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27

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Anne watched as a woman dressed traditionally in a full-length, black kameez and hijab left two unopened bottles of water and took the untouched breakfast tray. Anne picked up the first bottle and searched for puncture marks. Finding none, she opened it and drank. Her mouth was dry and cottony from some drug they’d given her. She made herself stop before draining it. The room had no mirror, but her left eye was almost swollen shut and her right cheek twice its normal size. No broken bones, but a deep purple spread over her thigh and hip.

She tore a corner from the one blanket they’d given her against the cold of the desert night and wet it. Gingerly, she dabbed her face, cleaning out the sand that had stuck in her wounds. Once the blood stopped flowing again, she washed out her makeshift facecloth and hung it to dry from the black bar on the window.

Outside she saw the sandaled feet of people and the gray legs and black hooves of donkeys. Occasionally, a soft-footed camel glided by. The metal barring the window was solid, the screws shiny new and completely out of reach. There was no chair or table, just a straw mattress and one blanket. She supposed she could tie the blanket to the bars and pull herself up, but then what? She had no tools. They’d emptied her pockets. Oddly enough, they’d allowed her to keep the crystal.

She sat down to meditate, hoping to clear the remaining cobwebs from her head. Then she could think of a way to escape. Or perhaps make psychic contact with someone in her group, tell them she was all right, give them a beacon to trace.

After about twenty minutes of dull, sleepy meditation, her mind cleared somewhat. Anne could tell she’d need more water to wash the drug completely out of her system. She had to be ready for tonight. She assumed they would take her to the temple for the ritual. Who knew what would happen once the crystals were activated? She sent out a tentative psychic probe, but was met with a dead space all around her. They’d erected some kind of dampening field around the room. She had to break through it. She composed herself to try again.

Two sets of footsteps approached and a key scraped in the lock. A compact, muscular man pushed the door open. She recognized him as the person who had watched her during the luncheon speech at the UN. Most likely the dead man who left fingerprints. He grabbed her hands and tied them, then reached beneath her hair and unfastened the clasp of the crystal necklace. He handed her crystal to a second man, who was dressed in an expensive blue suit and Armani loafers.

He spoke first. “I’m here to explain to you what is going to happen now, Ms. Le Clair.”

He looked like the man Michael had described who’d held his crystal during the attempt to open the Hall of Records.

“We’ve been fighting this war for a millennium,” he began with relish, pacing back and forth in front of her. “We keep killing your messiahs— Akhenaten, then your illustrious ancestor. We took his message and twisted it to serve our empire, but that eventually fell and your sickening vision was trotted out again. So we deposed the Merovingian Dynasty and replaced them with the second Holy Roman Empire.”

He turned on his heel and looked at her. “Your kind doesn’t die, it seems. You just scurry into hiding like rats. The world believes our last attempt was defeated.” The ghost of a smile crossed his lips. “But as your dear departed brother tried to explain to you—”

Anne inwardly flinched at the mention of Thomas.

“—we just took the Third Reich over the ocean and reestablished it in the land of the free, the country founded on the principles you hold so dear. Freedom. Democracy. The pursuit of enlightenment is what they wanted to say, those Freemasons, but they decided to call it happiness.” He stuck his face down into hers. “Haven’t you figured out yet that people are too stupid to govern themselves? To say nothing of understanding the high spiritual mysteries. They need a firm hierarchy. They need authoritarian leaders, a priesthood who tells them what to believe and keeps them in line through fear for their eternal souls.”

“But it’s a lie,” Anne said.

He straightened up and started pacing again. “Who cares? It’s not important for them to know. It’s important for them to be controlled. They can’t handle the truth.”

Anne listened, repulsed yet fascinated, like a mouse staring into the eyes of the snake that’s about to devour it.

“You must know by now that recent world events have been carefully staged to allow us to solidify our hold on global resources. All those ignorant people have laid down their lives, begging us to take the responsibility of thinking away from them.”

A tear escaped Anne’s battered eye. He must think she’d be dead by tomorrow or he wouldn’t speak so freely. Right now, she couldn’t see how to prevent that.

“We’ve taken your uncle’s legacy, all his lofty ideals”—he waved his hands in the air—“and used them for ourselves. Tonight we’re going to end this battle of ours, Ms. Le Clair.” He held up a crystal on a gold chain.

She saw the glint of a star. It was Michael’s.

“Tonight we shall triumph. We’ll open the Hall of Records and take control of the Atlantean technology that will ensure our world domination. Then we can stop all this pretense of democracy. The laws are already in place. We control most of the world’s governments, and those we don’t will quickly become insignificant. Enjoy your last day on Earth, Ms. Le Clair.”

He stepped aside and a third man walked into Anne’s cell. This one was new to her—tall and elegant, his hair pulled back in a silver ponytail. Beneath two eyebrows black as ravens’ wings were dark, piercing eyes. He wore black beneath a cape held together with an elaborate brooch of Celtic design and carried a black walking stick topped with a clear quartz ball. He looked completely out of place in Egypt. The air around him crackled with power.

“We meet at last, Anne Morgan Le Clair,” he said.

He spoke the Queen’s English in the most genteel accent Anne had heard since her year at Oxford. She made no response.

Spender handed him the crystals and left.

“You attempted to clear your head and have already tried to send a message, but I’ve warded the room, you see.” He looked down his nose at her. “Our little Annie, just now beginning to learn what she should have studied oh so long ago. I see the seed of jealousy we planted in Katherine’s heart sprouted and grew fruit. Otherwise, you might have out shined them all.” He closed his eyes.

