Steve Berry - The Alexandria Link

They were driving another government car, a Chevy Tahoe, supplied by Daniels. The president wanted them away from Camp David before she made the call. They were now seventy miles south, on the outskirts of northern Washington. She grabbed her cell phone and dialed Green’s mobile number.

“I’ve been waiting,” Green said when he answered. “Have you heard about Daley?”

“We had a front-row seat.” And she told him what happened at the restaurant.

“What were you doing there?”

“Having breakfast. He was buying.”

“Any reason why you’re being flippant?”

“Watching a man die has a way of jading your attitude.”

“What’s happening?” Green asked.

“The same people who killed Daley tried to kill Cassiopeia and me. But we managed to get away. They were apparently on Daley’s tail, and they moved on us right after we left the restaurant.”

“You seem to have a number of lives, Stephanie.”

“Daley told me things, Brent. There’s a lot going on. He was privy to it. He also has proof.”

“Was he the traitor?”

“Hardly. The vice president gets that crown. Daley had amassed quite a lot on the VP.”

She kept the car on the road and listened to the silence on the other end of the phone.

“Solid evidence?”

“Good enough for The Washington Post. He was terrified. That’s why he met with me. He wanted help. He gave some stuff to me.”

“Then your life is at risk, Stephanie.”

“We’ve already figured that one out. Now we need your help.”

“Of course. You’ll have it. What do you want me to do?”

“Those flash drives from Daley’s house. They relate to the evidence I have. Together they’re enough to take the VP down. Once he goes, then we’ll learn the rest, since I doubt he’ll graciously take the fall alone. Treason comes with a harsh penalty. Death is one of the options for the jury.”

More silence.

“Do you know if Cotton has checked in?” she asked.

“I haven’t been told if he has. I’ve heard from no one. How about Thorvaldsen? Has he contacted Cassiopeia?”

“Not a word.”

Her heart sank as she realized that Brent Green was part of what was happening. The pain on her face conveyed to Cassiopeia his betrayal.

“We need to meet, Brent. Privately. Just you, me, and Cassiopeia. How’s your schedule?”

“Nothing I can’t change.”

“Good. Daley has more proof. Stuff he said would conclusively show who else is involved. He’s been amassing it for a while. Those flash drives you have contain taped conversations of the VP’s chief of staff talking about succession after the president is dead. But there’s more. We need to meet at Daley’s house. Can you get there?”

“Of course. You know where the information is hidden?”

“He told me.”

“Then let’s deal with this.”

“That’s the plan. See you there in half an hour.”

She clicked off.

“I’m sorry,” Cassiopeia said.

She wasn’t going to dwell on someone else’s failure. “We have to stay sharp. Green had Daley killed. We know that now. He’s also plotting to kill the president.”

“And us,” Cassiopeia said. “Those men were working for the Saudis. The Saudis apparently think Green and the vice president are on their side. But the VP is also dealing with the Order. Which means the Saudis will never see a thing. The Order will get it all, to use however they want.”

The interstate congealed as they approached central Washington. Stephanie slowed the Tahoe and said, “Let’s hope the Arabs understand that before they decide to deal with us.”

SINAI PENINSULA

GEORGE HADDAD LED HIS EXECUTIONER INTO THE LIBRARY OF Alexandria. The brightly lit subterranean chamber could dazzle at first sight. The walls were alive with mosaics fashioned in the spirit of everyday life-a barber shaving, a chiropodist, a painter, men crafting linen. He still recalled his first visit, but his assailant did not seem impressed.

“Where’s the power come from?”

“Do you have a name?” Haddad asked.

“That’s not an answer.”

He knit his heavy eyebrows in a puzzled manner. “I’m an old man, hardly a threat to you. I’m simply curious.”

“Name’s Dominick Sabre.”

“Have you come for yourself or others?”

“Myself. I’ve decided to become a librarian.”

He smiled. “You’ll find the job a challenge.”

Sabre seemed to relax and stared around at the surroundings. The chamber was cathedral-like, with sloping walls and a barrel ceiling. The polished red granite shone like a gem. Columns rose from floor to ceiling, chiseled from the rock, each ornamented with letters, faces, plants, and animals. All of the chambers and tunnels were once the mines of pharaohs, abandoned for centuries by the time of Christ, recrafted over the ensuing centuries by men obsessed with knowledge. Light came then by torches and lamps. Only in the past hundred years had technology allowed the soot to be cleaned away and the original beauty restored.

Sabre motioned to a mosaic emblem prominent on the far wall. “What’s that?”

“The front of an Egyptian sledge, decorated with the head of a jackal, a heavy block on the sledge. The hieroglyph for wonder. Each of the library’s rooms bears a symbol, which is the room’s name. This is the Room of Wonder.”

“You still never said where the power comes from.”

“Solar. The electricity is low-voltage, but enough to power lights, computers, and communications equipment. Did you know that the concept for solar power was born more than two thousand years ago? Converting light into energy. But the idea was forgotten until the past fifty years, when someone once again thought of it.”

Sabre motioned with his gun. “Where’s that doorway lead?”

“The other four chambers. The Rooms of Province, Eternity, and Life, and the Reading Room. Each contains scrolls, as you can see. Approximately ten thousand are in this room.”

Haddad casually moved to the center. Diamond-shaped stone bins, turned on edge, spanning long rows, held scrolls stacked loosely. “Many of these can no longer be read. Age has taken its toll. But there is much here. Works by Euclid the mathematician. Herophiles on medicine. The Histories of Manetho, about the early pharaohs. Callimachus the poet and grammarian.”

“You talk a lot.”

“I only thought that, since you intend to become the Librarian, you should begin to learn your charge.”

“How did all these survive?”

“The original Guardians chose this location well. The mountain is dry. Moisture is rare in the Sinai, and water is the printed word’s greatest enemy-other than, of course, fire.” He motioned at extinguishers that rested at regular intervals around the room. “We’re prepared for that.”

“Let’s see the other rooms.”

“Of course. You should see it all.”

He led Sabre toward the doorway, pleased.

Apparently his attacker had no idea who he was.

That should at least even the odds.

HERMANN OPENED HIS EYES. THREE BUTTERFLIES SAT PERCHED on his sleeve, his arm stretched out across the schmetterlinghaus ‘s putty-colored earth. His head ached and he recalled the blow from Thorvaldsen. He hadn’t known the Dane was capable of such violence.

He pushed himself to his feet and spotted his chief of the guard lying prone twenty feet away.

His gun was gone.

He staggered to his employee, grateful no one was around. He glanced at his watch. He’d been down twenty minutes. His left temple throbbed and he gently traced the outline of a knot.

Thorvaldsen would pay for that assault.