Maze Master

by Kathleen O'Neal Gear

  “Do you see anyone?” Anna said.

  “No. Nothing’s moving down there.”

  Buildings covered every square inch of the southern island, and hundreds of abandoned civilian and military vehicles crowded the streets. When the fuel had run dry, people must have just climbed out and walked away. Trash clung to the tires, as though the cars and trucks had been sitting there for weeks.

  Anna leaned her shoulder against his in a comforting gesture, but then he realized she had pressed against him to better see out the windows, scanning the ancient fort that had appeared. Shaped like a five-pointed star, it was a formidable fortification.

  “What is that?”

  For a long moment he had the impression that she wavered on the brink of saying something monumentally important, of stepping out of her self-imposed silence and actually trusting him. But then she exhaled hard, and said only, “The Hospitaller Fortress Malta, built in 1552 by the Knights of the Order of Saint John of Jerusalem. Today, it’s called Fort Saint Elmo. See the star-like shape?”

  Micah scrutinized the structure

  “It’s a pentagram.”

  “Is that supposed to mean something to me?”

  Anna sank back against the metal hull. He could see the sweat gleaming on her cheeks and the bridge of her nose. Her breathing had gone shallow.

  “Anna, calm down. Why are you so afraid? I view this as a rescue.”

  She ignored the question, and as if rushing to get information out, she said, “Listen to me. You may need to understand. Pentagrams are the symbol of the secret society of Pythagoras.”

  “Like the Pythagorean theorem?”

  “Precisely.”

  He thought about it. “Were the Knights followers of Pythagoras?”

  She continued her exposition as though he hadn’t spoken: “The pentagram is a very powerful magical symbol. For example, if you draw lines to connect the corners inside the U.S. Pentagon, you will see that the heart of the structure is a pentagram, and the ratio of the side to the diagonal is an irrational number. Guess which one?”

  Micah thought about it. “The Golden Ratio?”

  “Correct. Just as the irrational number pi is connected inseparably with the circle, the irrational number phi is connected inseparably with the regular pentagon. Geometry was considered to be a secret and sacred language to people like Plato and Pythagoras; it revealed the mind of God.”

  Micah gave her a sidelong look. From her tone of voice, he knew this wasn’t idle conversation. “Circles and pentagons. Shapes in the maze. I get it. So?”

  A commotion broke out among the marines, as they shifted to gaze out the windows. They looked relieved to be home.

  “You know, Anna,” he continued, “it seems to me that all of these ‘secret’ formulas, rather than revealing something, are designed to confuse and conceal.”

  “They are. You see, in the ancient world practicing magic was a punishable offense, usually by death. To protect themselves, Pythagoreans, alchemists, and other magi used deliberately misleading language to hide their secrets from the uninitiated. Hakari was a master at that.”

  Her eyes slid to his and slowly, as though to impress upon him the significance, said, “The word ‘vitriol,’ for example. Do you recall Martin mentioning it in his story about Rabbi Meir and the scribe? ‘My son, be careful of your work … if you omit a single letter, or write a letter too many, you will destroy the whole world’?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well, references to ‘vitriol’ are scattered throughout medieval mystical texts. The word was meaningless to nonalchemists, but members of the secret societies understood it as the Latin phrase: Visita Interiora Terrae Rectificandoque Invenies Occultum Lapidem. Hakari created the maze for the same reason. To hide the truth from the uninitiated.”

  “My Latin’s rusty. Translate, please?”

  “It’s an instruction to ‘Visit the interior of the earth, and by rectifying, you will discover the hidden stone.’”

  She looked like she was waiting for him to ask the question, so he said, “What’s the hidden stone?”

  “The legendary Philosopher’s Stone.”

  Micah had read about the stone in a few novels, but wasn’t sure he knew what it was. “That was some kind of rock or gem that could turn base metals into gold, right?”

  “It could also heal illness and grant eternal youth.”

  The chopper bumped sideways, and he felt weightless for a second, then the craft shook as it righted itself. “So, it’s a mythical cure. Just another version of the Marham-i-Isa? Was Hakari looking for the Philosopher’s Stone in Malta?”

