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“I can read better if you don’t point that gun at me,” Lourds said. “And you’re blocking my light.”

The crazed priest backed away, but he didn’t put down the gun.

Again and again, Lourds read the inscriptions. They told of the destruction of Atlantis and of the decision to send the key to the Drowned Land out into the world in five pieces.

And the final line was: Make a glad noise.

“Make a glad noise,” Lourds said aloud. “Does that mean anything?” He’d thought it had something to do with the instruments, but he’d played them, and nothing had happened.

Murani hesitated only a moment. “ ‘Make a joyful noise unto the Lord, all ye lands.’ Psalms 100:1.”

“What does that mean?”

“Men should praise and rejoice God.”

“You just knew where to find that?”

“All bishops used to be required to memorize the Book of Psalms.” Murani shook his head. “So many crucial Church practices have passed by the wayside. I am something of a traditionalist.”

Lourds wanted to ask, Do those practices include murder? But he decided it would be too inflammatory.

“Does that passage have any special significance to the Book of Knowledge?” Lourds asked.

“Not that I’m aware of.”

Carefully, Lourds touched the instruments again. The answer had to be there, but it eluded him. He racked his brain. The solution had to be hidden, but it would also need to be attainable. After all, if a Keeper was lost too early, those that followed would have to know how to figure everything out.

Taking up his flashlight, Lourds returned to the image of the Keepers being given the five instruments. Murani accompanied him.

In the image, the five men held the instruments high. They stood in a row, each with the instrument held in a certain way.

Lourds memorized the sequence of the instruments. He returned to the instruments and put them in that order. Drum, cymbal, pipe, flute, and bell. Was there significance to the order? Or was he fooling himself?

He used the flashlight and studied the surfaces closely. Symbols he hadn’t noticed before, carved into the drum’s side so they looked like scratches, suddenly caught his eye. They were faint and loose, nothing like what was on the inscription. After thousands of years, it was a wonder they remained.

Quickly, excited now, Lourds rolled the instruments around until he found symbols on each of them in turn. Together they formed a sentence.

“ ‘Break make a joyful noise.’ ” Lourds translated it again. It didn’t make sense. Surely he had it wrong.

“What do you see?” Murani asked.

Lourds told him.

“What are these symbols?” Murani asked. He picked up only a few of the symbols with his flashlight.

“ ‘Make a joyful noise.’ ”

Murani aimed his flashlight toward a nearby wall. “These symbols are there as well.”

Looking up, Lourds saw that the symbols were repeated. Excitement screamed through him. He stood and crossed to the wall. Bending down, he picked up a rock and smashed it against the wall.

A hollow noise came back.

Lourds pounded again. “There’s an empty space back there.” He slammed the rock against the wall again. This time the rock broke through.

Murani, Gallardo, and some of the others pushed forward and attacked the false wall with their rifle butts. The wall shattered and fell to the floor.

On the other side of the wall, an elegant and pristine cavern filled with stalactites and stalagmites lay before them. The sounds of the impacts echoed almost melodically inside the cavern.

Before anyone could stop him, Lourds crossed the broken wall and stepped into the cavern. The air inside the cavern seemed fresher here. The noise quietly died down, but Lourds couldn’t help noticing how this space held the sound like a stage.

The wall to Lourds’s right held a carved image of the First Son standing with the Book of Knowledge.

The inscription below the First Son read:

MAKE A JOYFUL NOISE UNTO THE LORD.

CHAPTER

24

CHAMBER OF CHORDS

ATLANTIS DIG SITE

CÁDIZ, SPAIN

SEPTEMBER 14, 2009

W

hat does it mean?” Murani asked as he played his flashlight beam over the stone that captivated the linguistics professor’s attention.

“I don’t know,” Lourds replied.

Their words floated into the emptiness of the cave and echoed back.

“It’s the same as the one that was on the wall, right?” Murani’s impatience grew. He was on dangerous ground now. The Swiss Guardsmen recognized the authority of the Society of Quirinus for the moment, but their paths were divergent, and Murani knew it. They would balk at killing Lourds, Sebastian, and the others. The guards who had watched Sebastian were already ripe for rebellion. Murani would not suffer them to live.

But that was why he’d brought Gallardo and his people to the dig site. Perhaps Lieutenant Sbordoni and his men would follow orders, including murder, but many of the Swiss Guard that had been on-site at the dig wouldn’t.

