The giant ran for the nearby tunnel, the one that led to Alexander's tomb. Raoul clutched a hand to his other wrist, his palm pierced through by a length of steel spear.

Kat's shot had been precise, disarming and disabling.

The last of the Court's men, the one with the dagger, was the first into the tunnel and led the way. Raoul followed.

Gray gained his feet, took aim at Raoul's back, and fired.

The spear flew down the tunnel. Raoul would not reach the first turn in time. The shaft struck the large man in the back and clanged.

The spear clattered harmlessly to the stone floor.

Gray cursed his luck. He had hit the incendiary grenade still slung over Raoul's shoulder. Saved by his own d.a.m.n bomb.

The giant vanished around the first turn of the pa.s.sage.

"We have to go," Kat said. "I killed the two guards outside, slipping in on one of their own sleds, caught them by surprise. But I don't know how many more are out there."

Gray eyed the tunnel, hesitating.

Vigor was already in the water. "Rachel...?"

"I sent her off with Monk on another sled. They should be at sh.o.r.e by now."

Vigor hugged Kat quickly, his eyes bright with tears of relief. He pulled down his mask.

"Commander?"

Gray considered going after Raoul, but a cornered dog was the most dangerous. He didn't know if Raoul had a dry-wrapped pistol or some other weapon stashed, but the b.a.s.t.a.r.d definitely had a bomb. Raoul could lob it here on a short fuse and take them all out.

He turned away.

They had what they needed.

One hand patted the thigh pouch and the hidden gold key.

It was time to go.

Gray pulled on his mask and joined the others. On the stone floor, the man he'd shot through the throat was already dead. The other moaned, pierced fully through the belly. Blood pooled under him. Shot through the kidney. Or maybe his aorta had been nicked. He'd be dead in minutes.

Gray felt no pity. He remembered the atrocities in Cologne and Milan. "Let's get the h.e.l.l out of here."

RAOUL YANKED the spear from his hand. Steel ground on bone. Fire lanced through his arm to his chest, emptying his breath in an angry hiss. Blood poured. He pulled his glove off and tied the neoprene around his palm, stanching and putting pressure on the wound. the spear from his hand. Steel ground on bone. Fire lanced through his arm to his chest, emptying his breath in an angry hiss. Blood poured. He pulled his glove off and tied the neoprene around his palm, stanching and putting pressure on the wound.

No broken bones.

Dr. Alberto Menardi had the medical background to patch him up.

Raoul stared across the room, illuminated by his flashlight on the floor. What the h.e.l.l was this place?

The gla.s.s pyramid, the water, the starry dome...

The last surviving man, Kurt, returned from the pa.s.sageway. He had gone to reconnoiter the entry pool. "They left," he reported. "Bernard and Pelz are dead."

Raoul finished his first aid and considered the next step. They would have to evacuate quickly. The Americans could send the Egyptian police straight here. The original plan had been to lure the local authorities away with the hydrofoil, leaving Raoul and his team to do a full investigation down here in secret, then make their escape in the clunky, nondescript houseboat.

Now matters had changed.

Cursing, Raoul bent to his pack on the ground. It held a digital camera. He would get a visual record, get it to Alberto, and hunt down the Americans.

It wasn't over yet.

As Raoul dug out his camera, his foot nudged the sling holding the incendiary grenade. A fold of sealcloth fell away. He ignored it until he noted a slight red glow on the neighboring wall.

f.u.c.k...

Dropping to a knee, he s.n.a.t.c.hed the bomb and rolled it digital face forward.

00:33.

He spotted the deep ding in the casing near the timer. Where the American b.a.s.t.a.r.d had struck it with the speargun.

00:32.

The impact must have shorted something, activated the timer.

Raoul tapped the abort code. Nothing.

He shoved up, the sudden motion making his hand ache.

"Go," he ordered Kurt.

The man's eyes were fixed on the bomb. But he glanced up, nodded, and ran for the tunnel.

Raoul retrieved his digital camera, took several rapid flash pictures, sealed the camera in a pocket, then strode away.

00:19.

He retreated back to the entry room. Kurt was already gone.

"Raoul!" a voice called to him.

He spun, startled, but it was only Seichan. The b.i.t.c.h was still trapped in the other tunnel.

Raoul waved to her. "It was nice doing business with you."

He pulled down his mask and dove cleanly into the pool. He snaked down the tunnel and found Kurt waiting beyond. The diver was examining two other bodies, two more of their men. Kurt shook his head.

A savage fury swelled inside Raoul.

Then a rumbling reverberation trembled through the water, sounding like a pa.s.sing freight train. The tunnel behind him flashed with a dull orange glow. He glanced back as it rapidly subsided. The trembling faded.

All gone.

Raoul closed his eyes. He had nothing to show. The Court would have his b.a.l.l.s...and probably more. He considered simply swimming away, disappearing. He had money stashed in three different Swiss bank accounts.

But he'd still be hunted.

Raoul's radio buzzed in his ear. "Seal One, this is Slow Tug."

