by Steve Berry
An empty storage closet, maybe eight feet by ten, paneled in unfinished wood. The air smelled of antiseptic.
Lyndsey lunged at the door and banged on the thick wood. “I can help you,” he screamed. “Let me out of here.”
“Shut up,” Stephanie spat out.
Lyndsey went quiet.
She studied their predicament, her mind racing. Zovastina seemed in a hurry. Preoccupied. The door reopened.
“Thank God,” Lyndsey said.
Zovastina stood with the AK-74 still gripped tightly.
“Why are you doing–” Lyndsey started.
“I agree with her,” Zovastina said. “Shut up.” Zovastina set her gaze on Ely. “I need to know. Is this the place from the riddle?”
Ely did not immediately answer and Stephanie wondered if it was courage or foolishness that fueled his obstinance. Finally, he said, “How would I know? I've been locked away in that cabin.”
“You came straight here from that cabin,” Zovastina said.
“How do you know that?” Ely asked.
But Stephanie knew the answer. The pieces clicked into place and she realized the worst. They'd been played. “You ordered that guard to shoot out the tires on our car. You wanted us to take his car. It's trackable.”
“Easiest way I could think of to see what you knew. I was alerted to your presence at the cabin by electronic surveillance I had installed around it.”
But Stephanie had killed the guard. “That man had no idea.”
Zovastina shrugged. “He did his job. If you got the better of him, that was his mistake.”
“But I killed him,” she said, her voice rising.
Zovastina seemed puzzled. “You worry far too much about something that means nothing.”
“He didn't need to die.”
“That's your problem. That's the West's problem. You can't do what needs to be done.”
Stephanie now knew that their situation was worse than she imagined, and she suddenly realized something else. So was Malone's and Cassiopeia's. And she saw that Henrik read her bleak thoughts.
Behind Zovastina, several of the troops walked by, each carrying a strange-looking contraption. One was deposited on the floor beside Zovastina. A funnel extended from its top and she'd spotted wheels beneath.
“This is a big house. It will take a little while to prepare it.”
“For what?” she asked.
“To burn,” Thorvaldsen answered.
“Quite right,” Zovastina said. “In the meantime I'm going to visit Mr. Malone and Ms. Vitt. Don't go away.”
And Zovastina slammed the door.
EIGHTY-FOUR
MALONE LED THE WAY UP THE INCLINE AND NOTICED, AT PLACES, that steps had been chipped from the rock recently. Cassiopeia and Viktor followed, both keeping a lookout behind. The distant house remained quiet and Ptolemy's riddle kept playing through his mind. Climb the god-built walls. This certainly qualified, though he imagined the climb in Ptolemy's time would have been much different.
The trail leveled off on a ledge.
The power conduit continued to snake a path into a dark cleft in the rock wall. Narrow, but passable.
When you reach the attic.
He led the way into the passage.
His eyes were not accustomed to the diminishing light and needed a few seconds to adjust. The path was short, maybe twenty feet, and he used the conduit as a guide. The corridor ended inside a larger chamber. Weak ambient light revealed that the power line hooked left and ended at a junction box. He stepped close and saw four flashlights piled on the floor. He flicked one on and used the bright beam to survey the room.
The chamber was maybe thirty feet long and that much or more wide, the ceiling a good twenty feet away. Then he noticed two pools about ten feet apart.
He heard a click and the room sprang to life with incandescent light. He turned to see Viktor at the electrical box.
He switched off the flashlight. “I like to check things out before acting.”
“Since when?” Cassiopeia said.
“Take a look,” Viktor said, motioning at the pools.
Both were illuminated by underwater lights fed through ground cables. The one on the right was oblong shaped and carried a brown tint. The other was luminous with greenish phosphorescence.
“Gaze into the tawny eye,” Malone said.
He stepped close to the brown pool and noticed that the water was swimming-pool clear, its color coming from the tint of the rocks below the surface. He crouched down. Cassiopeia bent down beside him. He tested the water. “Warm, but not too bad. Like a hot tub. Must be thermal vented. These mountains are still active.”
Cassiopeia brought wet fingers to her lips. “No taste.”
