed a shooter’s stance and placed her sights on the giant’s head. Normally, she used the soldier’s protocol: “twice in the chest and once in the head.” But in this case, she only had two 9mm rounds, and she doubted either could penetrate the mass of muscle and bone covering the giant’s chest. A head shot was likely the only thing that would bring it down, and even that needed to be well placed.

The giant stepped forward cautiously, its eyes on the gun. It seemed to sense it was something that could cause it harm.

Hit with an idea, Carmen hobbled back toward the place where her flashlight had fallen into the pit. She would make her stand at the ledge. If her bullets didn’t bring the giant down, at least she might be able to make the giant fall into the chasm.

Now in position, she steadied her pistol and focused on hitting her target. She visualized the bullet leaving the barrel of her gun, traveling through space, and penetrating the thick armor-like skull.

The giant moved quickly in her direction.

Carmen slid her finger over the trigger and drew in a deep breath. She had two shots to bring it down. She applied slight pressure to the trigger. Just as she was about to pull it, the giant came to a stop. Its head swiveled to the left. Its eyes narrowed as it looked at something behind her. Carmen thought about turning to see what it was then decided against it. She remembered how quickly the giant had lunged at her in the cave. It was much quicker than it looked.

Carmen heard movement behind her. Was it Zane? She thought about calling out but kept her focus on the target. If it was Zane, she’d know soon enough.

The giant growled deeply. Something was getting closer. And if the giant considered it a threat, that meant…

The crack of a gunshot echoed across the cavern. A hole opened in the giant’s chest, causing it to scream with rage. More gunshots followed the first. Rounds pelted the giant’s torso as an all-out assault began.

Shockingly, the giant continued forward into the barrage of bullets.

Carmen stole a glance back. Her eyes widened in surprise. At the far end of the chamber, a group of men were down on one knee, firing semi-automatic rifles. They wore baggy blue outfits, black gloves, and black boots.

The Swiss Guard.

A million questions entered her mind, but Carmen knew she didn’t have time to ponder the answers. Keeping her eye on the giant, she backed down the ledge. Not only would it get her out of the line of fire, but with only two rounds left, it would also get her closer to the protective cover of the gunmen behind her.

The giant bobbed and weaved, making it more difficult for the guards to hit its head. Its chest was a bloody pulp, and yet it didn’t slow down. Unless one of the shooters was able to make a head shot, this could be trouble.

The gunfire stopped.

Surprised, Carmen looked back at the guards. They parted, and a man stepped through. He was handsome and tall, with close-cropped blond hair and a fit body. Unlike the others, he was outfitted in black. Carmen had no doubt he was the team’s commander. As he continued forward, Carmen saw he carried one of her favorite weapons: a fully automatic Steyr TMP machine pistol. If that couldn’t bring the beast down, nothing would.

About fifteen feet away from his target, the commander lifted the weapon and unleashed a vicious spray of automatic gunfire. Bullets strafed the giant’s body from top to bottom. It screamed and stumbled backward. Showing no mercy, the commander pressed forward, focusing his fire on the giant’s upper torso and head. Losing blood and unable to move effectively, the giant backed away more quickly, guarding its head with its massive hands. The commander pressed on, clearly focused on finishing the job.

Carmen eased forward along the ledge, watching the spectacle play out in front of her. The giant was close to falling into the abyss. Whether the commander had done that on purpose or not, she couldn’t tell. Regardless, it was a positive development.

Several rounds finally pierced the giant’s hands, shredding its neck. It cried out, staggered, and teetered, barely able to stand. The commander stopped firing and approached to within a few feet. He directed the muzzle of the Steyr at the creature’s head then squeezed the trigger. There was a click, but no shot came forth. The giant lowered its hands and growled. Sensing an opening, it crouched, ready to spring. If it could somehow get its hands on the commander, the tide might turn in a horrifying way.

Two gunshots echoed across the cavern. The giant’s arms fell to its sides, revealing a gaping wound in its right temple. It teetered for a moment then fell backward into the pit.

Carmen lowered her pistol and looked at the blond commander.

“Thanks for giving me the honor.”

CHAPTER FIFTY

A loud boom echoed across the alcove. Then another. Roger Lawson checked his watch. It had been going on for some ten minutes. Something was on the other side of the gate, trying to get through. At first, he’d thought it was the escapees conducting a ruse to get them to open the gate, but as the pounding continued, he realized it couldn’t be them or anyone else. The blows were too powerful. Whatever hammered that wall was the size of an elephant.

Once it became clear the threat was lethal, Roger and his men had retreated to a nearby building. Rather than retreat with them, Viktor and his crazed followers had remained in the alcove. Strangely, they seemed to be ready to receive with open arms whatever was trying to come though. Roger wondered if Viktor hadn’t used his hocus pocus to conjure something out of the abyss.

As the pounding grew more intense, Roger turned to the senior guard at his side. “Has the C-Four been rigged?”

The guard relayed the question through his headset. After receiving a response, he nodded. “Yes, sir. Everything is in place.”

The blocks of C-4 had been brought in and placed near the gate in case the key didn’t work. Roger wouldn’t hesitate to use it if, somehow, the gate came down. Whatever this thing was, it would be no match for the explosives waiting to rock its world. That much C-4 was enough to bring down a skyscraper.

Roger lifted his binoculars and trained them on the alcove. The only light came from a few dozen candles Viktor’s men had set in a giant circle.

Roger shifted the binoculars. Viktor and his flock lay prone on the ground, caught up in some sort of spiritual ecstasy. Roger shook his head. He never should’ve worked with them in the first place. He should’ve gotten his hands on the map and come in alone.

As he studied the scene, someone rose and began walking. Roger leaned forward, his eyes narrowing. What the…?

It was Viktor, and he had something in his hand. As he neared the gate, the cult leader approached the obelisk. Roger dropped the binoculars to his chest. No…

There was a flash of light in the alcove. His pulse quickening, Roger raised the binoculars again. A spray of colored light splashed across the walls.

The fool… He can’t be.

And yet he had. He’d placed the relic in the obelisk, and the gate slid open. The idiot had finally crossed over into insanity, and he was going to pay with his life.

Roger looked at his senior guard again. “Have your men prepare to detonate.”

The guard hesitated. “Sir, shouldn’t we warn the others to evacuate the area?”

“I guess you must have something clogging up your ears. I said to have your men prepare for detonation.”

“Sir, if we set off the C-Four while they’re—”

“Just do it!” Roger screamed.

The guard stepped away and spoke into his mic.

Roger turned back to the spectacle playing out in the alcove. The gate was now halfway open. Something hovered in the darkness beyond, waiting to come out, something massive, as tall as a tree.

Rather than retreat, Viktor took a step toward it. His crazed flock followed. They were on a suicide mission, and at this point, there was nothing Roger could do to stop them. The shadows in the cave mouth moved. The thing — whatever it was — took a step forward, the ground shaking under its weight.

Roger lifted the binoculars for a closer look. The gate was open, and a dark figure emerged from the cave. Roger flinched when it came into the light. It had the form and shape of a man but was twenty to twenty-five feet tall. Its head sported a massive mop of red hair, and its beard hung down over its abdomen. It looked like something ripped from the pages of a fairy tale. A real life troll. A giant.

