Flinders swung around to Skarda- Then an earsplitting boom tore a scream from her throat and the ceiling exploded in a maelstrom of shattered marble.

___.

With the sound of Flinders' scream in her ear, April was slammed to the hard floor, instantly rolling to her right as great slabs of marble and limestone crashed down around her. Red-hot pain seared her stomach just below her ribcage. Somehow she managed to hang onto her lamp. It speared through the dust-hazed darkness.

Caught completely off guard, Jaz and her two men had disappeared in a cataclysm of smoking rubble, sending great plumes of dust shooting toward the ceiling.

Half-dragging Flinders, Skarda angled to his right, helping April to her feet. Blood soaked her shirt. With a wince she yanked a sliver of marble from her stomach and threw it aside.

A second explosion shook the ceiling, followed by a third. A pillar toppled and smashed, sending drums of broken marble hurtling across the floor. One of Jaz's men had clawed his way out of the pile of rubble and now was staggering forward, only to be crushed under the inexorable onslaught of the rolling column. A gory red stain gushed over the floor.

Running, stumbling, Skarda glanced up, seeing a hole blasted through the vaulted ceiling and the solid bedrock above it to reveal the star-filled sky. And framed by the hole, the ugly silhouette of the Mi-25, its rotors whipping out a blur of motion. Black lines snaked down. Men in red jumpsuits rappelled into the chamber.

"At least they're consistent," April said.

Flinders turned her head back to the statue, her legs like rubber sticks. She was dead weight.

Skarda tightened his grip on her arm. "Come on! We have to get out of here!"

Lurching through the doorway, they fled down the hallway toward the staircase.

___.

Twenty minutes later, in clean air of the desert, they crouched in the shadow of the Sphinx's hind haunch, watching the strobing lights of police cars and fire engines. The wail of sirens fractured the night and spotlights raked over the bulk of the ancient monument.

The Mi-25 had disappeared.

Tears rolled down Flinders' cheeks as she stared at the Sphinx. Where once its left paw had gripped the desert sand for centuries now a smoking hole gaped, the limestone blocks blown to rubble. A quarter of the famous face had been wiped away.

"They just want to find the Tablet," she whispered. "They don't care what they destroy."

Skarda turned to catch April's eye.

Whatever was happening, he had the gut feeling they were quickly running out of time.

___.

Below the desert floor rubble shifted, sending broken stone cascading in a mini-landslide. Hacking out a mouthful of dust, Jaz power-lifted the dead man from her chest and face, his body broken and twisted from the impact of the falling stones. Jagged white bones protruded from his mangled flesh. But he had served his purpose. When the ceiling blew apart she'd grabbed him and hugged him on top of her like a shield.

Climbing to her feet, she shook the debris off her clothing. She'd heard the beat of the helicopter's rotor. She listened to the invaders come and leave.

Under the fallen barrel of a broken pillar she spotted the arm of her second man flung out on top of a pool of coagulating blood, gleaming slickly in the starlight.

In the darkness she grinned. She knew where she had to go.

THIRTY-TWO.

Vatican City, Italy AT the Porta Sant' Anna April braked the rented BMW in front of the bronze gate and said "Archivio" to the stern-faced Swiss Guard who challenged them. She flashed the scholar's pa.s.ses Candy Man had arranged for them, scowling in suspicion as he inspected the doc.u.ments line-by-line. Then he pointed ahead and waved them forward. On their left, past the squat round tower of Nicholas V, Skarda could see the towering walls of the Vatican Palace and the dome of St. Peter's Basilica, rising above the tightly-packed complex of buildings. A few feet later, they were stopped by a policeman, who demanded to see the same pa.s.ses.

Following the course of the street, they entered a wide gateway that opened onto the Cortile de Belvedere, the courtyard of the complex that housed the Vatican museums and the Library of the Holy See. They parked beyond the main entrance to the Vatican Library, then climbed out and walked to the nondescript entrance of the Secret Archives, where another of the Swiss Guards examined their pa.s.ses.

Inside, past a modern gla.s.s door, two men in business suits sat behind a desk. Again they showed the pa.s.ses. One of the men nodded, and, without a word, motioned for them to follow him. Pa.s.sing through a metal detector, the man led them into a library whose white walls rose up in a series of arches above rows of gleaming nineteenth-century study desks, now about half-occupied by scholars from all over the world.

