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“Not important now,” said the woman as she took a moment to shine her light on the central apparatus, following the shaft upwards to where her more powerful light caught it merging with the precipitous ceiling. “I can’t believe it. This really exists.”

“Who are you?” Alexander asked, but then his eyes adjusted, and he saw her more clearly, not as a ghostly goddess of the abyss, but as flesh and blood. He had seen her before, on rare occasions when all the Keepers would gather. When Lydia and Uncle Robert would send him off to play (or learn) in the upper levels of the Alexandrian Library while they met and decided the fate of the recovered scrolls. “You’re—”

“Rashi Singh.” Caleb stood and bowed to her. “Keeper, this was too dangerous, you coming down here. And how did you even bypass the guards up there?”

There was a gleam in her dark eyes as she spoke. “Herodotus. The lost chapters. Deliberately cut from his Histories, preserved and sent away, according to his notes, because the priests at Thebes demanded that what he had seen below the Pyramids be kept secret.”

“I must not have seen that scroll,” Caleb said excitedly.

“You were too busy,” Rashi replied, “apparently with your own secrets.”

Caleb let that slide. “So Herodotus was down here. He had spoken of legends about a labyrinth.”

“Hints, myths. The priests allowed such talk.”

“So the lost chapter had a map?”

Rashi pulled out an iPhone and turned it so Caleb and Alexander could see the screen, where there was a scanned image, a hand-drawn pyramid, and a series of tunnels and chambers sketched beneath it. “It did, one that showed several other exits, including the one at the Cairo Museum.”

“Uncle Montross!” Alexander perked up.

“I believe he’s been captured,” Rashi said quietly. “But you knew that already. I assumed he was your decoy, and you hoped to find one of the other exits.”

“That was the plan,” Caleb said. “But first, this…” He motioned to the central chamber. “Did Herodotus mention what this was?”

Rashi shook her head and raised the phone, scrolling over on the screen. “It’s drawn here, and Herodotus relates in his scrolls that he has heard only half-whispered legends, rumors that it might have been a place of defense, a way for the king to send his divine wrath against any adversary, anywhere on the earth. Or in the sky.”

“A weapon,” Alexander whispered.

The Keeper stared at the chamber, moving closer and stooping so she could look inside. “Herodotus claims even the priests had lost all wisdom about its true function, and any clues had now been transformed into unrelated ritual and half-remembered purpose.”

Caleb nodded. “Then we’re done here. I assume you got in through the more distant entrance point. From what I had RV’d, it was northwest of the city, not far from the Nile.”

“Yes. But come along quickly. Before they brave the traps to search for you. And before they once again try to RV you—and perhaps see us.”

Alexander shifted. “Maybe they’ve already done it and they’re waiting by the exit like they were at the museum.”

“Maybe,” Caleb said. “But hopefully they didn’t ask the right questions and only got that hit for Xavier. But you’re right, they’ll be trying again soon. I just hope Nina’s preoccupied and her kids… I mean our kids… aren’t that focused.”

“We’ll have to take that risk,” Rashi said. “Now come on, I have a boat and a crew standing by to take you.”

“To where?” Alexander asked, giving one last look to the chamber, imagining himself in there, sitting at the controls, with godlike power dancing from his finger tips.

The Keeper smiled. “I have a feeling you’re going to need our help once more. We’re going to Alexandria.”

8.

They landed at the Bamian airstrip, one and a half miles from the town, and an armored convoy waited for them. A contingent of NATO forces, Marines and CIA operatives, almost forty men, armed to the teeth, gathered in their vehicles and took off as soon as Temple herded Orlando and Phoebe into the third jeep and gave the order.

Looking pale as he slipped into a flak jacket two sizes too large for him, Orlando tried to sound jovial. “Just like Saigon, eh Phoebe?”

“Knock it off with the Die Hard quotes,” she snapped as Temple helped her into her vest. “You weren’t even in diapers, much less junior high.”

“Yeah, knock it off. We’re losing the element of surprise.” Temple pointed through the front windshield. The huge sandstone cliffs loomed ahead, pale blue in the pre-dawn shadows. Venus kissed the peak’s crown, then Phoebe watched the morning star disappear in the sand and dust from the lead jeep’s spitting tires. And then the first glint of the sun’s rays touched the upper edges of the mountains.

Phoebe craned her neck to see better. The western niche in the cliff was achingly empty. And far to its right, the other one, smaller but just as lonely. Already plans were being made by several archaeological preservation societies to rebuild the statues, but the region still wasn’t safe. Not yet.

She looked ahead grimly and found her heart racing as they came to a sliding stop in a cloud of dust. To her left and right, the other members of the convoy were leaping out of their vehicles, rushing toward a cave entrance.

“Let’s go,” Temple said, slipping on a helmet and fixing Phoebe’s, switching on the maglite at its center.

Orlando held up his bare hands. “Where’s my gun?”

“You’re just an observer,” Temple said, kicking open the door and leading them out. “If we get to the point where you need to shoot something, we’re already dead.”

Orlando coughed as he jumped out with Phoebe, and the dust and the already stinging heat knocked him back. He staggered, but then Phoebe’s hand caught his, and he was running along with her and six NATO troops—or Marines—he couldn’t tell. Weapons drawn, scanning the cliff side, aiming at the darkened caves. Back at the lonely village tenements a few huddled forms appeared, watching with mild interest.

Somewhere a rooster crowed, and up above, a pair of eagles circled hungrily.

Phoebe paused, steadied herself and stared up at the giant cliff wall, the imposing deeply carved-out niche. And she closed her eyes. “Wait, I just want to see if I can—”

“Not now,” Temple barked. “Satisfy your curiosity later.”

“But, I can see who really built them!”

“Later.” He dragged her forward. “The Hummingbird’s running out of time.”

Orlando followed Phoebe’s wistful glance to the empty niche and the rubble of the once-proud statue. Then he chased after them. “I sure hope they haven’t RV’d us coming.”

As they entered the first cave and took up positions, lining the initial cavern and the first part of the descending passage, Temple said: “Not likely, but we’re on our guard. Hopefully the fact that you only recently RV’d the boy and got us our approach plan, that changed the future sufficiently.”

“I thought this Eye dude was just a shield,” Orlando said.

Temple shook his head. “He’s what we’d call a well-rounded bastard. RV skills just like yours. He was searching for the Hummingbird, and we believe she knew it. She and her family were originally from Kabul, but they fled. Came here while she shielded their movements. Found a cave and tried to stay awake and hidden as long as she could. Probably had her parents try to keep her alert and focused. Coffee beans, whatever, but in the end she couldn’t last. Dozed off and the Eye zeroed in on her.”

He pulled out an iPhone and Phoebe recognized Orlando’s map on it. A few others in the team had the same thing. Temple raised a fist, pointing ahead, and the lead team of four moved off silently, approaching the first of many mined-passageways Orlando had seen.