"Where are you?"

"Paris."

"Paris?"

"Yes, and this call never happened. I'll explain everything soon. I want you to send two of your most trusted people to meet with me in person. Don't come yourself ... you're being watched."

"Watched?"

"I'll call you with instructions tonight when you're safely away from there." The line suddenly went dead again. Leo looked around and found Colonel Demir sitting among his men, gazing over at the hill they had just retreated from. His men were strangely quiet. The easy banter usually traded back and forth between elite soldiers after the adrenaline rush of potential combat was absent, replaced instead with the quiet introspection that comes to those who've been exposed to something they can't explain.

"Colonel, could you have one of your choppers fly us to our boat in Antioch?"

"Of course, Cardinal." The colonel rose to his feet and brushed the dirt from his hands as he scanned the sky. "I have three birds in the air circling just out of sight."

"Good. Would you ask them to meet us at the edge of town?" Leo paused for a moment. "Oh, and Colonel, make sure your people stay away from that hill. Whatever's over there doesn't want to be disturbed, and I can promise you your weapons will be useless against it."

"Our weapons ... useless?" Leo could see the color draining from Demir's rugged face once again. "What the hell's over there, Cardinal?"

"I'm not sure yet, but I think it's safe to say the word hell is most appropriate. No matter what happens, you must keep your men away. Whatever's over there has probably been there for thousands of years, and it's very powerful. Somehow it sensed our presence, which means it's even more dangerous because there's an intelligence attached to it. We don't want to rush into anything until we know what we're facing."

"What about posting guards?"

"Just stay away for now, Colonel. It's not going anywhere. I'm not sure of the boundaries, but at this point I think it's safe to assume that anyone who gets too close to that hill could be in mortal danger."

With the sweat of fear and exertion staining the collar of his uniform, the colonel swiveled in his knee-high boots and began barking out orders to his men just as an exhausted Lev Wasserman finished climbing the last few feet to the top of the hill and collapsed in the tall grass.

"What now, Leo?"

"I just asked the colonel if he could spare one of his choppers to fly us back to the Carmela. Things are beginning to spin out of control here in Turkey. Our cover is blown and there are threats coming at us from every direction. I believe our best course of action is leave until we have a better handle on just what it is we're facing."

Reaching into his front shirt pocket, Lev produced a half-smoked cigar and lit it with a match. "I agree, Leo. I think I've had enough of this place for awhile."

As soon as the Turkish chopper landed on the dock next to the Carmela, the group onboard scrambled aboard the yacht to decide their next course of action. Crowded together with the rest of the team in the main salon, they all sat drinking coffee, transfixed by Leo's description of the supernatural events that had occurred in the hills outside Orencik.

Listening to his story, Ariella shivered. "Reminds me of the Negev Desert. Do you think we've stumbled onto another site similar to the one we found out there?"

"I don't think so," Leo said. "This place seems different somehow."

"How so?" John asked.

Leo set his cup on the table. "I'm not sure. It's just different. Think about when you were back on your parent's ranch in New Mexico, John. You said you used to ride up into the mountains and sit among the ruins of the ancient cliff dwellers. Did you notice any differences?"

"Yeah, all the time. Some were built by different tribes, and the construction was similar, but there were subtle differences in things like the shapes of doorways and the way they laid out the rooms."

"Exactly. That's the way I feel about the site in Orencik. It has a different feel about it from the site we discovered in the Negev Desert."

Walking into the salon, a young crewmember handed a satellite phone to Leo. "Excuse me, Cardinal, but there's a call for you. The caller said you were expecting it."

Leo stood with the phone and walked out onto the back deck. After a few moments, Leo returned and resumed his place on a couch facing the others. "That was Eduardo Acerbi. He's in Paris. He wants to meet with two members of the Bible Code Team in two days, and he specifically requested John and Ariella. He refused to give any other details over the phone except for one ... a meeting place."

