“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 mind 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.

“I’d say Asian and Greek influences,” Malone said. “But I’m no expert.”

He motioned with the light across stones squared like a parquet floor. A doorway bursting with Greek influence-fluted shafts and ornamented bases-emerged from the darkness. Cassiopeia, a student of ancient engineering, clearly recognized the Hellenistic flair.

Above spread a shallow-carved inscription in Greek letters.

“Through there,” he said.

EIGHTY-SIX

VINCENTI FORCED HIS EYES OPEN. PAIN IN HIS CHEST RACKED HIS brain. Each breath seemed a labor. How many bullets had hit him? Three? Four? He didn’t remember. But somehow his heart still beat. Maybe it wasn’t all that bad to be fat. He recalled falling, then a deep blackness sweeping over him. He never fired a shot. Zovastina seemed to have anticipated his move. Almost like she’d wanted him to challenge her.

He forced himself to roll over and he clutched a table leg. Blood oozed from his chest and a new wave of pain drove electric nails through his spine. He struggled harder to breathe. The pistol was gone, but he realized he was holding something else. He brought his hand close and saw the flash drive.

Everything he’d worked for over the past ten years lay in his bloodied palm. How had Zovastina found him? Who had betrayed him? O’Conner? Was he still alive? Where was he? O’Conner had been the only other person with the ability to open the cabinet in the study.

Two controllers.

Where was his?

He struggled to focus and finally spotted the device lying on the tile floor.

Everything seemed lost.

But maybe not.

He was still alive and perhaps Zovastina was gone.

He gathered his strength and scooped the controller into his hand. He should have provided the house with full security before he abducted Karyn Walde. But he’d never thought Zovastina would link him to her disappearance-certainly not so quickly-and he’d never believed that she’d turn on him. Not with what she had planned.

She needed him.

Or did she?

Blood pooled in his throat and he spit out the sour taste. A lung must have been hit. More blood caused him to cough, which sent new bolts of agony through his body.

Maybe O’Conner could get to him?

He fumbled with the controller and could not decide which of the three buttons to push. One opened the door in the study. The other released all of the concealed doors throughout the house. The last activated the alarm.

No time to be right.

So he pushed all three.

ZOVASTINA STARED AT THE BROWN POOL. MALONE AND VITT HAD been submerged for several minutes.

“There must be another chamber,” she said.

Viktor stayed silent.

“Lower that gun.”

He did as ordered.

She faced him. “Did you enjoy tying me to those trees? Threatening me?”

“You wanted it to appear that I was one of them.”

Viktor had succeeded beyond her expectations, leading them straight to her goal. “Is there anything else I need to know?”

“They seemed to know what they’re looking for.”

Viktor had been her double-agent ever since the Americans first reenlisted his aid. He’d come straight to her and told her of his predicament. For the past year she’d used him to funnel what she wanted the West to know. A dangerous balancing act, but one she’d been forced to maintain because of Washington’s renewed interest in her.

And everything had worked.

Until Amsterdam.

And until Vincenti decided to kill his American watchdog. She’d encouraged him to eliminate the spy, hoping Washington might focus its attention on him. But the subterfuge had not worked. Luckily, today’s deceptions had been more successful.

Viktor had promptly reported Malone’s presence within the palace and she’d quickly conceived how to take maximum advantage of the opportunity with an orchestrated palace escape. Edwin Davis had been the other side’s attempt to divert her attention but, knowing Malone was there, she’d seen through that ruse.

“There has to be another chamber,” she repeated, slipping off her shoes and removing her jacket. “Grab two of those flashlights and let’s go see.”

STEPHANIE HEARD A CLAXON REVERBERATE THROUGH THE HOUSE, the sound dulled by the thick walls that encased them. Movement caught her eye and she saw a panel swing open at the opposite end of the closet.

Ely quickly shifted out of its way.

“A frickin’ doorway,” Lyndsey exclaimed.