Ordinarily, a scholar's access was stopped here: library rules allowed for requested books and folios to be brought to this study room while the requesting scholar waited. But Candy Man had hacked into the Vatican's computer system to allow them full access. If their guide thought anything was unusual about their freedom, he wasn't showing it on his face.

Moving noiselessly through the study room, he led them to a rickety-looking elevator, where they descended to the lowest level, the concrete-walled bunker of the Archivum Secretum Vaticanum. When the doors wheezed open, the man allowed them to pa.s.s by him, making no move to step out.

"You have one hour," he intoned ominously in a thick Italian accent. For the first time emotion flickered across his face. He wasn't happy about leaving these strangers here unattended.

The doors closed, stranding them.Without windows, it was dark, like an unlit, cavernous warehouse. Flinders led the way, moving down a constricted corridor between ochre-colored floor-to-ceiling steel bookcases packed tightly with bound volumes. But as she walked, overhead lights from the low ceiling winked on in concert with her steps.

"This place is amazing," she said. "There are fifty-two miles of doc.u.ments here, called fondi, most uncatalogued, going back to the eighth century CE with the Liber Diurnus Romanorum Pontific.u.m. Think of all the centuries of this stuff-state and diplomatic papers, correspondence, records of trials, papal bulls, and archives of private families! There are original letters from Michaelangelo, Henry VIII's plea for an annulment of his marriage to Catherine of Aragon, letters about the trials of the Knights Templar-incredible! In 1810, Napoleon raided the Vatican and had everything transported to Paris in fifty wagons, but it was returned about five years later."

"Maybe he took the Tablet," April suggested.

Flinders turned to her, shooting her a curious look. "I never thought of that! But it wouldn't surprise me. Let's put it on the list!"

They moved through the pools of light, with darkness ahead and behind, as each clicked on and off as they pa.s.sed. Ahead the corridor ended. Candy Man had provided the layout of the Archives at this point, which both Skarda and April had committed to memory, since neither cell phones or laptops were allowed inside the library.

At the end of the corridor a black iron gate was closed on a ma.s.sive wooden door, equally painted black. A heavy padlock secured the gate. Dropping to her knees, April worked a cylinder of plastic from the tip of her bootlace.

An improvised lockpick.

Thirty seconds later the lock clicked open. She swung open the gate, going to work on the next lock that secured the wooden door. Finished, she pushed it open on creaking hinges, revealing a black rectangle of darkness.

Turning to Skarda, she frowned. "It's too easy," she said. "If they're hiding something important, why leave it so unsecured?"

He smiled. "We're in the bas.e.m.e.nt of the Vatican," he answered. "n.o.body gets in here. It's just that we have pa.s.ses supposedly issued by a Cardinal Bishop."

But she shook her head, not liking it. Her intuition was jangling.

April entered first, followed by Flinders and Skarda. When his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he saw that they were in a rectangular room with a steel vault at the far end. On the right side of the vault was a modern keypad entry system.

April strode confidently forward, quickly punching in a code. Candy Man had hacked into the manufacturer's files and had accessed the code the Vatican stored there in case of emergency: "0 ANNO DOMINI".

Year Zero A.D.

A soft electrical click came to their ears and April pulled the vault door open, making no sound. Skarda saw a small chamber, about the size of a shower stall, with a doorway at its far end. A faint hum came to his ears.

"Remote evaporator coils and dehumidifiers," April said. "They're keeping the temperature and humidity constant in there. Probably low oxygen levels, too." For a moment she considered, then said, "You two go in. I'm going to stay out here. Just in case we have visitors."

Flinders shot a nervous glance at Skarda. He threw her a grin and strode forward, opening the door to a faint hiss of air. Inside, the vault room widened considerably, its light gray steel walls running straight back and disappearing into the gloom. The air was bone-dry and chilled. Immediately he sucked in a sharp breath as his lungs reacted to the lowered oxygen level.

"We're going to have to work fast," he told Flinders. "Not enough air in here."