Son of a…

The giant turned its head back and forth, not sure of what to think of all the people. Instead of fleeing, the people moved forward, their arms lifted.

No, you idiots. No.

The giant let loose a horrifying growl then grabbed two of the nearest men. It flung one against the wall. The man hit the rock like a sack of potatoes then dropped to the ground. Roger guessed every major bone in his body was crushed. The other man suffered a more gruesome fate at the giant’s hands. Roger was a hard, cruel man, but even he had to turn away at the sight.

Rather than turn and flee, Viktor pressed forward. He seemed to be speaking to the giant, perhaps trying to reason with it. That was pure insanity. There would be no reasoning with this thing. It had one purpose, and that was to kill anything that moved. Unfortunately, Viktor couldn’t understand that. His mind was too far gone.

Unimpressed with the attempted communication, the giant lunged forward and grabbed the cult leader, lifting him into the air.

Roger had seen enough. He knew what was coming next. Viktor’s body would be torn to pieces. He turned to the guard. “Blow it up.”

The man hesitated.

“Now!”

The guard nodded nervously then relayed the message through his headset.

Seconds later, there was a flash of light to the left of the giant. A massive fireball erupted. Rolling flames billowed out of the alcove. For a moment, it seemed as though it might even reach the city.

Roger stared at the fiery inferno. Nothing could survive such an explosion. He told the guards in the room to gather their weapons. If any member of the order had managed to survive, they were to be put out of their misery. Roger looked back toward the flames. Despite the death and carnage, he gave himself a figurative pat on the back.

Two problems had just been eliminated. And in the next hour, two others would be as well.

CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE

The blond man fixed his steely gaze on Carmen then walked over and extended a hand. “Jonas Stegmann, Commander of the Pontifical Swiss Guard.”

She shook his hand. “Carmen Petrosino. We’ve never met, but I recognize your name.”

“And I recognize yours as well.”

“I knew I got off track, but I didn’t realize I was already in the Vatican catacombs.”

Stegmann laughed.

Still concerned about the threat, several of the guards rushed over to the place where the giant had fallen over the edge. Carmen and Stegmann joined them. Flashlights were directed into the pit, but darkness swallowed the beams.

Stegmann looked at Carmen. “Do you know what it was?”

“I have no idea. We heard them coming up but found an alternate way back to the surface. Eventually, we all got separated, and I ended up here.”

“What is that?” One of the men stared into the abyss.

“What is what?” Stegmann asked.

“That.” He pointed.

Carmen crouched but saw nothing.

“A bit further to the left.”

After shifting her gaze, Carmen saw a tiny orange dot floating in the dark void. It seemed no bigger than the head of a pin, yet she knew the size was probably an optical illusion. As she watched, the dot disappeared.

“What just happened?” one of the soldiers asked.

“There it is again,” another said.

The dot appeared once again. Was a light shining up at them?

Stegmann got on one knee and studied the point of light. “I think we’re looking at an opening of some kind. When the opening disappeared, that was the giant passing through.”

Carmen didn’t know if he was right or not, but the hypothesis made sense. If true, it meant at least a couple of minutes had passed since the giant fell. She was no physicist, but that meant the opening could be a mile or two beneath them.

“Why is it orange?” one of the men asked. “If it’s an opening, what’s beyond?”

“Maybe this is a volcano,” Stegmann said after giving it some thought. “If it is, that may be lava. Whatever it is, it seems to give off light.”

A horrifying image surfaced in Carmen’s mind. Was it possible the order was right? Were they looking at an entrance to the underworld? After all, so much of the legend had turned out to be true. Shuddering, she pushed aside the thought.

Stegmann stood.

Carmen looked at him. “How did you know we were here?”

“As we began our investigation, the Polizia di Stato gave us some information on the person who stole the relic.”

“The State Police of Italy?” Carmen cut him off. “I’m surprised they were involved.”

“The thief murdered a courier prior to the heist then used his identity to effect the breach. The police were able to obtain evidence at their crime scene we were able to use to identify the suspect. To make a long story short, we eventually learned this man belonged to a cult.”

“The Order of Baal,” Carmen said with a nod.

“We were also able to uncover some disturbing things about Roger Lawson, the man your associates met with. Armed with that information, we performed a raid on his home. Unfortunately, the place was deserted, and there was nothing there to link him to any crime. Either he doesn’t spend much time at that residence, or he was planning on leaving soon.”

“The Israeli government allowed you to conduct a raid on their soil?”

Stegmann paused briefly, measuring his words. “We all live in a dangerous world, and we have a number of common enemies. Let’s just say we all try to provide help when we can. I can’t go into detail, but there is an unwritten understanding between our two states. In any event, I contacted the head of your organization, Dr. Alexander Ross. He brought me up to date about your meeting with Lawson and the planned trip to Mount Hermon.”

“Dr. Ross?” Carmen frowned. “He didn’t tell us you were coming.”

“He tried. Unfortunately, he couldn’t get through.”

“So you just came to Hermon and began searching? Talk about finding a needle in a haystack.”

“Your organization was able to determine the location of your last cell phone signal. It wasn’t very precise, but it was enough to put us in the right area. To be honest, it all just fell into place. As we drove the road, looking for vehicles, we found some reasonably fresh tire tracks turning off the highway.”

“Which in turn brought you to the entrance to the cave.”

Stegmann nodded. “After dispatching the guards left at the surface, we followed the lights back to the city, where we encountered the order gathered at the wall. We were outnumbered, so instead of fighting, we conducted surveillance. We overheard you were in the caves on the other side of the wall.”

“How did you get past them?” Carmen asked.

“We didn’t. We began looking along the perimeter of the city and eventually found another cave that brought us here.”

Apparently, the key wasn’t necessary after all. Carmen guessed various groups had come here throughout history. Some may have carved out their own caves. She looked at Stegmann. “I’m guessing, at some point, you heard me call out?”

“We did,” he answered with a nod. “I apologize we didn’t arrive sooner, but we had to figure out whether you were friend and not foe.”

“I completely understand.”

One of the other guards came over. “Sir, we’re ready.”

Carmen hadn’t noticed before, but the other men had used the time to refill their magazines.

Stegmann glanced at his watch then at Carmen. “You said you don’t know where the rest of your team is?”

Carmen shook her head.

Stegmann motioned one of his men over. “Can you get us back up?”

“Yes, sir.” He slid a GPS device from his pocket.

“Wait, I’m not leaving here until we find my team.”

Stegmann held up a hand. “And we aren’t either. I want to start by going back to the cave where we came in. Hopefully, we’ll encounter your friends on the way up. If we don’t, we’ll begin an organized search.”

His plan was sound. There was no reason to start wandering around and get lost. They needed to establish a base then send out search teams from there.

In the few minutes they’d spent together, Carmen had already come to respect the commander. He was tough, bold, and levelheaded. He was also good-looking, but she chose to ignore that for the time being. Not only did they have work to do, but she guessed Swiss Guards had taken vows of celibacy.

“I understand,” she said. “I just wanted to make sure my team was included in your plans.”

“They’re our top priority.”

After gathering their things and giving Carmen some much-needed water, they exited the cavern. Stegmann and the guard with the GPS unit took the lead as they maneuvered up through the caves. Carmen hoped he knew what he was doing as they maintained a fast pace throughout the climb. She guessed he must have placed markers at various points on the way down.