  She hesitated, before softly replying, “In a manner of speaking … yes. Finding the cure required fully documenting the evolution of God’s wrath. That’s why we excavated one of the megalithic tombs, the Hypogeum. He needed ancient DNA from the skeletal remains to finish charting the course of God’s wrath. In essence, we were ‘visiting the interior and trying to rectify.’”

  “Meaning that he believed the stone, the cure, could heal God’s wrath?”

  “He did.”

  “You said you were here the first time with Hakari. Was there a second time?”

  A shiver went through her before she tightened every muscle in her body to stop it. “This used to be a Russian base. The lower levels were used to house prisoners. My God, I thought that nightmare was over. Now I’m back.”

  The Sikorsky nosed downward and flew closer to the fort.

  Anna twisted her hands against the plastic ties and craned her neck to look through the window again. “There it is.”

  What looked like thousands of stacked logs hugged the massive battlements and ramparts around the fort, creating a dark band.

  “What is that?”

  “Bodies. I think,” Anna said. “Ten or twelve high and just as many deep.”

  Micah swallowed hard. Oh, God. “Plague victims?”

  “Must be,” she answered without looking at him. She appeared to be examining the fenced enclosure that covered the rocky promontory to the north of the fort where people lay in rows on the ground. Guards walked the perimeter with rifles cradled in their arms.

  “Hospital?” Micah whispered.

  Anna subtly shook her head. “It’s heavily guarded. If this was a war zone, I’d call it a prison camp.”

  “Maybe it’s a quarantine zone for plague victims.”

  “But why wouldn’t they be using one of the ships? It would be a lot warmer for the sick, and more secure.”

  “This may be the place they put you when there’s no longer any need to waste precious resources on you.”

  When the chopper flew right over the top of the enclosure, Micah leaned to the right as far as his harness allowed and peered out the window. He guessed maybe two hundred people lay beneath army-green blankets, but only one man walked amid the doomed, if that’s what they were. The man knelt repeatedly, then moved on. A brave priest giving last rites?

  The chopper banked, made a wide curve, and settled down inside the walls of the fort on the elevated apex of the pentagram. Guards immediately ran up and surrounded them with their rifles ready.

  Anna squeezed her eyes closed as though preparing herself for the worst. By tightening every muscle in her body, she was trying hard to hide the fact that she was shaking badly.

  “Stop it, Anna. You will be treated fairly. Why would—”

  “You don’t understand.” When she turned, her gaze went through him like a lance. “Right now, to them, I am the Philosopher’s Stone. The magical key to healing the illness.”

  “Yeah, but if you don’t know the cure, why would they—”

  “Asher and Hazor?” Gallia called from where he stood behind the pilot. “You’re getting out here.”

  As the rotors whumped to stillness, Micah heard someone outside calling orders, and saw Gallia draw his pistol. When the door was flung open, he pointed it at Micah’s chest. “Move.”

  Micah rose with his han
ds over his head and walked for the door. Behind him, he heard Gallia order: “Private, cut the ties around Captain Asher’s ankles and remove her harness. Leave her hands bound.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Micah jumped down and walked out into the broad plaza flanked by two marines. The view of the city from up here was gorgeous. Most of the buildings had been constructed of the same pale limestone as the fort and reflected the afternoon gleam like thousands of mirrors, producing an almost unbearably bright glitter.

  Gallia escorted Anna from the helicopter. When he stood beside Micah, the sergeant said, “Captain Hazor. Do you see that tower? Walk toward it.”

  “Yes, Sergeant.”

  Before he’d taken three steps, however, the chopper carrying Nadai set down next to the Sikorsky. The ferocious backwash of air almost sucked Micah off his feet. He threw up an arm in defense. When he lowered it, he noticed that Anna had clenched her jaw. For an instant, her gaze clung to the helicopter, as though she desperately needed to talk with Nadai, then she dragged her gaze away and stared at the tower.

  Quietly, for Micah’s ears alone, she said, “Cozeba’s here. Be careful of him. I don’t know whose side he’s on.”

