to do this without him.”
They sat in the car for almost three hours, talking through the plan. The eastern sky was turning chalky with dawn when Jonathan finally started the nearly silent engine and drove Simon back to his flat.
Neither of them knew that the clock was already ticking, and that everything was about to change.
THE REPUBLIC OF MALTA
Before Dawn
The air traffic controller assigned to the night shift at one of Malta’s more modest airfields didn’t really know what to make of it. He rarely had more than a flight or two a day; sometimes days would go by when no planes of any size arrived at all. But today—in the last nine hours—he had barely had time to sit down.
The last arrival had been a small private jet. It had given him call signs, but he knew they were counterfeit; they were unlike any he’d ever encountered before. He watched with his binoculars as a single, stunningly beautiful passenger with jet black hair and striking blue eyes exited the aircraft and left the tarmac in a black limousine that had already been waiting. The one lone crewmember that had stayed behind didn’t even bother to visit the tower or file a flight plan for departure.
The controller didn’t like it—not one bit. But nobody asked him to. One thing he knew for sure: no one wanted to answer any questions, so he wasn’t about to ask any.
* * *
The woman who had arrived on that private jet knew exactly where she was going. She had instructions, and she would follow them exactly, as always.
She was driven to a small village not far from the airstrip, but 1,800 miles from London, where her flight had begun. The limo dropped her in a deserted square near the center of town shortly before dawn, next to an ancient sewer cap that, she knew, plunged hundreds of feet to an underground passage—one that had been created literally thousands of years ago.
A stranger was waiting for her. He gestured to her. She nodded to her silent driver as the stranger took her bag and escorted her to the side of the square, to a narrow, dusty alley choked with deep blue shadows. The wind tugged at the woman’s long, dark hair. It was warm enough, even as the sun was rising, but she felt a chill pass through her nonetheless.
There was a set of steps halfway down the alley that led to a narrow doorway. The stranger dropped her bag in front of the door and hesitated, reluctant to move any closer to the entrance. Never mind, she thought. She didn’t need the help. She picked up the bag and opened the door herself. It was unlocked.
There was a winding set of stairs that took her deep underground—three flights below street level. At the bottom she was greeted by a young girl, no more than ten years old, who led her wordlessly to a small room even deeper underground.
The little girl helped her undress and handed her a satin robe, unadorned but smooth and warm to the touch. Then she led her to the baths for her ceremonial cleansing.
The woman already knew what would happen next. She was prepared. After she had been bathed and warmed, fragrant oils were applied to her entire body; the young girl brought in a tray of clean muslin bandages, thick rolls about two inches wide. The woman sat up straight, still relaxed, and tipped back her head to make it easier to complete the next step.
The wrapping began with her eyes. Of course, she was not to see the entrance to the ancient Place of Silence. Then her entire body was wrapped—face and neck, torso and thighs, arms and legs to wrist and ankle, gently and firmly and with the utmost care and respect. Only her fingers and toes remained exposed.
When it was done, the woman could see nothing but a gray haze of fabric, hear nothing but the muted roar of blood pounding in her ears. A sequence of hands touched her on her shoulders and wrists. She was guided to a location she could not guess—a different place, following a different route than she had been led the last time, or the time before.
She was used to the process. She had grown accustomed to it over the years.
There were many corridors and many doors; she was sure of that much. Sometimes the air was warm; sometimes there were sudden, chilling blasts that came across her bandaged face