The room was hot. Qaphsiel unzipped his Windbreaker halfway, careful not to expose his wings. “So, you’re a religious man.”

Frank cocked his head. “More spiritual than religious. That’s how I found the box.”

“Really? How?”

Frank spoke in a slightly rapturous tone. “I was in Tibet, meditating with a group of very old, very psychically powerful monks. All we’d had to eat or drink for days was yak butter tea.”

“Was it cold?”

“The tea?”

“Tibet.”

“It’s Tibet. What do you think?”

“Cold then.”

“As a witch’s tit on a ski lift.”

Qaphsiel smiled. “Eloquent. So, you were meditating.”

“Yes, with the monks, when my consciousness was pierced by a blinding pure white light.” Frank held up his hands like he was giving a benediction.

“And that’s when you saw it?”

“No. That’s when I met with my spirit guide, Flamel.”

“Nicolas Flamel? The alchemist?” said Qaphsiel.

“Yes. You’ve heard of him?”

Qaphsiel nodded, the tiniest hint of suspicion creeping into his mind. But he stopped himself. He’d been on the hunt for so long that it was easy to get cynical. “Of course. My, your fifteenth-century French must be very good.”

Frank looked puzzled, then nodded and gave him a good-natured smile. “Well, you know how it is in these disembodied spiritual situations. I could understand him and he could understand me.”

“Of course. I should have guessed. Please go on.”

“Anyway, Flamel took me deep into a cave in an unnamed mountain high in the Himalayas.”

Qaphsiel looked around the room. There were stacks of old books on Bible ciphers, the Egyptian Book of the Dead, Tibetan Buddhism, various grimoires. Also, some vintage Playboys that someone had tried to cover up with a prayer shawl. “It was darned lucky of you running into a French alchemist all the way in Tibet.”

“Wasn’t it?” said Frank. “Old Nicolas, he gets around.”

“Probably cashing in those frequent flyer miles.”

Frank laughed. “You got it. Anyway, he takes me deep into a cave full of spiritual objects. The True Cross. Lost books and manuscripts. Dorjes. Reliquaries.”

“And that’s where you found the box.”

“No. That’s where I found a book with a map to Aghartha.”

“Aghartha?”

“Yes. It’s where the ascended masters live in the center of the Earth.”

Qaphsiel turned his head slightly. “The center?”

“Yes.”

“Of the Earth?” Crossing his fingers, Qaphsiel said, “And that’s where you found the box?”

“No. That’s where I met a priest who took me to the lost city of Shamballah.”

Qaphsiel took a deep breath. “You know, perhaps I don’t need the whole blow-by-blow.”

Frank shrugged. “I’m just making the point that it was a long and arduous journey.”

“And I feel like I’ve been with you every step of the way.”

Frank ticked off a list with his fingers. “I mean, there was an ocean of fire. And highwaymen and pirates.”