“Nice man. My dad didn’t leave me a library.”
“Well. You were an only child, maybe. In any event, in order to access the labyrinth and all its secrets, you needed all four keys. His children were Sobekneferu, Amenemhat IV, Neferuptah, Hathorhotep. And their family was… fractured, shall we say. He hoped that giving his children group-dependent access to the library would force them into closeness.”
Ethan grinned. “I take it that it didn’t go as planned?”
“Of course not. Each of the children became focused on securing the hidden labyrinth for themselves. After their deaths, each child sent their own key to the four corners of their world to keep the others from ever finding it.”
“That sounds more like it.” Ethan drank, finally sounding interested. “So where are these keys now?”
Sam drank deep and licked his lips of foam. “One went to South America, where it was buried with the Mayan King in Xibalba – and presumably stolen by someone…”
Ethan quirked a brow at him. “You’re quite tan, Sam. You spend some time in Mexico recently, perchance?”
Sam grinned and toasted him. “Good eyes. Another key went to Afghanistan. That’s the one I found. Another, to Syria…”
“Which I found. What about the last one?”
“The last one went to France. It stayed there awhile, until its owner took it to North America as part of an expeditionary quest—for the other three keys—during the French colonization of the Bay of Fundy and Nova Scotia, in 1608.”
Sam shook his head. “And then, history happened the way history does. The things that can’t possibly happen, the impossible, happens. Somewhere, somehow, during the process of the American Revolution in which the French sided with the American colonies against Britain, the last French owner of the fourth Labyrinth Key, on his deathbed, gifted the key to—George Washington.”
Ethan laughed outright. “Shut up.”
Sam held up his hands. “I’m not joking. It’s true. Took me a damn long time to find that out, but it’s true.” He grinned. “You don’t believe me? Come on, Ethan. You’re a military man. You know how little civilians, and thus the history books, ever really know about what goes on behind the scenes of any country. It wouldn’t be the first secret to be passed down from American president to American president, and I’m sure it won’t be the last.”
Ethan cocked a grin into his beer. “I guess I can’t argue with that. What else was passed along?”
“Just a story.” Sam shrugged, but looked at him shrewdly. “A story that claimed how the four Labyrinth Keys were required to enter Amenemhat III’s Labyrinth and Forbidden Library.”
Ethan grinned, the light finally dawning in his eyes. Sam was impressed. It had only taken him one beer. “And that was fine and good and just a story, wasn’t it? Until President Harris discovered another key had been found.”
Sam spread his hands, half wishing he’d never found it. “Yes. Everything was fine and good until I went and found a labyrinth key and was summoned by the president of the United States in the middle of the night to brief him.” Sam’s gaze darkened and he drained his beer. “A meeting that never took place…”
Ethan summoned the server. “Another round, please.” He looked at Sam as the man retreated. “What happened?”
Sam shook his head. “Like I said, I can’t say… not yet… but, hopefully soon.”
Ethan settled back. “‘Hopefully soon’. Is that before or after more men come to gun me down?” Sam just looked at him. Finally, Ethan shrugged. “What about the others?”
Sam took his new drink as the band started to play old-time country and the crowd cheered. “What others?”
“If George Washington was looking for the keys, there must have been others?” Ethan hunched his shoulders. “Other men who knew about it? Who were looking for it too?”
“Oh.” Sam shrugged. “Yes, of course there were others. In fact, there’s a whole Brotherhood of the Keys that’s been around since the Middle Ages. They believe Amenemhat III knew that the knowledge contained in his library would cause tremendous harm, capable of destroying the world, and thus decided to prevent any of his children from ever harnessing its powers.”
Ethan shook his head. “Medieval fanatics, medieval mass destruction and magic.” He took a napkin from the metal holder and mopped up the condensation caused by his glass, precisely. Then he folded the napkin into tiny squares.
“They did like their magic.”
Ethan flicked the napkin to the middle of the table. “But these are real keys to unlock a real door, right?”
