"Do you accept?"

Maddox nodded slowly. This was not the kind of proposal to chew on.

"Very good." He took a sip of tea and got comfortable, his big body stressing the limits of the chair in which he sat. "The problem with the Wnt pathway is that no one has been able to break what I call the 'natural barrier.' Humans can sometimes regenerate fingertips, as you've shown, but no one has been able to figure out what molecular pathway triggers this kind of natural regrowth. Pathways for triggering regrowth in other parts of the human body simply don't exist."

"You believe I can overcome this?"

"Not at all," he said with a chuckle. "I would prefer to follow a different path. Something less conventional."

"How about nAG proteins?" Maddox said. Motivated by the compulsion to impress the man, he continued before Ridley could respond. "When a salamander loses a limb, blastema cells clump around the wound. Blastema cells can form bones, organs, brains-anything. Humans have them as embryos, but stop generating them after birth. The cells grow and divide, eventually becoming the amputated structure. The nAG protein directs the blastema cells, telling them what to become: muscle, veins, skin, etcetera. If we can find the human version of adult blastema cells and trigger the nAG proteins to communicate certain signals, the potential human regeneration is fantastic. But salamanders take more than a month to regrow a limb less than an inch long. The duration would be much longer for humans. Maybe a lifetime. But I'm sure that's a hurdle we can jump when we get to it. With these resources I imagine I should be able to unlock just about any secret."

Ridley just cocked an eyebrow. "Not bad. Perhaps worth pursuing while we hunt down my pet project."

Maddox did his best to suppress a sigh. Inwardly he shouted for Ridley to get to the point, but all he managed was a timid, "And that is?"

The big man smiled without a hint of malice for the first time. "The fountain of youth isn't some waterfall out here in the jungle, Maddox," he said, then pointed at his chest. "I want to live forever and the key to that treasure is locked away inside our DNA. In our genetics. And in our past."

"You want to live forever?"

"Who doesn't?" he said. "But I really just want to live long enough to take this company as far as it can go. I'm an entrepreneur at heart and my vision for this company has always been beyond its means, even now. You unlock the secret to regeneration and I might just live long enough to see my dreams come to fruition. We'll make a boatload of money too."

Maddox almost laughed, but then realized the man was completely serious. He'd never considered that regeneration in the extreme could vastly extend lives, never mind immortality.

"How well do you know Greek mythology?"

Maddox folded his hands and leaned back. "Better than most I suppose. They fascinated me as a child after watching Clash of the Titans. But my knowledge is based on personal research, not actual academics."

Ridley nodded. "There was a...creature. Perhaps one of a kind. Perhaps the last of its kind. Who knows. What's important is that this creature had the ability to regenerate limbs, including its neck and head, very quickly."

"And you think this creature still lives today or its offspring still live today?"

"No. If it were still alive, we'd know. The myth states that it was killed by...Hercules."

"I see," wondering if Richard Ridley was losing his mind.

Ridley saw the doubt in his eyes and became very serious. "Do not mistake me for a crackpot, Maddox. I have uncovered manuscripts beyond the legend of Hercules. Documents that have nothing to do with the legend. Records of ravaged herds. Destroyed villages. Missing hunting parties. For centuries no one knew what caused all the death and destruction. Not until Hercules, that is."

He stood, walked to a wall safe, punched in a key code and opened the solid metal door. He removed a thick glass case that held a single, aged document. "I bought this document on the black market for one hundred thousand dollars before knowing it was authentic. Knowing what I know now...I would have done anything to obtain it...and on two occasions, a rival group whose identity I have yet to discover, tried to take it from me. It is truly priceless. As some have proven, it's worth dying for." He sat again and held the case out for Maddox to inspect.

"What language is this?"

"Greek. It's been dated to 460 B.C., mere years after Hercules fabled encounter with the creature. Far too soon for legend to have set in."

Maddox stared at the document. Its age and plainness somehow lent credence to Ridley's claim.

"It makes no mention of Hercules, though it clearly insinuates someone killed the beast. It offers only a description of the creature, so that it might be identified and dealt with properly should one be encountered again."

"An ancient field guide," Maddox said, beginning to feel the first pangs of excitement.

"Precisely. And do you know what I found?"

Maddox waited in silence. He clearly had no idea.