Anne jerked back, repulsed by the sudden presence of the man’s mind in her own.

“You do have talent.”

She shut her eyes and tried to push him out.

“Now, now. Don’t be rude.”

She took a breath, pulled herself into her very core and pushed out with a wave of white light.

He laughed and continued his probe.

Anne’s eyes flew open. She hunched over, trying to protect herself.

His eyes were still closed, his face tilted slightly up. “Ah, yes. Many lives in Egypt. You were there at the closing of the Hall. You kept the keys safe in Dendara and again in Avalon. A priestess at the Isis temple—what did the Christians call them? Prostitutes. Women who gave themselves to any passing stranger. All in the name of your goddess.” He opened his eyes and studied her, a vivisectionist observing the effect of his experiment.

“You and your lover are remembering those practices now, but we of the Illuminati have never forgotten them.” He leaned his face close, a suggestive smile on his lips. “Perhaps I will finish your education in these matters.”

Anne shuddered.

“Or did my former student probe you? These techniques are most effective in forcing open the psychic abilities of young girls.”

Anne’s face was a blank.

“Roger.” He imitated a submissive, feminine voice. “Your Dr. Abernathy.”

Former student? Anne thought. And he claims to know Mother, to have influenced her feelings toward Cynthia.

“Or is he still treading the same old tiresome path of virtue?”

Who is this man?

“I thought you’d never ask, my dear. Where are your manners? My name is Alexander Cagliostro.”

Anne’s mouth dropped open.

“I see my reputation precedes me.” He seemed pleased with her reaction.

Anne fought for self-control.

“Now, shall we get down to business?” He looked around for a place to sit.

Mueller stepped outside and brought back a café chair, which he placed across from Anne. Cagliostro eyed the seat, then, deciding it was sufficiently clean, settled into it.

Anne steeled herself.

“Tell me everything you’ve learned about the crystals and the Hall of Records.”

Anne straightened out her legs and leaned against the wall. “I know much less than you imagine.”

Cagliostro nodded.

Mueller stepped up and backhanded her, splitting her lip.

She explored the cut gingerly with her tongue.

“Don’t worry. I won’t damage you enough to spoil our evening’s festivities. I find a little pain sharpens the senses.” He motioned for Mueller to step back. “Tell me what you know.”

I only found the temple last night. What could I possibly know?”

Cagliostro nodded, and again Mueller slapped her across the face, knocking her head hard against the wall. Anne’s ears rang.

“Careful of her head. Tell me what you know,” Cagliostro repeated, and this time Mueller punched her in the stomach.

She gasped for breath.

Mueller stepped back, his hands behind him, almost at attention. She sensed a wave of pleasure from him, then another mental probe from Cagliostro. He nodded to Mueller, who hit her again.

“Tell me what you know.” Cagliostro enunciated each word carefully.

“I told you. I just discovered the temple last night. It was my first trip.”

Another nod elicited more blows. A trickle of blood ran down her neck. Her side caught with every breath.

“Tell me what you know,” Cagliostro said again.

She went over it in her mind, trying to see if any of it would betray them, would put that final power into the hands of the Illuminati. Her hesitation earned her a punch to the kidneys.

“Tell me what you know.”

Anne doubled up on the floor, trying in vain to protect herself. Mueller kicked her already bruised hip. She screamed.

“Tell me what you know.”

Cagliostro continued to ask and Mueller continued to pound her. Anne lost track of time. Finally, she lay on the floor of her cell, aching all over, her breath ragged. With the next blow, she passed out.

Annie. Thomas hovered over her, radiant with light. Even this man has a place in the plan. Tell him what he wants to know.

Thomas. She reached out for him, but found only thin air. Something jerked her awake. Another kick to her hip.

She struggled to sit. “Okay.” Blood sprayed from her mouth when she spoke. “I’ll tell you.” She wiped her lip on her shoulder as best she could.

Cagliostro leaned back in his chair and crossed his legs, draping his cloak over them fastidiously. “I’m waiting.”

“I only discovered the entrance last night with Paul Marchant.”

“Two nights ago,” Cagliostro interrupted. “You’ve lost a day.”

Anne grimaced, remembering the drug. Her words came in short gasps as she continued. “The local people lost the knowledge. He wanted to open the curtain. He says there’s some kind of blue energy field closing off the entrance that only the crystals can open. But we never got that far. We were attacked.”

“And?”

“Paul seems to think it’s an entrance to a larger room that holds Atlantean records and artifacts. Machines, maybe weapons.”

“Yes?”

“Maria thinks it’s a stargate that will reconnect the Earth to a galactic grid system.” She stopped here.

“There’s more.” Cagliostro’s eyes were closed.

“Our Egyptian informant refuses to tell us anything. He says the Hall of Records can’t be explained in words.”

Mueller stepped forward.

Anne curled up, anticipating another blow.

Cagliostro opened his eyes. “Wait.”

Tears welled in her eyes and she angrily blinked them away. She would not feel gratitude toward this man. “We’ve tried everything to get him to talk to us, but he says it’s something that must be experienced.” She looked Cagliostro square in the face. “And don’t go rounding him up, because he didn’t even know where the temple was. Why else do you think I risked my life to find it?”

Cagliostro probed her mind and Anne bore the violation as best she could. “She’s telling the truth. Let the woman clean her up.”

Mueller turned to fetch her.

Cagliostro shook his head. “You’re pitiful, you and your little investigative team. You know nothing. And you expected to open the Hall of Records? It’s a good thing I’ve arrived.”

