After reaching the top of the column, King inspected the exposed top and then climbed on top of the entablature, scouring it with his flashlight.

Pierce waited below like a nervous teenage vandal, bouncing his foot and scanning for onlookers. He could hear King above, moving about. The scrape of plastic on stone preceded a clunk as something fell from above. Pierce cursed in his mind as he began to wonder if bringing King here had been a mistake. His thoughts stopped when he realized that King had fallen silent. He looked up expecting to see King inspecting something with his flashlight, but saw nothing.

King’s flashlight was off.

For a moment, all he could hear was his own shaky breath, but then a loud scrape sounded from above and a rain of debris sprinkled onto his hand. As he pointed his flashlight up he saw King descend in a blur. King landed next to him, grabbed Pierce’s flashlight, and switched it off.

“What’s wrong?” Pierce asked, his heartbeat pulsating hard in his throat.

“Guards. Four of them coming this way. Two from the north. Two from the east.”

“What are we going to do?”

“Keep looking.”

Pierce looked astonished. “What?”

“I saw something.”

“Up there?”

“To the northeast. It looks like a pit beneath a modern covering, across from the Basilica Julia.”

Pierce took a sharp breath and whispered, “The Lacus Curtius.”

“You know what it is?”

“No one really knows for sure. It’s been covered over with ancient stones and it has yet to be excavated. Probably never will be.”

“Why’s that?”

“Politics. Some in Rome believe archaeology does more harm than good. Every request I know of involving an excavation of the Lacus Curtius has been declined. But it’s said to be the entrance to a chasm. There are several stories about the site’s origin and name. One has Mettius Curtius falling into the pit during a battle with Romulus. Another has a horseman, Marcus Curtius, throwing himself, horse and all, into the pit because an oracle deemed it would save Rome. And another—”

Pierce took another quick breath, which King knew signified a revelation. “What?”

“It’s said that Gaius Curtius supposedly dedicated the site in 445 B.C. after…” He looked at King, barely seeing him in the darkness. “A lightning strike split the earth, forming the pit.”

“Lightning…”

“The favored weapon of Zeus,” Pierce said. “At the time, Zeus would have been seen as the source. That it’s not mentioned in the historical record—”

“Means it was erased.” A soft scuffing hit King’s ears. He put a hand on Pierce’s shoulder and pushed him down to a crouch.

“What is it?” Pierce asked with a rushed whisper.

“I must have missed two of them.”