represent the Nile, past the palm trees and a stretch of what appeared to be barren hills, where two columns had been depicted flanking an opening in the hills where a harp stood. “The tomb of the harp.”
Sydney looked at the pyramids, then at the harp. “There’s a clue hidden here? Something leading to yet another chamber?”
“That’s my hypothesis.”
“And then what?” Griffin asked.
“And then I follow it to see where it leads. Nothing more.” She stood there, staring at the wall. “As you can see, the problem is that there is nothing else. This is the farthest I’ve ever penetrated.”
Griffin raised his hand in a gesture of silence.
“What’s wrong?” Sydney asked.
“I’m not sure. A sound up the stairs.”
Sydney heard something as well. An echo of a scrape, and Griffin said, “You locked the gate after us?”
“Yes,” Francesca said.
“Is there any other way in here?”
“None that I know of.”
Which didn’t sound too positive, Sydney thought, as Griffin drew his gun, then looked around. “Let’s hope it’s the wind, or the owner coming to check on us. But just in case, we need some cover. Can you hide in these fireplace things?” he asked Francesca, flicking his light on the loculi that were off to the right of the Nile painting and the columns.
“Far too small.”
Sydney looked around, and realized they weren’t going to offer much cover at all. And then she saw a niche just beneath the stairs, about wide enough for a person to slip into. “Maybe we can hide beneath the stairs. That will afford some cover for at least two people.”
Griffin glanced over, saw what she saw. In a low voice, he said, “Get the professor under cover.” He shut off his flashlight and moved to the edge of the stairs.
Sydney guided Francesca to the niche. “Can you fit?” Sydney whispered.
“I think so.”
Francesca tucked herself back into the crevice, and Sydney hesitated until Griffin said, “Hurry. Get that light out.” He moved up the stairs until he was just inside the entrance to the outer chamber.
She scooted into the niche next to the professor. And then they waited several minutes in the dark, her mind conjuring up all sorts of possibilities, none of them ending up well. And just when she’d decided that someone had gotten to Griffin, she heard him say, “You can come out. I think I found our intruder.”
Sydney stepped from the space and moved around to the bottom of the steps where Griffin stood holding a tabby. She heard Francesca shuffling behind her and assumed she was following her out. “We’re trying to hide from a cat?”
“It could be worse,” Griffin said. “It could have been a gun-wielding cat.” He let the cat go, giving Sydney a strange look. “Where’s the professor?”
“She was right behind me.”
But when Griffin shone his light into the niche beneath the stairs, there was no sign of Francesca. Anywhere.
The first guard waved at Marc, lifting the barricade so that he could drive the now empty delivery truck past. For whatever reason, the man didn’t question that they weren’t escorted to the gate. Not their problem. Their captive was starting to wake up, and they heard him kicking at the panels in the back of the truck. Unfortunately for him, or perhaps more fortunate, they were already out of the compound. Adami wasn’t known to be the understanding sort of employer, probably even less so once he learned the fate of his warehouse. Marc only hoped that Dr. Balraj and Dr. Zemke were sitting well away from the guard’s feet.
“Call the number,” Marc said, as they turned the corner, out of sight of the compound.
Rafiq took his sat phone, punched in a number, but hesitated before hitting send. His gaze locked on Marc’s, his dark skin looking pale.
“Maybe he’s not in there,” Marc said. “Neither scientist saw him.”
“Locked below, they wouldn’t know. I can’t.”
Marc held out his hand for the phone. Rafiq handed it over.
Marc positioned his thumb on the send button, gripped the steering wheel tightly with his other hand, and then couldn’t help it.
The explosion rocked the air, and a moment later, the second explosion that incinerated everything inside the warehouse hit. He glanced in his rearview mirror, saw a fireball rising in the sky.
Sydney eyed the tunnel. No way was she going in. She’d had a fear about dark spaces ever since the murder of her father, and that little tunnel seemed awfully dark to her, not that she was about to reveal her secrets to Griffin. “You go after her,” she said.
Griffin shone his light into the tunnel, then looked at Sydney. “After you.”
“Somebody should probably stand guard here, don’t you think?”
“Spider phobia?”
She was tempted to tell him the truth, but then heard Francesca call out, “There’s actually a shaft of light coming in from above. You have to see this.”
“Well?” Griffin said.
“I scoff at spiders. But you have the flashlight.”
He moved beneath the steps, shone his light into the tunnel that was hidden from view until one moved all the way into the niche.
His flashlight was not going to go out. That’s what she told herself as she crawled after him, then came to a turn, and realized that it led to more stairs, these leading upward.
This stairwell was even narrower than the one they’d taken to descend into the columbarium. She could stand, but the ceiling was low and Griffin had to stoop as they ascended what seemed to be about two stories. And as the professor had promised, there was a bit of light coming in through the arched ceiling at the top of the steps where Francesca was waiting.
“What is this place?” Sydney asked, moving next to Francesca.
“It seems to be some sort of private viewing area of the columbarium we just left.” She pointed over the ledge, and Sydney looked out, realized they were indeed looking at the chamber from above. A stunning view, and she started a new drawing to capture the center of the mosaic floor below. From this height, the center of the mosaic appeared to be a large circular labyrinth, unrecognizable from the ground level, due to the proximity.
While Sydney sketched, Francesca began an earnest search, directing Griffin to help. Sydney was nearly finished when Francesca called out. “There’s something scratched on the wall below this painting.”
Sydney drew her gaze from the lower chamber to the wall where Francesca was standing. Another skull. While the mosaic of the skull and symbols they’d seen in the lower chamber might loosely bear resemblance to something Masonic, there was no doubt in Sydney’s mind of a Masonic connection with this painted skull. Above and below it, in much sharper detail than the first-century version, was a definite Masonic square and compass. And below it, as Francesca indicated, was something etched into the wall: “
“Latin?” Griffin asked. “Meaning what?”
“‘Here lies dust, ash, and nothing,’” Francesca translated, her voice filled with excitement. “It has to be the key.”
“The key to what?” Griffin asked.
“That leads to the next clue,” she said quickly.