Running her hand along the wall, she found a light switch and flicked on a single bulb hanging from the ceiling. Now Skarda could see that the vault ran back about fifty feet, with metal shelves lining the walls on three sides from floor to ceiling, crammed with stacks of leather-bound books, papyrus rolls in silicone sleeves, vases, jewels, and marble statues. A yellow gleam caught his eye. He moved toward a spot on the opposite wall where gold bars lay stacked in a pile of ten by twenty. Peering closer, he saw they were marked with numbers and swastikas. n.a.z.i gold.

But Flinders raced to the nearer shelves. "Oh, my G.o.d!" she exclaimed, pointing at a huge, seven-branched candelabrum fashioned out of gold. "That has to be the menorah that t.i.tus looted from the Second Temple when he destroyed Jersusalem in 70 CE!"

Skarda let his eyes roam, doing a quick inventory. "I'm not seeing anything that looks like a tablet."

Flinders didn't answer. Her eyes had glazed over with excitement. She went scurrying around the vault, peering at the ma.n.u.scripts, one after another. "I can't believe these books!" she called out, stopping in front of a stack of what looked like notebooks made out of leaves of thick parchment. "This is a copy of Porphyry's Adversus Christianos, a third-century CE work that proved the direct parallels between Christian mythology and the ancient pagan mystery schools. Because they couldn't refute his arguments, the Church condemned them as being inspired by the Devil and supposedly burned all existing copies." She found another volume. "And Basilides, a Gnostic philosopher, also banned and destroyed by the Church. And Arius' Thalia, condemned as heresy and destroyed after the Council of Nicaea declared that their version of Christianity was the only correct one."

She whirled around to face Skarda. "Have you got any idea how important these works are? They should be made available to the scholarship community."

Skarda felt light-headed. He was finding it harder to breathe. "We need to find the Tablet, if it's here, and get out of here."

Lost in her own private world, she nodded absentmindedly. Moving to another section of shelving, she unrolled a papyrus scroll and gasped. "I can't believe this!" Her eyes were wide and glazed when she turned to meet Skarda's gaze. "This is an early version of the gospel attributed to Mark! It's substantially different from the version sanctified by the Church! We have to take this with us!"

"Leave it," Skarda said, his voice firm. "It's not what we're here for."

From the hallway, April called out in a hushed voice. "Park!"

Stepping through the exit door, he found her standing over the body of a Swiss Guard, his red, blue, and yellow doublet in striking contrast to the drab surroundings of the archives. A long halberd lay across his chest, moving up and down with his regular breathing. Skarda knew that the Guards didn't normally carry guns, but only ceremonial weapons.

"I just put him out," she said. She pointed at a communicator on the floor next to his right arm. "But he's probably already called for help. We need to get out of here now. Did you find it?"

He shook his head. "I don't think it's here."

"Okay. Let's move!"

Racing back into the vault, he grabbed Flinders, hauling her out. Quickly he secured the doors.

They ran for the elevator.

___.

When the elevator doors cranked open, two Guardsmen stood waiting for them, their halberds poised for attack.

The shorter of the two charged forward, lowering his pike, his face twisting with menace. Lunging forward, April grabbed the shaft, using the man's forward momentum to drag him off his feet. His forehead slammed into the frame of the elevator car and he flopped backward, unconscious.

The second guard lunged, the point of his halberd aimed at Skarda's stomach. Pivoting, Skarda grabbed for the pole, but missed. The man had antic.i.p.ated the move and jerked the weapon to his left. Flinders cried out as Skarda stumbled. But the momentum of his lunge made the guard unstable on his feet and both men slammed into each other in a tangle of arms and legs.

With a quick step forward, April reached low and smashed her fist against the Guard's jaw.

He was out.

On their feet, they sprinted for the reception area and the outer door. The men in suits gaped. Shouts rang out behind them. April burst through the door, seeing a Jeep idling at the curb. The Vatican State logo was painted on the side.

She vaulted into the driver's seat with Skarda next to her and Flinders in the rear. With a squeal of tires they took off as three more Guardsmen erupted from the Archives entrance.

Barreling down the Via Borgo Pio, April screeched into a right turn on the Via di Porta Angelica. Straight ahead of them the northern wing of Bernini's colossal colonnade encircled St. Peter's Square.

"We can ditch the Jeep in St. Peter's and get lost in the crowd!" April shouted. The wind rushing through the open vehicle tore her words away.

