"Two are on the sled, outside. I had Taperell pack them, along with extra batteries."SMITH AWOKE. H HE WAS BACK IN HIS APARTMENT. 8:20 AM. H HE'D managed only three hours' sleep, but what an excellent day already. He was ten million dollars richer, thanks to Diane McCoy, and he'd made a point to Langford Ramsey that he wasn't someone to be taken lightly. managed only three hours' sleep, but what an excellent day already. He was ten million dollars richer, thanks to Diane McCoy, and he'd made a point to Langford Ramsey that he wasn't someone to be taken lightly.

He switched on the television and found a Charmed Charmed rerun. He loved that show. Something about three s.e.xy witches appealed to him. Naughty rerun. He loved that show. Something about three s.e.xy witches appealed to him. Naughty and and nice. Which also seemed best how to describe Diane McCoy. She'd coolly stood by during his confrontation with Ramsey, clearly a dissatisfied woman who wanted more-and apparently knew how to get it. nice. Which also seemed best how to describe Diane McCoy. She'd coolly stood by during his confrontation with Ramsey, clearly a dissatisfied woman who wanted more-and apparently knew how to get it.

He watched as Paige orbed from her house. What a trick. To dematerialize from one place, then rematerialize at another. He was somewhat like that. Slipping in, doing his job, then just as deftly slipping away.

His cell phone dinged. He recognized the number.

"And what may I do for you?" he asked Diane McCoy as he answered.

"A little more cleanup."

"Seems the day for that."

"The two from Asheville who almost got to Scofield. They work for me and know far too much. I wish we had time for finesse, but we don't. They have to be eliminated."

"And you have a way?"

"I know exactly how we're going to do it."DOROTHEA WATCHED AS C COTTON M MALONE DESCENDED INTO THE opening beneath the cabin. What had her grandfather found? She'd been apprehensive about coming, both for the risks and unwanted personal involvements, but she was glad now that she'd made the trip. Her pack rested a few feet away, the gun inside bringing her renewed comfort. She'd overreacted on the plane. Her sister knew how to play her, keep her off balance, rub the rawest nerve in her body, and she told herself to quit taking the bait. opening beneath the cabin. What had her grandfather found? She'd been apprehensive about coming, both for the risks and unwanted personal involvements, but she was glad now that she'd made the trip. Her pack rested a few feet away, the gun inside bringing her renewed comfort. She'd overreacted on the plane. Her sister knew how to play her, keep her off balance, rub the rawest nerve in her body, and she told herself to quit taking the bait.

Werner stood with Henn, near the hut's door. Christl sat at the radio desk.

Malone's light played across the darkness below.

"It's a tunnel," he called out. "Stretches toward the mountain."

"How far?" Christl asked.

"A long-a.s.s way."

Malone climbed back to the top. "I need to see something."

He emerged and walked outside. They followed.

"I wondered about the strips of snow and ice streaking the valley. Bare ground and rock everywhere, then a few rough paths crisscrossing here and there." He pointed toward the mountain and a seven-to eight-yard-wide path of snow that led from the hut to its base. "That's the tunnel's path. The air beneath is much cooler than the ground so the snow stays."

"How do you know that?" Werner asked.

"You'll see."HENN WAS THE FINAL ONE TO CLIMB DOWN THE LADDER. M MALONE watched as they all stood in amazement. The tunnel stretched ahead in a straight path, maybe twenty feet wide, its sides black volcanic rock, its ceiling a luminous blue, casting the subterranean path in a twilight-like glow. watched as they all stood in amazement. The tunnel stretched ahead in a straight path, maybe twenty feet wide, its sides black volcanic rock, its ceiling a luminous blue, casting the subterranean path in a twilight-like glow.

"This is incredible," Christl said.

"The ice cap formed a long time ago. But it had help." He pointed with his flashlight at what appeared to be boulders littering the floor, but they reflected back in a twinkly glow. "Some kind of quartz. They're everywhere. Look at their shapes. My guess is they once formed the ceiling, eventually fell away, and the ice remained in a natural arch."

Dorothea bent down and examined one of the chunks. Henn held the other flashlight and offered illumination. She joined a couple of them together: They fit like pieces in a puzzle. "You're right. They connect."

"Where does this lead?" Christl said.

"That's what we're about to find out."

The underground air was colder than outside. He checked his wrist thermometer. Minus twenty degrees Celsius. He converted the measurement. Four below Fahrenheit. Cold, but bearable.

He was right about length-the tunnel was a couple of hundred feet long and littered with the quartz rubble. Before descending they'd lugged their gear into the hut, including the two radios. They'd brought down their backpacks and he toted spare batteries for the flashlights, but the phosph.o.r.escent glow filtering down from the ceiling easily showed the way.