  She didn’t wait for him to respond. She squared her shoulders and strode for the tower.

  CHAPTER 43

  Micah watched two marines escort Nadai down a long corridor to the left. The professor kept glancing back at them, but they had no opportunity to speak to him.

  “Why are we being separated from Martin?” Anna asked.

  “Civilians go left, soldiers go right,” Gallia said. “You two have an unpleasant rendezvous with General Cozeba ahead of you.”

  Micah followed the private who led the way through the belly of Fort Saint Elmo with a flashlight. Anna was right behind him. The stones smelled damp. Out of habit, he tried to memorize the path. While he thought Anna’s fears were unfounded, what if they weren’t? A soldier’s first duty was to escape.

  Anna murmured, “… down eighty-nine steps, turn left, walk straight for one hundred forty-five paces, then down a flight of forty-two stairs, go straight twenty paces and stop in front of the heavy oak door with massive hinges.”

  Micah’s heart thumped. “Do you know where we’re going?”

  From just behind his shoulder, she whispered, “Four. Everything is founded on four.”

  Micah half turned and gave her a questioning look. Sweat beaded her tanned face. She vehemently shook her head in answer to his unspoken question.

  Gallia, who was watching them closely, said, “What do you mean, everything is founded on four?”

  She looked momentarily scared, and then a strange sort of insane smile touched her lips. As though she’d decided to tell him the truth, she took a breath and replied, “Don’t you see? Eighty-nine paces. Eight squared plus nine squared equals the next number of steps, 145. One squared plus four squared plus five squared equals 42. Four squared plus two squared equals 20, and two squared plus zero squared equals 4.” Her eyes widened and she gave him a clearly demented smile. “That’s how we got here, Sergeant. Four.” She stared straight at Micah and pointedly said: “Everything comes back to four. I was just marveling at how some secrets can be kept for millennia.”

  Gallia gave her an uneasy glance and pulled a ring of cast iron keys from his pocket. He kept one eye on Anna while he inserted the key in the lock. As he shoved the door back, he said, “You’ll be quartered here until further notice.”

  Micah walked into the small windowless chamber and instantly noted the position of the bed in the corner to his left, the desk and chair in the corner to his right, and the fact that there was no apparent light source. No lamps, no flashlights, no candles.

  Anna lifted her bound hands. “You can cut my bonds now, Sergeant.”

  Cautiously, Gallia drew his knife from his belt and sawed through the ties, then he backed away from her. An audible sigh of relief passed Anna’s lips as the plastic bands snapped. She grimly headed for the desk chair and sank down.

  “There’s no light source in this room, Gallia. You’re not going to leave us in the dark, are you?” Micah asked.

  “There’s a candle and matches in the desk drawer. Use it wisely. There aren’t many left. And the general says you’re not getting one of the solar lanterns.”

  “Fine. Next, I demand the right to speak with my commanding officer, Colonel Logan.”

  Gallia shook his head. “General Cozeba wants to interrogate you first.”

  Anna made a barely audible sound of dismay and seemed to deflate. Sagging across the desk, she covered her head with her bleeding hands.

  Micah walked over to stand protectively beside her. “Don’t panic. We’re all right.”

  “Light the candle, Micah, before they leave us in darkness.”

  He opened the desk drawer, pulled out the candle, and struck a match. As he touched it to the wick, the soldiers filed from the room. The tiny flame cast a wavering gleam over their faces as they closed the door behind them.

  Keys rattled in the lock, then steps pounded away.

  Micah sat on the corner of the desk and put a hand on her shoulder. The room was perfectly square, about twelve feet across, and cold seeped from every pore in the stone walls. In another fifteen minutes, they’d both be shivering. He’d wondered if they were ever going to get their belongings back. He could really use his canvas poncho right now.

  He looked down at Anna. Softly, he said, “I have several questions.”

  Anna lifted her head, and the candlelight reflected in her green eyes, turning them luminous. “I’m sorry.”

  “Meaning you won’t answer my questions?”

