Marie hastened away, oblivious to the human form concealed in the shadows that had listened to every word of their conversation.
Saeed and his brother had remained concealed until well after the fall of night, long after Kismet and the others had withdrawn from the temple site. The hasty retreat was disturbing, for while he knew that the UNESCO team would find nothing of consequence in the ruins, he had expected them to invest several days, perhaps even weeks, before admitting defeat. The swiftness with which they concluded their operation made him wonder what Kismet had discovered, but he dared not contact his informant for fear of exposing her presence. So, he and Farid waited in the sweltering heat as the sun finished its journey across the sky.
They had only begun the trek back to Farid’s vehicle when the satellite phone receiver trilled, signaling the call he had been so eagerly awaiting. He answered immediately. “Yes?”
“Our mutual friend is very efficient. He has discovered untapped reservoirs of ingenuity.”
The double-speak wasn’t too hard to unriddle. ‘Reservoir’ surely referred to the hidden lift in the swimming pool. Saeed had known of it since its creation, but he was one of a privileged few. That Kismet had so quickly located it verged on the miraculous. “I understand. When you follow him in his voyage of discovery, we will no longer be able to communicate in this way. However, I will meet you along the way.”
“You know of another way in?”
“I do. But that need not concern you. Do nothing to arouse suspicion. This matter will soon be resolved.” He ended the conversation with typical abruptness then turned to Farid. “Kismet has found the tunnel entrance.”
“What? You mean it is inside the palace?”
“Fear not, my brother. That is but one entrance of many. When he begins to comprehend what he has found, he will make his way to the ultimate destination. That is where we will meet him. Now however, it is time to gather your men. We have a long journey ahead of us.”
As the concealed elevator bearing Nick Kismet and his companions slowly receded into the unseen depths, Rebecca emerged from her hiding place. Her simple civilian attire had been replaced by a utilitarian black combat uniform and her mane of fiery copper was concealed beneath a matching knit watch cap. Almost invisible against her dark clothing was a compact Steyr TMP machine-pistol.
She moved stealthily to the balcony rail, unsure of how long it would take to remove the descending group from her line of sight. She risked a quick look, ducking back before her brain could completely process the information gathered by her eyes. Her caution was unnecessary. Kismet and the others were nowhere to be seen. She raised a hand from her weapon and made a “come along” gesture.
Immediately, seven similarly clad figures stepped from various hiding places and wordlessly moved to join her. One man drew to within a few centimeters of her face in order to hear her whispered orders.“Chance and Jacques will stay here to guard our rear and maintain contact with our recovery team.”
The man nodded then moved back to relay the orders in a whisper while Rebecca climbed over the railing. Kismet’s group had left behind a fixed rope which, under his guidance, each person had used to rappel down to the pool deck three stories below. She had watched with great interest as Kismet coaxed and cajoled the reluctant woman and the older Chiron, eventually convincing them of the inherent safety in what he was asking them to do. Rebecca now coiled several lengths of that same rope around her torso, then effortlessly abseilled down to the terrazzo surface below.
There was a faint grating sound emanating from the depths of the shaft. The platform was still making its ponderous descent. Rebecca stayed well away from the edge until the vibrations ceased, and then held back a few minutes more. She had been told that the objective was not immediately accessible from the shaft, so there was no harm in allowing their quarry to get a head start. Better that than to reveal their own presence by activating the noisy lift.
The remaining members of her team descended in order, joining her on the pool deck. In a subdued voice, she directed each of them to stand beside the statues and wait for her cue to begin the complicated sequence of shuffling that would bring the lift back to the surface. She had surreptitiously observed Kismet’s experiments with the sculpted animals, noting the exact pattern of movements required to raise or lower the device.
One of the men made a faint tisking noise to get her attention. She could see that he was holding something, but in the darkness it was impossible to discern what the object was. She moved closer to get a better look.
It was a crude sign — a permanent ink marker on a sheet of paper — with a brief message. Her first impulse was to believe that Kismet had somehow become aware of her presence and left the message behind to mock her. She read the words a second time:
“Gone after the White Rabbit. Back soon! Alice and the gang.”
The message was in English, flippant in tone, but vague. Kismet’s handiwork, she reckoned, but not for her eyes. Doubtless, he expected the Marines to find his ropes and the blank hole where the swimming pool had been, and had left the message as a clever way of letting them know who it was that uncovered this mystery. She crumpled the sign in her fist and stuffed it into one of her deep cargo pockets.
Exactly five minutes after the elevator platform completed its descent, she gave the signal for her men to begin moving the statues. As soon as the pool bottom was level with the deck, she and five selected members of the team moved out onto the concrete slab. The remaining men — Jacques and Chance — shifted the lion statues into place and commenced yet another drop into the dark shaft. One of the men began unspooling a thin antenna wire that would serve as their communications link to the surface.
Rebecca watched as the gossamer strand paid out in generous curlicues overhead. As the walls began to rise up on all sides, the implications of what she and her team were doing finally hit home. The smooth concrete shaft resembled nothing less than a tomb, and while she would never reveal even a hint of the trepidation she now felt to her subordinates, she was keenly aware that their lives hung by that single thread-like strand of metal.
Pure, unrefined darkness swelled around them and still they descended. When they finally stopped, it took a supreme effort of will to take that blind step away from the platform. She took out a flashlight, capped with a red lens, and shined it up the shaft, signaling for their comrades to return the elevator to its original state, effectively sealing them in.
As the platform removed their final link with the world above, her fingers unconsciously found the crumpled page in her pocket. She once more curled her fist around the message and decided that Kismet had gotten it all wrong. This wasn’t a magical doorway into Wonderland. More apropos would have been the words of Orpheus.
Abandon all hope, ye who enter here…
The inscription above the gates of Hell.
The darkness swallowed them whole. Kismet’s MagLite was insignificant against the overwhelming totality of the subterranean night. There was a larger lantern in the supplies Hussein had packed, but it seemed pointless to use up that resource when there was nothing in particular to look at. They had settled instead for yellow Cyalume sticks — plastic tubes filled with a phosphorescent substance that would shine for hours once activated. The chemical light source did not afford much in the way of illumination, but was useful for keeping the group together.
From his position at the front of the line, Kismet could not see the handheld light sticks, but he could hear the distinctive sounds of his companions’ footsteps. In the absence of visual cues, he was soon able to distinguish the differing styles of footwear and the particular rhythms of each person’s stride. The tapping of their feet on stone however was the only sound in the dark womb of the earth; hardly a word had been spoken since their arrival.