The glowing ceiling ended ahead where, he estimated, they'd found the mountain and a towering archway-black and red pillars framing its sides and supporting a tympanum filled with writing similar to the books. He shone his light and noted how the square columns tapered inward toward their base, the polished surfaces s.h.i.+mmering with an ethereal beauty.

"Seems we're at the right place," Christl said.

Two doors, perhaps twelve feet tall, were barred shut. He stepped close and caressed their exterior. "Bronze."

Bands of running spirals decorated the smooth surface. A metal bar spanned their width, held in place by thick clamps. Six heavy hinges opened toward them.

He grasped the bar and lifted it away.

Henn reached for the handle of one of the doors and swung it outward. Malone gripped the other, feeling like Dorothy entering Oz. The door's opposite side was adorned with the same decorative spirals and bronze clamps. The portal was wide enough for all of them to enter simultaneously.

What had appeared topside as a single mountain, draped in snow, was actually three peaks crowded together, the wide cleaves between them mortared with translucent blue ice-old, cold, hard, and free of snow. The inside had once been bricked with more of the quartz blocks, like a towering stained-gla.s.s window, the joints thick and jagged. A good portion of the inner wall had fallen, but enough remained for him to see that the construction feat had been impressive. More iridescent showers of blue-tinted rays rained down through three rising joints, like ma.s.sive light sticks, illuminating the cavernous s.p.a.ce in an unearthly way.

Before them lay a city.STEPHANIE HAD SPENT THE NIGHT AT E EDWIN D DAVIS' APARTMENT, a modest two-bedroom, two-bath affair in the Watergate towers. Canted walls, intersecting grids, varying ceiling heights, and plenty of curves and circles gave the rooms a cubist composition. The minimalist decor and walls the color of ripe pears created an unusual but not unpleasant feel. Davis told her the place had come furnished and he'd grown accustomed to its simplicity. a modest two-bedroom, two-bath affair in the Watergate towers. Canted walls, intersecting grids, varying ceiling heights, and plenty of curves and circles gave the rooms a cubist composition. The minimalist decor and walls the color of ripe pears created an unusual but not unpleasant feel. Davis told her the place had come furnished and he'd grown accustomed to its simplicity.

They'd returned with Daniels to Was.h.i.+ngton aboard Marine One Marine One and managed a few hours' sleep. She'd showered, and Davis had arranged for her to buy a change of clothes in one of the ground-floor boutiques. Pricey, but she'd had no choice. Her clothes had seen a lot of wear. She'd left Atlanta for Charlotte thinking the trip would take one day, at best. Now she was into day three, with no end in sight. Davis, too, had cleaned up, shaved, and dressed in navy corduroy trousers and a pale yellow oxford-cloth s.h.i.+rt. His face was still bruised from the fight but looked better. and managed a few hours' sleep. She'd showered, and Davis had arranged for her to buy a change of clothes in one of the ground-floor boutiques. Pricey, but she'd had no choice. Her clothes had seen a lot of wear. She'd left Atlanta for Charlotte thinking the trip would take one day, at best. Now she was into day three, with no end in sight. Davis, too, had cleaned up, shaved, and dressed in navy corduroy trousers and a pale yellow oxford-cloth s.h.i.+rt. His face was still bruised from the fight but looked better.

"We can get something to eat downstairs," he said. "I can't boil water, so I eat there a lot."

"The president is your friend," she felt compelled to say, knowing last night was on his mind. "He's taking a big chance for you."

He cracked a brittle smile. "I know. And now it's our turn."

She'd come to admire this man. He was nothing like she imagined. A bit too bold for his own good, but committed.

The house phone rang and Davis answered.

They'd been waiting.

In the apartment's hushed quiet she could hear the caller's every word.

"Edwin," Daniels said. "I have the location."

"Tell me," Davis said.

"You sure? Last chance. You might not come back from this one."

"Just tell me the location."

She cringed at his impatience, but Daniels was right. They might not come back.

Davis shut his eyes. "Just let us do this." He paused. "Sir."

"Write this down."

Davis grabbed a pen and pad from the counter and wrote quickly as Daniels provided the information.

"Careful, Edwin," Daniels said. "Lots of unknowns here."

"And women can't be trusted?"

The president chuckled. "I'm glad you said it and not me."

Davis hung up and stared at her, his eyes a kaleidoscope of emotions. "You need to stay here."

"Like h.e.l.l."

"You don't have to do this."

His cool a.s.sumption made her laugh. "Since when? You're the one who involved me."

"I was wrong."

She stepped close and gently caressed his bruised face. "You would have killed the wrong man in Asheville if I hadn't been there."

He grasped her wrist in a light embrace, his hand jittery. "Daniels is right. This is wholly unpredictable."

"h.e.l.l, Edwin, that's my whole life."

EIGHTY-SIX.

