Just then one of the huge doors eased open an inch or two and the stripe of blackness was broken by Adira quickly motioning him inside.

“Did you –?”

She hushed him. “Speak quietly or not at all.” She shut the door, plunging them both into darkness.

“This way.” She grabbed his hand and placed it on her shoulder and then together they eased forward along a dark hallway. He wondered how she could navigate so easily and then remembered this was a top female agent in Mossad’s Metsada unit who had had to ferret terrorists out of their tunnels as they tried to burrow into Israel. She had vision like a nighthawk and was totally devoid of fear.

Adira suddenly turned into a room that had a little more light peeking in through slits in heavy drapes. Matt looked around. It was a normal sitting room, with thick comfortable-looking chairs and sofas, a piano, wooden mantelpiece and wall tables set with vases and candelabras.

“Is anybody home…I mean here now?” he whispered.

She snorted softly. “There’s dust on the chairs. No one has sat on them or been in this room for many years. This way.” She led him into another room that looked like a kitchen pantry. It was fully stocked with tinned and packet food – everything to prepare a meal, but nothing half opened or used at all.

“It’s like a studio set, a prop, to give the impression of habitation, nothing more.” She looked around slowly. “No one has lived here for years…if they ever did.”

Adira crossed to a bench top where a knife block stood and drew out the largest of the carving knives – new, unused, and the blade more than a foot and a half long. It was as much a machete as a carving implement. She held it up, turning it in the air as she examined it, and then looked back at Matt, a humorless smile touching her lips for a second before she tucked the knife somewhere behind her back.

Adira then reached into her pocket and drew out two black flashlights and handed one to Matt. “Only use in utmost darkness, and point it to the ground…never at me, or at my face.” She leaned in close to him.

“Okay, okay, got it.” Matt looked around. “So where’s Drummond?”

“He’s not upstairs. There’s nothing but dust-covered beds, wardrobes full of clothing, all unworn, bathrooms with untouched soaps in dishes – all as fake as it is down here. He must be somewhere else, and I’m guessing it’s the basement.”

“Great.” Matt always knew it was going to mean heading deeper.

*

Andy kept his head down, alternately playing a game on his phone and occasionally flicking his eyes up at the black double doors. The windows in the car were down, and he could feel the radiant heat coming in off the road.

Twenty minutes back he had cracked the door and reached out to lay his hand on the asphalt – it was hot, and not just from the day’s fallen sun. He would have hated to have to run down the street barefoot. As a geologist he was intrigued, especially as he knew the area was old, stable, with no volcanic or geothermal activity for millions of years.