“Look at the bottom.”
He watched as Cassiopeia registered what he'd just spotted. Maybe ten feet down in the crystalline water, carved from a slab of rock, lying flat, was the letter Z. He walked to the green pool. Cassiopeia followed. More water clear as air, colored by tinted stone. At its bottom lay the letter H.
“From the medallion,” he said. “ZH. Life.”
“Seems this is the place.”
He noticed Viktor had stayed close to the electrical box, not all that concerned with their discovery. But there was something else. Now he knew what the last line of the riddle meant. And dare to find the distant refuge.
He returned to the brown pool. “Remember on the medallion, and at the bottom of that manuscript Ely found. That odd symbol.” With his finger he traced its outline in the sandy topsoil.
“I couldn't determine what it was. Letters? Like two B's joined to an A? Now I know exactly what it is. There.” He pointed at the rock wall six feet beneath the brown pool's surface. “See that opening. Look familiar?”
Cassiopeia focused on what he'd already noticed. The opening appeared like two B's joined to an A. “It does look like it.”
“When you reach the attic, gaze into the tawny eye, and dare to find the distant refuge. You know what that means?”
“No, Malone. Tell us what that means.”
He turned.
Irina Zovastina stood just outside the exit.
STEPHANIE NESTLED CLOSE TO THE DOOR AND LISTENED FOR ANY sound on the other side. She heard the whine of an electrical motor, starting, stopping, then a bump to the door. A hesitation, then the mechanical hum began again.
“It's canvassing,” Thorvaldsen said. “The robots spread the potion before exploding and setting everything off.”
She noticed an odor. Sickeningly sweet. Strongest at the bottom of the door. “Greek fire?” she asked.
Thorvaldsen nodded, then said to Ely, “Your discovery.”
“That crazy bitch is going to fry us all,” Lyndsey said. “We're trapped in here.”
“Tell us something we don't know,” Stephanie muttered.
“Did she kill anyone with it?” Ely asked.
“Not that I know of,” Thorvaldsen said. “We may have the honor of being first. Though Cassiopeia certainly used it to her advantage in Venice.” The older man hesitated. “She killed three men.”
Ely seemed shocked. “Why?
“To avenge you.”
The younger man's amiable face hardened into a puzzled frown.
“She was hurt. Angry. Once she found out Zovastina was behind things, there was no stopping her.”
Stephanie examined the door. Steel hinges top and bottom. Bolts held their pins in place and no screwdriver in sight. She pounded her hand against the wood. “Does Vincenti own this monstrosity?” she asked Lyndsey.
“He did. She shot him.”
“She's apparently consolidating her power,” Thorvaldsen said.
“She's a fool,” Lyndsey said. “There's so much more happening here. I could have had it all. The frickin' golden rainbow. He offered it to me.”
“Vincenti?” she asked.
Lyndsey nodded.
“Don't you get it?” Stephanie said. “Zovastina has those computers with th
e data. She has her viruses. And you even told her there's only one antiagent and where they can be found. You're useless to her.”
“But she does need me,” he spit out. “She knows.”
Her patience was wearing thin. “Knows what?”
“Those bacteria. They're the cure for AIDS.”
EIGHTY-FIVE
VIKTOR HEARD ZOVASTINA'S DISTINCTIVE VOICE. HOW MANY times had she commanded him with the same brittle tone? He'd stayed near the exit, off to the side, out of Malone and Vitt's way, listening. He was also out of Zovastina's sight, as she'd yet to enter the lit chamber, staying in the shadowy passageway.
He watched as Malone and Vitt faced Zovastina. Neither of them betrayed his presence. Slowly, he inched closer to where the rock opened. He gripped the gun firmly in his right hand and waited for the moment Zovastina stepped inside to bring the weapon level with her head. She stopped.
“My traitor. I wondered where you were.”
He noticed she'd come unarmed.
“Going to shoot me?” she asked.
“If you give me reason.”
“I have no weapon.”
That worried him. And a quick glance toward Malone saw he was concerned, too.
“I'll have a look,” Cassiopeia said, moving toward the exit.
“You'll regret attacking me,” Zovastina said to Cassiopeia.