Mueller returned with the Egyptian woman.

Cagliostro looked down at Anne and said, “Try to make her look decent. There’s nothing more common than a woman who’s been beaten black and blue.” With this, he pocketed the two crystals and left. At least the stones were together again.

Michael sat in Anne’s suite. As the day progressed, the pressure of the alignment grew stronger. He felt the temple pulling him. He hadn’t slept. Last night they’d driven around the village and into Cairo, searching for psychic impressions of either Anne or Maria, but come up with nothing. The city was too densely populated.

Michael had returned to Anne’s room and gone into trance, holding one of her silk shawls. He kept running into a blank wall, some kind of dead space. He tried to trace the source of the ward, but had no luck. He asked for a guide to show him, but no one came. Around midmorning, he’d suddenly gotten a deep chill, as if someone had walked into the core of his being. It took him a long time to regain his balance, and the threat of an imminent presence never left him.

Dr. Abernathy returned around noon from his visit to the president, who had been formally sympathetic and completely useless. It was more than the two Mayan priests received. Jose and Enrique had talked to the police again and got only vague reassurances. They had no embassy to go to. Dr. Abernathy had included Maria Lol Ha’s kidnapping in his discussion with the president, but he held out no hope for help from the government.

In the early afternoon, Tahir arrived, dog-tired, with no leads. The villagers who worked for the project told him Anne was probably being held in a secret American military facility near the Cairo airport. Arnold had scoured all the government databases he could gain access to, looking for blueprints, schematics, anything to help him in a rescue mission, but found nothing. The base didn’t exist officially and the files were well hidden.

“Going in there with no information would be suicide,” Arnold said. “We should wait for them to contact us.”

But they heard nothing. No telephone call. No e-mail. No demands. No ransom. Nothing. Just as Dr. Abernathy had anticipated. “They’ll be expecting us tonight. The alignment is most exact just after eight o’clock. When does the sun go down?”

“Around half past six,” Tahir said.

“We’ll start for the site just after that.”

“There has to be something we’re overlooking,” Michael said, “something we could do.”

“Well, if you think of it, please let me know,” Arnold said.

“We’re doing everything we can,” Tahir said.

“If they hurt her—” Michael began.

“You don’t think I’m worried about that?” Arnold snapped.

“Enough,” Dr. Abernathy said. “We’re all on edge. None of us have slept, but we have a job to do. I want everyone to get some rest. I’ll call you when we’re ready to go.”

Back in Anne’s room, Michael reached a hand over the expanse of the king-size bed. His whole being ached for her. He couldn’t lose her now, not after he’d patiently waited to earn her trust, not after he’d watched her grow from a skeptic to a practicing mystic, not after he’d fallen in love. He turned on his back and tried to slow his breath, but he knew sleep was impossible. He sat up and folded his legs beneath him, determined to meditate, but his mind scattered like a novice’s. Finally, he turned to prayer. He pleaded for help from any being willing to assist the Earth’s return to the light. At last he felt presences gather around him, sending streams of light, reassurance, strength. But the sinister specter that had been with him since his crystal was stolen hovered just out of reach, draining away his confidence.

Sensing that the time was near, Michael got up and laced up his boots. He had nothing to bring except a water bottle that he put in his backpack. He had to depend on the Illuminati to bring his crystal. He shouldered his pack just as Arnold knocked on the door.

“It’s time.”

The six men—Michael, Tahir, Arnold, Dr. Abernathy, Jose, and Enrique—crowded into Arnold’s rental and rode in silence to the Sphinx side of the plateau. Arnold pulled up near the guardhouse. An antiquities policeman waved him over. Arnold rolled down the window, one hand on the revolver on his hip.

“Le Clair party?” the policeman asked.

Arnold was speechless.

Dr. Abernathy rolled down the back window. “Yes.”

“You may proceed. Keep it on the road. You’ll have to walk a short way in.”

“Uh, thank you,” Arnold said and pulled past the gate.

“Just as I thought,” Dr. Abernathy said.

“Don’t let down your guard,” Arnold said. “Just because they’ve invited us in doesn’t mean they won’t kill us once we get there.”

“Agreed,” Dr. Abernathy said.

They drove around the low hills, then passed the spot where the police had loaded Bob’s body just two nights before, an eternity ago. Around the next curve, they found four jeeps parked. Arnold pulled over and they climbed out. Arnold gathered them around. “I’ll go in first. Who knows how to use a gun?”

“This is a high spiritual ritual,” Michael objected. “We can’t go in there armed.”

“If we don’t go in there prepared to fight, we’ll all die. Who knows how to use a gun?”

“I’ll take one.” Dr. Abernathy reached for the revolver. “I’m a sharpshooter. But I have to agree that the crystal holders should not go in armed.”

Michael tucked a small flashlight into his pocket, hoping it wouldn’t be noticed, as Arnold handed pistols to Jose and Enrique.

“No one is to use these until after the ritual,” Dr. Abernathy instructed.

“They’ll just frisk us and take them away,” Arnold said.

“Maybe,” Dr. Abernathy conceded, “but there is power in surrender.”

Arnold stared at him.

“There must be no violence. Absolutely none.” Abernathy looked at

Arnold’s uncomprehending face. “We’ll all learn something tonight.”