Eventually, the path leveled off. Carmen saw that as a good sign. Not only was it a relief to her legs, but it also meant they were likely near the city again. A few minutes later, Stegmann held up a hand, bringing the group to a stop. At first, Carmen thought they had arrived at the entrance. Then as she arrived at the front, she noticed the stern look on his face.

“What is it?” she asked.

“I thought I heard something.”

One of the guards pulled out an instrument Carmen recognized as a thermal imaging monocular. He made a few adjustments. After holding it there for a few seconds, he mumbled something to Stegmann in German. Unfortunately, he spoke too fast for Carmen to understand.

Stegmann translated. “He said there is a slight heat signature at the turn about fifty meters ahead.”

The commander turned and gave his men a few quick orders. They fanned out to both sides, pressing themselves up against either wall.

“Please tell your men not to shoot until we know who this is,” Carmen whispered, after settling in behind Stegmann. “My team is still out there.”

“My men don’t shoot unless I tell them to or unless they’re shot at.”

The last part unsettled her a bit, but she realized it was a protocol any military group would use. Every soldier, regardless of rank or experience, had the right to defend his or herself. Ten seconds later, a scrape carried down the cave. The sound was faint, but Carmen’s keen ears picked it up.

One of Stegmann’s men spoke excitedly from the other side. Carmen didn’t like the alarm in his voice.

“What did he say?” she asked.

Stegmann turned his head. “The thermals don’t show anything. Whatever it is, it isn’t giving off heat.”

Carmen’s pulse quickened. An image of the boy flashed in her mind. Could it be him? If he was some sort of demonic presence, his body might be a shell. He’d certainly looked cold-blooded.

A soft mechanical whine carried down the cave. Carmen frowned in the dark. She’d heard that sound before. Then it hit her…

She grabbed Stegmann’s shoulder. “I know who that is. Tell your men to stand down.”

Stegmann did as asked.

Carmen stood and cupped her hands around her mouth. “Keiko?”

The whining stopped and a familiar voice broke the silence. “Yes, it’s me.”

A soft blue glow appeared. Immediately, the Swiss Guards aimed their rifles at the light.

“Don’t shoot!” Carmen shouted. “She’s with me.”

The guards lowered their weapons as Keiko came toward them. Carmen heard other footfalls. A few seconds later, Zane and the others walked into the light. His eyes widened when he saw the armed soldiers of the Swiss Guard. “Please tell me this isn’t a dream.”

Stegmann stepped forward and shook his hand. “I can assure you we’re very much real.”

“Did you guys get lost too?” Carmen asked Zane.

He shook his head. “We didn’t realize you were gone until a few minutes ago. We were heading back down to look for you when Keiko picked up vibrations on the cave floor. We thought it was probably you but couldn’t be sure.”

Stegmann looked at the soldier holding the GPS. “How far are we from the city?”

“Only a few hundred yards.”

Carmen looked at the new arrivals. “Any sign of the order?”

Reid shook his head.

“I’m assuming they’re still at the gate,” Stegmann said.

“That or they went in to look for us,” Zane offered.

“Kind of ironic they spent all that time looking for the key, and it turns out there are alternate routes,” Carmen said.

Stegmann looked at Zane. “I think we need to go.”

Zane nodded his assent.

The journey back to the city only took a few minutes. As they approached the cave mouth, Stegmann sent two of his men ahead to perform due diligence. As they emerged, Carmen realized they were not far from the temple containing the Og’s ossuary. Several minutes later, they arrived at the main avenue bisecting the city and turned left toward the staircase. As they marched, Carmen found the silence disturbing. Why was it so quiet?

Minutes later, the group arrived at the plaza and the pool containing Nephilim statues. The staircase was two blocks ahead. Before long, they would be back on the surface.

As they approached the pool, Zane looked at Stegmann. “Do you have any men up top?”

“We’re all here. I didn’t have enough—”

The loud crack of a gunshot cut him off.

“Everybody down!” Zane shouted.

As Carmen looked for a place to seek cover, she saw movement in her peripheral vision. Someone teetered then dropped to the ground. When she realized who it was, her heart rose in her throat.

Connor Reid lay on the ground beside her with a gaping hole in the center of his forehead.

CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO

A bad situation worsened in the seconds that followed. Another shot came on the heels of the first. A Swiss Guard spun and fell over, dead before he hit the ground.

Everyone scrambled for cover. Zane crab-walked to the wall encircling the pool. He shouted at the others to do the same. Some dove. Others crawled on all fours, but eventually, they all made it. Carmen came last, dragging Reid’s body along with her. It was a noble gesture. Zane was certain the operative was dead, but she probably held out hope he’d somehow survived. As gut-wrenching as it was, he’d have to grieve later.

Zane’s ears told him the shooter was high and to the right along the plateau at the top of the stairs. That meant they were pinned down for the moment. Any attempt to flee to the safety of nearby buildings would expose them to sniper fire. Under different circumstances, he might have taken the risk. In this case, the shooter had already proved himself lethal by taking down two targets in quick succession. After taking the first one down with a head shot, he’d shifted his aim slightly and done it again.

For now, the wall would provide some level of protection. But what if there were other shooters? The answer came a few seconds later when a barrage of semi-automatic gunfire came from the far end of the pool, strafing the stone wall above them.

The whole thing had been a trap. Rather than attack in the tunnels, Lawson’s men had set up in a place they knew their targets would have to cross. Their plan seemed simple: have the sniper take out two early, then when everyone scattered, the other gunmen would attack from the far end of the pool. The sniper’s one mistake had been in letting them get too close to the wall. He’d succeeded in taking out the two targets, but thankfully, the rest had found cover quickly.

Pratt poked Zane with the butt of his rifle. “I count at least a dozen tangos at ground level.”

“Let’s see if we can shake them up a bit.” Zane rose for a brief moment then ducked. It was hard to see through the maze of statues in the pool, but he’d managed to see a head peering over the wall on the far end. With the location imprinted in his mind, he rose up and fired at the spot. The head jerked and fell from sight.

One down.

The kill produced a wave of return fire. The enemy was angry. Zane shouted for everyone to stay low. Let them release their frustration and deplete their ammo. As he waited, an idea surfaced. He got Stegmann’s attention and mimed with his hands, indicating he wanted the thermal imaging monocular. Stegmann gave a nod of understanding and had the device passed down.

Monocular in hand, Zane scooted to his right, putting one of the statues in the pool behind him. He signaled for Pratt and Carmen to draw near. “I need you to lay down some covering fire. No need to target anything.”

Carmen looked at Pratt and counted with her fingers. At the appointed time, the two lifted their rifles over the wall and fired. Zane rose at the same time and aimed the monocular at the plateau at the top of the stairs. Seeing nothing, he moved it right. A red-and-yellow smudge appeared. Although the image wasn’t sharp, Zane noted the shooter was on one knee next to a boulder.

He marked the location of the sniper and dropped down.

Carmen and Pratt followed suit.

Zane knew he needed to act while the image was fresh in his mind. Setting the monocular aside, he retrieved his rifle. As was his routine, he took three deep breaths then squeezed all the air out of his lungs. Even the slightest movement of his chest could send the bullet off course.

Using the statue for cover, he placed his rifle on top of the ledge and focused his sights on the boulder. He visualized the sniper on one knee a little to the left. Zane squeezed the trigger. A loud crack echoed across the plaza. Two seconds later, a rifle tumbled down the stairs.