"I think Alon and Moshe would be better choices," Lev said. "This is a field mission, and John and Ariella aren't ready yet."

"He said it has to be them or the meeting is off."

Lev rose from his seat, his face beet red. "Then it's off. Since when does Eduardo Acerbi dictate orders to us?"

"Please, Father," Ariella said. "Let us go. You said the same thing when it was my time to go into the Israeli Army for my mandatory service. I survived then and I'll survive this now. You have to let us fly from the nest sometime."

"She's right, sir," John said. "We're all equal members of the same team."

"Why did he specifically request them, Leo? Did it occur to anyone here that it could be a trap meant to lure us all out in the open for some kind of rescue effort if they become hostages?"

"He doesn't need to lure us out, Lev. He already knows where we are. He's afraid of something ... very afraid. I could hear it in his voice. He said he wouldn't be able to call us again, because after today his calls would no longer be secure ... even with his encrypted software. He specifically told me not to come because I was being watched, as are you. Apparently, the comings and goings of John and Ariella are of no concern to whoever is watching us for the very reason you mentioned earlier. They're not considered to be field agents."

"He said we're being watched?" Lev stood and began to pace. "Who the hell is watching us?"

"I have no idea," Leo said. "Eduardo hung up before I had a chance to ask."

The voice of Alex Pappas could be heard up on the bridge shouting orders to release the lines from the dock as the floor beneath their feet shuddered with the startup of the engines two decks below.

"We need to decide now, Lev," Leo continued. "Eduardo said he has to meet with John and Ariella in two days. After that all bets are off."

"Why the urgency?"

"Needless to say he was very cryptic, but he kept insisting that they had to arrive in Paris within the next forty-eight hours, because after that it won't be safe for them to fly."

"It won't be safe to fly! What on earth's going on? I still think I should send Alon and Moshe to meet him."

Leo gulped the remainder of his coffee. "I agree that Eduardo is a master of subterfuge, but I trust him ... and I have a feeling you do too, Lev."

"But we're talking about my only daughter, Cardinal."

"That's true, but the man just saved our lives, so I think he deserves some credit."

Lev walked out onto the back deck and lit a cigar as he watched the deckhands preparing to cast off. After a few moments of staring down at a dock full of people, any of which could be watching them, he walked back into the salon and poured a tall glass of wine. "Have Nava fire up the chopper so she can fly John and Ariella to Istanbul, but I want them to take the train instead of flying to Paris just in case. They should make it in time."

Lev peered through his cigar smoke at the surprised-looking faces staring back at him. "Come on, let's get moving."

As John and Ariella ran down to their stateroom to pack a few things for their trip to Paris, Lev nodded to Alon. "I need to speak with you in private."

As the two men walked to the railing outside on the main deck, the yacht eased away from the dock and entered the Mediterranean, where Alex Pappas shoved the throttles to full speed and headed for Israel. Up on the top deck, Nava could be seen preparing the chopper for its flight to Istanbul.

CHAPTER 14.

PARIS TWO DAYS LATER Paris in springtime. It seemed a cruel dichotomy to John and Ariella that the reason for their visit to the city of lights was rooted in darkness. After making the two day train trip from Istanbul into Paris, they were practically sleepwalking when they crowded into an early morning RER subway train for a quick trip into one of the most affluent sections of the city-the 7th arrondissement.

Exiting a crowded metro station filled with well-dressed Parisians, they were immediately assaulted by the sights and smells that drifted from the bustling Rue Cler street market. Continuing on without pausing to eat, they weaved their way along a crowded sidewalk to a wide intersection where five different streets came together in a blur of speeding Paris traffic that flowed with all the determination of a raging river. Across the street lay the famed Champ-de-Mars, the park-like setting that ran from the Seine all the way to the Ecole Militaire, the same French military school Napoleon had attended. From there they could see the lattice-like beams of the Eiffel Tower rising into a cloudless sky. It was a sight that made most newcomers stop and stare for a moment, no matter how worldly they tried to appear.