The group walked toward the shadow in the sand that marked the entrance to the temple. As they came closer, a low wall and the steps materialized out of the darkness. They tiptoed down, Arnold leading. At each turn, he peeked around the corner using a small mirror with a bend in the handle, then waved them forward. At the bottom of the steps, Arnold paused and listened intently. The cave was silent except for the distant trickle of water. He nodded and inched his way forward, crouched low. The cave walls gave way to limestone blocks. Arnold stopped and listened again.

The pull of the temple grew stronger. A faint singing reached Michael. Tahir and Dr. Abernathy looked around for the source of the sound, but it was obvious Arnold heard nothing.

Arnold glanced back. “What?” he mouthed.

Just at that moment, soldiers rushed the group from all sides, as if they’d just stepped out of the walls. Three soldiers seized Michael, pulled him back against the wall, and shoved two assault rifles into his stomach. Two soldiers stopped Dr. Abernathy, weapons bristling. Four men lay unconscious on the ground around Arnold, who was now held down by at least eight others. Michael looked back toward the steps. Jose lay on the ground, his eyes wide open in surprise at the men pointing guns at him. Michael couldn’t see Enrique. Three soldiers held Tahir. At a nod from their leader, the men marched the group into the open plaza of the temple.

They walked down a set of stairs flanked by two replicas of the Sphinx. A man dressed in an impeccable blue suit stepped from behind one and said, “Welcome, gentlemen.” He pointed to Tahir. “Take his crystal.”

One of the men holding Tahir patted him down.

“It’s around his neck,” the man snapped.

The soldier pulled the crystal from around Tahir’s neck, breaking the gold chain. He handed it to the suit.

“This way, gentlemen.”

He turned and walked down the right wall of the chamber to a tunnel. They all squatted down and made their way through.

At first Michael found it difficult to move with three men holding onto him, but with each step into the tunnel, the song swelled in his mind like a siren’s call. They emerged from the passageway and Michael stopped before a living, breathing Anubis. The men continued to drag him forward, but he looked back over his shoulder until the great jackal nodded his approval.

Michael turned forward and found himself staring into the face of the Great Mother Isis, who held her ankh to his nose. Osiris stood across from her, his blue-tinged skin glistening. He held the crook and flail over Michael as he passed. Horus stood behind his father. He passed one of his golden wings over Michael as the soldiers dragged him forward, blind to the higher vibrational beings surrounding them. Across from Horus stood the Lady Hathor holding a sistrum. When Michael looked into her eyes, a thousand voices swelled in song, adding their complex harmony to the chant rising from the end of the chamber.

The great lioness Sekhmet looked down at him through several dimensional layers. Be strong, my son, she said. Your time has come. She touched him with her lotus staff. Father Ptah stood across from her, his golden wings wrapped around him, his blue face smiling down. When Michael passed, Ptah unfurled his wings and touched Michael’s crown with his staff. Michael wanted to fall to his knees, but someone was holding him up, pushing him forward. He heard the sound of voices, but had trouble focusing on the words.

A man dressed in a black cape stood in front of a blue curtain studded with stars. Michael’s mind melded with the curtain, but Ptah, who stood beside him now, whispered, Not yet. Michael focused on the magician in front of the curtain.

The man spoke. “Roger Abernathy, we meet again.”

“Alexander Cagliostro.” Dr. Abernathy acknowledged his former teacher with a nod, then stood in the midst of his captives, silent and calm as a deep spring.

“Where are your manners? Aren’t you going to introduce me?”

“This is my assistant, Arnold—”

“I’m not talking about your hired gun, idiot. Take these three away.” Cagliostro waved his hand at Arnold, Jose, and Enrique.

Arnold struggled, managing to throw down two more men before he was subdued again. Eight men held Arnold while two tied him up and dragged him out of the room. Six more men pushed Jose and Enrique behind them.

“I’ve been waiting for this opportunity to finish our little quarrel,” Cagliostro continued.

Dr. Abernathy said, “I’m sorry our parting was not more amicable. I was young and brash. Please accept my apology for condemning your choice of paths.”

“It’s too late for apologies. While you’ve been wasting your time protecting the spawn of the pretender, I’ve mastered my craft. Tonight we’ll put an end to you and your kind.”

“The sun is rising, Alexander. Even you, powerful as you are, cannot stop it.”

“Enough. Now, which one of you does this belong to?” A crystal dangled from his right hand.

Michael’s awareness snapped into the physical dimension, completely focused on the stone. So this was the specter who’d been threatening him from the edges of his mind. Michael took a step forward.

At the same time, Paul Marchant stepped out of the shadows. “You can’t keep it. You have to give it to him.”

“Be silent.” Cagliostro glared at Marchant. “Michael Levy. Levite priest turned museum curator.”

Michael’s whole being yearned for the stone, to hold it and join in the song around him.

Cagliostro took a second crystal from his other pocket and looked at Tahir. “Tahir Nur Ahram. Last guardian of the knowledge of the Eye Tribe.” He regarded Tahir’s worn gallabiya. “How the once-illustrious house has fallen.”

“There is no last, just as there is no first,” Tahir replied, as if instructing a child.

“Watch and learn.” Cagliostro turned slightly and snapped his fingers.

Two pairs of soldiers stepped forward from the shadows on the left side of the inner temple. One pair held Maria, pale but unscathed, between them. Anne stood between the other two, her left eye black and puffy, her right cheek swollen.

Anne looked at Michael, and her mouth formed a crooked smile around her swollen lower lip. “Michael, it’s good to see you.”

“What have you done to her?” Michael turned on Cagliostro like an enraged bear.