“Beautiful.” Pratt pumped his fist.

They had to take advantage of the opportunity he’d created. If they were going to launch a counter strike, now was the time. He formed a plan for dealing with the gunmen on the other end then motioned for the others to gather around, including the Swiss Guards. The group would divide into two teams. One would provide covering fire, while the other would sprint to the multi-tiered fountain in the center of the pool. Once there, they would climb to the top and fire down on the gunmen hidden at the other end. While they might not have a clear shot at the attackers, the angle would probably be good enough to at least flush them out.

Stegmann listened intently, then nodded. “I like it.”

Zane, Pratt, and two Swiss Guards would comprise the assault team that would run to the fountain. Stegmann, Carmen, and the remainder of the Swiss Guard would remain behind and provide cover.

There were no questions, so Zane told everyone to divide into their respective teams. Once they were in place, he gave the signal to commence. Stegmann and his team rose and directed a volley of fire toward the other end.

“Go!” Zane shouted as he led his team over the wall. While the distance to the fountain wasn’t great, it seemed to take an eternity. They scrambled up using the tiered basins. Zane and Pratt stopped on the one closest to the top, while the two guards set up just below.

The covering fire ended.

Zane looked toward the far end of the pool. He counted eight gunmen hunkered behind the wall. Either Pratt’s count had been wrong, or perhaps others were somewhere out of sight. As seconds passed, the gunmen stirred. A couple rose up and peered over the wall, completely unaware they were being watched. At some point, one of them would look up, so they needed to act now. Zane and Pratt would focus on the gunmen to the right, while their Swiss counterparts focused on the left.

Zane gave a low whistle. Four shots rang out, and four targets died instantly. Not wanting to give the others a chance to recover, they continued to squeeze off shots, aiming for exposed body parts. Those still alive realized the wall no longer afforded any protection, so they scattered, firing as they ran.

Zane brought down one on the left, and a Swiss Guard brought down another on the right. The last two gunmen escaped down a street. As they disappeared, Zane and his team climbed down. When they reached the bottom, the others met them.

“Shall we give chase?” Carmen asked.

Stegmann shook his head. “They’ll probably set up inside a building. That will give them an advantage. We need to head for the surface.”

“I second that,” Pratt said. “We need to be thankful we didn’t suffer any more losses. Let’s get everyone to safety then worry about who else might be down here.”

“There could be others waiting in the tunnel,” Carmen said.

“It’s always possible,” Stegmann said. “But I think most of their team was here. My bigger fear is they’ll seal off the entrance before we can get there.”

With the matter settled, Stegmann sent several men to collect the bodies of their fallen comrades. He sent two others to make sure none of the gunmen were trying to slip back and cause trouble. Once they returned with word all was clear, the group set out.

As they mounted the stairs, Zane couldn’t ignore the feeling the fight wasn’t over. Not by a long shot.

CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE

Keiko took the lead, illuminating the tunnel with her soft blue light. Zane marched behind, his rifle at the ready. He doubted the rest of the order had simply fled to the surface. They were probably waiting somewhere along the path, ready to ambush them if the trap failed.

“Zane,” Carmen called from the back.

He turned to see Emily bent over with her hands on her knees. The long trek in the heat was finally overwhelming her. They had all taken some water along the way, but it hadn’t been enough to hydrate her system. Stegmann approached and gave her more from his canteen. She turned it up and drank in gulps until it was gone then wiped her mouth.

“Better?” Zane asked.

She nodded and gave him a smile. “I’m sorry, I—”

Zane placed a hand on her shoulder. “Don’t apologize. You’ve been amazing.” He looked at Stegmann. “Let’s take a quick break and hydrate a little more.”

The men carrying the bodies seemed to appreciate the idea.

Carmen stood next to Zane. “Where are we?”

“If my bearings are correct, the cut-through should be just ahead.”

“That means another half hour to the top,” Carmen said.

Zane looked at Stegmann. “I’m assuming you have a phone with you?”

“I do, but unfortunately, I won’t have a signal until we get out of here.” He patted the rock wall. “It’s too thick.”

“As soon as you get a signal, let me know.”

Stegmann nodded.

A few minutes later, everyone collected their things. They were all ready to finish the trek back. Pratt took over for one of the soldiers carrying the bodies. As Zane had guessed, they reached the cave-in shortly after they resumed walking.

Only one could go through at a time, so Zane motioned Keiko forward. As she was about to enter, a bright light shone on them from the other end. It was so bright, Zane was forced to lift his arm to shield his eyes.

A familiar, laughing voice carried down to them. “I always suspected you were one who liked being in the spotlight.”

Lawson.

Zane backed away and pointed his rifle in the direction of the sound.

“That would be monumentally stupid,” Roger said. “That is, unless you want your beautiful partner’s brains blown out. Now, toss your gun down.”

Zane didn’t have to look to know he was talking about Carmen, who stood next to him. He had little choice but to comply. Lawson was likely hunkered down behind one of the boulders, making it virtually impossible to hit him.

Zane tossed his rifle to the tunnel floor. “What do you want, Roger?”

“What do I want? What could a loser like you possibly have that would interest me?” He chuckled.

As Roger spoke, Zane noted his position on the left side of the tunnel. At this point, there weren’t many options, but he realized it might be useful. If Zane could somehow signal the rest of the team, they might be able to fan out and fire toward the light. But that would only be as a last resort. There were two civilians in their midst, and Zane couldn’t do anything that might put their lives in danger. For now, his goal was to let Lawson keep talking and hope a better plan came to mind.

Zane stared down the tunnel. “If you don’t want anything, why are you here? You should be miles away by now.”

“You embarrassed me earlier tonight, and in so doing, you almost cost me a fortune. It’s time for a little payback.”

“Then take me with you, and leave the others here. I know you have something special planned for me. If you were going to shoot me, you could’ve already done it.”

“Shooting you would be much too easy. In some sense, it would be letting you off the hook. Your life would be snuffed out in a second, and that wouldn’t provide me much enjoyment.” Roger laughed. “No, you’re going to die slowly.”

Zane had no idea what he had in mind, but in the end, it didn’t matter. Whatever Lawson had up his sleeve, it was obviously going to take more time than pulling a trigger. And if that was the case, it meant he had more time to figure a way out.

As he was about to ask another question, his eyes fell on something about thirty feet away. The light had been so bright he hadn’t seen it before. On the left side of the tunnel, a wire ran along the ceiling in their direction. About halfway down, it turned toward the center and disappeared into a mass of irregular rocks that bulged downward.

He immediately recognized the plan. Lawson was going to blow up the tunnel and seal them in.

Zane needed time to warn the others. “Be a man, and let the women out, Roger.”

“If you were a man, you wouldn’t have brought them down here. Their blood is going to be on your hands.”

“Do you really think you’ll get away with this? Our people are searching the area as we speak.”

Roger laughed. “I doubt that.”

The Australian said something to one of his men. Seconds later, the light went out, plunging the tunnel into darkness.

“Good bye.”

There was a clicking noise on the far end, and Zane knew what came next. “Get back, everybody! Get back!”

He turned and ran, as did the others. But it was too late. A flash of light filled the space, followed by a massive explosion. The blast wave hit them like a runaway car, launching Zane into the air.

CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR

By the time the charge detonated, Roger was already squatting on the tunnel floor, hands pressed against either side of his head. He and the three gunmen had backed around a bend to protect themselves from the effects of the blast, but they still felt the shock waves rolling through the rock beneath their feet.

In the wake of the explosion, Roger heard boulders, rocks, and other material filling the space. A satisfied grin spread over his face at the thought about how things would now play out. The dwindling oxygen on the other side would bring about the slow death of those who’d caused him so much embarrassment. Not only would they die, they would have plenty of time to think about it.

He spoke into the darkness. “Turn on the light.”

One of his men flicked on a pistol-grip spotlight, illuminating the tunnel. A cloud of dust, dirt, and debris snaked around the corner. After giving it a couple of minutes to settle, Lawson led the men around the bend to the blast site. The explosives had worked to perfection. The tunnel was completely blocked. Nothing would pass through. Not even air.

“Check it,” Roger said. “Make sure it’s completely sealed off.”

The guards stepped forward and used spotlights to examine every nook and cranny. Five minutes later, one of the men answered. “It’s plugged completely, sir.”

“Check it again.”

“It’s sealed as tight as—”

“I said, check it again!”

The man was about to protest then thought better of it.

After they turned around, Roger slid a hand into his pocket and closed his fingers around the grip of a suppressed Glock 17. He slid it out slowly, careful not to make any noise. He stepped behind two guards and shot them in the head, dropping both in succession. Realizing what was happening, the third man swung around, fumbling for his gun. The pistol coughed again, knocking the man backward. He was dead before he hit the ground.

Roger moved the bodies up against the tunnel wall. He’d dispose of them later. Even he found it a bit distasteful to kill his own men, but that was the problem. There were too many people involved. At some point, someone would talk, and that was unacceptable. As the old saying went, dead men don’t talk.

He turned back toward the surface. The others were expecting him. It was time to take care of one last problem. Unfortunately, it would be the most difficult task yet.

CHAPTER FIFTY-FIVE

Camilla leaned back against the hood of a Humvee, shivering in the cold. The snow no longer fell, but the temperatures continued to drop. She guessed it was at least mid-twenties now.

She looked toward the cave mouth about fifty yards away. Roger should be coming out soon. He and the others had stayed behind to ambush the Americans and the Swiss Guard. This time, he’d promised not to play games. This time, he’d kill them then cast them all into a chasm one of the men had located. According to the guard, it was at least a mile deep.

Hearing footsteps behind her, Camilla turned and saw Kimberly coming toward her. She’d been helping the guards put a few things in one of the vans. As she drew near, Camilla noted the redhead’s toned legs. The guards had been staring at them all night. Camilla felt a pinch of jealousy as she thought about the woman’s attractiveness. A part of her didn’t like having such a beautiful woman around Roger, but at the same time, she realized Kimberly was invaluable to the business. She was smart, strong, and ferociously loyal.

Besides, Camilla had no reason to worry about her marriage. A man as handsome and wealthy as Roger Lawson could have anyone he wanted, and he had chosen her. In fact, she found it deeply touching that he was so strongly attracted to her unique appearance.

“Is that everything?” Camilla asked Kimberly.

“Just about. I need to gather a few more things inside.”

Camilla’s eyes narrowed. She’d picked up something odd in Kimberly’s expression, a brief flash of nervousness. Camilla had never seen that in her before. Fear and nerves were foreign to Kimberly’s constitution. Then again, they had been through a lot tonight. A lot of people had died, including a number of innocents. That was enough to rattle even the strongest person.

Still, Camilla couldn’t help suspecting there was something else. She pushed off the hood. “Let’s go see if Roger has come up yet.”

The two moved off in silence, both lost in their own thoughts. After they skirted the line of trees, Camilla saw a figure emerge from the cave mouth. Roger. As they drew near, she looked into his eyes, trying to read his expression. Strangely, he too seemed nervous.

“Is it done?” Camilla asked.

Roger glanced briefly at Kimberly before facing his wife. “Yes, it’s done.”

“I need to grab a few things.” Kimberly continued toward the cave.

Roger watched her walk away. After she disappeared into the tunnel, he looked down at Camilla. “A few more hours and this will all be over.”

“Your plan was masterful, darling.” Camilla looked into his eyes.

Roger bent and lifted her in the air. She loved it when he did that. Warmed by his embrace, he pressed her lips against his. Roger kissed her for a moment then pulled back. The kiss was too short. Camilla opened her eyes to find Roger staring at her. She frowned. She’d expected a look of longing. Instead, she saw an empty gaze, devoid of emotion.

Camilla felt one of his arms fall away while the other held her aloft. “Roger, what’s the matter?”

His expression darkened.

Camilla pulled back. “Roger? Did something happen inside? What’s—”

A muffled gunshot cut her off.

“Easy.” Roger kissed her forehead. “Just let go.”

Camilla felt as if a hot poker had been thrust into her abdomen.

“Why…” she struggled to speak.

Roger held her gaze, waiting patiently for her to die. For the first time ever, Camilla realized just how dark the man’s soul was. She also realized something else.

Roger and Kimberly were lovers.

CHAPTER FIFTY-SIX

Palermo, Sicily

The coal-black Maserati GranTurismo roared up the mountain, its headlights gleaming in the darkness like the eyes of a dragon. The car moved gracefully back and forth through the turns, comfortable on the winding roads of Sicily. Roger Lawson glanced down the slope. The lights of Palermo twinkled like jewels along the shore of the Tyrrhenian Sea. The view never got old.

Lowering the window slightly, he filled his lungs with fresh Mediterranean air. Life couldn’t be better. Yes, Camilla’s murder still haunted him on occasion, but he’d had no interest in hiding his relationship with Kimberly any longer. He was going to spend the rest of his life with her, and there wasn’t room for two women. Besides, if he hadn’t killed Camilla, she surely would’ve killed him.

Four days had passed since they’d sealed the cave entrance. That meant those inside had long since perished, either from a lack of oxygen or dehydration. Roger had seen some of the giant rats slinking around in the shadows. They probably got to them before the oxygen ran out.

After sanitizing the site, Roger had driven to Haifa and boarded his yacht. From there, he’d sailed to Croatia, where he had hidden at a close friend’s house, far away from the prying eyes of intelligence agencies. He hated leaving Kimberly behind, but she and the security team had important business to take care of. After gathering a number of important items from Roger’s home in Jerusalem, they eliminated several “problem” people who knew about the operation.

In the meantime, Roger had contacted a source in Israeli intelligence, who’d confirmed an investigation was already underway. As it turned out, the Swiss Guard and U.S. government had sent a joint investigative team to Tel Aviv in the wake of the events on Mount Hermon. They confessed their sins to the Israelis but justified their operation by pointing to all the lives that would’ve been lost had they not moved quickly. The Israelis protested vigorously but eventually agreed to work with their allies.

With a detente now in place, representatives from both countries scoured the slopes of Mount Hermon, looking for any signs of the missing operatives. According to the mole, the whole search was a complete flop. One of the teams found a few odd tire tracks, which couldn’t be traced to any registered vehicle. Another found water bottles and assorted trash among one of the many ruins on the mountain, but authorities traced the items to teenagers who frequented the area.

