"We'd like to talk to her, but she still hasn't come back into town." Gonzalez shot a glance at his partner. "We believe she could be in a great deal of danger."

Norton nodded. "Did you know she was on the Big Obukhovsky Bridge in St. Petersburg the other night?"

"During the attack?'

"Yes. My sources tell me she was right in the middle of it. It follows that if you think she could be in danger, you're probably right. So tell me where you're getting your information."

"Sorry, no can do," Finley said.

"If you're really worried about Rachel Kirby, you'll tell me."

"That's funny," Gonzalez said. "Our concern for Rachel Kirby is a major reason for not confiding in you. Why don't we just cut the bullshit and try to figure out what's going on? Or is that too straightforward for you people?"

Norton gazed at them for a long moment. "You're honest cops, and I admire your initiative. I'm impressed."

"But?" Gonzalez said.

"But I've said all I'm going to say. Except that you should seriously think about giving me your source. You may soon get a call from your chief of police." He turned away. "Or you may get a knock at your door in the middle of the night and be taken somewhere depressing for a long, long time."

MARIN COUNTY, CALIFORNIA

7 A.M.

Tavak stared doubtfully at the chrome sculptures lining the outdoor entranceway of Pixel Dance Incorporated. The sculptures were of dinosaurs, spaceships, and the scores of computer-generated characters through which the special-effects facility had made its name. Tavak turned to Demanski. "Are you sure about this?"

"As sure as I am about anything." Demanski smiled. "You only have faith in yourself. I put my trust in the wonders of technology. This is the wave of the future."

"Welcome." A young man in jeans and a Hawaiian T-shirt emerged from the building. "We're honored to have you here."

Demanski smiled. "Thanks, Tillinger. It's good to be back in the place where—"

"Uh, actually, I was talking to Ms. Kirby." The young man smiled at Rachel. "You have a lot of fans in this building. Half the people here donate their unused home computer cycles to your project."

Rachel smiled. It was something she was often told when meeting people in the tech community, but she was still grateful to hear it. "Thank you."

Allie shook her head in amusement. "Freakin' computer geeks."

"My name is Mark Tillinger." The young man motioned for the group to follow him. "I'll be helping you with your project this morning."

"You're keeping early hours," Demanski said.

Mark smiled. "Actually, it's late hours. I haven't been to bed yet. We're running about two weeks behind on the new Spielberg film, so everybody is working crazy schedules."

Mark led them back to a workshop, where he pointed to a monitor with an image of the Hermitage mastaba wall. "I've already gotten started, using photos and X-ray images you e-mailed to me, plus a few dozen more I found online."

Rachel examined the monitor image. "This is a digital model?"

Mark nodded. "Yes. Normally, we like to do a laser scan of the original, but since that isn't an option in this case, we can use photographs. The computer can examine photographs taken from all perspectives and create an extremely accurate 3-D model. See?" Mark rotated the image on the screen.

"I've seen demonstrations of that," Rachel said. "There's a university group that's creating a 3-D computer model of the entire city of Rome just by reading vacation pictures from the online photo-sharing Web sites."

"Exactly. We're doing the same thing here. But now we're taking it a step further." Mark gestured toward the center of the workshop, where a machine with long steel rods and four massive nozzles was inlaid in a ten-foot-by-ten-foot square in the floor.

Tavak smiled. "A printer?"

"You got it. For years, industrial-design houses have used smaller 3-D printers to create architectural models, prototypes, or even reproductions of dinosaur bones. This is the biggest one in the world. If we design a digital star fighter in the computer, we can make a full-size real-life version that an actor can sit in and interact with."

"What are the model copies made out of?" Allie asked.

Mark pointed to a tank with lines to the four nozzles. "ABS plastic, but we can introduce other materials to add strength. And we can spray on a variety of textures. I take it you're looking for sandstone for this one."

"Limestone, actually."

Mark entered a series of commands on his keyboard and the nozzles flew over the center portion of the print mat. White plastic spread evenly over the mat's surface, gaining thickness with each successive pass.

"This will take a couple of hours," Mark said. "Have you had breakfast?"

Rachel pulled out her phone. "You all go ahead. I need to check on Jonesy's progress."

"We can wait. Are you sure?" Demanski asked.

"Yes. Go on."

Tavak stood over the printing device. "I'll stay here, too. We'll see you in a bit."

Rachel called the lab as soon as they left.

Val answered. "Where have you been? I've been trying to call you."

"This place probably has megaelectronic interference. Good news, I hope?"

"We're pretty sure Jonesy has figured out how to unlock the secret from that inscription. You're still going to need that mastaba wall, though."

Rachel looked at the flying nozzle spreading even more liquid plastic over the mat's surface. "In two hours, I should have it… or a reasonable facsimile thereof. I'll call you as soon as I get it." She glanced at Tavak as she hung up. "Jonesy's been making progress on these codes. Val should be able to transmit an updated decoding package by the time this finishes. I'll shoot them to her right away."

"Maybe not immediately," Tavak said quietly. "There's something I want to discuss with you."

"What?"

"I've been wondering how Dawson has been able to keep up with us. Even with all his resources, we have Jonesy. We should be leaving him in our dust."

"Sometimes brute-force computational power isn't enough."

"Maybe."

She stiffened. "You're saying Jonesy may be compromised?" She shook her head. "Who?"

"I don't know. But the NSA has experts whose sole profession is gathering information. I'm just inclined to be careful."

"And the NSA has a connection to Dawson?"

"I could be wrong. But before we give Jonesy a crack at this, I'd like for us to spend a few minutes writing some software routines. You can integrate it into Jonesy from here, can't you? Remotely?"

Rachel stared at him. "Yes, but I'm not going to do it until I know exactly what you have in mind."

"I didn't expect anything else. It would be hard for you to have blind trust in anyone where it concerns your Jonesy."

She stared at him for a moment. "I do trust you, Tavak. I don't believe I've ever trusted anyone more than I trust you."

He smiled. "That's a megagift. So I'm not going to ask you for blind trust. I'll tell you why I need the software."

* * *

"Holy smoke."

It was slightly over two hours later that Allie stood before the mastaba-wall reproduction which, except for a slightly darker color, was identical to the original they had seen in Russia.