Cagliostro glanced at him. “She can do her job. We are all accounted for except for the elusive key that Thomas died so valiantly trying to find. I think my presence will more than compensate. Shall we begin?” He held up Michael’s crystal.

Michael fought to control himself. If he wanted to help Anne, he had to stay alive. And the curtain was singing to him more strongly than ever. They had a job to do that was more important than his life. But Anne’s? He had to find a way to save her. He moved up the six stairs and took his crystal from Cagliostro. As soon as he touched it, the song surged in his mind, almost knocking him down. He grounded himself with an effort and walked back to the star tetrahedron outlined in blue tile on the temple floor. A soldier walked with him, gun aimed at his head.

“Tahir.” Cagliostro held up another crystal.

Tahir did as Michael had done, and a soldier followed him, gun cocked and ready.

Marchant moved down the stairs and a soldier moved with him. “Please call your man off. I’ve cooperated.”

Cagliostro shook his head. “You conspired behind our backs. Now shut up and do your job. Bring the women.”

He handed each her crystal and the soldiers took Anne and Maria to the star formation. Soon the crystal holders stood on the tiled floor of the temple with their crystals and attendant soldiers.

Michael moved deep into trance, the song of the curtain moving into his body, vibrating him down to the bones. He took off his shoes, barely registering the reaction of the man guarding him, and placed them at the edge of the temple. The others followed suit.

Michael’s vision blurred. Energy forms swam in the air all around him. But something wasn’t right. He felt compelled to move. Maria caught his eye and looked up. An enormous golden astrology wheel filled the ceiling. Sirius, yes. He moved beneath the Dog Star. The others moved also, Maria to the Pleiades, Anne beneath the cat planet in the far reaches of space, Tahir beneath the triangle of Vega, and Marchant beneath the belt of Orion.

As each Keeper moved into place, the energy of the temple built like layers of music, one track intensifying the next. Cagliostro stepped into the Antares position and the energy twisted. Michael winced against it, but knew they must go forward. The planetary alignment built to a crescendo. The Hall of Records must be opened now.

Five Illuminati adepts moved from the shadows of the large statues, three men and two women. One was Miriam. She smiled at Michael, then stepped beside Anne. The rest took their places next to the other Keepers. With a glance at Cagliostro, they closed their eyes and entrained their minds with the Keeper they stood next to. Michael’s whole being recoiled from the creeping malice trying to take control. He pushed back against the tendrils snaking around his mind, gathered up all his rage, and hurled it at the man beside him.

The man smiled and his grip strengthened.

No, Michael. Ptah’s mild voice reached him. Bring him to the light.

Michael turned to the wise one. Their eyes met and his mind melded with the Neter, lifting him out of his temporary identity as Michael Levy. He was the consciousness that watched, eternal and unchanging, one facet in the great jeweled awareness that was everything.

The other Keepers felt Michael’s transformation through the link and they followed. As he slipped into a higher consciousness, so did they. Now as facets of one mind, each took a crystal in their right hand, aligned it with the index finger, and pointed to the middle.

Cagliostro pulled a crystal out of his pocket and did the same. A stream of pollution poured into the circle. Ignoring him, Marchant spoke a phrase in a language Michael recognized as Atlantean. It had no effect. This chamber was much older. Atlantis was one ring in the ancient tree of history. Tahir chanted in the ancient language of his people, and the phrase reverberated in the chamber, awakening memories, faint half-life figures of the past.

Marchant sounded a note, Maria another, a fifth higher. Each instinctively knew their tone and a beautiful harmony filled the chamber. The blue curtain sang with them, melting in one instant from a dark navy to sky blue. In another instant, it became transparent and, with a small whooshing sound, folded in on itself and disappeared.

The five moved as one up the six stairs into the small, precious chalice of a room, taking their places on the smaller star tetrahedron laid out in tile on the floor. Each stood tall, arms up, waiting for the flow of cosmic energy from the galactic core handed down through the star tetrahedron of planets in the alignment.

Beside each Keeper, several octaves higher in dimensional frequency, stood a Neter in the lighter blue star tetrahedron, adding its voice, holding up the sacred flame. Ptah stood with Michael, Sekhmet with Anne, Horus with Tahir, Osiris with Marchant, and Isis with Maria. Now they were ten. Cagliostro took the empty place in the formation, but Hathor waited by the entrance.

Something coiled at the bottom of the Nile, down deep near Elephantine, woke, and stretched its head. Power stirring from far south flowed downriver, gathering force as it came. From Khnum’s island and the island of Bigeh it flowed, from the root of physical form to the womb of the world, then to Kom Ombo, where the great crocodile dove in and swam northward. The river of power rolled on through the great temples at Karnak, Dendara, Abydos, and Edfu, the essence of each temple they’d visited joining the flow, braiding in its particular frequency, its special light. The vast flood reached Giza, the crown jewel in the spine of the Nile, and the Keepers were inundated. Just as a river surrenders to the sea, all their limitations simply washed away.

A door opened in their unified mind, an ancient door containing certain knowledge. Everyone knew at once.

The Hall of Records had no physical existence. There were no artifacts, no weapons, no scrolls filled with lost knowledge. They themselves were the Hall of Records. They would awaken and the Earth would awaken with them.

Anne smiled at Michael and held her crystal aloft as she’d held the lit candle in the Christmas Eve service as a child. It had all been practice for this moment.

Marchant laughed out loud, astonished as all his plans crumbled into dust, but his heart soared as he embraced his real destiny.