Sam laughed. “That’s right. They’re real keys to unlock a real door. A large obsidian door, said to be somewhere beneath the Pyramid of Hawara.”
Ethan looked up at him from beneath furrowed brows. “The one that requires four keys to unlock. Two of which, we have no idea where they are?”
“Yep. That’s the one.”
Ethan rolled his eyes. “So why don’t you just use dynamite to open it?”
Sam grinned at such a practical solution. “It’s a really big door, Ethan. Made from nearly twenty tons of stone.”
Ethan shrugged. “So? Use a really big amount of dynamite. Or C4, if you’re new-fangled.”
Sam shook his head as the band lights swung between sets and their table was bathed in blue and red. “It’s not that simple. The labyrinth and library system are built beneath the Nile. One false move and the entire chamber floods—washing away the knowledge of the ancients—forever.”
Chapter Forty-Eight
Ethan folded his new damp napkin into tiny squares.
It gave him something to do with his hands and, he thought better when he did something with his hands. He was a man of action. The feel of the gun in his hands, the way the trigger felt as he pulled it when he’d killed those men… he could still feel it in his body. He felt every single one. He didn’t know if it was the heightened sense of life or senses, when shooting, but he could feel every man he’d ever killed, recall details, clear as day. The way the air smelled, even the feel of his fatigues brushing across his leg hairs that stood up in fear.
Ethan folded the paper and took a covert glance at the man across from him.
Secret labyrinths, ancient brotherhoods… Ethan had never put much stock in conspiracy theories. He’d learned early that there was enough monstrosity in the world without inventing fake boogeymen.
And yet those men had come. Those men had been real. “So, in summary, there’s a secret labyrinth and the keys open it and we need all of them to do it.” He shrugged and flicked his napkin away again. It was too wet to fold. “What exactly are you expecting to find inside this Forbidden Library?”
Across from him Sam made a rueful smile. He knew how far-fetched it sounded. He was down to earth. Ethan liked that about him. “Answers.”
Sam didn’t seem like a nut, Ethan reflected. He wished he hadn’t thrown his napkin away; he couldn’t take another without looking stupid and he needed something to do with his hands. He slung an arm over the back of the booth and slouched instead. “Answers to what?”
Sam spread his hands. “Some of the greatest questions to plague the human race since the dawn of time.”
Maybe he was a nut, after all. “Oh yeah? Like what?”
Sam settled in, but his eyes were serious. “Where did we come from… where are we going…”
Ethan threw up his hands. “Right. The meaning of life and shit. What makes you think some ancient Egyptian, who’s been dead for nearly five-thousand years, could possibly tell you about any of that?”
Sam quirked a grin. After a moment he took a sip of his beer, then dug in his jeans’ pocket. He reached across the table and handed Ethan a beat-up piece of paper. “Because of this.”
Ethan took the paper, realizing it was a printed photo. Ethan scanned the image. It was a pictograph carved in stone and painted; and he could only assume he was looking at the vaulted chamber of Amenemhat III. Ethan remaine
d unimpressed. The guy looked like every other picture of an ancient Egyptian pharaoh he’d seen—neat cylindrical beard, slanted eyes, full lips. Change the hat and take off the hair, take off the beard and it could be a woman.
Ethan flicked the photo. “Looks like every other photo of a pharaoh I’ve ever seen. What makes him different?”
Sam grinned. “Look closer.”
Ethan did, skeptical. But he turned his attention to the task at hand. He might think it baloney, but those men were real.
Still… nothing.
“See anything different?” Sam smiled at him from across the table. “Maybe… somewhere around the eyes?”
Ethan’s gaze went straight to the eyes. And he blinked in shock.
They weren’t black, as most of them were. What he’d thought to be a simple act of time, fading the paint, turned out to be something different entirely.
This man’s eyes weren’t black at all.
And they weren’t faded by time.
They were a dark purple.
Chapter Forty-Nine
Ethan raised his eyes to Sam in surprise.
Sam leaned back in the booth. “Weird, huh?”