Standing on tiptoes, Ariella sniffed the warming air. She could see trees everywhere. They lined the boulevards and filled the parks, and spaced along a wide path that separated the cars from the pedestrians, little patches of earth allowed the trees to grow and thrive in an otherwise paved urban environment. Small green leaves had recently repopulated the barren, stick-like branches that had clattered against closed Parisian windows during the darkened months of winter. Their leafy birth had been a visible sign to the city that the seasons were a constant, and that warmth had triumphed over cold once again-a metaphor for life over death as the creeping, green-tinted shade covered Parisian streets everywhere, shielding them from a summer sun that would soon make an appearance and give rise to complaints of heat instead of cold.

Always the philosopher, John watched the mass of humanity walking beneath the verdant canopy, seemingly oblivious to all the new green life sprouting just above their heads. He wondered if trees and humans shared any of the same feelings. Like trees, did humans sometimes lose their leaves? Is that what depression and mental illness were all about? Did people sometimes lose their leaves until some invisible force lifted them from the all-enveloping darkness and welcomed them back into a world filled with promise and light?

Like most people, he knew there was some correlation between the dreariness of winter and the seeming euphoria of springtime. Like children released to the freedom of a playground, people flooded outdoors in search of uninhibited fun, preferably under a clear blue sky near a body of water where they could escape the buzzing heat of the sun while floating in the cooling embrace of a slow-moving stream.

"Where are we supposed to go?" Ariella asked, shaking John from his philosophic reverie.

"Lev said Eduardo would meet us somewhere on the grounds of the Palais de Chaillot. We're to go there and wait. Eduardo will find us."

Ariella stopped to brush the long brown hair out of her eyes. "You do realize that we don't even know what he looks like. The only pictures we have of him are over forty years old. We should have brought Alon. At least he's seen him recently."

"Like Lev said, Eduardo will find us. Come on, Ariella. We've only got thirty minutes to get there. After that all bets are off, and I don't want to face your father if we miss him."

The two began jogging through the park, crossing gravelly areas crowded with tour buses and souvenir stands, until finally they found themselves passing beneath one of the most famous landmarks in the world. Looking up, the immense size of the Eiffel Tower was almost shocking in its scale as it soared over their heads, but they had little time to admire its beauty as they crossed the Seine on the Pont d'Iena, until finally they found themselves standing in front of the Trocadero fountains, staring up at a massive curved building situated at the top of a small hill surrounded by magnificent gardens.

"Is this it?" Ariella asked.

"Yes," John said. "That large building is the Palais de Chaillot. There's a famous terrace up there that would make a perfect place for him to spot us, plus it will give us a better view of the area."

The two took off walking at a fast pace toward the curved wings of a massive neoclassical building constructed for the 1937 World's Fair. From the wide expanse of the terrace, one could see over the Trocadero gardens to the Eiffel Tower just across the river. Countless photographs of the tower had been taken from this storied terrace, and John had been right. It provided the best spot for them to see and be seen.

Looking out over the city, John felt himself being jostled by a large group of Japanese tourists crowding forward to snap pictures of the tower from this perspective. To those uninitiated in the Japanese method of moving en masse through a crowd, there was nothing offensive in their actions. The constant jostling and bumping was a way of life in Japan. Over time they had developed their own special rules of etiquette for such situations; an etiquette that seemed rude to westerners who always took offense at the bumping and pushing encountered in a small land with little space. On a visit to Tokyo once, John had been waiting for a train, and as the doors opened he found himself being pushed from behind into the waiting car. To the Japanese, this pushing was actually considered polite and helpful, and they were mystified at why American tourists always became so indignant after receiving a gentle push meant to help.

After the Japanese group had passed, John and Ariella found themselves standing alone, looking all around for a man neither of them had ever met. The time for their meeting had now come and gone and no one appeared interested in the young couple standing all alone on the terrace.

