For his part, Pierre Borgia was not interested in either one of our theories. Chasing after Mayan ghosts no longer mattered to Maria’s fiancé; what mattered was power. As mentioned earlier, I could see this development coming for some time. While Maria and I had been busy exploring the tombs, Pierre had been finalizing plans to run for Congress back in the States. Two days after we had made our discovery, he announced, with great pomp and circumstance, that it was high time he and the future Mrs.Borgia moved on to more important things.

I was heartbroken.

Wedding plans were quickly arranged. Pierre and Maria would be married at St. John’s Cathedral, I to serve as best man.

What could I do? I felt desperate, believing with all my heart that Maria was destined to be my soul mate. Pierre treated her as a possession, not an equal. She was his trophy, his Jackie Onassis-arm-candy he deemed would serve well as first lady to his political ambitions. Did he love her? Perhaps, for what man could not? But did she truly love him?

This I had to know.

It was not till the eve of their wedding day that I managed the courage to confess my love to her aloud. Looking into those beautiful eyes, swimming in black pools of velvet, I could only imagine the gods smiling upon my wretched soul as Maria pulled my head to her bosom and sobbed.

She had been harboring the same feelings for me! Maria confessed that she had been praying for me to come forward and rescue her from a life with Pierre, whom she cared for but did not love.

In that blessed moment, I became her salvation and she mine. Like desperate lovers, we stole away that night, each leaving Pierre a note, apologizing for our unforgivable act and intentions, neither of us strong enough to face the man in person.

Twenty hours later we arrived in Egypt—Mr.and Mrs.Julius Gabriel.

—Excerpt from the Journal of Professor Julius Gabriel,

Ref. Catalogue 1974-75 pages 45-62.

Photo Journal Floppy Disk 2: File name: NAZCA, Photos 34 & 65

Photo Journal Floppy Disk 3: File name: STONEHENGE, Drawing 6.

Chapter 15

Chapter 15

NOVEMBER 27, 2012
SANIBEL ISLAND, FLORIDA

The shrill caw of a seagull causes Mick to open his eyes.

He is lying in a double bed, his wrists bound along either side of the frame. His left forearm is heavily bandaged. An IV tube drips into his right.

He is in a bedroom. Slats of golden sunlight reflect along the far wall, seeping in through Venetian blinds rattling above his head. He can smell the salt air. He can hear the ocean’s surf from the open window above his head.

A gray-haired woman in her seventies enters the room. “So, you’re awake.” She removes the Velcro strap from his right wrist, then checks the IV bag.

“Are you Edie?”

“No, I’m Sue, Carl’s wife.”

“Who’s Carl? What am I doing here?”