Murani would deal with that complication when the time came. For now, he needed Lourds to spill his knowledge. It would be his last opportunity to do so, Murani swore.

“It’s the same,” Lourds confirmed.

“The last wall was fake.”

“I don’t think this one is,” Lourds said.

Murani gestured to Gallardo. The man slammed his rifle butt against the stone wall. The metal struck fire and broke loose a few stone chips.

The loud clank echoed within the chamber.

“Solid,” Gallardo grunted.

Lourds cocked his head and listened.

Murani supposed he was listening to the echoes but didn’t know why. The professor surprised the cardinal. He’d truly expected the man to be begging for his life by now. Instead, Lourds seemed to be more fascinated than ever by what was going on.

For himself, it was all Murani could do to keep his anticipation in check. He’d been thinking about the Book of Knowledge for years since he’d first discovered the existence of the five instruments in the book that the other members of the Society of Quirinus hadn’t found in their own archives.

He took a fresh grip on the pistol he carried. The weapon felt awkward in his hand, but he knew enough about it to use it. And he knew enough about himself to know that he would use it if he felt he had to.

For a moment, he wondered if Lourds were stalling. If he was—

“Hit the wall again,” Lourds said. His eyes never left the wall.

“Hit it yourself,” Gallardo replied.

Impatient, probably wondering if he’d thrown in with the wrong person, Lieutenant Sbordoni struck the wall with his rifle. Again, the sound echoed through the cavern.

“This place is like a soundstage,” Leslie said.

The moment she said that, Murani remembered that it had reminded him of that as well. Or an antechamber in a church.

“Once more,” Lourds directed.

Sbordoni struck the wall again.

“Hit another area.”

The lieutenant drew back his rifle and did it again.

This time Murani heard the double-cadence of the sound also. The cave amplified it so well that the sound was discernible.

“Help me.” Lourds shone his flashlight over the wall. “There has to be an artifact here somewhere. A release lever or something.”

“Why?” Murani asked.

“There’s trapped space behind this wall,” Lourds said.

“Another cave?”

Lourds shook his head as he felt along the lines of the engraving. “There’s not that much space. This sounds like a void.”

“No more than a few inches,” Sbordoni said. The Swiss Guard lieutenant searched as well. “Do you think it’s hidden in the picture?”

“Step back. Give me as much light on the engraving as you can.” Lourds stepped back also.

All of them stood in silence for a time. As they did, they heard a gentle susurration against the stone.

“What’s that?” Gallardo asked.

“It’s the sea,” Father Sebastian said. His voice was scratchy and rough from the blow Gallardo had dealt him. “The stone walls of the caves are the only barrier that keep the Atlantic Ocean from filling this place up. Break through, and you’ll drown us all.”

That sobering thought made many of the Swiss Guardsmen nervous. Gallardo and his men didn’t seem to appreciate their circumstances either.

“The walls will hold,” Murani said. “He’s just trying to scare you.”

But he knew the scare tactic was working. These men lacked the faith in God and in the mission that he had.

“Have any of you seen this picture before?” Lourds asked.

“I have,” Murani answered. “It was like the one in the book in the archives.”

“Did you bring it?”

“No.”

Lourds looked disappointed. “It would have been good to have something to match this one against.” He studied the wall, and Murani could see that he was totally absorbed by the problem, forgetting all about the threats to his life.

Amazed by Lourds’s preoccupation, Murani searched for any differences in the image. It looked the same as the one in the book.

Except there was one difference.

“The book,” Murani said. “The book in the First Son’s hand.”

“What about it?” Lourds stepped closer to examine the book.

“In the picture that I saw, it was closed, not open.”

Lourds touched the book with a forefinger. “I need a knife.” He held a hand out.

“No way,” Gallardo said. “You’re a captive, not a guest.”

“Give him the knife,” Murani ordered. “You have your rifle. What’s he going to do with a knife against your sharpshooters?”

Gallardo handed over a lock-back knife with a five-inch blade.

Lourds opened the knife and started scratching at the outline of the book. Without warning, the blade slid into the engraved line. Smiling, Lourds shoved the knife forward.

Something within the wall clicked. The sound echoed throughout the chamber. Then angry grinding started behind the wall, and filled the cave with noise.

Abruptly, the cave wall recessed and revealed hidden demarcations that dust had filled. The wall slid back six inches, then slid again to the left.