But Skarda was looking at the sky. He tapped her shoulder and pointed upward. She leaned forward, seeing two Mi-25's speeding toward them past a backdrop of cirrus clouds.

"Great," she muttered.

Glancing behind him, Skarda saw another Vatican Jeep crammed with Swiss Guards closing the gap. "Company!" he shouted.

Wrenching the wheel, April cut onto the Piazza Pio XII, the road that hugs the great circle of the Square, punching her foot down on the gas pedal. A truck blasted its horn, veering, and a group of women in shorts and halter tops scattered, yelling curses in Italian. On their left a parking area opened from the street. Downshifting, she ran the Jeep into a slot and they hopped out, running for the safety of the Square.

___.

Tourists from all over the world thronged St. Peter's Square, mingling with priests, nuns, and Church officials in a swarming, ever-shifting sea of humanity. Skarda looked up as they merged with the crowd. The two attack helicopters were clattering closer. Beside him, a middle-aged man also turned his face to the sky, then grabbed his wife's arm, steering her toward the shelter of the colonnade, his face tight with concern.

Twisting around, Skarda looked back the way they had come. The pursuing Jeep had pulled up at the entrance to the Square and the Guardsmen were fanning out, moving into the crowd, looking for them. By now they had reached the obelisk, the eighty-three-foot-tall four-sided red granite pillar transported to Rome from Alexandria in 37 CE by the emperor Caligula and moved to its present location by Pope Sixtus V.

Flinders looked up at the sky, shielding her eyes with her right hand. "What are they doing?"

The helicopters were swooping down lower over the Square, casting flitting black shadows over the crowd like gigantic birds of prey. A nervous muttering broke out, turning to shouts and screams as the choppers hurtled lower, whipping up a hurricane of rotor wash. People broke apart, running toward the safety of the colonnades on either side.

April was marking the progress of the Guards, who were still wading through the ma.s.s of tourists at the east end of the Square. Now they stopped and looked up, frowning and talking into their communicators.

The nose of the lead Mi-25 dipped and lowered. With a blast of white smoke a rocket streaked from the starboard pod, exploding in an area cleared of people. Chunks of cobblestones and travertine shot into the air and rained down. A woman screamed, shockingly loud. Tourists broke into a run, stumbling over each other, their faces contorted in panic, eddying around Skarda. On his right, one of the Guards had found a pistol and was pushing his way through the crowd, uselessly firing at the helicopters, the slugs bouncing off their thick armor plating.

On the fuselage of the nearest Mi-25 a door slid back. Three men in red rappelled down, their boots thudding against the cobblestones. Arcing their Ak-47's into firing position, they faced the fleeing crowd. A wide circle of empty s.p.a.ce cleared around them as people broke and ran in terror.

A Guardsman broke through the throng, shouting in Italian. One of gunmen swung around in a tight spin, his finger tightening on the trigger.

The man stopped in his tracks.

From the second Mi-25, Pakosz and Macek rappelled down, followed by Zandak. The men ran to the base of the obelisk, pressing blocks of yellow-colored plastic explosive into place.

"CL-20," April said. "Nitramine explosive. A lot more powerful than C-4."

More screams cut through the panicked babble of the crowd. The Guardsman with the pistol had worked himself to the edge of a knot of fleeing tourists. With a harsh cry he launched himself forward, running at the nearest commando, shouting in Italian. Macek whipped around, cutting him in half with a burst of slugs.

Screams filled the air.

When the charges had been set the men backed away, raising their rifles high and firing warning shots. By now the panicked crowd, streaming for the safety of the colonnades, had cleared a wider oval around the obelisk. Still, people swirled around Skarda, knocking against him.

A new sound rose to his ears. He looked to his left, seeing a dark gray helicopter approaching fast from the west.

"A109M," April said. "Carabinieri."

She meant the Arma dei Carabinieri, the Italian national military police.

Zandak glanced at the sky, but seemed unconcerned by the intruder. Taking a few more steps back, he pressed the b.u.t.ton on a remote detonator and the CL-20 exploded.

Skarda reacted instantly, dragging Flinders to the ground, covering her with his body and clapping his hands over his ears. A few feet away April landed on her belly, throwing her arms around her head. This close to the obelisk, the explosion was deafening. Chunks of red granite rained down on them, thumping against their unprotected backs.