The Devil's Triangle (A Brit in the FBI 4)

Harry looked like he wanted to punch Nicholas, but instead, he pulled a walkie-talkie out of his jacket, giving Nicholas a glimpse of a shoulder harness and a Beretta 92. He spoke

to another guard who stood at attention some twenty feet away, now watching Mike like a hawk. Nicholas saw the guard nod.

Harry called after Mike. “You stay with Adcock. Do not leave his sight, do you understand?”

“Your British English is very clear,” Mike said. And nodded to Nicholas.

How many more guards for a couple of harmless archaeologists? Were the guards all Brits? Hard to be afraid of a short, pit bull of a guard named Adcock until you saw the Ka-Bar strapped to his side, and the look on his face that promised mayhem as he watched Mike approach.

Mike was going to need some luck to get out of Adcock’s sight long enough to slip away and let Kitsune into the house.

When Nicholas saw Mike follow Adcock around a corner, he reached into his pocket and pressed the button on the micro EMP.

Time to get started.

CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

Kitsune was shrouded in darkness the moment she stepped into the ancient Etruscan tunnel. She’d cut the orange service tape across the door and found the door was unlocked. She saw no guards.

She set off, torch in her left hand, a PPK in her right. She fancied she heard echoes of ancient history as she moved slowly through the impenetrable darkness, making no noise on the packed dirt floor, carved out by the Etruscans so long ago, then later, the path of the Knights Templar.

Even though the tunnel hadn’t been used recently, the path was clear, the walls and ceilings reinforced with handmade wooden arches, like huge ribs, the walls coated with cement on top of the wood.

She was making excellent progress, but it couldn’t last for much longer. She assumed she’d soon reach the spot where the tunnels would be blocked off for safety reasons, since there were no more archaeological digs.

Deeper and deeper she went, upward now, the climb steep. Thirty minutes later, the main tunnel turned sharply and she saw there were six different paths to choose from. None were blocked off. These paths were not on the plans.

She studied her compass. The middle tunnel was heading north, the right direction to continue under the house, but it didn’t feel right, and then she smelled something—freshly turned dirt. She walked into the fourth tunnel, saw that it shot off to the right at a forty-five-degree angle. The smell of dirt was stronger. Who was digging down here? And why?

She walked forward, aiming her torch down at her feet so no one would see her light.

She saw lights ahead, heard voices. She listened carefully, heard two men speaking Italian. One was a native speaker, the other spoke well, but with a faint British accent. The Italian spoke the local dialect, but the Brit was speaking the Roman, more common internationally. What was a Brit doing down here?

Were they guards? She edged closer, listening to the conversation.

“Why did you kill her?” the Italian asked. “I thought you were sleeping with her.”

The Brit paused only a moment at the impertinence before saying indifferently, “There was no choice. I will miss her, but her failures, they were too great. Giovanni, make sure you bury her deep so no one will ever find her. Then get back to digging. My sister is anxious to unearth this section of the mountain as quickly as possible.”

Giovanni’s voice grew excited. “It is true, then? You truly found a piece of the Ark in the Gobi Desert?”

The Brit paused. “Where did you hear that?”

Kitsune imagined Giovanni shrugging. “You know gossip, it spreads like wild fire. The whole crew has been buzzing about it. You and the signorina found a piece of a cherubim’s wing at the Mysore Base, and you have brought it home.”

The Brit spoke, his voice cold. “These walls seem to ooze gossip. Now finish the job.”

Kitsune heard footsteps coming toward her. She ran back toward the center point where the six tunnels branched off and eased into the smallest of the tunnels. The Brit was soon in the center point—it had been close, too close. She fell to her knees, looked out, and saw him turn into the main tunnel, the one that went north. She didn’t see his face, but his hair was blond and curly. Was it Ajax Kohath? He’d killed his lover? A moment later, she heard an engine turn over. It sounded like a motorcycle.

Smart, she thought. Small, portable, easy to maneuver underground. The tunnels were extensive, she’d seen that much on the map, but now she was wondering just how extensive they actually were, if the diggers moved around on motorbikes.

If the Kohaths were resorting to murder in their own house, something was going badly wrong in their world.

Kitsune couldn’t help but wonder about Giovanni’s other comment—the cherubim’s golden wing, a piece of the Ark? Found in the Gobi Desert? Incredible to imagine.

A piece of a cherubim’s wing—for a brief moment, she wondered if she could steal it after she’d rescued Grant. The thought of how much money such an archaeological prize would bring—Kitsune laughed at herself.

When she was sure the motorbike was far enough away, she again started up the center tunnel, north, toward the house.