He opened his eyes. It was his pick-up boat. "Seal One here," he responded leadenly.

"We report two additional pa.s.sengers aboard."

Raoul frowned. "Please clarify."

"A woman you know and an American."

Raoul clenched his wounded fist. Salt.w.a.ter burned with a cleansing agony. The fire spread through him.

Perfect.

3:22 P P.M.

GRAY STALKED across the length of the hotel suite, the one Monk had prebooked for the group. They were on the top floor of the Corniche Hotel, having arrived twenty-five minutes ago. The balcony windows overlooked the gla.s.s-and-steel sweep of the new Alexandria Library. The harbor beyond shone like dark blue ice. Boats and yachts seemed imbedded in place. Calm had quickly returned to the harbor. across the length of the hotel suite, the one Monk had prebooked for the group. They were on the top floor of the Corniche Hotel, having arrived twenty-five minutes ago. The balcony windows overlooked the gla.s.s-and-steel sweep of the new Alexandria Library. The harbor beyond shone like dark blue ice. Boats and yachts seemed imbedded in place. Calm had quickly returned to the harbor.

Vigor had watched the local news station and listened as an Egyptian newsman reported on a confrontation among a group of drug smugglers. The police had failed to subdue them. The Court had escaped.

Gray also knew the tomb had been destroyed. He and the others had used air tanks and two of the abandoned sleds to flee to the far side of the harbor, where they shed their gear under a pier. But while crossing, Gray had heard a m.u.f.fled thump through the water behind him.

The incendiary grenade.

Raoul must have blown it as he made his escape.

Once Gray, Kat, and Vigor had climbed out of the harbor, stripped to trunks and swimsuits, they had blended into a crowd of sunbathers and crossed a seaside park to their hotel. Gray had expected to find Monk and Rachel already here.

But there continued to be no sign of the pair.

No messages, no calls.

"Where could they be?" Vigor asked.

Gray turned to Kat. "And you saw them leave with one of the motorized sleds?"

She nodded, face taut with guilt. "I should've made sure..."

"And we'd both be dead," Gray said. "You made a choice."

He couldn't fault her.

Gray rubbed his eyes. "And she has Monk with her." He took a measure of comfort in that.

"What do we do?" Vigor asked.

Gray lowered his arms and stared out the window. "We have to a.s.sume they've been captured. We can't count on our security here lasting much longer. We'll have to evacuate."

"Leave?" Vigor said, standing up.

Gray felt the full weight of his responsibility. He faced Vigor, refusing to look away. "We have no choice."

4:05 P P.M.

RACHEL CLIMBED into the terry-cloth robe. She snugged it around her naked form while glaring at the cabin's other occupant. into the terry-cloth robe. She snugged it around her naked form while glaring at the cabin's other occupant.

The tall, muscular blonde woman ignored her and stepped to the cabin doorway. "All finished in here!" she called out to the pa.s.sageway.

The door opened to reveal a second woman, a twin to the first but auburn-haired. She entered and held the door for Raoul. The large man ducked through the hatch.

"She's clean," the blonde reported, peeling off a pair of latex gloves. She had performed a full body-cavity search on Rachel. "Nothing hidden."

Certainly not any longer, Rachel thought angrily. She turned her back slightly and knotted the robe's sash, tight, under her b.r.e.a.s.t.s. Her fingers trembled. She squeezed her fingers on the knot. Tears threatened, but she resisted, refusing to give Raoul the satisfaction.

Rachel stared out the tiny porthole, attempting to discern some landmark, something to pinpoint where she was. But all she saw was featureless sea.

She and Monk had been transferred from the houseboat. The ponderous craft had trundled out of the harbor, met a speedboat, and the pair were tied, hooded, and gagged by a foursome of thick-necked men. They were shoved into the smaller boat, then whisked away, bouncing over the waves. They had traveled for what seemed like half a day but was probably only a little more than an hour. Once the hood was tugged off her face, Rachel had found the sun had hardly moved across the sky.

In a small cove, hidden by a tumble of rock, the familiar hydrofoil waited like a midnight-blue shark. Men worked the ropes, preparing to ship out. She'd spotted Raoul at the stern, arms crossed over his chest.

Manhandled aboard, Rachel and Monk were separated.

Raoul had taken charge of Monk.

Rachel still didn't know what had become of her teammate. She had been hustled below deck to a cabin, guarded by the two Amazon women. The hydrofoil had immediately edged out of the cove and sped away, heading straight out into the Mediterranean.

That had been more than half an hour ago.

Raoul came forward and grabbed her upper arm. His other hand was bandaged. "Come with me." His fingers dug hard, to bone.

She allowed herself to be led out into the wood-paneled hallway, lit by sconces. The pa.s.sageway crossed from stern to bow, lined by doors to private cabins. There was only one steep stairway, more like a ladder, to the main deck.

Instead of going up, Raoul marched her toward the bow.

Raoul knocked on the door to the last cabin.

"Entri," a m.u.f.fled voice said.