But all that hinged on the decision he was about to make.
He stared down at the shell of a human being. Only her eyes seemed alive.
He reached for the hypodermic protruding from the IV port.
“What is that?” she asked, noting the clear liquid the syringe contained.
He did not answer her.
“What are you doing?”
He gripped the plunger and emptied the contents into the IV stream.
She tried to lift herself, but the effort proved futile. She collapsed back to the bed, her pupils wild. He watched as her eyelids acquired weight, then her breathing slowed. She went limp. Her eyes closed.
And did not open.
FIFTY-TWO
VENICE
ZOVASTINA ROSE AND FACED THE INTRUDER. HE WAS SHORT, WITH a crooked spine, bushy hair and eyebrows, and spoke in a brittle voice of maturity. His crinkly features, gaunt cheeks, coarsened hair, and veined hands all belonged to age.
“Who are you?” she asked.
“Henrik Thorvaldsen.”
She knew the name. One of the wealthiest men in Europe. A Dane. But what was he doing here?
Viktor instantly reacted to the visitor, pointing his weapon. She reached over and restrained him, her eyes saying, Let’s see what he wants.
“I know of you.”
“And I of you. Risen from Soviet bureaucrat to a forger of nations. Quite an achievement.”
She wasn’t in the mood for compliments. “What are you doing here?”
The older man shuffled close to the wooden box. “Did you really think Alexander the Great was in there?”
This man knew her business.
“And you, adventurer, for my immortal voice, though far off, fills your ears, hear my words. Sail onto the capital founded by Alexander’s father, where sages stand guard. Touch the innermost being of the golden illusion. Divide the phoenix. Life provides the measure of the grave. Be wary, for there is but one chance of success.”
She fought to conceal her shock at Thorvaldsen’s recitation.
This man truly did know her business.
“Do you think you’re the only one who knows?” he asked. “How pompous are you?”
She grabbed Viktor’s gun and leveled the barrel at Thorvaldsen. “Enough to shoot you.”
MALONE WAS CONCERNED. HE AND CASSIOPEIA WERE FIFTY FEET up and three quarters of a football field away from where Thorvaldsen was challenging Irina Zovastina while Viktor watched. Michener had brought them into the basilica via the west atrium and led them to a steep stairway. At its top, the walls, arches, and domes reflected the architecture below, but instead of a stunning marble facade and glinting mosaics, the basilica’s upper-story museum and gift shop were encased only by brick walls.
“What the hell is he doing here?” Malone muttered. “He just called you outside.”
They were huddled behind a stone balustrade, beyond which was a panoramic view of the towering vaulted domes, each resting on massive marble pillars. Golden ceiling mosaics shimmered from incandescent lamps-the marble floor and unlit side chapels cast in varying shades of black and gray. The presbytery, at the far end, where Thorvaldsen stood, loomed like a bright stage in a dark theater.
“You’re not going to answer me?”
Cassiopeia stayed silent.
“You two are about to piss me off.”
“I told you to go home.”
“Henrik may have bit off more than he can chew.”
“She’s not going to shoot him. At least not until she knows why he’s here.”
“And why is he here?”
More silence.
They needed to shift position. “How about we move over there.” He pointed left to the north transept and another gallery that overlooked the presbytery. “This museum winds around that way. We’ll be closer and can hear.”
She motioned right. “I’ll go that way. There’s surely an opening to the upper south transept from here. That way we’ll be on either side.”
VIKTOR’S HEART RACED. FIRST THE WOMAN, NOW THE SUPPOSED museum owner. Surely the second man was also alive. And probably nearby. Yet he noticed Thorvaldsen paid him no mind.
Not a hint of recognition.
ZOVASTINA STARED DOWN THE GUN’S SIGHTS AT THORVALDSEN.
“I realize you’re a pagan,” the Dane calmly said. “But would you shoot me, here, on the altar of a Christian church?”
“How do you know Ptolemy’s riddle?”
“Ely told me.”
She lowered the weapon and appraised her intruder. “How did you know him?”
“He and my son were close. Ever since they were children.”
“Why are you here?”
“Why is it important to find the tomb of Alexander the Great?”
“Is there any reason I would discuss that with you?”
“Let’s see if I can provide you with some. At present you possess nearly thirty zoonoses that you’ve harvested from a variety of exotic animals, many of which you stole from zoos and other private collections. You have at least two biological weapons laboratories at your disposal, one operated by your government, the other by Philogen Pharmaceutique, a corporation controlled by a man named Enrico Vincenti. Both of you are also members of the Venetian League. Am I making any progress?”
“You’re still breathing, aren’t you?”
Thorvaldsen smiled in seeming satisfaction. “For which I’m grateful. You also have a formidable military. Nearly a million troops. One hundred and thirty fighter jets. Various transports and support aircraft, adequate bases, an excellent communications network-everything an ambitious despot would need.”
She didn’t like that Viktor was listening, but she desperately needed to hear more, so she turned to him and said, “Find out what the other two guards are doing, and make sure we’re alone.”
THE OTHER TWO?
Malone heard the words as he assumed a position behind another stone railing, this one high above the presbytery, less than a hundred fifty feet above Thorvaldsen and Zovastina. Cassiopeia was fifty yards across the nave, in the south transept, with an equally high perch.
He couldn’t see her, but he hoped she’d heard.
ZOVASTINA WAITED UNTIL VIKTOR LEFT, THEN GLARED AT THORVALDSEN. “Is there a problem with wanting to defend my nation?”
“Beware the toils of war. Soon they’ll raze your sturdy citadel to the roots.”
“What Sarpedon said to Hector in the Iliad. You have studied me. Let me offer a quotation. Nor do I think you’ll find us short on courage, long as our strength will last.”
“You’re not planning on defending anything. You’re preparing an attack. Those zoonoses are offensive. Iran, Afghanistan, Pakistan, India. Only one man ever conquered them. Alexander the Great. And he could only hold the land for just a handful of years. Ever since, conquerors have tried and failed. Even the Americans attempted with Iraq. But you, Supreme Minister, you intend to best them all.”
She possessed a leak-a massive one. She needed to return home and resolve that problem.
“You want to do what Alexander did, only in reverse. Not the West conquering the East. This time the East will dominate. You intend to acquire all of your neighbors. And you actually believe the West will allow you the luxury, thinking you’ll be their friend. But you don’t plan to stop there, do you? The Middle East and Arabia, you want those, too. You have oil. The old Kazakhstan is rich with it. But you sell most of that to Russia and Europe cheap. So you want a new source, one that would give you even greater world power. Your zoonoses might just make all that possible. You could devastate a nation in a matter of days. Bring it to its knees. None of your potential victim-states are particularly adept at war in the first place, and when your germs finish, they’ll be defenseless.”