Behind the wall was another engraving. This one showed the five instruments again. They were in a different order this time.

Below the engravings of the instruments were ten squares. Lourds pressed one of the squares. Something ratcheted in the wall, and almost immediately a loud, musical bong! filled the chamber.

Lourds was already on the move with his flashlight in hand as he strode into the darkness. “Press that button once more.”

Murani waved at Sbordoni to follow Lourds and told Gallardo to press the square again.

The bong! pealed again.

Lourds altered his direction and shone the flashlight overhead. “Again,” he yelled as the echoes died away.

Bong!

Murani heard the noise almost directly overhead. His flashlight beam trailed Lourds’s up against the cave roof.

“Again,” Lourds called.

This time Murani saw the hammer strike the stalactite above. The hammer was compact and looked like it had been made of bone. A gold wire connected to it ran up into a hole in the cave ceiling.

“Again.”

The hammer moved and struck the stalactite.

Bong!

“Press another button,” Lourds directed.

Bong!

The noise set off another brief pursuit that resulted in the discovery of another bone hammer operated by gold wire.

“The cavern,” Lourds said in disbelief as he directed his flashlight around. “It’s been turned into a musical instrument.”

Natasha oversteered the pickup drastically in the darkness. The vehicle hurtled down the grade. She watched the odometer and ticked off the tenths of a kilometer as they rolled around.

“Watch it!” Gary yelled hoarsely.

Too late, she saw the cave wall rush up at them out of the darkness. Natasha pulled hard to avoid it, but the pickup’s tires slid across the slick stone floor. The proximity of the Atlantic filled the air with humidity. In time, she knew, it would cause changes in the cave system and might even kill off some of the bacteria and fungus that grew there naturally.

The pickup slammed against the wall with bone-jarring force. For a moment Natasha thought she’d gotten stuck for good. The rear tires spun on the stone as they clawed for purchase.

The headlights of their pursuers got closer.

Then the tires caught, and they shot forward again.

Gary cursed and pushed the broken glass out of the window. More of it had spilled across his lap.

“Thinking maybe you should have stayed behind now?” Natasha asked.

“Maybe a little more than I was,” Gary admitted. “But I have to warn you, I was really not wanting to come to begin with. Starting with that attack back in Alexandria.”

Natasha smiled grimly at that. She pressed her foot harder on the accelerator. The pickup shot forward again.

Only a short distance farther on, the cave widened again. This time Natasha recognized the cave as the one that had been on television so much. It was the cave before the one where all the crypts had been found.

A quick glance ahead told her they’d exhausted all their room to run. She hit the brakes and cut the wheel. She slewed sideways as the rubber lost traction again. Before she could stop, the pickup slammed into a parked earthmover. Her head hit the back of the pickup cab, and she almost blacked out.

The scent of gasoline filled the cab.

Not all cars blow up, Natasha told herself. That’s only in American movies.

But she also knew that enough of them blew up to warrant a hasty evacuation. She’d seen that happen in Moscow. Besides that, the men chasing them were almost on top of them.

She grabbed Gary’s shoulder and shook him. “Get out!”

Gary looked at her. Blood dripped from a cut over one eye. “I thought we were dead.”

“Not yet.” Natasha threw her weight against the door and forced it open. She clambered out and filled her hands with pistols as the other vehicles bore down on her.

They’re construction workers, she reminded herself. They’re just trying to do their job. They’re not Gallardo or his men. They’re not the ones who killed Yuliya. She had to make herself remember that.

Gary couldn’t get out on his side and had to climb out on hers. He swayed unsteadily as he took cover among the construction equipment.

Bullets tore into the pickup and drew Natasha’s attention to three Swiss Guards standing post near a mobile building. The building and the guards stood out in the darkness of the cave due to the lighting strung around them.

Natasha grabbed Gary and shoved him under one of the earthmovers as they took cover. She cursed mentally. She and Chernovsky had been stuck in some tight places in Moscow over the years, but this wasn’t looking good at all.

Then she noticed the steady drip of gasoline pooling beneath the pickup. With the all the metal and the stone floor, it was a safe wager that a spark would be struck soon.

The construction workers managed to pull to a stop, but as soon as they did bullets from the Swiss Guard chopped some of them down and sent the others into hiding.

“Okay,” Gary said, “they’re bad guys.”