"What's that?" Ariella asked.

"What's what?"

"There's a metal tube sticking out of your back pocket." Ariella reached down and pulled what appeared to be a metal cigar tube from John's pocket. "Smoking cigars now?"

"That's not mine. Let's see it." Ariella handed the tube to John, and as they both stared at it, it finally dawned on them that someone had just shoved the object into John's pocket while they had been distracted by the wave of Japanese tourists."

"Open it," Ariella said.

"What if it's a bomb?"

"Really ... a bomb, John?"

Looking sheepish, John unscrewed the end of the metal tube and withdrew a piece of paper.

"Well ... what does it say?"

"It looks like Eduardo is leading us to a different location. I should have figured that he would want to see if we were being followed before he showed himself."

"Where are we going?"

"Pere Lachaise."

"I don't speak French, John ... remember?"

"It's an old cemetery in the 20tharrondissement."

"A cemetery?"

"Yes. It's actually one of the most visited cemeteries in the world. Literally hundreds of famous people are buried there. Chopin, Oscar Wilde, Gertrude Stein, Alice B. Toklas ... Moliere; it's even the last resting place for Jim Morrison of the Doors."

"I still don't understand. Why has he chosen a cemetery?"

"I have no idea, Ariella, but we need to get going. He's given us only forty-five minutes to get there."

Once again, the two were running-running down the stairs of the nearest metro station to connect with a subway car that would whiz them to their destination. Inside the station, John purchased a book of ten tickets before they headed out onto the platform. Now, with nothing to do, the waiting was the hardest part. Ariella remained calm, looking up and down the tracks, while John began to fidget, looking at all the faces around them for anyone who seemed unusually interested in their presence.

The muted roar from a dark tunnel heralded the arrival of a train, and in the whoosh of air that preceded its arrival, John strained to make out the number. It was the number 12, one of the trains that traveled line number 2 to the Philippe Auguste metro station that exited next to the cemetery's main entrance. As soon as the train stopped, John and Ariella hopped onboard, followed by a hunched man wearing a light suit and a hat pulled low over his forehead. Taking their seats, John's eyes followed the man as he passed by and took a seat a few rows down. He seemed innocent enough, and because of his obvious age, he was certainly no threat. But there was something in his lingering glance that had set alarm bells off in John's head.

"What are you thinking, John?" Ariella asked. "You have that look."

"The man in the light suit who just walked by and sat down behind us. Can you tell me what he's doing?"

Pulling a nail file from her purse, Ariella dropped it on the floor and bent down to pick it up. As soon as she had it in her grasp, she looked up quickly and saw that the man was staring directly at her. Her sudden glance had caught him by surprise, causing his head to swivel around so quickly that it was obvious he didn't want her to see he was looking in their direction.

"Well?"

"He's watching us."

"Let's move to another car."

Slowly, the two rose from their seats, making a show of stretching and looking around, as if they were unsure of where they wanted to be. Instead of walking away from the man, John decided to walk past him in an effort to make it appear they weren't trying to avoid him. With the train rocking back and forth, they inched their way past as the man feigned indifference by staring out the window. Maybe he really wasn't interested in them, but the stakes made it impossible for them to take that chance, especially now that they were so close to the man they had come all this way to meet.

After stepping into the next car, they stopped and peered through the smudged windows of the sliding doors between cars, waiting for the man to make his move. He remained seated, never turning his head as he peered through the window at the flashing tunnel lights.

"He doesn't seem too interested in us now," Ariella said.

"We won't know for sure until we stop. If he follows us then we'll have to shake him somehow before we meet up with Eduardo."

Accompanied by the screech of brakes, the train slowed as it entered the brightly lit subway station across the street from the cemetery. As soon as the train stopped and the doors whooshed open, John took a final look back into the next car. The man was gone!

Surprised by his sudden disappearance, they waited as long as they could before stepping out onto the platform just as the doors slid shut behind them. Where had the man gone?