"Tell me, whatever your name is…"

"Polyclitus Anaxamander Zeno," the guide offered. "At your service."

"Tell me," Pitt repeated without an attempt at pronouncing Zeno's full name. "How did you happen to be coiled back there at the passage when we came out?"

"I have an inquisitive nature," Zeno said through a twisted smile. "When I perceived that you and your friend had mysteriously disappeared from my tour, I asked myself: What would those two surly looking characters find in the ruins that would interest them? The answer eluded my humble mind so I turned my gawking entourage over to a fellow guide and returned to the amphitheatre. You were nowhere to be found. Then I spied the broken bar in the gate…no great feat I assure you; I know every stone and crack on the site. Certain you would reappear, I sat and waited."

"You'd have felt like an idiot if we hadn't."

"It was only a question of time. There is no other way out of the Pit of Hades."

"The Pit of Hades?" Pitt's curiosity was aroused. "Why do you call it that?"

"I find your sudden interest in archaeology quite unexpected. However, since you ask…" There was puzzlement in Zeno's eyes, yet a mixture of attention and amusement. "During the golden age of Greece, our ancestors held their criminal trials in the amphitheatre. This location was chosen because their juries consisted of one hundred elected townspeople. It was their contention, and a very wise one, that the more people who rendered a judgment, the more just the verdict. In a matter of circumstantial evidence, the defendant, if decided guilty, was given a choice of instant death or the Pit of Hades."

"What was so bad about the pit?" Giordino asked, his eyes trained on the reflection of Darius' face in the rearview mirror, sizing him up.

"The pit was in reality not a pit," Zeno continued. "But rather a vast underground labyrinth with a hundred different passages and only two openings, an entrance and a hidden exit, which was a closely guarded secret."

"At least the condemned were given an opportunity to reach freedom." Pitt flicked an ash into the tray on the armrest.

"The choice was not as opportune as it might appear. You see, the labyrinth contained a very hungry lion who had little to eat, except, of course, an occasional passing felon."

Pitt's studied calm folded and his face turned grim, but he quickly gained control again. The picture of von Till's smirking features entered his mind again. Why did the old kraut, he wondered, use historical events to cloak his mysterious schemes? Perhaps this obssession for dramatics might prove to be the chink in von Till's armor. Pitt sat back and drew deeply on his cigarette.

"A fascinating myth."