finely woven lightweight gray wool suit tailored in London, a silk rep

tie, soft gray wool socks and a pair of black, polished Cole Haan tassel

loafers. After laying them out, he began to dress.

While knotting the red-and-blue-striped tie he did a last check, then

opened the door and walked down the passageway toward the elevator.

A few hours ago his team had learned of a threat to the emir. A plan was

now in place that, if successful, would kill two birds with one stone.

Now if they could only locate the stray nuclear bomb that was missing

halfway across the globe, the year could end on a positive note.

Cabrillo had no way of knowing that within twenty-four hours he would

be traveling across a frozen wasteland to the east-or that the fate of a

city by a river would hang in the balance.

SACRED STONE 29

3

IN CONTRAST TO the warmth and conviviality aboard the Oregon, the scene at the remote camp near Mount Forel just north of the Arctic

Circle in Greenland was more subdued. Outside the cave the wind

howled and the temperature was ten degrees below zero without accounting

for the windchill factor. This was the ninety-first day of the expedition,

and the thrill and excitement had long since worn off. John

Ackerman was tired, discouraged and all alone with his bitter thoughts

of defeat.

Ackerman was working toward his doctorate in anthropology from

the University of Nevada, Las Vegas, and his current surroundings were

as far removed from his familiar desert as an underwater seamount to a

parrot. The three helpers from the university had gone home as soon as

the semester had ended and replacements were not due to arrive for another

two weeks. Truth be told, Ackerman should have taken a break

himself, but he was a man possessed by a dream.

Ever since that first moment when he had located the obscure reference

to the Cave of the Gods when writing his doctoral thesis about Eric

the Red, he had been compelled to find the caves before anyone else.

Maybe the entire affair was just a myth, Ackerman thought, but if it existed

he wanted his name and not some usurper's to be associated with

the find.

He stirred the can of beans on the metal stove that sat under the tent

he had erected near the mouth of the cave. He was sure from the description

he had translated that this was the cave Eric the Red had mentioned

on his deathbed, but despite months of effort he had yet to get

farther than the seemingly solid wall twenty feet to the rear. He and the

others had examined every inch of the walls and floor of the cavern but

they had found nothing. The cave itself appeared man-made, and yet Ackerman

was not sure.

Seeing the beans were warming properly, he peeked outside to make

sure the antenna for his satellite telephone had not been blown over in