Tahir smiled. Now they knew. The quest was over. Every single human being was a living, breathing library of cosmic knowledge. All humanity would return to this high state of consciousness, this exquisite unity that could never be written down, that had to be experienced, just as Tahir had said. Just as the first lines of the Tao said, and the Rig Veda. Hadn’t all sages said this down through the ages?

Their vibration reached such a height that the five Crystal Keepers blinked out of sight. The soldiers looked around frantically.

Cagliostro looked at the Illuminati standing in the circle. “Find them.” They all closed their eyes.

The Sphinx, the Great Mother Tefnut, now gathered up the river of energy that flooded the Giza Plateau and pulled it into herself, where she modulated it and pulsed it out to those mother planets, those grand, realized civilizations that had bent down eons ago and lit the wick of Earth’s own planetary family. They smiled down. “They are awakening. The children are awakening,” and their love streamed through the galaxy into the very heart of Earth.

Now.

Now was the time to take that flow of perfect love handed down through the alignment and anchor it deep into the enormous crystal waiting in the cavern beneath this temple. They saw it in their one mind, a mirror image of the granite pyramid above, a crystal pyramid 454 feet high, its base just beneath them, its point reaching deep into the Earth’s crystal grid system.

How such a crystal could exist was beyond Michael, but he knew it was there, just as he knew he loved Anne, had loved her for centuries, and would love her again.

She returned a surge of energy to him.

The Keepers raised their crystals and sang the song of the Awakening, the new song of the ascended Earth.

But a voice was missing, a stone was absent, and in its place a malevolent, gaping maw spewed forth hatred and violence. Beneath that was fear, the quivering, all-consuming terror of a newborn infant thrown onto the garbage heap, never knowing a mother’s arms, never realizing its place in the universe. Once grown, rising up and grasping the nearest weapon, forcing its will on the world. “I’ll show you. I’ll get you for what you’ve done to me.”

The Illuminati blinked into view and merged again with the Keepers they were matched with. The knowledge flooded them. Now Cagliostro knew as well, the Illuminati adepts all knew there was nothing to uncover, no warehouse of Atlantean technology to ensure the impotent dream of world domination shared by those who refused to face what they had done in their ignorance.

“No!” His voice ripped through them.

The six Illuminati reached through the minds of the Keepers and found—light. Two recoiled, Cagliostro and another. The remaining four merged into the cosmic intelligence, diving in with abandon, shedding their fear and hope. There was nothing amiss in the universe.

“No!” Cagliostro screamed again. “You don’t have to surrender.”

“There is nothing to fear,” one of them said.

Cagliostro reached into this man’s body with his mind and stopped his heart.

The soldiers heard Cagliostro’s voice, but couldn’t find him. To the Crystal Keepers, the soldiers moved in slow motion, as if through molasses.

The five Keepers dug deep into their love and redoubled their song. The Neters sang several frequencies above them. The universe, a many-tiered birdbath of dimensions, sang with them. They had to reach a peak to receive the energy in the crystal hovering in space above the Great Pyramid. It would beam the energy to their own crystals and they would transmit it physically to Earth. But the alignment was already moving apart. Time was running out. Without the sixth crystal, its Keeper, and the voice of the Hathors, they would fail. The perfection of their union started to crumble. A wave of grief swept through them all.

Suddenly, beyond all hope or reason, a circle of light appeared just outside the small chamber. Through it stepped three Tibetans, two monks and one nun. The sound of overtone chanting rose from them. The nun took a crystal from beneath her robes, positioned it in her hand, and kicking off her sandals, entered the temple. She took her position beside Cagliostro, who reached out with his mind to kill her. She brushed him off like a fly and added her voice to the chant. Hathor stepped beside her and thousands of upper-dimensional voices joined in.

Everything happened at once.

The chant, now complete, built to a crescendo and peaked. The crystal atop the Great Pyramid, an ethereal point that gleamed only in the higher dimension, unseen by the physical eye, now loosed the cosmic energy from galactic center. This light flowed into the crown of each Crystal Keeper, down each spine to each heart where it entered each crystal. As one, the Keepers pointed their keys to the center of the star beneath their feet and a million gigawatts of galactic energy flooded the Earth, reawakening the eight-hundred-mile-wide crystal at the Earth’s core. This crystalline heart pulsed once and that stream of energy spread through every crystal, every ley line in the planet. The Keepers spasmed and fell back, completely sated.

“No!” Cagliostro screamed again. “Stop them.”

The Keepers popped into view and the soldiers reached for the stones.

Paul Marchant turned toward the man trying to tear his crystal from his hand and hit him with a bolt of searing white light.

“Stop him,” Cagliostro ordered.

Three soldiers pointed their weapons at Marchant and pulled the triggers.

He saw the bullets flying toward him in slow motion. He smiled as he watched them come, the consequences of his attempt to own this sanctuary for himself. The bullets tore through his chest, jerking him back fully into the physical dimension. But they were too late. Already he could feel it, feel the spread of the light, feel the Earth’s grid system coming back online. He fell, offering his life in restitution. Tefnut took him into her heart and returned him to Nut.

Spender screamed as Marchant fell, and one soldier opened fire before he realized who he was shooting. The bullets crashed into Spender at the same spot that Maria’s jaguar had jumped through him just a few days earlier. He blinked in surprise and looked down at his chest. He fell, dead before he hit the floor.

“Michael,” Anne shouted. “Michael, we’ve got to get out of here.”

“Stop them,” Cagliostro screamed.

More soldiers poured through the tunnel and thronged up the steps. Five men surrounded Maria and she stood with her hands up, an enormous smile on her face.