Roger assumed his home outside Jerusalem had been turned upside down, but at this point, it didn’t matter. After arriving in Croatia, he’d assumed an alternate identity he’d cultivated for the better part of two decades. Under that alias, he held bank accounts, boats, cars, and real estate in Australia, Sicily, and the United Kingdom. Switching to his new identity meant he would have to forgo a number of valuable assets, but it would be worth it in order to maintain his freedom.

Roger slowed the Maserati. Two stone pillars flanked the entrance to his villa. He pressed a button on the center console, and the iron gates swung inward. He followed the paved drive to a white stucco villa near the mountain’s peak.

After getting out, he retrieved a single piece of luggage from the trunk. It was all he’d brought with him. Everything else he needed was inside, including the most important thing of all — a stiff drink.

The house’s interior was pitch black. After flicking on a light, he turned to the security panel on the wall right inside the door. He was about to enter the code then stopped. The unit’s lights were dark. He leaned closer. The entire system had been turned off. He frowned. The maids must have forgotten to reset the system when they left. It wasn’t the first time this had happened. He made a mental note to speak to them about it later and turned the system back on.

After dropping his luggage in the master bedroom, Roger made his way to the kitchen at the rear of the home. He entered and flicked on the overhead light. The urge for a drink was powerful now. As he crossed to the cabinets, he pondered the next few weeks. Once the investigation ended, he and Kimberly would return to Hermon and blast their way back through the blockage in the tunnel. After locating the bodies, they would drop them down into one of the many chasms, ensuring they would never be found. At that point, the city would be theirs to loot at their leisure.

Roger searched until he found his favorite drink, a thousand-euro bottle of Scotch. He twisted the cap then realized it wasn’t sealed. Someone had already been drinking it. Maids. This was the last straw. Forget the talk. He’d fire them in the morning.

Roger located a whiskey tumbler and filled it halfway. He sniffed the aroma then drained the tumbler in one swallow. The amber liquid warmed his throat, and he could already feel the stress melting away.

Lawson poured another glass to the rim and headed to the study. He would eventually make it out to the patio, but first, he wanted to review some documents related to his alias. He’d used the papers many times in the past, but from this point forward, they had to be perfect. There was no going back to Roger Lawson. After everything had been reviewed, then and only then, would he venture outside with a third glass of Scotch and a cigar.

The study was mostly dark, so Roger used the moonlight coming through the window to maneuver behind the desk. He sank into the chair but decided not to turn on the lamp just yet. Work could wait for a moment. Right now, he wanted to think back on the last night he’d spent with Kimberly. Their time together had been exquisite in every way, and it would continue when she arrived in the morning.

Satisfied by the memories, he reached for the lamp’s pull cord. It was time to get to work. As soon as his fingers closed on the ball, he stopped. Despite the darkness, something caught his eye across the room. He squinted. Finally, he saw it: a dark figure in a chair against the far wall.

His heart racing, Roger yanked on the lamp cord. A man replaced the dark silhouette. He had long, brown hair and was dressed in dark denim pants and a pocketed button-down shirt.

Roger’s mouth opened slightly. It’s not possible. It can’t be. Yet he knew it could be no one else.

The longhaired man lifted a glass that had been hidden in his lap. The Scotch. He took a sip then lifted it into the air. “I hope you don’t mind. It’s always been one of my favorites.” He set the glass on a nearby table. “How was the drive up?”

“What are you doing here?”

“What am I doing here? Things ended so quickly the other night. I never felt like we got to say our proper good byes. To be honest, I was actually a little offended you left so quickly. We were having such a blast… Then you just disappeared.”

Roger ignored the sarcasm. “You’ll regret this.”

The man laughed. “Oh, I doubt that, Roger. There are a lot of things I regret in life. Coming here is not one of them.”

Roger could scarcely believe the man was sitting across from him. How had they escaped? Better yet, how had they discovered his identity? His attorneys had assured him it was foolproof. He should’ve listened to Camilla and killed them when he had the chance. Now this man had the upper hand, and barring some miracle, Roger would spend the rest of his life in jail, if not worse.

Despite the odds, Roger refused to give up. The man might have escaped twice, but he’d also been caught twice. For now, Roger would play to the arrogant fool’s ego and look for an opportunity to turn the tables. “How did you find me?”

“Oh, that.” The man took another sip of Scotch then continued. “As it turns out, our friends from the Swiss Guard brought an electronic copy of the map, so we studied it and discovered something interesting. There was more than one way out.”

“You’re lying. There was only one—”

“To be sure, there were a couple of tight places, but with some hard work and a bit of luck, we managed to get out by the next afternoon.”

Roger began to focus on getting out of his predicament. While he didn’t see a pistol, he had to assume the man was armed. If so, would he have enough time to jump up and flee the room without being shot? If he managed to get to the hall, he might be able to slip away. After all, he knew the layout of the house better than anyone. If he could somehow get to the bedroom he could retrieve the gun hidden there…

How could he have forgotten? He didn’t need to get up and run anywhere. He’d hidden several pistols around the house, all of which contained full magazines and one in the chamber. And best of all, one of them was stashed in a drawer mere inches from his hand.

The only thing left to do now was distract the man a minute longer. Play to his ego. “How did you manage to stay hidden after coming out? I have a source in Israel, and he told us you were never found.”

“We knew the order had tentacles across the globe, including the United States government. Although we couldn’t be sure, we knew they probably had one or more people in the Israeli government as well. We first contacted those at the highest levels of the Israeli government, people we knew we could trust.”

“So the meetings that followed were all for show?” Roger lowered his hand off the desk.

“Precisely.”

“And the searches?” Roger moved his hand to the third drawer down and grasped the handle.

“The searches were mostly for show, although the investigators did use the time to gather some evidence.”

Lawson pulled the drawer open slowly, careful not to make a noise. “Were you there with them?”

The man shook his head. “While the others were at Mount Hermon, we began the true investigation — the hunt for you. I have to give credit where credit is due. Your alias is good. Not good enough, but still one of the best we’ve ever seen.”

Roger closed his hand around the grip of the pistol resting in the drawer. The longhaired buffoon was gloating, but the gloating — as well as his life — was about to come to an end. With cat-like quickness, Roger whipped out the gun. Before he could pull the trigger, a muzzle flashed across the room.

Roger grabbed his chest, his pistol falling to the floor. He hadn’t been hit in the heart, but it was close enough. He’d bleed to death in a matter of minutes.

“Oh, those guns you placed around the house… We emptied most of them, but I left two bullets in that one. My associates told me to empty them all, but I wanted to see just how far you’d take this, Roger. Not only that, but I believe in a fair fight.” He held up his pistol. “I only had one in mine.”

Roger leaned forward, the life draining out of him. As darkness fell, two thoughts flashed through his mind:

Kimberly was arriving in the morning.

And he wouldn’t be there to see her.

CHAPTER FIFTY-SEVEN

Rome

After the doors slid shut, the old elevator rattled toward the upper floors. Zane stood at the back, surveying the others. Carmen, Amanda, and Pratt still mourned the loss of their teammate, Connor Reid. Despite the passage of time, his death still hurt deeply. Not only had they lost someone of valor and strength, they had lost a good friend.