“I'd be glad to give you the opportunity to get even.”
Zovastina smiled. “I doubt Mr. Malone, or my traitor here, would allow me the pleasure.”
Cassiopeia disappeared into the cleft. A few seconds later she reappeared. “Nobody out there. The house and grounds are still quiet.”
“Then where'd she come from?” Malone asked. “And how did she know to come here?”
“When you avoided my emissaries in the mountains,” Zovastina said, “we decided to back off and see where you were headed.”
“Who owns this place?” Malone asked.
“Enrico Vincenti. Or at least he did. I just killed him.”
“Good riddance,” Malone said. “If you hadn't, I would have.”
“And the reason for your hatred?”
“He killed a friend of mine.”
“And you also came to save Ms. Vitt?”
“Actually, I came to stop you.”
“That may prove problematic.”
Her cavalier attitude worried him.
“May I examine the pools?” Zovastina asked.
He needed time to think. “Go ahead.”
Viktor lowered his gun, but kept the weapon ready. Malone wasn't sure what was happening. But their situation posed problems. Only one way in and out. And that was never good. Zovastina stepped to the brown pool and gazed down. She then walked to the green pool. “ZH. From the medallions. I wondered why Ptolemy had the letters added to the coins. He's probably the one who laid those carvings at the bottom of the pools. Who else would have done that?
Ingenious. It took a long time to decipher his riddle. Who do we have to thank? You, Mr. Malone?”
“Let's say it was a team effort.”
“A modest man. A shame we didn't meet sooner and under different circumstances. I'd love to have you working for me.”
“I have a job.”
“American agent.”
“Actually, I'm a bookseller.”
She laughed. “And a sense of humor.”
Viktor stood ready, on guard, behind Zovastina. Cassiopeia watched the exit.
“Tell me, Malone. Did you solve all of the riddle? Is Alexander the Great here? You were just about to explain something to Ms. Vitt when I interrupted.”
Malone still held the flashlight. Heavy duty. Seemed waterproof. “Vincenti wired this place with lights. Even lit the pools. Aren't you curious why these were so important to him?”
“It looks like there's nothing here.”
“That's where you're wrong.”
Malone laid the flashlight on the ground and removed his jacket and shirt.
“What are you doing?” Cassiopeia asked.
He slipped off his shoes and socks and emptied his trouser pockets of the phone and his wallet.
“That symbol carved into the side of the pool. It leads to the distant refuge. ”
“Cotton,” Cassiopeia said.
He eased himself into the water. Hot at first, but then its warmth soothed his tired limbs. “Keep an eye on her.”
He grabbed a breath and dove under.
“THE CURE FOR AIDS?” STEPHANIE ASKED LYNDSEY.
“A local healer showed Vincenti pools in the mountain years ago, when he worked for the Iraqis. He found out then that the bacteria destroy HIV.”
She saw that Ely was listening with a clear intensity.
“But he didn't tell anybody,” Lyndsey said. “He held it.”
“For what?” Ely asked.
“The right time. He let the market build. Allowed the disease to spread. Waited.”
“You can't be serious,” Ely said.
“He was about to spring it.”
Now Stephanie understood. “And you were going to share in the spoils?”
Lyndsey seemed to catch the reservation in her tone. “Don't give me that sanctimonious crap. I'm not Vincenti. I didn't know about any cure until today. He just told me.”
“And what were you going to do?” she asked.
“Help produce it. What's wrong with that?”
“While Zovastina killed millions? You and Vincenti helped make that possible.”
Lyndsey shook his head. “Vincenti said he was going to stop her before she did anything. He held the antiagent. She couldn't move without that.”
“But now she controls it. You're both idiots.”
“You realize, Stephanie,” Thorvaldsen said, “that Vincenti had no idea there was anything else up there. He bought this place to preserve the bacteria source. He named it after the Asian designation. He apparently knew nothing about Alexander's grave.”
She'd already connected those dots. “The draught and the tomb are together. Unfortunately, we're trapped inside this closet.”
At least Zovastina had left the light on. She'd examined every inch of the unfinished walls and stone floor. No way out. And more of that nauseating odor seeped in from under the door.