"The description of the creature in this purely historical text is nearly identical to the mythological description. Perhaps the feats of Hercules have been exaggerated through time and legend, but the details of the beast were so fantastic to begin with that no one in the past 2500 years felt the need to exaggerate its appearance or abilities. Because of this I am compelled to believe that many of the other aspects of the story are also real. Based on the details of the myth, finding the creature's burial place may be possible. If the creature has been well preserved, recovering its DNA would change everything we know about physical regeneration. Mr. Maddox, we must find the Beast of Lerna's final resting place and extract its DNA. The prize is eternal life."

"Lerna..." Maddox leaned forward his eyes wide with realization. "My God. You're talking about the Hydra."

Ridley smiled wide and toothy.

"That's...crazy."

Ridley chuckled. "And that's exactly what I'd expect a scientist to say." He locked his eyes on Maddox's. "The great scientists of human history all had something in common. Imagination. Einstein. Galileo. Da Vinci. Hawking. They all are brilliant scientists, but they also had the guts to tap what was previously considered fantasy, science fiction, heresy. If the human race didn't pursue the impossible we'd still be starring up at the moon having never set foot on it."

Maddox knew he was right. He'd gone down that path when he regenerated his own finger. But even if the Hydra existed they would still have to locate its grave and extract viable DNA. I just didn't seem possible.

"Let me put it to you this way; would you rather take a risk on something, that if successful will propel your name to the top of the list of great scientists, or would you rather it play it safe and return to a company that takes credit for your work? Remembered of forgotten?"

"You really believe in this?"

"I'm staking my eternal life on it."

Maddox smiled. He would have said yes because of the pay alone, but if Ridley turned out to be right he might not only get his name into the history books, but also live long enough to see it. "I'm in."

2.

Nazca Peru 2009 On the previous Monday, George Pierce had begun his workweek as usual. At 8am he lectured to his Ancient History undergrad class at the University of Athens. The subject had been the rise of Athenian influence. Lecturing never thrilled him and the subject was bland, but the real interesting work usually happened post-lunch, when he oversaw the archeological efforts on a recently discovered shipwreck of the island of Antikythera, where a fortress had also been discovered. They had discovered evidence of repeated attacks on the citadel, with perpetrators and defenders being identified as Rhodians, Spartans, Macedonians, and Romans going back to the time period Pierce most loved, 2000 B.C. and earlier-the time of myth and legend-which is why the shipwreck fascinated and excited him.

He had yet to voice his theory on the ship's identity as it would be extremely controversial. He had evidence that supported his ideas, but nothing concrete. For that he would need the ship's nameplate or even more unlikely, a log book. But after three months of recovering artifacts and cataloging them at the university had yielded little. His single most compelling piece of evidence, an iron medallion, was being kept safe and secret by his colleague Agustina Gallo, one of the few people he trusted in all of Greece.

As was now usual his Monday came and went with no further discovery of any great importance. Pierce returned home to his university campus apartment, sat down and opened his e-mail. After reading the single e-mail in his inbox, he cancelled the Ancient History class three weeks from the semester's end and put Agustina in charge of the Antikythera excavations.

Less than a week and more than 8000 miles later, he arrived in Nazca Peru, where he stared at crude Greek letters carved into a stone, stunned and silent. Slowly, he reached out and felt the symbol scratched into the stone above the inscriptions. He'd seen it before, but would keep its meaning to himself, for now. He moved on to the letters tracing them with his fingertips, convincing himself that what he saw really existed. He'd been searching for signs of the great ancient civilizations completing the journey to the Americas long before Columbus-the Vikings and Romans in the northeast United States were nearly common knowledge among his peers-but the Greeks in South America...in Peru, now that would rewrite history.

The e-mail he received disclosed a report about a new nine headed geoglyph, a massive drawing in the earth created thousands of years ago, from a friend in the U.N. who oversaw world-wide heritage sites. The 175 square mile region in which the famous Nazca lines were found had been declared a world heritage site in 1994. The very first Nazca drawings, discovered in 1929, didn't reach true world-wide fame until planes began flying over the desolate region and people began spotting more geoglyphs-a lot more. From the air, massive line drawings in the desert floor emerged that could not be discerned from the ground. Some, reaching lengths of 1000 feet, could not be seen in their entirety below an altitude of 1500 feet. The geoglyphs came in all shapes and sizes, from spiders to monkeys to men and deities. The discovery of any new geoglyph in the region was immediately reported to the U.N., not because important information might have been gleaned, but because even though the region was officially "protected," looters still pillaged most finds in the area long before researchers set foot in the country.