“Anne.” Michael grabbed her hand and pulled her through the crowd, willing the soldiers not to see them. Two men grabbed Anne. She twisted away, kicking their legs out from under them. Anne and Michael ran down the stairs and scrambled on their hands and knees through the tunnel.

Once through, they raced across the plaza without looking back. Bullets flew around them. They dived behind the fallen statue of Osiris.

“This way.” Michael headed into the labyrinth of tunnels, following the stream that fed the lake. When they could no longer see the lights in the chamber, Michael risked turning on his flashlight. Thank God he hadn’t been searched.

They ran until their lungs burned, following turns in the tunnel as they came, now right, now left, praying they would find a way out. As they ran, they lost their higher connections. They came back to being just Anne and Michael, running for their lives and fully aware of their bare feet. Finally, they could run no farther and stopped, leaning against the tunnel wall, gasping for breath. When their breathing quieted, they listened. They heard silence, then a voice from far away. “Where are they?”

They ran again, up tunnels, around turns, finally reaching an ancient set of stairs. Anne stopped. “Where are we?” she whispered.

“I have no idea.” Michael panted behind her.

“Which way should we go?”

“We need to go up eventually. Let’s try these steps.”

They started to climb, carefully picking their way around fallen boulders and debris. They climbed for a long time, slowly picking their way upward. No voices came behind them. The euphoria of their ritual had worn off completely, leaving Anne aching all over. She climbed, holding her ribs. “How much farther?”

“Want to rest?”

“No, we need to get out of here.”

They climbed another twenty-odd steps and ran into a wall of stones and smaller debris.

“Now what?” Anne asked.

“Looks like a dead end.”

Anne sank down on the top step, cradling her head in her hands. “I don’t know how much longer I can go on.”

Michael moved closer to the stones. “Wait.”

“What?”

“Come here. Put your nose here.”

Anne stuck her face into the crack between the stones and took as deep a breath as her ribs would allow. She laughed, then grabbed her side. “Ouch.”

“What?”

“I never thought I’d be happy to smell camels.”

“If we can move some of these stones, maybe we can get out.”

“Or we could start an avalanche and be crushed to death.”

“True, but we’ve had good luck tonight.”

Carefully, Michael dug out the smaller debris from around two stones. Anne moved up beside him.

“No, you rest.”

“But—”

“Please.”

“All right.” Gratefully, Anne leaned back against the wall at a good distance from Michael.

After ten more minutes of digging, a stream of fresh air blew down to Anne. She moved up beside him.

“I think I can see the sky,” he said, and continued to move debris out of the way, careful not to dislodge any large stones. Finally, a narrow but clear passage lay before them.

“I’ll go first just in case we’re crawling to our deaths,” Michael said.

“You’d better stay alive,” Anne said.

“Here goes.” Michael started to move through the tunnel he’d cleared. Anne watched his body disappear as he pulled himself up. Seconds later his head reappeared. “Come on.” He reached a hand down and helped Anne up.

She stretched out on the ground, grateful to see stars again. Michael leaned against a new brick wall of some kind. After she caught her breath, Anne sat up and looked around. “Where are we?”

“I’m not sure.” Michael looked up. “Oh, my God!”

“What?” Anne asked.

Michael pointed up. An enormous head loomed in the night sky above them. They were sitting against the foreleg of the Sphinx.

“Oh, my God!” Anne repeated.

Goddess, corrected Tefnut.

Anne and Michael burst out laughing.

“Shhh, someone will hear us,” Michael sputtered.

Anne doubled over laughing, then grabbed her ribs.

Michael snorted.

“Stop,” Anne protested.

“I can’t help it. I guess Edgar Cayce was right.”

“Why? There was no Hall of Records, not like he said.”

“Yes, but we’ve just opened the stargate and here we are beneath the right paw of the Sphinx.”

“Tefnut is her proper name.”

Michael pulled Anne to him and kissed her tenderly, careful of her swollen lip. Then he held her arm’s length away and looked deep into her eyes, the one almost swollen shut. “You are the most beautiful woman in the world.”

“I look like a punching bag.”

“Anne Morgan Le Clair Greene,” he said, “will you marry me?”

Anne’s voice caught in her throat. Then a twinkle appeared in her one visible eye, “Hathor priestesses don’t get married, remember?”

“How will you explain that to the press?”

Anne smiled, “Okay, but what will your uncle say?”

“My uncle?” Michael’s voice rose.

Anne shushed him. “Quiet. You’ll attract the police.”

“What has my uncle got to do with this?” he whispered.

“Well, he kept telling me that you respect family.”

“So?”

“So I’m not a nice Jewish girl.”

“I beg to differ.”

“What?”

“You’re descended from one of the world’s most famous rabbis from the tribe of Judah, and on your mother’s side from the tribe of Benjamin. How Jewish can you get?”

“Then I accept.” Anne kissed him.

Michael took her in his arms and held her against his heart. “I hope I never come so close to losing you again.”

“Me, too.” She leaned into him, content. “I think we did it.”

“I think you’re right.”

“Paul Marchant didn’t make it.”

Michael nodded. “But it was an honorable death.”

Anne pulled away and struggled to her feet. “Come on. Dr. Abernathy and Arnold will be beside themselves.” A shadow crossed her face. “If they made it out.”

“I didn’t feel anyone else die. I was in such an expanded state, I think I would have known.”

“But I lost it about halfway through our escape.”