But tonight, he hoped they’d find a way to push aside the pain. After the funeral, Jonas Stegmann had invited them back for a gala in their honor in Rome. The Swiss Guard wanted to thank them for their assistance in retrieving the relic, which they’d retrieved from Roger Lawson’s villa in Palermo. At first, Zane had been hesitant to accept. After all, they were simply doing their jobs. But in the end, he realized they couldn’t decline such a gracious offer.

Emily leaned against her father, one arm wrapped tightly around his waist. He smiled at the gesture. No one was going to take Emily’s father away again. Ever.

Feeling a brush on his shoulder, Zane looked at Keiko on his right. Feeling his eyes, she turned and met his gaze. Zane lifted an arm and draped it across her shoulder. She winked at him then faced forward again.

The elevator doors slid open on the third floor. Two Swiss Guards wearing official regalia flanked a doorway across a narrow corridor. Some probably thought the multi-colored stripes were a bit over the top, but Zane couldn’t think of a more welcome sight. Both men snapped to attention as the group crossed the corridor and entered.

Carmen looked around the ballroom as they entered. “Looks like the Pope spared no expense.”

Dozens of people mingled among tables adorned with fine white linens, candles, and trays of hors d’oeuvres. Among those attending were Swiss Guards, a few priests, several nuns, and an assortment of others in suits and dresses. To the left, a chamber orchestra graced the room with Vivaldi’s The Four Seasons.

“It’s my understanding the Pontiff doesn’t even know about the event,” Zane said. “Stegmann told me he paid for it out of their discretionary budget and kept his mouth shut.”

A thin server appeared in front of them, a tray balanced in one hand. “Champagne?”

“Ladies?” Zane gestured toward the drinks.

Carmen, Amanda, and Emily all lifted flutes, followed by the men.

“Ah, they finally made it,” said a familiar voice.

Zane turned to see Jonas Stegmann and Father Fiori coming toward them.

“My apologies,” Zane said. “You, of all people, know what Rome traffic is like on a Friday night.”

Carmen shook her head. “Don’t listen to him. He’s covering for us. We ladies took a bit too long getting ready.”

“I was only joking. You’re not late at all.” Stegmann gestured toward the man at his side. “I believe you remember Father Fiori.”

“I do indeed.” Zane shook the priest’s hand. “It’s a pleasure to see you again.”

“The pleasure is all mine.”

After introductions were made, Pratt led the Paulings off for some hors d'oeuvres. Keiko followed.

Once they were gone, Father Fiori turned to Zane. “I want to personally thank you for bringing back our piece.”

Zane bowed slightly. “It was our pleasure.”

“And the world thanks you for taking down such a dangerous man,” Stegmann added. “Or should I say men.”

“I think we all know this was a team effort,” Zane said.

His statement couldn’t have been truer. The Americans, the Vatican, and the Israelis had all come together to hunt down Roger Lawson. The Swiss Guard and the Israelis began by gathering as many images of the Australian as possible. Then they loaded those images into software capable of searching CCTV feeds across the globe. Two days later, Stegmann was awakened after midnight. His lead investigator wanted him to view a short video taken in Split, Croatia. It was a thirty-six percent match, enough to come up on their radar. At the beginning of the feed, a man wearing a baseball cap could be seen walking through the port authority in Split, flanked by two men. As he was about to pass out of range, he lifted his head. In that fleeting second, the software had been able to match a couple of features, including the unique shape of his nose. To be sure, it seemed an odd place for Lawson to surface. Then again, Croatia was certainly in the range of places Lawson could’ve traveled to.

Despite the matching features, Stegmann hadn’t been convinced the man in the video was Roger Lawson. On a whim, he forwarded the file to Zane, who was still chasing leads in the field. It paid immediate dividends. While Zane couldn’t see enough of the man to verify it was Lawson, he remembered the face of one of the men at his side.

Unfortunately, the trail grew cold from there. None of the boats legally docked in Split were owned by the Australian. Stegmann thought he might have traveled there with someone else, but there was no evidence of that either. At some point along the way, Zane began to consider the possibility of an alias and asked Brett Foster to take a second look at the list of boat owners docked at Split. Brett’s search soon produced a suspicious name: Peter Rust of Perth, Australia. While Rust seemed to be connected to a number of documents supporting his identity, none seemed to date back more than a few years.

In light of the new information, an emergency meeting was called with attendees from the United States, Israel, Croatia, and the Swiss Guard. After reviewing all available information, the assembled group determined Peter Rust was indeed Roger Lawson.

Unfortunately, Rust’s boat had disappeared by the time a Croatian surveillance team was put in place. Zane believed the news wasn’t all bad. It meant Lawson now felt safe to travel. But where would he go? Zane asked Brett Foster to locate all properties owned by the enigmatic Peter Rust. Within hours, Brett had assembled a map showing real estate holdings across the globe. One in particular grabbed Zane’s eye — an upscale villa on a mountain overlooking Palermo, Sicily.

The rest, as they say, was history.

“Are you going to be a part of the exploratory team being assembled for Hermon?” Amanda asked. “If there is room, I’d love to be a part of it.”

Stegmann and Father Fiori exchanged a glance. Father Fiori answered, “I’d like to be a part of it myself. Unfortunately, no one will be going back in, at least not for the time being.”

Zane’s brow furrowed. “What are you talking about?”

“The Israelis claim the upper tunnel system has collapsed,” Stegmann said. “They say it would take years to safely cut through. They believe the explosives Lawson set off weakened the entire network of caves, leading to a widespread collapse.”

“Meaning we could’ve all been killed had we not gotten out when we did,” Zane noted.

“They won’t rule out trying to reach the city at some point in the future,” Father Fiori said. “They’ve assembled a panel of their country’s finest geologists in order to study how they might gain entry, but nothing will happen anytime soon.”

“If they do make it in, we might never know,” Amanda said.

Zane frowned. “Why is that?”

“Think about it. There is an entire city down there, and we know very little about it. They will probably want to understand what they’re dealing with before they announce it to the world. Remember, the legend says it’s the entrance to Hades. Talk about creating controversy.”

Father Fiori lifted an eyebrow. “Do you believe the caves lead to the underworld?”

Amanda considered her answer. “I don’t think any of us can say for sure. I will say this… I have no doubt those are the deepest caves on earth. None of the others around the globe even come close. Regardless of how you define the underworld, that’s what we found.”

As Father Fiori continued to question Amanda about their experience, Zane slipped away to find a restroom. He’d had two beers at the hotel bar while waiting for the ladies and needed to seek relief. He finally ran down one of the servers, who pointed him toward an alcove across the room.

* * *

After finishing in the restroom, Zane returned to the banquet hall and plucked another flute of champagne from a nearby tray. He took a sip and glanced back toward the entrance. Carmen had a cell phone pressed to her ear, her face etched with concern. It was strange she would even take a call here. Should he go back? His gut told him not to. Carmen often got that look on her face when talking to Ross. The last thing he wanted to do was get knee-deep in a Delphi problem right now. He’d let her deal with it.

Zane looked around for an excuse to stay on this side of the room. A talkative priest. A lonely nun. At this point, anything would do. As he surveyed the area, his eyes came to rest on a set of French doors opening onto a balcony. Perfect. After all the traveling, he could use a breath of fresh air.

A cool breeze caressed his face as he stepped outside. He crossed to the rail and looked down. A river of taillights stretched into the distance. Rush hour was still going strong. He shifted his gaze across the rooftops on the other side of the street. St. Peter’s Basilica glowed brightly beneath a full moon.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?”