“Do those two computers have all the data about the cure on them?” Ely asked Lyndsey.
“Doesn't matter,” she said. “Getting out of here is what matters. Before the bonfire begins.”
“It does matter,” Ely said. “We can't let her have those.”
“Ely, look around you. What can we do about it?”
“Cassiopeia and Malone are out there.”
“True,” Thorvaldsen said. “But I'm afraid Zovastina may be a step ahead of them.”
Stephanie agreed, but that was Malone's problem.
“There's something she doesn't know,” Lyndsey said.
She heard it in his tone and was not in the mood. “Don't try and bargain with me.”
“Vincenti copied everything onto a flash drive just before Zovastina showed up. He was holding the drive when she shot him. It's still down in the lab. With that drive and me, you'd have the antiagent for her bugs and the cure.”
“Believe me,” she said. “Even though you're a slimy SOB, if I could get you out of here, I would.”
She banged again on the door.
“But it's not to be.”
CASSIOPEIA KEPT ONE EYE ON ZOVASTINA, WHOM VIKTOR WAS holding at bay with his gun, and one eye on the pool. Malone had been gone nearly three minutes. No way he'd held his breath that long.
But then a shadow appeared underwater as Malone emerged from the odd-shaped opening and broke the surface, resting his arms on the rocky edge, one hand gripping the flashlight.
“You need to see this,” he said to her.
“And leave them? No way.”
“Viktor's got the gun. He can handle her.”
She still hesitated. Something wasn't right. Her m
ind may have been on Ely, but she wasn't oblivious to reality. Viktor was still an unknown, albeit for the past few hours a helpful one. Parts of her would be hanging from two trees right now if not for him. But still.
“You need to see this,” Malone said again.
“Is it there?” Zovastina asked.
“Wouldn't you like to know?”
Cassiopeia still wore the tight-fitting leather suit from Venice. She removed the top and left the bottoms. She laid the gun down, out of reach of Zovastina, beside Malone's. A black sports bra covered her chest and she noticed Viktor's gaze. “Keep your eye on her,” she made clear.
“She's not going anywhere.”
She slipped into the pool.
“Grab a good breath and follow me,” Malone said.
She saw him submerge and wedge himself into the opening. She followed a few feet behind, swimming through one of the B-shaped portals. Her eyes were open and she saw that they were navigating a rock tunnel, maybe a meter and a half wide. The pool sat about two meters from the chamber wall, so they were now swimming into the mountain. Malone's flashlight beam danced across the tunnel and she wondered how much farther.
Then she saw Malone rise.
She emerged from the water right beside him.
His light revealed another enclosed chamber, this one dome-shaped, the naked limestone streaked with deep blue shadows. Niches cut into the walls held what looked like alabaster jars with finely sculpted lids. Overhead, the gaunt limestone was dotted with openings, rough-hewn and irregularly shaped. Cold silvery light seeped into the lofty hall from each portal, their dusty shafts dissolving into the rock.
“Those openings have to point downward,” Malone said. “It's dry as hell in here. They're to allow light, but not moisture. They also naturally ventilate.”
“Were they cut?” she asked.
“I doubt it. My guess is this place was chosen because they're here.” He levered himself out of the pool. Water poured from his soaked pants. “We have to hurry.”
She climbed out.
“That tunnel is the only thing that connects this chamber to the other,” he said. “I took a quick look around to be sure.”
“Certainly explains why it's never been found.”
Malone used the flashlight to trace the walls and she noticed faint paintings. Bits and pieces. A warrior in his chariot, holding a scepter and reins in one hand, clutching a woman around her waist in another. A stag hit by a javelin. A leafless tree. A man on foot with a spear. Another man moving toward what looked like a boar. What color remained seemed striking. The violet of the hunter's mantle. Maroon of the chariot. Yellow for the animals. She noticed more scenes on the opposite wall. A young rider with a spear and a wreath in his hair, clearly in his prime, about to attack a lion already beset by dogs. A white background nearly faded with intermediate shades of orange-yellow, pale red, and brown mixed with cooler shades of green and blue.