“True.” He looked at Anne, who was leaning against the Sphinx. Her face was black and blue, her eye and lip swollen. She was holding her side. “Let’s get you to a doctor.”

They walked out from the paws of the Great Mother, down the wooden path and to the gate. Michael lifted her over and they walked hand in hand across the front road, past the Pizza Hut franchise and down the street. A knot of people stood on the sidewalk.

Suddenly, Dr. Abernathy whirled around. “Here they are.”

The group ran toward them. Anne recognized three of the Illuminati adepts standing with Tahir. Shani was the first to reach them. “Are you all right?”

“We’re fine. No broken bones,” Anne said. “Did everyone make it out?”

“Everyone except Paul Marchant.”

“Some of the soldiers ran after you. The rest rounded us up. Looked like they were going to execute us on the spot.” Dr. Abernathy shook his head.

“What?”

One of the Illuminati spoke up. “Cagliostro suddenly collapsed. Even he has limits.” She smiled. “I assumed command and told the captain of the squad it was all over. We just walked out.”

“Where are the Tibetans?” Anne asked.

The nun stepped forward. Putting her hands together, she bowed to Anne and Michael.

Anne returned the posture in greeting. “Namaste, but how did you know?”

“Your brother. He came. We knew it was time.”

“But how did you get here?”

The nun only smiled and stepped back. The three Tibetans looked at each other, then closed their eyes. A circle of light appeared and the three stepped into it and simply disappeared.

Everyone gaped. After a long silence, Anne looked around and asked, “How did they do that?”

Dr. Abernathy shrugged. “There are stories about teleportation, but I never really believed them.” He looked at her. “We need to get you to a doctor.”

“There’s a doctor’s office down the street.”

“But it is the middle of the night,” Tahir said. “The hotel has someone on call.”

The group hailed taxis, which could still be found even at this hour. They piled in and Arnold called ahead, asking for the doctor. They arrived at the Mena House in about fifteen minutes. The group went to Anne’s suite. They sat on whatever was available—the couch, chairs, the floor.

Anne turned to Tahir. “Did we do it?”

“The Hall of Records has been opened. The Awakening has begun.”

“So what happens now?” Anne asked.

Tahir sat on the floor and out of habit looked around for his shisha pipe. Finding nothing, he said, “This is the time of the dawn. Earlier was the time of transition, like when the mu’adhdhins call everyone to prayer. The quickening of the light woke you all.” He included everyone in a sweep of his hand. “Now more will awaken, then even more as the sun rises above the horizon. Some like to sleep in.” He winked at Anne.

She smiled.

Tahir continued. “Those will wait until the sun has climbed halfway up the sky. It is a natural process, like all things. Human beings will begin to live in harmony with each other, with the environment.”

Maria nodded. “The Earth is safe. The star elders will begin to return to help us teach. We have done a good thing.”

“We should toast the success of our mission,” Anne said.

“And our engagement,” Michael announced.

“Congratulations!” came from several people.

Michael called room service. “Champagne, please.”

The doctor arrived and ushered Anne into the back room. Shani went with her.

“Let’s see what’s happening in the world.” Someone turned on the television.

“It may take some time,” Tahir cautioned. “The sun hasn’t even come up.”

Thomas Le Clair’s face filled the screen. Then the coverage switched to a shot of a helicopter pulling a piece of twisted metal out of the ocean. “Wreckage of the Le Clair family jet was found this morning off the coast of India,” the reporter’s voice began.

The group watched as the helicopter flew to a larger boat with the piece of the plane. Then the scene shifted. “In China, officials announced plans to open negotiations with the Dalai Lama.”

“I can’t believe it,” one of the Illuminati said.

“The light is spreading quickly,” Maria said. “Soon the world will be at peace and we can turn our attention to solving problems rather than killing each other.”

Michael switched off the set. “A moment of silence for our fallen—Thomas, Bob, and Paul.”

Michael closed his eyes, as did several of the others. As the room quieted, Michael’s senses deepened. He felt the vibration of the pyramids just outside, familiar but now somehow different. His awareness reached out to merge with the energy. It was higher and lighter, sweeter somehow. He opened his eyes to see Maria’s face.

She smiled at him. “Do you feel it?”

He grasped her hands. “We’ve done it.”

“Yes, but it will still take some time. Do not be discouraged if it doesn’t all happen overnight.”

Anne walked back out of her room, a patch over one eye, her arm in a sling. “Nothing broken.” She looked at the expressions in the room. “What?”

“China has announced peace talks with the Tibetans,” Michael said.

“You’re kidding.”

“It’s true. We just closed our eyes for a moment,” Michael continued. “The energy of the plateau has shifted significantly.”

“So our mission was a success,” Anne said.

Tahir nodded. “We have opened the Earth again. The sun will rise.”

“Good.” Anne looked from face to face and her forehead wrinkled. “But there’s something else.”

“They found Thomas’s plane.” Michael’s eyes slid from her face.

Anne nodded. “He’s still with me, though.”

Michael looked up at her again.

“It’s okay, Michael. I’ll miss him, but this is what we do, the Le Clairs. This is who we are.”

A knock sounded on the door. “Room service.”

Dr. Abernathy opened the door and a waiter rolled in a cart. Arnold signed for the delivery and Michael grabbed the bottle and opened it with a loud pop. The champagne ran over the top of the bottle and everyone grabbed a glass. Shani poured.

Once everyone’s glasses were full, Anne held hers in the air. “To the Awakening.”

Voices answered her from around the room. “To the Awakening.”