Zane jumped at the sound of the voice.

“Didn’t mean to scare you.” Emily joined him at the rail.

“You’re fine. Just don’t tell anyone I got startled. It’s not the kind of thing a senior operative wants to get out.”

“What happens in Rome stays in Rome.” Emily laughed then slid toward him a bit, her shoulder brushing up against his arm.

The two stood in silence, staring at the moon. Zane wondered if the contact had been purposeful. He’d sensed some attraction on her part but had brushed it off as a temporary manifestation, something that often happened when two people worked together in the field. Perhaps the brush had been a coincidence. Then again, perhaps it was an attempt to gauge his interest. If the latter, he didn’t want to go there, at least not now. He needed to get over Katiya before diving into anything resembling a relationship. Even casual dating was off for now. Perhaps at some point, he’d reflect on a potential relationship with Emily. But not now and certainly not after two beers and a flute of champagne.

“So how is your dad?”

“Dad is great. He loves being around Amanda. I think those two could talk archaeology for hours.” There was a long pause. “He poured his heart out to me the other night. He said he was happy to be alive…” Her eyes moistened, and her voice cracked. “Because it meant he was able to see me again. He really believed they would kill me once this was all over, and he couldn’t bear the thought of that happening.” She looked at Zane. “Dad has never told me anything like that before. He’s always been a man’s man when it comes to things like that.”

“There is something special about the love between a father and daughter.”

Emily laughed and wiped her eyes. “We’re so funny. Neither one of us wants to let the other out of sight. In fact, we’re going to take a trip across Europe together beginning in two days.”

“That’s wonderful.”

She looked at him. “Do you want to come with us?”

Zane averted his gaze. “I wish. Unfortunately, our fearless leader already has another operation on the docket. We’ll be here for two more days, then it’s back to the States.”

They stood in silence for a full minute. Finally, Emily crossed her arms. “It’s a bit cooler out here than I thought.”

“Oh, here…” Zane set his flute on the rail, removed his jacket, and draped it over her shoulders. “I didn’t realize you were cold.”

“Thank you.”

After Zane retrieved his champagne, he felt Emily’s eyes on him. He met her gaze. She held it for a moment then moved in his direction. Caught off guard, he averted his eyes to the rooftops across the street.

An awkward silence ensued. Emily finally turned and looked out over the city. “So what’s her name?”

Zane frowned and turned his head slightly. “Who?”

“The other woman.”

Zane was about to ask who she was referring to but realized that would just delay the inevitable. He knew what she meant. Emily obviously didn’t know her name but was able to sense her existence.

“Is it that obvious? How did you know?”

“Because I’m a female.” She glanced at him. “We always know when there is someone else.”

Zane nodded slowly. Most did have that ability. In this instance, he saw it as a blessing. It was better she knew. “We’re not seeing each other anymore, but it’s—”

“I understand. I’ve been there before. If you ever need someone to talk to, let me know.” She patted his arm. “Thanks for the chat, but I’d better go check on Dad.”

He felt a pang of guilt at running her off. “I’m sure he’s fine. Why don’t you stay out here and chat for a bit?”

“I might come back out later. I really do want to check on him. I need to make sure he’s not talking Amanda’s ear off.”

Zane laughed.

She gave him a little wave and walked back inside.

Zane set his elbows back on the rail. His respect for Emily had just grown immensely. She sensed his feelings and gave him the respectful distance he needed. Maybe if things had been different…

Footsteps approached from the French doors. Zane turned. “I thought you were checking—”

He stopped in mid-sentence, his mouth agape. A woman stood a few feet away. She was tall with light-brown hair that fell down to her shoulders. She smiled at him, her distinctive red lipstick glistening in the moonlight.

Zane pushed off the rail in disbelief. “Katiya?”

She walked toward him until she was a foot away. Her expression made it clear she wasn’t there to talk. Zane set his glass aside and took her into his arms. They kissed like lovers who had been separated for far too long.

Finally, Katiya pulled back. A gentle breeze blew hair across her face. “You seem surprised to see me. I guess you didn’t figure it out.”

Zane lifted an eyebrow.

Katiya nodded toward the building. “I was just talking to Carmen on the phone a few minutes ago, and she was convinced you had picked up on something.”

Zane laughed and shook his head. It all made sense now — Carmen’s look of concern on the phone, which apparently had nothing to do with Delphi. She had been hiding a little secret. And Zane was glad she had.

“How did this happen? How did you know we were here?”

Katiya laughed again and gave him a quick peck. “You can thank your boss.”

He frowned. “The Oracle? I’m not sure I believe that.”

She nodded. “He called me a few days ago. Apparently, one of your colleagues told him the reason for our breakup. He said he couldn’t allow his organization to stand between the two of us. Here, hold on a sec. You’re not going to believe this unless I show it to you.” She squirmed away and pulled an envelope out of her pocket.

“What’s this?”

“It’s our itinerary. We’re taking a five-day vacation across Italy, compliments of the Delphi Group.”

Zane was stunned. “It’s so unlike the guy. I don’t know what to say.”

“Don’t say anything.” She leaned against him. After they hugged, she pulled back. “But before we go on this little trip, there is something I need to know.”

“Oh? What’s that?”

Her eyes darted back toward the party. “You’re going to have to tell me why some cute young brunette is wearing my boyfriend’s favorite coat.”

Zane opened his mouth to speak, but Katiya tapped his lips with a finger. “But you can tell me that later. Right now, just kiss me.”

Katiya pulled his head toward her. As they kissed, a man catcalled from a balcony across the street.

Only in Italy.

AUTHOR’S NOTE

Dear Reader,

Thank you so much for purchasing The Hades Conspiracy. I know there are a lot of ways you can spend your entertainment dollars, so I’m grateful you decided to spend yours on one of my novels. I’m currently working on the third book in the series, which will be released soon.

I sincerely hope you found The Hades Conspiracy entertaining. If you did, I’d like to ask you to do something: please go online and post an honest review. The reviews of satisfied readers are vital to the success of every author, and please know that your effort will be greatly appreciated.

Please also let me know your thoughts by emailing me at johnsneedenauthor@gmail.com. I love hearing from my readers.

Thanks again and I hope to hear from you soon!

John Sneeden

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

John was born on the coast of North Carolina, and thanks to his mother, a voracious reader, he began discovering books at a very early age. If not outside playing basketball or fishing with friends, he could be found curled up in a living room chair with an Edgar Rice Burroughs novel. In fact, it was Burroughs who first kindled his love for escapist fiction.

After a twenty-five year career in banking, John decided to turn his life-long passion for reading into a career as an author. He still lives in the southern United States, and when not writing he loves to travel and follow NHL hockey.

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Content

John Sneeden
The Hades Conspiracy

EPIGRAPH

PROLOGUE

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

CHAPTER TWENTY

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

CHAPTER THIRTY

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

CHAPTER FORTY

CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR

CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE

CHAPTER FORTY-SIX

CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN

CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT

CHAPTER FORTY-NINE

CHAPTER FIFTY

CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE

CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO

CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE

CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR

CHAPTER FIFTY-FIVE

CHAPTER FIFTY-SIX

CHAPTER FIFTY-SEVEN

AUTHOR’S NOTE

ABOUT THE AUTHOR