Ethan flicked the photo to the table. “A bit, yeah. What’s up with it?”
Sam pulled his drink close. “The eye color. It’s a genetic mark of a Master Builder.”
“So, this PHAROAH person was the one who built the pyramid?”
Sam shook his head. “No. Well, yes. I mean, he did. But a master builder is more than someone who… well. Builds things.”
Ethan drained half his beer. “Go on.”
Sam settled in. “The Master Builders were instrumental in the construction of the Egyptian pyramids. The Mayan ones, as well. They—”
“Get you gentlemen anything else?”
Sam glanced at Ethan. “How about it? Hungry? Use some substance to soak this up.” Ethan shrugged. Sam turned to the server. “How about some potato skins. Bacon and chives.”
When the server went off to fill their order, Sam leaned back and continued. “The Master Builders have purple eyes and are genetically predisposed to extraordinarily long lives.”
Ethan laughed. “What—they’re like, immortal or something? Next you’re going to tell me something about the fountain of youth.”
Sam shook his head. “No, it’s actually true. Based in science. It has something to do with their DNA telomeres. They don’t shorten with age, like us, for some reason. Consequently, they live for hundreds of years. There’s a girl on our ship who—”
“A girl on your ship who what?”
Sam shook his head. “Nothing. She has purple eyes, is all. To be fair to her, sometimes they’re teal, sometimes, they’re topaz. So is her hair.” He leaned back for the arrival of their potato skins, the fragrant steam rumbling his stomach. Sam took two for himself and gestured to Ethan to partake. The younger man did so, taking a bite as if he hadn’t eaten in days. Sam wiped the grease from his chin.
“Jesus, these are delicious.” He opened his eyes wide. “Anyway. With the wonder of years came intelligence far beyond that of ordinary people with ordinary lifespans. The Master Builders spread out across the globe, offering their services to various leaders in order to build great monuments.”
Ethan snagged a napkin and wiped his mouth. “Fancy.”
“Constructive.” Sam wondered if they weren’t a little drunk. He pointed a finger at Ethan. “The ancient Egyptian pyramids are believed by many to have been built by the Master Builders.”
Ethan leaned back in his booth. “Yes. The Mayan pyramids too, or so I hear.”
Sam laughed. “You ever heard of Atlantis?”
Ethan raised a brow. “You asked me that already.”
“How about the Temple of Zeus? The Gardens of Babylon? Just to name a couple of the world’s greatest wonders,” Sam said, laughing at Ethan’s face dancing with multi-colored Christmas lights. “You name it, they were built by Master Builders.”
Chapter Fifty
The bar’s parking lot smelled of hot asphalt and cold summer rain, diesel, stale cigarettes, cheap beer, and even cheaper, perfume. They’d stayed around for last call, a move that was questionably safe, but they’d kept their backs to the wall and Ethan was reasonably sure they hadn’t been followed. When Sam had asked him, what made him so sure, he shrugged. “Been coming here since before I was legal. Cramer always let me in.”
“You were a drinker?” Sam asked.
Ethan gave him a level stare. “I liked the music.” He gestured at the stage where the band was packing up, slurping water and lager from thin plastic cups with gratitude and smiles as Cramer, presumably, congratulated them on a set well-played. “Howard’s always had the best.”
Now the canned sound of hard rock slid out and into the night as Sam stretched his back and checked his watch. It was close to midnight and neither of them had thought of a place to sleep for the night. Sleep would be necessary very soon.
Sam surveyed their ride, wishing Ethan had bought something a little less conspicuous. He shoved his hands in his pockets.
Ethan turned to him. “Now what?”
Sam offered up a wry grin. “Want some ice cream?”
Ethan blinked. “What?”
Sam laughed at his face. “That’s what my dad used to do when he had to give me some bad news. We’d go get a soft serve from Tasty Freeze and sit on the fountain steps…” He trailed off at the look in Ethan’s eyes. It was obvious Ethan’s dad hadn’t done many things like that with him, and from the way Ethan’s shoulders loosened but the tightness stayed in his jaw, he would have killed to have those kinds of memories.
