But that wouldn't stop him from calling in a status report.

After a few cursory exchanges with Mapplethorpe, Trent said, It looks like the girl may survive.

If she had died, then there would be no reason to proceed.

Very good, Mapplethorpe answered. A short and significant pause followed; then he spoke. How long until we know for sure?

Trent checked his watch and calculated how much time he'd need. To be certain.

Six hours, he said.

Middle of the night.

It would take coordination, but then they'd have everything.

Mapplethorpe growled with satisfaction. Then that's very good news indeed.

14

September 6, 11:04 P. M.

Punjab, India

We can go no farther, Abhi Bhanjee said.

Gray didn't argue. The Mercedes SUV was up to its axles in mud. Exhausted, his nerves stretched to a piano-wire tautness, he drove the truck up to a stonier piece of ground.

For the past two hours, rain had dumped heavily out of low skies. It seemed impossible for clouds to hold such volumes of water. They had left the mango orchards thirty miles ago and trekked through a landscape just as wooded, but here the terrain was wild. The rolling hills had given way to a broken escarpment of steep hills and cliffs. With the rain, creeks swelled and surged throughout the landscape. It was as if the entire world wept.

But at least the torrent of rain had drowned away the helicopters. The hunters had given up the chase after losing their prey among the thousands of acres of property. Abe knew the lands around here well and had guided them along a steep-walled valley out of the orchards and into this inhospitable terrain.

No one comes here, the man had said. Not good for farming.

That was an understatement.

We are not far, Abe assured them as Gray braked to a stop. Less than a kilometer. But we must walk from here.

Gray hid the SUV under the draping boughs of a banyan tree. Turning off the engine, he stared out at the cliffs and pictured the temple on the Greek coin.

Abe claimed such a structure lay out among these lands. It was where Dr. Polk had been headed the day he disappeared. Only a few local villagers knew of this place. It was a site both revered and feared by Abe's people, sacred ground for the achuta.

Why had Dr. Polk come out here? What had so excited the professor?

Water sluiced over the windshield, blurring the view.

Perhaps it's best if we wait for a break in the weather, Masterson suggested.

We can look for this temple after it stops raining.

Gray checked his watch. It was nearing midnight. He didn't want to be anywhere near here by morning. Come daylight, the helicopters would be out searching again. The tank-size Mercedes SUV would be easy to spot in the open hills. Gray had already taken measures and disabled the truck's GPS unit, fearing that was how the Russians had tracked them from Delhi.

He had many unanswered questions in his head, but he knew one thing for certain.

If they were going to track the last steps taken by Dr. Polk, they'd better do it now.

He swung around to address the passengers. I'm going with Abe. But the rest of you might want to stay with the vehicle.

Elizabeth raised her hand. I'm going with you. If there's some lost temple out there, you may need my help.

Kowalski nodded. And where she goes, I'm going.

Elizabeth glanced to him with a look that started out annoyed but melted into something less sure.

We should stay together, Rosauro said, grabbing their pack of gear.

Luca nodded.

Masterson rolled his eyes. It looks like we're all going to get wet.

With the matter decided, they piled out of the SUV and into the rain. After a couple of steps, Gray was soaked to the skin. His clothes seemed to have gained twenty pounds.

Kowalski cursed and glanced longingly back toward the SUV, but once Elizabeth moved, he followed in her footsteps.

Over this way, Abe said and pointed to a shattered cliff that rose up into ragged plateaus covered in trees. Roots tangled out of the sandstone walls, like the gnarled faces of old men, worn from the cliffs by rain and wind. Lightning crackled across the sky, booming with thunder.

The storm worsened.

Bone tired, Gray began to have further doubts about his plan. Since leaving

Delhi earlier in the day, he'd been unable to contact Sigma. They'd lost the team's satellite phone during the assault at the hotel. The prepaid cell phone he'd purchased in Delhi had no reception in this remote area.

They were on their own. And while Gray normally preferred to operate with as little oversight as possible, he had the civilians to consider.

Abe set out toward a narrow ravine cut into the cliff. A creek flowed down the center of it, chugging leadenly with runoff. A narrow path bordered it, with sheer walls rising to either side.

Gray followed Abe to the path. Once in the canyon, the rains lessened, as the winds were blocked. Still, water poured down the walls. The creek's rumble, trapped in the ravine, grew louder.

They continued single file.

The canyon zigzagged like a thunderbolt, growing narrower and taller as it cut into the high hills.

Abe narrated as he walked. Our people sometimes retreat here during times of persecution. My great-grandfather told stories of purges, where entire villages were destroyed. Those who escaped fled here to hide.

No wonder the achuta keep this place secret, Gray thought.

But these walls do not guarantee protection, Abe added cryptically. Not forever.

Gray glanced to him, but Abe stepped ahead to where the canyon split into two courses. Abe ran his hand along one wall, as if assuring himself of something then continued onward to the left.

Gray fingered where Abe had touched. There was writing inscribed into the wall, barely visible through the rain, just shadows on the rock.

Elizabeth studied the writing closer. Harappan, she said, surprised, and stared around her. We must be in the outer edges of the Indus Valley. A great civilization once made their home here.

Masterson agreed with a nod. The Harappans lived along the Indus River five thousand years ago, leaving behind the ruins of sophisticated cities and temples. You can find them throughout the region. Perhaps our young Hindu friend mistook one of the old Harappan ruins for the temple inscribed on the strange coin.

Gray continued onward. There's only one way to find out.

After another two turns, the canyon suddenly widened into a small bowl. Water tumbled into it on the far side, dumping over a short cliff and into a pool that fed the creek they'd been following.

Abe stopped and waved an arm around the bowl. We are here.

Gray frowned. The canyon was empty then lightning crackled with a brilliant display that lit the basin. Silvery light bathed the cliffs and reflected off the central pool.

All around the bowl, the sandstone walls had been dug out into notched tiers.

Each level sheltered cliff-dwelling homes. They climbed from floor to the lip that overhung the valley. Sections of homes had broken away over the centuries into boulders and rubble. It reminded Gray of the cliff dwellings of the Anasazi

Indians. But from the style of architecture, no Indians neither Native Americans nor the peoples of India had built these dwellings.

Gray stepped forward and turned in a circle. The facades of the homes were white marble, stark against the darker stone. The cliffs, composed of softer sandstone, had long been worn down by centuries of wind and rain. The homes looked like they grew straight out of the walls. The white marble reminded Gray of fossilized skeletons jutting out of a cliff face.

Despite being half swallowed by the storm-melted walls, the basic architectural elements of the marble structures were still evident. Low triangular roofs supported fluted columns. Carvings and sculptures, long softened by age, decorated pediments and cornices.