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What sounded like a door opening then closing echoed from beyond an iconostasis at the front of the church. Clutching the gun, he crept forward and stepped through the doorway in the center of the elaborately decorated panel.
A single door waited on the far side.
He came close.
The panels were cedar, and upon them were inscribed the words from Psalm 118. THIS GATE OF THE LORD, INTO WHICH THE RIGHTEOUS SHALL ENTER.
He grasped the rope handle and pulled. The door opened with a cacophony of moans. But he noticed something else. The ancient panel was equipped with a modern addition-an electronic deadbolt fit to the opposite side. A wire snaked a path to the hinge, then disappeared into a hole drilled into the stone.
Pam saw it, too.
“This is weird,” she said.
He agreed.
Then he stared beyond the doorway and his confusion multiplied.
SEVENTY-FIVE
MARYLAND
STEPHANIE LEAPED FROM THE CHOPPER THAT HAD DEPOSITED her and Cassiopeia back at Camp David. Daniels waited for them on the landing pad. Stephanie marched straight for him as the helicopter rose back into the morning sky and disappeared across the treetops.
“You may be the president of the United States,” she said in a sharp tone, “but you’re a sorry son of a bitch. You sent us in there knowing we’d be attacked.”
Daniels looked incredulous. “How would I have known that?”
“And a helicopter with a marksman happened to be in the neighborhood?” Cassiopeia asked.
The president motioned. “Let’s take a walk.”
They strolled down a wide path. Three Secret Service agents followed twenty yards behind.
“Tell me what happened,” Daniels said.
Stephanie calmed down, recapped the morning, and finished by saying, “He thought somebody is plotting to kill you.” Weird referring to Daley in the past tense.
“He’s right.”
They stopped.
“I’ve had enough,” she said. “I don’t work for you anymore, but you’ve got me operating in total darkness. How do you expect me to do this?”
“I’m sure you’d like your job back, wouldn’t you?”
She did not immediately answer and her silence conveyed, to her a
Daniels seemed unfazed. “Come with me.”
They walked in silence through the woods to another of the cabins. Inside, the president grabbed a portable CD player.
“Listen to this.”
“Brent, I ca
“You hear details?” Green asked.
“Daniels is taking an una
“This is a serious accusation, Henrik.”
“Which I’m not in the habit of making. I heard it myself, as did Cotton Malone’s boy. Can you inform the president? Just cancel the trip. That’ll solve the immediate problem.”
“Certainly. What’s happening there, Henrik?”
“More than I can explain. I’ll be in touch.”
“That was taped over five hours ago,” Daniels explained. “No call has come from my trusted attorney general. You would think he could have at least tried. Like I’m hard to find.”
She wanted to know, “Who killed Daley?”
“Larry, God rest his soul, pushed the envelope. Obviously he was a busy man. He knew something was happening and he chose to Lone Ranger it. That was his mistake. The people who have those flash drives? They’re the ones who killed Larry.”
She and Cassiopeia stared at each other. Finally she said, “Green.”
“Looks like we’ve found a wi
“Then have him arrested,” she said.
Daniels shook his head. “We need more. Article Three, Section Three, of the Constitution is real clear. Treason against the United States is giving aid and comfort to the enemy. The people who want me dead are our enemy. But no one can be convicted of treason except on the testimony of two witnesses to the same overt act. We need more.”
“I guess you could take that flight to Afghanistan and, after your plane is blown from the sky, we’ll have our overt act. Cassiopeia and I can be the two witnesses.”
“That’s a good one, Stephanie. Okay. You were bait. But I had your back covered.”
“So nice of you.”
“You can’t flush birds from the bushes without a good dog. And shooting before that happens is a waste of pellets.”
She understood. She’d ordered the same thing herself, many times.
“What do you want us to do?”
The resignation in her voice rang clear.
“See Brent Green.”
MALONE STARED AT A PUZZLING SIGHT. THE DOOR FROM THE church opened into what was the face of the mountain. Ahead lay a rectangular hall about fifty feet wide and that much deep. Dimly lit with silver sconces, the granite walls shone mirror-smooth, the floor another handsome mosaic, the ceiling decorated with borders and arabesques of red and brown. On the opposite side of the room stood six rows of gray-and-black-marbled pillars bound with primrose bands. Seven doorways opened between the pillars, each a dark maw. Above each portal was a Roman letter-V S O V O D A. Above the lettering was another biblical passage. From Revelation. In Latin.
He translated out loud.
“Weep not: behold the lion of the tribe of Judah hath prevailed to open the book and loosen the seven seals thereof.”
He heard footsteps echoing from beyond the doorways. From which one was impossible to say.
“McCollum’s in there,” Pam said. “But where?”
He walked to one of the doorways and entered. Inside, a tu
“This is interesting. Another test. Seven possible ways to go.” He dropped the pack from his shoulders. “What happened to the days when you just got a library card?”
“Probably went the same place as leaving a plane only when it lands.”
He gri
“Don’t remind me.”
He stared at the seven doorways.
“You knew McCollum would act, didn’t you? That’s why you let him go with that Guardian.”
“He didn’t come for the intellectual experience. And he’s no treasure hunter. That man’s a pro.”
“Just like that lawyer I dated was more than a lawyer.”
“The Israelis played you. Don’t feel bad. They played me, too.”
“You think this was all a setup?”
He shook his head. “More manipulation. We got Gary back too easy. What if I was meant to kill those kidnappers? Then when I went after George, they’d simply follow. Of course you were there and the Israelis were tracking. So they made sure I took you with me by spooking me in the airport and in the hotel. All makes sense. That way the Israelis kill George and they’re done. Whoever kidnapped Gary links up with us to find this. Which means the kidnappers have a far different agenda from the Israelis.”
“You think McCollum took Gary?”
“Him, or at least whoever he works for.”
“So what do we do?”
He fished the spare magazines for his gun from the pack and stuffed them into his fatigues. “Go after him.”
“Which door?”
“You answered that yourself in Lisbon when you said Thomas Bainbridge left clues. I read his novel on the plane. Nothing there even remotely close to what we’ve experienced. His lost library is found in southern Egypt. No hero’s quest. Nothing. But that arbor in his garden-that’s another matter. I wondered about the last part of the quest McCollum gave us. It would make no sense to just walk in once you get here.”