Bako saw the e-mail, headed “no subject,” from Székely. He opened it, downloaded the attachment, and saw the picture. He enlarged it so it filled the two-foot screen on his desk. The rough, tarnished surface was gouged deeply, and he could make out the letters easily. He had gone to the best school. While his Latin wasn’t good enough to do justice to Livy or Suetonius anymore, this was the crude and simple Latin of soldiers. He translated it as he read.

“‘You have found my secret but have not begun to learn it . . . The fifth is the place where the world was lost.’”

Bako laughed aloud and punched the air above his desk. “Five treasures!” He would be one of the richest men in Europe. His mind raced. Of course he knew the place where the world was lost. Anyone would know that. It was the site of Attila’s defeat, the battlefield where Aëtius and the Visigoths joined forces to stop his advance on Paris!

Then he remembered something unpleasant. His enemies had been trapped in that stone chamber with the message scraped into the iron sheet. They had gotten out alive. They would be rushing to Châlons right now. There was no time to waste.

Bako snatched up his phone and dialed 33, the code for France, and then a private number. It was the cell phone of Étienne Le Clerc.

“’Allo?”

“Étienne!”

“Hello, Arpad,” he said wearily. “You have caught me at dinner. Is there trouble?”

“There is only opportunity. I’ve discovered the location of one of Attila’s hidden treasures. It’s in a place where you can easily help me get it. But there are other people rushing to get there before I do.”

“So you’re planning to win the race by substituting a person who was born at the finish line? How much do I get?”

“You will have a third of this treasure, but I must see all of it—everything that is found—before we split it.”

Bako could almost hear Étienne Le Clerc’s shoulders shrugging. “Oui, bien sûr. But I’ll need specific information on where it is. I’m not going to dig up half of France searching for it. Who, and how many, are the competition?”

“There are an American couple named Sam and Remi Fargo. They’re amateur treasure hunters. They’ve joined with a German archaeology professor named Albrecht Fischer. I’ll send you their pictures by e-mail. And there’s a Hungarian taxi driver named Tibor Lazar. I don’t think they’ll bring anyone else. They’ll want to slip into France, find the treasure, and get out.”

“And where is the treasure to be found?”

“Before I tell you, are you sure you’re willing and able to do this and to stick to my terms?”

“We must both look at everything and then each take half.”

“I said one-third!”