King and Alexander resumed their approach toward the hallway’s end, toward the voices. The exit was narrow and provided plenty of wall on either side for the two men to hide behind. They stood flat against the brown stone and peeked into the chamber beyond.

The space was vast and separated into two rings. The outer hall wrapped around the room. Its walls were covered in stone murals and blocks of cuneiform. The floor was nearly smooth, constructed from massive stone blocks fit tightly together. Several tall statues, arms raised high, separated the outer hall from an inner chamber. They appeared to be supporting the roof, but King suspected they were decorative.

He eyed the closest statue. Its style was clearly Sumerian—rigid posture, straight limbs, curved joints. All were masculine in build but wore what looked like shin-length skirts. Stiff-looking rolls of hair stretched down just below the shoulder line. King had no doubt that if he could see the face it would have the same oversized, oval, blue lapis lazuli eyes he’d seen beneath the sands of Babylon.

He motioned to Alexander and then to the two nearest statues. Alexander responded by taking a quick peek into the room and then dashing across the twenty-foot distance to one of the statues. He stopped behind it, throwing himself against its backside without making a sound.

King noticed how easy it was for Alexander to move with stealth. How many times had he snuck up on an enemy? How many wars had he taken part in? Better yet, King thought, how many wars has he started?

Alexander peeked around the statue briefly and then waved King in.

King covered the distance to a second statue quickly and stopped behind it. Its legs, hewn out of a solid chunk of marble, easily hid his crouching form. He leaned around the statue’s base and looked into the center of the chamber.

He didn’t notice the stepped ceiling or the faces of the eight other statues wrapping around the room. He paid no attention to the tables stationed over a dark brown stain on the stone floor, or the lab equipment and specimen cages they held. He only saw Richard Ridley.

Two of him.

They stood to either side of a third man, whose body and head were concealed by a hooded cloak. But he appeared disfigured somehow, like a hunchback. The three men were speaking with hushed voices, impossible to discern. In fact, King wasn’t certain what language they were speaking.

Then it hit him, they’re speaking the mother tongue!

But were they having a conversation or doing something more nefarious?

King’s question was answered by a puff of grit that fell from above. He saw it fall slowly past his face and land on his arm. He turned his head up, tracing the fallen dirt’s path back up.