Sam shrugged elaborately to cover his mistake, feeling a little more warmly toward the kid. “Way I see it we’ve got two of the four labyrinth keys, thanks to you.”
“Talking about keys…” Ethan said, “I’ll drive.”
Sam tossed him the keys to the car. “All yours.”
Ethan snagged the keys out of midair and closed his fist around them, tight. “And the ice cream bit?”
Sam scratched his ear. “The ice cream bit is that our enemy is likely in possession of the other two.”
Ethan snorted. “Likely possession. Come out and say it – they’ve got them. I’m a worst-case scenario man; SEALs are born prepared. I was trained 24/7, dead-dog exhausted, until I was prepared. Wouldn’t make it out alive, otherwise. SEALs don’t drop into war zones and fall through cave floors all ‘cause of huntin’ unicorns.”
“Fair enough. So, worst-case scenario says it’s safe to assume then the enemy has both the remaining labyrinth keys.”
“Who are they exactly?”
Sam wavered. “Honestly, the less you know the better. I don’t want you compromised in the future. What I can tell you is that someone is hunting the keys. I don’t know if they’ve got their eye on other ancient relics too or if it’s just these, but I can assure you, these are definitely in the plan.” He held up one finger. “First, someone beat us to Xibalba and took the Mayan key. Then, a week later, George Washington’s key was stolen from the Louvre in France.”
“Sounds like they’re organized. An expert team and most likely heavily backed by the financial support of a collector.”
Sam’s gaze sharpened in surprise, then Ethan grinned. Sam was strongly reminded of the boy he’d met that first day, all those years ago back in Rhyolite. Ethan appeared to be confident, more than a touch arrogant, and certainly convinced of his own superiority. “That’s right, keep going.”
Ethan’s eyes narrowed. “So we’re looking for a collector with a bunch of thugs who has access to some really nice suits. Is that about right?”
Sam blinked at the summary and assessed it. “Yeah,” he said after a moment. “Sounds about right.”
“And they’ve taken two of these keys out from under your nose.”
Sam bristled. “Yeah. That sounds about right too.”
Ethan grinned. “Then why don’t we just ta
ke them back?”
Sam held up his hands. “Hey, son, I’m all for the idea. Don’t know why I didn’t think of that. I’ll get right on that as soon as I know who to take them back from.”
Ethan opened the car door, gesturing Sam to do the same. “Well then, you’re in luck.”
Sam paused on his way to the door’s handle in surprise. “Why? Do you know who the collector is?”
“Nope,” Ethan admitted and slammed the door, leaving Sam out in the hot night. Ethan rolled down his window and stuck his head out. “But I think I know someone who does.”
Chapter Fifty-One
They waited until morning to attend the meeting.
After checking into a dingy motel off the beaten path, Ethan slept like a soldier – dead to the world and alert in an instant. Sam had knocked into the bathroom door on his way in because he hadn’t wanted to turn on the light. Within a split second he found himself shoved against the door with an arm around his throat.
Ethan stilled then released Sam. “Sorry.”
Sam rubbed his neck. “It’s just me.”
Now they were drinking coffee in awkward silence in the buffet room that looked like it doubled as a bingo hall at night. Ethan drank his coffee black with lots of sugar. Sam waited for the fresh pot.
He wiped his cup’s rim and took a sip. “You still haven’t told me where we’re going.”
Ethan nodded. Like this answered everything. He pulled his keys out. “Why waste the silence? It’s going to be a long drive.”
The morning had dawned clear, but the air was already becoming hazy with summer heat. They’d hit the highway with the windows down, Ethan driving the NSU RO 80 fast but careful among the morning commuters. They passed strip malls just waking up, empty fitness centers and secondhand computer stores, chic coffee shops on the edge of areas culled through gentrification. Ethan drove without taking his eyes off the road, but every now and then he’d flick a glance to the other lane, to passersby on the sidewalks. Sam knew without asking that he was on high alert.
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