TWENTY
As she traversed the wooded path leading up the hill to La Alhambra, Annie wondered how many more times she would have to make this journey.
The magnificent palace, built by Berber conquerors in the 10th century, the very place from which Isabella and Ferdinand had, at the end of the 15th century, set in motion the discovery, exploration and exploitation of the Americas, was like something from a fairy tale. The architecture was stunning, with arches and arabesques that looked like they belonged in a tale from the Arabian Nights. The complex, situated on a hilltop overlooking the city of Granada, had endured the tides of history, sometimes falling into disrepair only to be restored again like the treasure it was. Though it was no longer a nexus of historic events, it remained fixed in the human consciousness as a place of great beauty. It wasn’t at all surprising that the Spaniard, Fontaneda, had brought the Seed here.
That was what Hauser had told her — told them all. A child of the southern hemisphere, Annie didn’t really know much about European history.
It was the start of their third full day in Granada. Hauser had somehow arranged to have the entire complex closed for “urgent renovations,” and brought in a team of experts — art historians, architectural consultants, sonar imaging technicians — and truckloads of equipment to survey every square inch of the historic palace. Thus far, the search had yielded no results, and today promised to be more of the same.
Not that she was involved in the actual searching. Hauser brought her along for one simple reason; he wanted to keep her where he could see her. It was a constant reminder that she was his prisoner, not his guest.
Although surrounded by people, she felt completely alone. She had her own room at the nearby Alhambra Palace hotel, a luxurious suite with a gorgeous view of the city from the balcony, but someone was always with her — either one of Hauser’s men who worked rotating shifts as her minders, or the man himself. Her father was involved in the search effort, but while she saw him daily, she wasn’t permitted to talk to him.
Not that she had any particular inclination to do so.
She had figured out a few things. Hauser, and evidently Elisabeth as well, were part of the group that Dr. Leeds had told them about in Central Park: Prometheus, a cabal of intellectuals bent on hiding away the mysteries of the world; mysteries like the Fountain of Youth and the Tree of Life.
Why?
That was still a bit unclear. Maybe they didn’t trust what humanity might do with such knowledge and power—who can blame them? — or maybe they just wanted it all for themselves.
What really troubled her was the fact that her father was now working with them. She had worked out that Alex Higgins blamed Prometheus for the deaths of his teammates in Iraq during the mission in which he first met Kismet; how else to explain his willingness to throw in his lot with the psychopathic Dr. Leeds? But then he had switched again, and joined forces with the very people who dealt that blow in the first place.
She knew why of course. He was with Elisabeth now, Annie was almost certain of it. She had seen them together once or twice, walking across a courtyard or examining the magnificent arabesque and arches that seemed to be everywhere, and it hadn’t been too hard to draw that conclusion. Elisabeth might have been faking it; she was a professional actor after all, but Annie could read her dad like a book.
She wanted to scream at him—Finally got what you wanted, did you? Hope it’s worth the price you paid—but she didn’t. It hurt too much to think about his betrayal and just how costly the journey had been.
Her minder this morning was Karl, but that was the extent of her knowledge about the burly man who walked a few steps behind her. They passed through the Puerta de las Granadas and made the climb up to the Puerta de la Justicia, the original 14th century entrance to the palace.
Hauser was there already, addressing a group of searchers that included her father and Elisabeth Neuell. “Today we’re going to have to expand the search into the Alcazaba. We’ll start with radar and acoustic imaging. We’ve got to think like this Spaniard, put ourselves in his shoes. When was he here? What places would he have had access to? Was he the kind of person who would hide it in a place of importance, or in the most inconspicuous location he could find?”
Annie tuned him out. She didn’t know whether to hope for their success or continued failure. How long would they keep looking? How long would they keep her hostage? She wondered what Alex’s defection would mean for her when the search ended, successfully or otherwise? What had Hauser said back in the Fountain cavern? Something about loose ends; was that all she was?
A sudden murmur from the group brought her attention back to Hauser, who now stood in silent consternation as one of his men whispered in his ear. His blond head came up suddenly, and his one good eye focused directly on her. Then, without another word, he strode over to her, grabbed her arm possessively, and began dragging her along as he strode into the heart of the complex.
Something was happening, something big. Annie didn’t get the sense that Hauser was angry, but he was definitely anxious about something. She offered no resistance, quickening her steps to keep up with him as they entered the Charles V palace, which housed the museum, but as they moved briskly through a maze of interior halls and corridors, some of which were an unpleasant reminder of the caverns in Florida, she felt her own anxiety mounting. Then, she saw daylight again, streaming through the arched colonnade leading to the Patio de los Leones—the Court of the Lions.
Another of Hauser’s men — not a technician, but one of the security team that had been with them since Florida — approached and quickly briefed him, using the same strange language that she had first heard in the Fountain cavern, and many times since, whenever they wanted to keep a secret from her.
Hauser nodded, and then pulled Annie around in front of himself, positioning her like a human shield. “Move. But don’t do anything stupid.”
She complied, letting him guide her through the colonnade and out into the open courtyard, with its majestic centerpiece, an alabaster fountain resting on the back of twelve white marble lions. The fountain had been the very first place Hauser had looked for the Seed.
Several members of the security team were deployed throughout the plaza. Their guns were drawn, but pointed at the ground in anticipation of further orders.
Then Annie’s heart lurched in her chest and she almost stumbled. In the center of the courtyard, standing patiently right in front of lions was Nick Kismet.
He looked consider better than he had when she’d last seen him. His wild hair was shorter now, though very full and falling over his ears, and he still wore a beard that looked just a little on the scraggly side, but he was otherwise the very picture of health. Annie actually thought he looked about ten years younger.
Of course he does.
Kismet smiled at her then turned his stare to Hauser. “Hiding behind a woman, Ulrich?” He made a clucking noise of disapproval. “But I suppose that’s always been your style. Let others do the work, take the risks — I think that’s called ‘cowardice.’”
Hauser tightened his grip on Annie’s arm, evoking a low whimper, but he ignored the taunt. “It’s not here, is it? It was never here. You lied to me.”