“Well, that’s why I’m sending the fax. Development number two. I’m not sure we should send them to King.”

Duncan’s forehead scrunched. He looked at the fax machine. What is Boucher sending?

The gears of the fax machine finally kicked in, sending a single piece of paper through and coating it with hot toner. An eight-by-ten photo rolled out. Duncan snatched it up. A couple dressed in tank top vests and cargo shorts appropriate for warm weather archaeology smiled for the camera. Behind them were groups of people—locals, interns, and other science types—milling about. And in the background was what looked like a very large, very old staircase partially covered by vegetation and snaking tree roots.

“What am I looking at?”

“The photo was uploaded to Flickr an hour ago, and you can see in the bottom right the date stamp is today. So this is fresh. The structure in the background is la Danta Pyramid in El Mirador, Guatemala—the largest ever built by the Maya, and even bigger than the great Cheops pyramid at Giza.”

“That’s all well and good, Dom, but what’s the significance.”

“I don’t want to tell you what to see, in case we’re wrong. I want you to—”

“What the hell,” Duncan whispered as he saw a familiar face in the image. The man was walking behind the couple, carrying a backpack. No one paid him any attention. He wore the same comfortable smile he did in the brochures his company had published. But his presence in the image made no sense. How could Richard Ridley be in England and Guatemala at the same time?

“I take it you found him?”

“How’s this possible, Dom?”

“I’m afraid that’s a question your team is best suited to answer, but his presence at both locations, as impossible as it seems, solidifies his apparent interest in ancient sites around the world. Shall I divert Queen, Bishop, and Knight to Guatemala?”

“Do it,” Duncan said. “I’ll inform King.”

Chapter Forty-Three

FORTY-TWO

Haifa, Israel

A STREAM OF Hebrew curses flew from Davidson’s mouth as he lay beneath King on the floor of his office. Their bodies were coated in glass and plaster from the ruined ceiling. But it wasn’t the destroyed office that held either man’s attention, it was the glistening metal lance tip that had stabbed through the window and far wall. Twenty feet of stainless steel separated into vertical ribs that normally made the structure appear to be rotating, had impaled the building.

On his back, staring up at the glistening structure, Davidson recognized what it was. “It’s the obelisk.”

Alexander reached a hand beneath Davidson’s desk. “Take my hand.”