Seven Ancient Wonders

and zoomed out of the cavern.

It was quickly followed by the other choppers: the Apaches and the Black Hawks. The American troops covering the liquid floor of the cavern also pulled out, exiting through the blasted-open Great Arch.

Once all his people were out, Judah—still eyeing the top of the ziggurat, the last place he had seen West alive—gave his final order. 'Fire into the stalactite. Bring it down on that ziggurat.' His pilot hesitated. 'But sir . . . this place is histori—' 'Fire into the stalactite now or I will have you thrown out of this helicopter.'

The pilot complied.

Moments later, three Hellfire missiles lanced out from the missile pod of the Black Hawk, their three matching smoketrails spiralling in toward the giant rock formation . . .

. . . and they hit.

Shuddering explosions. Starbursts of rock and foliage.

And then, a momentous groaning sound as—

—the great stalactite slowly peeled off the ceiling of the super-cavern, tilting precariously before ... it fell away from the ceiling.

It sounded like the end of humanity. The sound was deafening.

Great chunks of rock were ripped away from the ceiling as the upside-down mountain fell away from it and crashed down onto the ziggurat.

The tip of the stalactite slammed down against the peak of the ziggurat and the ziggurat—itself the size of a fifteen-storey building —was just crushed like an aluminium can, compressed horribly downwards, totally destroyed.

Then the great rock formation tipped sideways like a slow-falling tree and splashed down into the quicksand lake on the inner side of the supercavern.

The stalactite hitting the lake had the impact of an aircraft carrier being dropped from a great height into the ocean. An enormous wave of rolling quicksand fanned out from the impact zone, slapping hard against every wall of the supercavern.

Then slowly, very slowly, the stalactite—the fabled Hanging Gardens of Babylon—came to rest, on its side, half-submerged in

the wide quicksand lake, just another broken rock formation in a world of broken things.

Thus, the American force left the foothills of the Zagros Mountains with everything they had come for in their grasp: Lily and the Piece. And somewhere underneath all the wreckage and destruction they left behind—with no possible chance of survival—were Jack West Jr and Pooh Bear.

MESSE TOWER

FRANKFURT, GERMANY

19 MARCH, 2006, 1500 HOURS

1 DAY BEFORE THE ARRIVAL OF TARTARUS

At the same time as the Hanging Gardens of Babylon were crashing into oblivion, Wizard, Zoe and Fuzzy were being transported via limousine—under armed guard—from the airfield at Frankfurt Military Base into the city of Frankfurt.

After they'd been captured in Rome, Wizard and his team had been taken by Lear jet to Germany. Having been held overnight at the base on the outskirts of Frankfurt, they were now being taken to the headquarters of the European coalition: the Messe Tower in central Frankfurt.

The Messe Tower is one of the tallest skyscrapers in Europe. It stands fifty storeys high and is known for one singular feature: its peak is a magnificent glass pyramid. More importantly—but far less well-known—this pyramid has been 'sectioned' horizontally just like the Golden Capstone.

But when a pyramid surmounts a shaft-like column like a tower, it becomes something more again: it becomes an obelisk.

The ultimate symbol of Sun-worship.

Conspiracy theories abound that the Messe Tower, the Canary Wharf Tower in London, and the old World Financial Center in New York—all built in the shape of giant glass obelisks—formed a modern triumvirate of 'super- obelisks' built by the two Sun-worshipping cults: the Catholic Church and the Freemasons.

Wizard thought about these theories as he, Zoe and Fuzzy were brought, handcuffed, to the uppermost floor of the Messe Tower.

They stood inside its spectacular pyramid-shaped pinnacle. Its slanting floor-to-ceiling glass walls revealed a 360-degree view of Frankfurt and its surrounding rivers and forests.

Francisco del Piero was waiting for them.

'Maximilian Epper! My old seminary classmate. Oh, how the Church lost a great mind when it lost you. It's good to see you again, my old friend.'

'I'm not your friend, Francisco. What is this about?'

'What is this about? What it's always been about, Max: power. The eternal struggle for one man to rule over another. Call it Europe v America. Call it the Church v the Freemasons. It doesn't matter. It is all one and the same. A ceaseless battle for power that has lasted generations, all of it coming to a head tomorrow, at a once-in-5,000-years event, an event which can grant absolute power: the arrival of the Tartarus Sunspot.'

Wizard glanced at Zoe, 'Now you can see why I never went through with becoming a priest.' To del Piero: 'But the Americans have four of the Pieces. You have one, and the last two remain unaccounted for.'

'Max. It is not who holds the Pieces now that matters, but who holds them when Tartarus arrives,' del Piero said. 'And we will have all the Pieces soon enough. Thanks to your courageous Captain West, we now know that the Tomb of Alexander lies in Luxor—its location to be revealed by the focused rays of the rising Sun shining through the obelisks at the Luxor Temple. The Americans know this, too.

'But when they arrive at Luxor, we shall be waiting for them. As I say, it is not who holds the Pieces now that matters, but who holds them when Tartarus arrives. We shall hold them when Tartarus arrives.'

'We?' Wizard said.

'Oh yes, I don't believe you've met my young friend and greatest ally . . .'

Del Piero stepped aside to reveal a small boy, with dark hair,

darker eyes and really dark frowning eyebrows. Just in the way he stood and glared at Wizard, the boy had a disconcerting air of superiority about him.

'Max Epper, meet Alexander, son of the Oracle of Siwa, expert in the Language of Thoth and the vessel of Tartarus.'

'Hello there,' Wizard said.

The boy said nothing.

Del Piero said, 'He has been groomed since the day he was born—'

'The day you stole him from his mother's arms . . .'

'He has been groomed since the day he was born for tomorrow's event. His command of Thoth is unrivalled. His understanding of the ceremony unmatched. This boy was born to rule, and I have personally inculcated in him the mindset of the perfect ruler. He is strong, he is firm, he is wise . . . and he is uncompromising, intolerant of the weak and the foolish.'

'I thought all the greatest rulers governed for the weak,' Wizard said, 'not over them.'

'Oh, Max, I love your idealism! So noble yet so fundamentally flawed. How about this theory: the strong rule, the weak get ruled over. Some are born to rule; most are ruled over. After tomorrow, you will be in the latter group.'

Zoe looked at the boy, Alexander. He returned her gaze coldly, without emotion.

'Hey kid,' she said. 'You ever played Splinter Cell in dual-player mode?'

Del Piero frowned, not understanding. But the boy knew what Splinter Cell was.

'It is a game. Games are tools by which we the rulers keep the masses entertained and amused,' the boy replied. 'Games are for fools. I do not play games.'

'Is that right? Some games teach us lessons that we can use in our everyday lives,' Zoe said. 'Have you ever