“And will you make it your business to kill me once I have produced your so-called heir?”

“That depends entirely on you.”

“Then kill me now. The thought of your touch revolts me.” She attempted to get by him. He stepped in to bar the way. She turned instinctively, looking for a place to run; her glance fell on the statue’s face, which was illuminated in the flickering torchlight.

“The statue. I remember now. I saw one like it in Rome. It was taken from Carthage during the Punic Wars. The Carthaginians used it to sacrifice children to Ba’al when the Romans attacked the city. That’s why your sainted priestess was exiled. She practiced human sacrifice.”

“Solomon was a hypocrite,” Baltazar snapped. “He worshipped the old gods, but when his priests rose up against him he gave in to them.”

“I don’t want anything to do with you or your vile gods. I want you to let me go.”

“That’s not possible.”

A wicked gleam came to Carina’s eye. She snatched up the torch from its stand and stuck it in Baltazar’s face. He laughed at the show of defiance.

“Put that thing down before I take it away from you.”

“If you won’t let me go, I will destroy your wonderful priestess.”

She whirled around and brought the torch close to the bound parchment pages on the altar.

Baltazar’s hand moved with the speed of a cobra. He snatched the torch from her hand before the dry pages caught fire, and his fist slammed her in the face. She crumpled to the floor, unconscious.

Baltazar looked up at the statue. The slanting almond eyes glittered in the light. The arms reached out as if they wanted to embrace him.

He glanced down at Carina’s limp body, then up at the silent statue again. He cocked his head as if he were listening.

“Yes,” he said after a moment. “Now I understand.”

NUMA 7 - The Navigator

Chapter 44

AUSTIN DROPPED THE DUFFEL BAG with his dive equipment just inside the entrance to the boathouse and walked into the study. The red light was blinking on the phone. Two messages. He pressed the button. The first message was from Carina.

“Hi, Kurt. Leaving the Met around one-thirty. Meeting was a great success! Can’t wait to tell you about it. Hope the computer enhancements of the Navigator worked out. Catching a cab to Penn Station. I should be back in D.C. by late afternoon. Will call when I’m on my way. Ciao.”

He glanced at the wall clock. It was past ten o’clock. The beep signaling the start of the second message broke into his thoughts. Maybe it was Carina calling again. The phone message was short and chilling.

“Good evening, Mr. Austin,” a metallic voice said. “We are holding the Italian property for you to view. Call this number back.”