  She faintly shook her head as she sat back in her chair. “He has an accomplice inside the U.S. military. I thought it might be you.”

  “Who has an accomplice? Hakari? What are you talking about?”

  “Micah, how did you get into that boat on the Nile? How did you end up at the village of El Karnak at exactly the same moment I arrived?”

  “I don’t know. Truly.”

  She stared at him with wet eyes. “Are you his accomplice? No one knows better than I what he can offer, or the frightening strength of his promises. Just tell me, please?”

  “Who are we talking about?”

  Her gaze thoughtfully drifted over the room, while she decided what to tell him.

  As he waited, memories overwhelmed him. He caught glimpses of a face, and brilliant blue eyes the unearthly shade of ten-thousand-year-old glaciers, then he remembered Anna’s voice saying, “… this is definitely a puncture wound … You were inoculated, Captain. Do you know who did this?”

  He placed his palms on the desk and curled his fingers over the edge, gripping it hard. A cold breath of wind penetrated from somewhere. As it eddied around the chamber, he heard the sound of voices and boots on stone. “What did you mean when you tapped the inoculation site on my wrist and said I was one of the Elect and the Angels of Light would be coming for me?”

  She turned her head slightly as though suspicious that the question might be a ruse. She’d assumed that he was the accomplice, but seemed to be reassessing that conclusion. “The Elect are immune. They can’t die of the plague.”

  “Meaning they’ve all been inoculated with a vaccine that works.”

  Anna reached out and tenderly ran her hand down his arm. It sent an electric shiver through him. “I think you were chosen to receive a certain vaccine. But I don’t know why. Unless…”

  “Ah.” He leaned back. “I understand now. Unless the Russians inoculated me and were protecting me because I’m one of their agents. Is that what you think?”

  As she analyzed his expression, the weary lines around her mouth went tight. Rising to her feet, she walked a short distance away. “I can’t take the chance.”

  Metal jangled outside, then a key was inserted into the lock.

  Without thinking, Micah went to her, and wrapped his arms around her shoulders to hug her.
In response, Anna held him like she’d never let him go. A warm rush flooded his veins, frightening in its intensity. His beard softly brushed her hair as he murmured, “I’m not a Russian agent. I suspect Cozeba will question me first. Promise me that when I get back you’ll tell me everything.”

  “I can’t promise.”

  For a blessed timeless moment, he allowed himself to drown in the feel of her breasts pressing into his chest, and her body conforming to his. How long had it been since he’d held a woman he actually cared about? Years. “And, Anna, if I don’t come back—”

  “Don’t say that.”

  “After we’re interrogated, they’re going to separate us. They have to. Divide and conquer. But I’ll find you. I’ll find you.”

  The brass hinges squealed as the door to their room was shoved wide open. Four guards with M-16s marched in and adopted cover positions.

  When Micah released Anna and stepped away from her, he was mildly surprised that his arms were shaking.

  “Captain Hazor,” the scared-eyed corporal said. The man was young, maybe eighteen or nineteen. “General Cozeba wants to see you in the conference room. We will escort you, sir.”

  Micah lifted his hands high over his head. “I don’t know what they’ve told you, Corporal, but I’m not going to do anything unexpected. Please, don’t get twitchy.”

  “Sir, yes, sir.” The corporal gestured to the door with his rifle barrel. “If you’ll follow Private Wesson, sir.”

  CHAPTER 44

  1630 HOURS.

  While he waited for the general to arrive, Micah stood before one of the four ancient shooting portals in the room. About one meter high and half a meter wide, at some point in the recent past they’d been converted to narrow windows. Through the glass, he saw the harbor and the warships. As the tattered American flag on the pole outside flapped in the wind, it covered and revealed the lifeless ships with ghostly regularity. The sight affected him like a blow to the belly. On the deck of one of the aircraft carriers, planes had broken loose from their tethers. Half had slid into a tangled mass against the island. The other half had toppled overboard and drifted into the shallows where their wingtips thrust up from the blue water like gigantic shark fins. The mere sight of the stars visible on the wingtips cut too deeply for words.