As a precaution, all archeological finds had to be catalogued, researched and removed to secure locations before news of a new find reached the looters, who would descend like vultures. The geoglyphs rarely held anything more interesting than pot shards and crude digging tools, but surveying and photographing the ancient drawing before the looters tire tracks marred the image was equally important.

During the initial aerial photography session, a large stone that looked like half an egg rising from the desert at the end of the odd creature's central neck leapt out at the photographer. A geoglyph with a three dimensional feature had never been found before. The following day, a team hurried to the site, inspecting the stone and the area around it. All were amazed when they found an inscription on the stone, but no one could read it, though one young college intern recognized the language-Greek.

The discovery had been made one day before Pierce received the e-mail. Given his previous work with the U.N. World-Heritage Commission and his expertise on ancient civilizations, Pierce had been called to the scene. After three plane flights and a long, bumpy and dusty jeep ride, he arrived on site, where a small base-camp had been set up on the hill that overlooked the glyph. He'd exited the jeep only ten minutes ago and upon seeing the nine headed glyph had run down the hill to where he now stood. He stared at a Greek inscription on a stone that couldn't possibly have come from Greece, which meant that someone from Greece had been to Peru, to this very spot, more than two thousand years ago.

He turned to Molly McCabe, the U.N. heritage commission archeologist who'd first documented the site from the sky. The Irish woman had been researching the glyphs since the late eighties and had spent more time in the desert than anywhere else. Generally, the Nazcan geoglyphs were her area of expertise, but she couldn't even recognize Greek, let alone read it.

"You're sure the site was untouched? This has to be a hoax," he said.

"No tire tracks for miles around," she said. "You can't hide those here. No wind. No rain. No erosion. Once something scratches the surface it stays scratched. That's how the geoglyphs have lasted for thousands of years. If someone had been out here in the past two thousand years with a vehicle or so much as a donkey, the evidence would still be plain to see. I suppose someone could have walked here, but only a fool would do that."

"Why's that?" he asked as he gently brushed the inscription clean.

"It'd be a death sentence. You couldn't carry enough water to get you here and back to the world without dehydrating. You'd be a dried out husk within a month." McCabe huffed and ran a hand through her long, grey pony-tailed hair. "So?"

"So..." he said. "What?"

"What the hell does it say?" she said, throwing her hands up.

"Right. Sorry." Pierce usually took his time with new discoveries. If he had things his way the whole glyph would be fenced off then segmented into a grid of strings so discoveries' locations could be marked and later scrutinized. He preferred to work slow and methodically, but he also understood that time was an issue. With each passing day they risked word reaching looters, who had perfected the art of the nighttime raid, focusing on expensive research equipment as much as ancient relics.

He looked at the inscription again, marveling at the text.

The carving was crude, but the stone, like the surrounding desert, hadn't been weathered in two thousand years. The inscription was still as legible as it had been when it was first inscribed.

He translated the lines of text, writing down letters in his small notepad without reading the results in full. McCabe bounced a nervous leg next to his face as he crouched to translate the lowest line. He glanced at her leg and noticed it was quite fit for a woman in her fifties.

"Twenty years ago, George, you might have had a chance," she said with a grin. "But I prefer men my own age."

Pierce smiled and made a final note. "You can't make an exception for me, Molly?"

"George," she said, leaning close to his face.

"Yeah?"

"Read the damn inscription."

Pierce chuckled and read through the inscription that he'd translated. His face fell flat. "It's a hoax."

"George, I guarantee you, this is not a hoax. Now, what does it say?" Her voice was a barely contained shout.

Pierce read from the small notepad. "Here is buried the beast most foul... Fire and sword did sever the head immortal, forever entombed beneath sand and stone. Be warned all who read these words. Heed the screaming guards within and keep dry the earth lest you wake the monster and taste its mighty...vengeance."

McCabe's brow furrowed. "It's a grave?"

