James Rollins - Map of Bones

Off the main staircase, the castle spread out in a warren of rooms and halls. Many visitors got lost.

But Seichan was only going up to the middle level, to a terrace restaurant that overlooked the Tiber. She was to meet her contact there. After the firebombing, it was deemed too risky to meet in the Vatican itself. So her contact was going to cross down the Passetto del Borgo, a covered passageway atop an old aqueduct that connected the Apostolic Palace to the castle fortress here. The secret passage had been originally constructed in the thirteenth century as an emergency escape route for the pope, but over the centuries, it was more often used for amorous trysts.

Though today, there was nothing romantic about this meeting.

Seichan followed the signs to the terrace café. She checked her watch. She was ten minutes early. Just as well. She had a call to make.

She slipped out her cell phone, pressed the scramble feature, and tapped in the speed-dial code. A private, unlisted number. She leaned on a hip, phone to her ear, and waited for the international connection to be made.

The line buzzed, clicked, and a firm, no-nonsense voice answered.

“Good afternoon. You’ve reached Sigma command.”

"INEED pen and paper,” Gray said, his satellite phone in hand.

The group waited at a sidewalk trattoria across from Rome’s central train station. Upon arriving, Rachel had called for a pair of Carabinieri vehicles to collect and escort the team to Vatican City. While they waited, Gray had decided it was time to break his silence with central command. He’d been passed immediately to Director Crowe.

After a short debriefing of events in Cologne and Milan, the director had his own surprising bit of news.

“Why would she call you?” Gray asked the director as Monk fished in his pack for pad and pen.

Painter answered, “Seichan is playing our two groups off one another to further her own end. She is not even trying to hide it. The intel she passed to us was stolen from the Dragon Court’s field operative, a man named Raoul.”

Gray scowled, remembering the man’s handiwork back in Milan.

“I don’t think she can decipher the intel on her own,” Painter continued. “So she passed it to us — both to solve it for her and to keep you on the tail of the Court. She’s no fool. Her skill at manipulation must be masterful to be picked by the Guild to oversee this assignment…plus you two have a past. Despite her help in Cologne and Milan, don’t trust her. She will eventually turn on you and attempt to even the score.”

Gray felt the weight of the metal coin in his pocket. He didn’t need the warning. The woman was ice and steel.

“Okay,” Gray said as he had pen and paper in hand, holding the phone with his shoulder. “I’m ready.”

As Painter passed on the message, Gray wrote it down.

“And it’s broken into stanzas, like a poem?” Gray asked.

“Exactly.” The director continued reciting as Gray jotted each line.

Once finished, Painter said, “I have codebreakers working on it here and at the NSA.”

Gray frowned at the pad. “I’ll see what I can make of it. Perhaps using some of the resources at the Vatican, we can make some headway here.”

“In the meantime, keep on your toes,” Painter warned. “This Seichan character may be more dangerous than the entire Court.”

Gray didn’t argue with this last statement. With a few final clarifications, he signed off and stored the phone away. The others looked on expectantly.

“What was that all about?” Monk asked.

“The Dragon Lady called Sigma. She passed on a mystery for us to solve. It seems she has no idea what the Court is going to do next, and while they prepare, she wants us to be nipping at their heels. So she leaked some archaic passage, something discovered two months ago by the Dragon Court in Egypt. Whatever its content, she says it initiated the current operation.”

Vigor stood up from one of the trattoria’s outdoor tables. With a tiny espresso cup balanced in one hand, he leaned over to read the passage along with the others.

When the full moon mates with the sun,

It is born eldest.

What is it?

Where it drowns,

It floats in darkness and stares to the lost king.

What is it?

The Twin waits for water,

But will be burned to bone by bone upon the altar.

What is it?

“Oh, that helps,” Monk grumbled.

Kat shook her head. “What does any of this have to do with the Dragon Court, high-spin metals, and some lost society of alchemists?”

Rachel glanced along the street. “The scholars at the Vatican may be able to help. Cardinal Spera has promised his full support.”

Gray noted Vigor had only glanced once at the sheet of paper, then turned away. He sipped his espresso.

Gray had had enough of the man’s silences. He was done with polite respect of each other’s boundaries. If Vigor wanted to be on this team, it was high time he acted like it.

“You know something,” Gray accused.

The others turned to them.

“So should you,” Vigor answered.

“What do you mean?”

“I already described this back on the train.” Vigor turned and tapped a finger on the pad. “The cadence of this passage should be familiar. I described a book with a similar pattern of text. The repetition of the phrase ‘what is it.’”

Kat remembered first. “From the Egyptian Book of the Dead .”

“The Papyrus of Ani, to be exact,” Vigor continued. “It is broken into lines of cryptic description followed by the one line repeated over and over again: ‘what is it.’”

“Or in Hebrew, manna, ” Gray said, remembering.

Monk rubbed a hand over the stubble poking from his shaved scalp. “But if this passage is from some well-known Egyptian book, why would it light a fire under the Court now?”

“The passages aren’t from the Book of the Dead, ” Vigor answered. “I’m familiar enough with the Papyrus of Ani to know these passages are not found among the others.”

“Then where did they come from?” Rachel asked.

Vigor turned to Gray. “You said the Dragon Court discovered this in Egypt…only months ago.”

“Exactly.”

Vigor turned to Rachel. “I’m sure as a part of the Carabinieri TPC that you were informed of the recent chaos at the Egyptian Museum in Cairo. The museum sent out an alert through Interpol.”

Rachel nodded and explained to the others. “Egypt’s Supreme Council of Antiquities began a painstaking process in 2004 of emptying the basement to the Egyptian Museum, prior to renovation. But upon opening the basement, they discovered over a hundred thousand pharaonic and other artifacts among its maze of corridors, an archaeological dumping ground that was all but forgotten.”

“They estimate it will take five years to catalogue it all,” Vigor said. “But as a professor of archaeology, I’ve heard tidbits of discoveries. There was an entire room of crumbling parchments that scholars suspect may have come from the lost Library of Alexandria, a major bastion of Gnostic study.”

Gray recalled Vigor’s discussion about Gnosticism and the pursuit of secret knowledge. “Such a discovery would surely attract the Dragon Court.”

“Like moths to flame,” Rachel said.

Vigor continued, “One of the items catalogued came from a collection of Abd el-Latif, an esteemed fifteenth-century Egyptian physician and explorer who lived in Cairo. In his collection, preserved in a bronze chest, was a fourteenth-century illuminated copy of the Egyptian Book of the Dead, a complete rendering of the Papyrus of Ani.” Vigor stared hard at Gray. “It was stolen four months ago.”