Damn John Tavak. It was all very well to tell himself to forget the bastard for the time being, but he was having trouble doing it.

Screw Theodore Mills and his squeamishness. Dawson should have let Kilcher do it his way. A quick burst of gunfire would have settled matters once and for all. Add ten gallons of a high-temperature liquid-combustion agent, and Tavak's merry band would now be little more than scorch marks on the face of the earth.

Next time.

The Jeep rolled to a stop outside the complex, which had been constructed for Mills Pharmaceuticals' most sensitive and important research projects. At any given time, there might be thirty to fifty researchers living on-site, totally isolated from the outside world. In the interest of security, cell-phone frequencies were jammed, and all other personal telephone conversations were monitored and transcribed. The scientists were well compensated for their inconvenience, but Dawson couldn't imagine living that way.

He climbed out of the Jeep and ran through the now-pounding rain to the entrance. He paused at a retina scanner, and within seconds, the doors slid open.

Dawson made his way to a lab at the back of the complex, and after yet another retina scan, the doors opened to reveal the Hermitage mastaba wall on a tall platform, illuminated by high-wattage lights from every direction. The walls were covered by life-size photographic blowups of the three other carved walls, and several large computer monitors were placed under each.

Dr. James Wiley stepped down from the platform and pulled off a pair of green-framed magnifying goggles. "Good evening, Mr. Dawson."

"Any progress?"

"Mostly just getting a lay of the land. Imagine my surprise when I walked in here and was shown this." He motioned toward the stone wall. "You didn't tell me I would be dealing with stolen property."

"Really, aren't all these kinds of artifacts stolen? I'm sure this nobleman didn't intend for his monument to be carted away and sold to a Russian museum."

Wiley smiled. "There's a certain logic to that argument. But this is a much bigger job than I originally thought. Your original offer, while generous, doesn't really compensate me for the sheer scope of the project."

Dawson pursed his lips. "What do you want?"

"Five hundred thousand should cover it."

Dawson stepped toward him. "You wouldn't be trying to blackmail me, would you, Professor?"

Wiley's gaze shifted hurriedly away. "No. Of course not. I just think—"

"Good. We'll discuss your total compensation when you give me results. What have you found out?"

"Well, I've been retracing your steps, seeing how you put together the pieces of the puzzle. Each piece gives you a heavily coded section that details a portion of Peseshet's cure, then a somewhat simpler section that leads us to the next piece."

"Correct."

Wiley turned to the message in flames from Hearst Castle. "Here's the third part of our puzzle, but there are only a few characters that are legible in any of the photographs here. What I don't understand is how this led you to the Nimaatra exhibit at the Hermitage. It's obviously the next piece, but what took you from 'C' to 'D'? There's nothing here that tells me that."

Dawson should have known that Wiley would painstakingly go through every bit of the process. "You don't have to know that. I certainly have no intention of telling you. Perhaps you should realize that I have sources other than you that I can tap. Now what progress are you making on the cure itself?"

Wiley shook his head. "I haven't been able to make any headway on that yet. It's like no code I've ever seen." He gestured toward the Hermitage exhibit. "I'll focus my energies on this to find the final piece. Once we gather all the pieces, maybe it will make more sense."

" 'Maybe' just doesn't cut it. This whole thing is just an academic exercise if we don't get that."

"I understand."

"I'm not sure you do. This is a race, Professor. You're not the only ace in my deck, just the one I prefer using. It allows me a certain amount of independence from my employer that I may use to my advantage." His lips tightened. "But if you're not capable of taking me across the finish line, I'll find someone who can."

* * *

"Do you know, I've never spent a night with a woman without sex," Tavak said. "It's been kind of eye-opening." He pulled her closer. "You're an extraordinary woman, Rachel."

He was the one who was extraordinary, she thought. Complex and vital and ever-changing. These hours spent together in the darkness had not been like anything she had ever before experienced. They had talked for hours, first about Ben and Allie, then they had gradually drifted into memories and an exchanging of ideas and philosophies. She had thought she knew Tavak, but she had only scratched the surface until tonight. "I don't know if that's a compliment or not. But I'll take it as one."

"It's not a compliment, it's truth." His lips brushed her temple. "You're truth. Clean and bright and without a trace of subterfuge. Do you know how rare that is?" His arms tightened. "I'm having trouble with our 'exception' relationship. I don't think I can go on with it. I didn't think I'd ever become possessive about anyone. I didn't believe I had the right. But things are changing with me."

"You've just gone through an experience that may have put you a little off-balance."

"Stop analyzing. I've already done that, and that's not the reason. I've been heading in this direction since I started thinking about you in Kontar's tomb. I believe I'm going to have to start working to make you come along with me. If I'm lucky, you're halfway there already."

More than halfway, she thought. She had never felt as close to anyone as she had to Tavak during these hours. "We're both in an overemotional state of—"

"Shh." His fingers touched her lips, silencing her. "Give in to it, Rachel. Hear the music. I have a feeling it can lead us to incredible places."

Hear the music.

He had said that she was without subterfuge and in this moment she could not hide the truth even to protect herself at her most vulnerable.

"I hear the music," she said unevenly. "I do hear it, Tavak."

"Good." He kissed her. "That's all that's important right now. Go to sleep. There's no hurry. We can start with the slow steps and go on from there."

* * *

Rachel grabbed her buzzing mobile phone from the bedside table and hit the talk button before she was even fully awake. "Yes?"

"Rachel, it's happening. Jonesy's doing it!"

Val's voice, Rachel realized. She snapped wide-awake. Tavak sat up in the bed next to her.

"Do you hear me? It's happening!"

"Calm down, Val. What's happening?"

"Something clicked. Jonesy started cracking major portions of the code, and the rest have been falling like dominos."

"Hold on, I'm putting you on speaker. Tavak is here with me. Go ahead."

"It's looking like each one of the carvings has a different purpose. The first one presents Peseshet's treatment as an offering to the gods to allow her passage into the afterlife. The second one is an ingredient list. Plants, mostly."

"What plants?" Tavak asked.

"Simon is researching them now."

"I'm here!" Simon picked up on a telephone extension. "You'll need a botanist to go over this, but I'm afraid at least one of these plant ingredients may be extinct."