MALONE HAD SEEN SOME IMPRESSIVE THINGS. T THE T TEMPLAR TREASURE. The Library of Alexandria. The tomb of Alexander the Great. But none of those compared to what he now saw. The Library of Alexandria. The tomb of Alexander the Great. But none of those compared to what he now saw.

A processional way of irregularly shaped and polished slabs, lined on both sides with close-packed buildings of varying shapes and sizes, stretched ahead. Streets crisscrossed and intersected. The coc.o.o.n of rock that encased the settlement reached hundreds of feet into the air, the farthest wall maybe two football fields away. Even more impressive were the vertical rock faces rising like monoliths, polished smooth from ground to ceiling, etched with symbols, letters, and drawings. His flashlight revealed in the wall nearest him a melding of whitish yellow sandstone, greenish red shale, and black dolerite wedges. The effect was like that of marble-of standing inside a building rather than a mountain.

Pillars lined the street at defined intervals, and supported more of the quartz that gently glowed, like night-lights, investing everything with a dim mystery.

"Grandfather was right," Dorothea said. "It truly does exist."

"Yes, he was," Christl proclaimed, her voice rising. "Right about everything."

Malone heard the pride, felt her flush of excitement.

"All of you thought him a dreamer," Christl continued. "Mother berated him and Father. But they were visionaries. They were right about it all."

"This will will change everything," Dorothea said. change everything," Dorothea said.

"Of which you have no right to share," Christl said. "I always believed in their theories. It's why I pursued that line of study. You laughed at them. No one will laugh at Hermann Oberhauser anymore."

"How about we hold off on the accolades," Malone said, "and have a look."

He led the group forward, peering down the side streets as deep as their flashlight beams would allow. A strong foreboding rocked through him, but curiosity nudged him forward. He almost expected people to drift out from the buildings and greet them, but only their footsteps could be heard.

The buildings were a mixture of squares and rectangles with walls of cut stone, laid tight, polished smooth, held together with no mortar. The two flashlights revealed facades ablaze with color. Rust, brown, blue, yellow, white, gold. Low-pitched roofs produced pediments filled with elaborate spiral designs and more writing. Everything seemed tidy, practical, and well organized. The Antarctic freezer had preserved it all, though there was evidence of geological forces at work. Many of the quartz blocks in the towering light crevices had fallen. A few walls had collapsed, and the street contained buckles.

The thoroughfare drained into a circular plaza with more buildings lining its circ.u.mference, one a colonnaded temple-like structure with beautifully decorated square columns. In the center of the plaza stood the same unique symbol from the book cover, an enormous s.h.i.+ny red monument surrounded by tiers of stone benches. His eidetic memory instantly recalled what Einhard had written.

The Advisers stamped their approval to enactments with the symbol of righteousness. Its shape, carved into red stone, centers the city and watches over their annual deliberations. Atop is the sun, half ablaze in glory. Then the earth, as a simple circle, and the planets represented by a dot within the circle. The cross beneath them reminds of the land, while the sea waves below.

Square pillars dotted the plaza, maybe ten feet tall. Each crimson and topped with swirls and ornamentation. He counted eighteen. More writing had been etched onto their facades in tight rows.

Laws are enacted by the Advisers and inscribed upon the Righteous Columns in the center of the city so that all will know the provisions.

"Einhard was here," Christl said. She'd apparently realized the same thing. "It's as he described."

"Since you didn't share what he wrote with us," Dorothea said. "It's hard to know."

He watched as Christl ignored her sister and studied one of the columns.

They were walking on a collage of mosaics. Henn examined the pavement with his light. Animals, people, scenes of daily life-each alive with bright color. A few yards away stood a circular stone ledge, perhaps thirty feet in diameter and four feet tall. He walked toward it and gazed over. A black stone-lined hole opened in the earth.

The others approached.

He found a rock the size of a small melon and tossed it over the side. Ten seconds pa.s.sed. Twenty. Thirty. Forty. A minute. Still no sound of the bottom.

"That's a deep hole," he said.

Similar to the predicament he'd dug for himself.DOROTHEA DRIFTED AWAY FROM THE PIT. WERNER FOLLOWED AND whispered, "You okay?" whispered, "You okay?"

She nodded, again uncomfortable with his husbandly concern. "We need to finish this," she whispered. "Move it along."

He nodded.

Malone was studying one of the square red pillars.

Each breath she took parched her mouth.

Werner said to Malone, "Would it be faster if we divide into two groups and explore, then meet back here?"

Malone turned. "Not a bad idea. We have another five hours before we check in, and it's a long way back down that tunnel. We need to make that trek only once."

No one argued.

"So there's no fight among anyone," Malone said, "I'll take Dorothea. You and Christl go with Henn."

Dorothea glanced at Ulrich. His eyes told her that would be fine.