Just then, Jack saw a cluster of moving flashlights—five of them—moving along the floor section of the maze near one of the blockhouses: Rastor and his four remaining Serbian troops.

Another pair of bobbing flashlights could be seen closer to Jack, down near another blockhouse, only a hundred metres away.

Sphinx and Mendoza.

Then a third set—much closer to Jack, just two figures—Ezekiel and his last Omega monk.

An overwhelming fatigue gripped Jack.

The last twenty-four hours—without sleep—had drained him of almost all his energy.

If he was going to tackle this maze, he needed to do it with a clear head. He had to stop, if only for a moment, to rest.

He stepped back through the archway, gazing up at its Thoth markings, markings that no doubt explained this maze but which he couldn’t read without Lily.

He retreated about ten yards into the tunnel and slumped onto his butt with his back pressed against the right-side wall.

He closed his eyes.

It would only be for a little while, he told himself.

He wouldn’t go to sleep. He didn’t have time for that. No, this would just be a short break.

Must keep going . . .

Can’t stop . . .

Can’t let the others get too far ahead . . .

Which was when, sitting there in that ancient tunnel with his back against the cold stone wall, he could no longer keep his eyes open and his head drooped against his chest and Jack West fell into a deep sleep.

Jack dreamed.

Images from his many adventures flashed across his mind.

Finding Lily inside the volcano in Uganda, a wailing newborn.

Raising her in Kenya, with Wizard and the original team.

Fighting Marshall Judah atop the Great Pyramid.

Seeing Wizard die in the tomb of Genghis Khan in Mongolia.

Battling his father, Wolf, above an abyss under Easter Island.

Surviving the Great Games in the Underworld.

Seeing his mother die at Rastor’s hands underneath a Falling Temple in Jerusalem.

Waking inside his bedroom in his plane after the Great Games only to see Mephisto’s red face and bared teeth right in front of his eyes—

—Jack jerked awake.

Damn it. He hated that nightmare.

He blinked, rubbed his eyes.

He didn’t know how long he’d been asleep and thus how much time he’d lost to his rivals.

He began to heave himself off the ground—

‘Hello there, Captain,’ a voice said from his right.

Jack saw their boots first.

Then his eyes rose upward to find the familiar face of Brother Ezekiel, leader of the Omega monks, standing over him.

Beside Ezekiel was the other monk and he held a Glock pistol aimed right at Jack’s face.