James Rollins - Map of Bones

Vigor joined her.

Like Kat, he took in all these details, but both their focuses fixed to the lines of silver — probably pure platinum — that etched the floor. The image somehow fit as an ending to this long hunt. It depicted a twisted maze leading to a central rosette. The stubby pillar of magnetite rose from its center.

Kat studied the space: the maze, the arches of magnetite, the glass floor. It all reminded her of the tomb of Alexander, with its pyramid and reflective pool.

“It looks like another mystery to solve.” She stared at the treasures hanging above her head. “But if we already opened this ancient storehouse of the mages, what’s left to find?”

Vigor stepped closer. “Don’t forget Alexander’s gold key. We didn’t need it to open anything here.”

“That means…”

“There’s more than just this library.”

“But what?”

“I don’t know,” Vigor said. “But I recognize this maze pattern.”

Kat turned to him.

“It’s the Labyrinth of Daedalus.”

GRAY WAITED to interrogate the others until they were airborne again. The helicopter had flown them all to the Geneva International Airport, where Cardinal Spera had a private Gulfstream jet fueled and cleared for immediate takeoff to Avignon. It was surprising what a high-ranking official in the Vatican could accomplish.

Which posed Gray’s first question.

“What is the Vatican doing hiring a Guild operative?” he asked.

The five of them had swung their seats around to face one another.

Cardinal Spera acknowledged the question with a nod. “It was not the Holy See itself that hired Seichan.” He motioned to the woman seated beside him. “It was a smaller group, acting independently. We heard of the Dragon Court’s interest and activity. We had already used the Guild to investigate the group peripherally.”

“You hired mercenaries?” Gray accused.

“What we sought to protect required less-than-official means. To fight fire with fire. The Guild’s reputation might be ruthless, but they’re also efficient, honor their contracts, and get the job accomplished by any means.”

“Yet they didn’t stop the massacre in Cologne.”

“It was an oversight on my part, I’m afraid. We were unaware of the significance of their theft of the Cairo text. Or that they would act so swiftly.”

The cardinal sighed and twisted one of his gold rings, then another, back and forth, a nervous gesture. “So much bloodshed. After the murders, I approached the Guild again, to directly plant an operative among them. It was easy to do once Sigma had been called into play. The Guild offered its services, Seichan had had a run-in with you already, and the Court took the bite.”

Seichan spoke up. “My orders were to discover what the Court knew, how far their operation had progressed, and to thwart them however I saw fit.”

“Like standing by while they tortured priests,” Rachel said.

Seichan shrugged. “I came late to that little party. And once under way, there’s no discouraging Raoul.”

Gray nodded. He still had her coin from Milan. “And you helped us escape then, too.”

“It suited my purpose. By helping you, I was serving my mission to keep the Court challenged.”

Gray studied Seichan as she spoke. Whose side was she really playing on? With all her double and triple crosses, was there more she kept hidden? Her explanation sounded good, but all her efforts could merely be a ruse to serve the Guild.

The Vatican was naive to trust them…or her.

But either way, Gray owed Seichan another debt.

As planned, she had arranged to have Monk whisked out of the hospital before Raoul’s goons struck. Gray had assumed she would employ some of her Guild operatives — not call Spera, her employer. But the cardinal had got the job done, declaring Monk a Vatican ambassador and shuffling him out of there.

And now they were on their way to Avignon.

Still, one thing bothered Gray.

“Your group at the Vatican,” he said, eyeing Spera. “What’s their interest in all this?”

Spera had folded his hands on the table. Clearly he was reluctant to speak further, but Rachel reached across to him. She took his hands and splayed them out. She leaned forward to study them.

“You have two gold rings with the papal seal,” she said.

The cardinal pulled his hands back, covering one hand over the other. “One for my station as cardinal,” he explained. “And one for my position as secretary of state. Matching rings. Its traditional.”

“But they don’t match,” she said. “I hadn’t noticed until you folded your fingers together like that. With the rings on each hand side by side. They aren’t the same ring. They’re mirror images of the other. Exact reflected copies.”

Gray frowned.

“They’re twins ,” Rachel said.

Gray asked to see the rings himself. She was right. Reverse images of the papal seal. “And Thomas means ‘twin,’” Gray mumbled, staring up at the cardinal. He remembered Spera’s comment about how only a small group within the Vatican had hired the Guild. Gray now knew which group.

“You’re a part of the Thomas Church,” he said. “That’s why you’ve been trying to stop the Court in secret.”

Spera stared for a long breath, then slowly nodded. “Our group has been an accepted, if not promoted, part of the Apostolic Church. Despite beliefs to the contrary, the Church is not beyond science or research. Catholic universities, hospitals, and research facilities advocate forward thinking, new concepts and ideas. And yes, a certain part is steadfast and slow to respond, but it also contains members who do challenge and keep the Church malleable. That is a role we still serve.”

“And what about in the past?” Gray asked. “This ancient society of alchemists we’re hunting? The clues we’ve been following?”

Cardinal Spera shook his head. “The Thomas Church of today is not the same as before. That church vanished during the French papacy, disappearing along with the Knights Templar. Mortality, conflict, and secrecy separated it even further, leaving only shadows and rumors. The true fate of that Gnostic church and its ancient lineage remains unknown to us.”

“So you’re as in the dark about all this as we are,” Monk said.

“I’m afraid so. Except we knew that the old church existed. It was not mythology.”

“So did the Dragon Court,” Gray said.

“Yes. But we’ve sought to preserve the mystery, trusting in the wisdom of our forefathers, believing it was hidden for a reason and that such knowledge would reveal itself when the time was right. The Dragon Court, on the other hand, has sought to uncover its secrets through bloodshed, corruption, and torture, seeking nothing more than a power to dominate and rule all. We’ve opposed them for generations.”

“And now they are so close,” Gray said.

“And they have the gold key,” Rachel reminded them, shaking her head.

Gray rubbed his face in exhaustion. He had handed it over himself. He’d needed the key to convince Raoul of Seichan’s renewed loyalty. It had been a gamble certainly, but so had the whole rescue plan. Raoul was supposed to have been captured or killed at the castle — but the bastard had escaped.

Gray stared at Rachel. Feeling guilty, he wanted to say something, to explain everything, but he was saved as the pilot came over the radio.

“You all might want to secure your seatbelts. We’re coming up onto some bumpy weather ahead.”