Pierce rubbed his eyebrow while he thought. Then, like a horse at the races, he bolted back up the incline. McCabe chased after him. Gasping at the hot, dry air, they stopped at the top of the hill where the U.N. World Heritage base camp had been setup-a small village of tents and trucks. He turned around and looked at the geoglyph with new eyes, which quickly widened. "It's the Hydra."

She squinted. "Hydra?"

Pierce looked at her, his orange-tinged brown eyes blazing. "The Lernaian Serpent. The nine headed swamp-dragon. Child of Typhon and Echidna."

She shook her head. It was all gobbledy-gook to her.

He took her by the shoulders and spoke quickly. "Herakles-"

"Who?"

Pierce sighed. No one knew the man's real name any more. "Hercules. He was the bastard son of Zeus and Alcmene, a human woman. Because of this, he suffered the wrath of Hera, Zeus's jealous wife, who eventually made him go insane. He killed his wife and children. To overcome the madness he stayed at the court of King Eurystheus, seeking purification. He remained there for twelve years and during that time faced twelve trials, or labors. His second trial pitted him against a nine headed creature called the Hydra.... He killed it by-" He froze like an ice cube defying the intense heat of the Nazca plains.

"What is it?" she asked.

"He killed it by severing its central head-its immortal head-and cauterizing it before it could grow a new body." The possibilities spun through Pierce's mind as he continued speaking in a monotone, trance-like voice. "Most legends say that he buried the head under a large stone.... How old is this site?"

"Carbon dating came back at four hundred to five hundred B.C., why?"

"Some scholars, including me, believe Hercules was a real person who lived around four hundred fifty B.C." His eyes widened. "The time fits. Boating in Greece became very important during that time period. Their victory at the battle of Salamis against the Persians was primarily because of their naval might. It might actually be possible that an expedition lead by Hercules reached the shores of Peru."

"The ancient Greeks had sail boats?" she asked.

"Yes," Pierce said, rubbing his eyebrow. "Cargo ships. They weighed up to 150 tons and made the Greek empire very rich from trade. But it may not have been a cargo ship. There was one ship at the time, renowned for its crew and vast explorations. You may have heard of it. The Argo."

She stifled a chuckle. "As in Jason and the Argonauts? I saw the movie, George. Ray Harryhausen may have been a genius with clay, but it's a just a story."

Pierce looked at her, grinning. "You should do some research on scientists the U.N. sends to help you, Molly."

McCabe's smile vanished. "What...?"

"A year ago I discovered an ancient Greek crew manifest for a ship named the Argo in a tomb dated to 400 B.C. Looters had taken the major artifacts, but the manifest, along with other rotting documents, remained hidden in a crevice. Forty men were listed on the manifest. One of them was Hercules."

"Why didn't I read about this?" she asked. "Didn't you publish?"

"The manifest was stolen."

"By who?"

He shrugged casually, not wanting to retell the story about the two cloaked men who broke into his lab, knocked him unconscious and stole the manifest, or explain who he thought they were. Nor did he want to tell her about the Antikythera excavation and the sunken ship they'd found, despite it's bearing on this conversation. His trust took time to earn. "Who knows? But I promise you, it was real. Hercules existed. He wasn't the son of Zeus, but he lived and breathed...and maybe, just maybe, visited Peru. The proof could be down there." Pierce pointed to the stone.

McCabe grabbed his shoulder. "George." He met her eyes, which were squinting as she smiled. "We need to get under that rock."

He nodded slowly, still stunned.

"And George," she said. "We're going to need security. If word of this gets out they'll be no stopping the looters. They'll come in numbers a U.N. badge can't repel."

Pierce snapped out of his haze. "If you have a satellite phone, I know just the man."

3.

Ostrov Nosok Siberia Four invisible specters slid across the frozen sea. Concealed from head to toe in white, military issue thermal armor, the Delta team moved toward their target-a terrorist training camp. The Aden-Abyan Islamic Army had opted for the deserted wasteland of Russia's Siberian north rather than the boiling deserts of their native Yemen. It was unknown how long the camp had existed or if Russia knew of its presence, but one thing was clear- "It's time to blow this place sky, fucking high," said Stan Tremblay, call sign: Rook, into his throat mike, which allowed the others to hear him, despite the whipping Arctic winds. "Talk about maximum shrinkage-it's so cold out here I might have to change my name to Susan."