He shook his head. At least Professor Briggs was protected and on his way to the safe house where he would have a decent meal, maybe for the first time in weeks.

  When Riley marched back into the living room, three pairs of eyes looked at him expectantly. “The vehicle en route to the safe house was ambushed.”

  Abigail was at once horrified. “Is Professor Briggs all right?”

  Riley hurried to reassure her. “He’s fine. Our agents had decided to have a decoy vehicle and that was the one that was ambushed.”

  Abigail now looked thoroughly confused. “What do you mean?”

  It was Ellis who answered for her. “I assume Briggs was taken in another direction to another vehicle. The Vortex agents chased the decoy vehicle thinking Professor Briggs was in it, whereas he was on his way to another location via another route.”

  Riley gave a nod of affirmation. “That’s right. And he’s perfectly safe.”

  Both Ellis and Thatcher frowned at Riley. There were barely perceptible frowns, but Riley recognized them for what they were. He was aware they knew he suspected either or both of them. If they were innocent, then the fact they were suspected wouldn’t go over well, but if they were guilty, they would be angry that Riley suspected them. It was a no-win situation.

  “What do we do now?” Abigail asked.

  “We take the key and go to the post office,” Riley said. “And I’m not going to say the name of the post office aloud just in case there is some kind of surveillance device on us.”

  Abigail yawned widely and stretched. Riley’s heart went out to her. He was tired, so he couldn’t imagine how tired a civilian must be. He didn’t like to put her through this, but time was running out. He couldn’t risk Vortex agents reaching the post office before he did.

  And it seemed the Vortex agents had been ahead of them every step of the way.

  Riley drove around in a circular route to the post office. He kept checking the maps app on his phone. He didn’t want to use the GPS in the car because that would alert Thatcher and Ellis to their destination.

  Finally, when Riley was satisfied he wasn’t being followed, he drove to the little village post office.

  It was dark and the street was deserted. Riley stepped out of the car and looked around. He couldn’t see anyone, but what’s more, he didn’t feel anyone in the vicinity. Years as an agent had honed his intuitive skills. He opened the door for Abigail, held out his hand, and said, “Let’s go.” He could have opened the post office box, but he didn’t want to leave Abigail alone with Thatcher and Ellis. He also didn’t want to risk Abigail going anywhere alone.

  Abigail opened the post office box without difficulty. Riley sighed with relief. So far, so good.

  “Back to the car,” he said, still looking around the street.

  When they got back in the car, Riley left the engine running. “Open it now.”

  Abigail took some time to open the package, given that it was well wrapped. When she looked inside, she gasped.

  “What is it?” Thatcher asked from the back seat.

  “I don’t think it’s anything that can help us.”

  “Why don’t you tell us and let us be the judge of that.” Ellis still had the same snarky tone.

  Abigail pulled out a book and handed it to Riley. “It’s a book of Greek translations of sixth century Lydian ostraca. It was written over a hundred years ago, so the information isn’t up to date.”

  “A wild goose chase then,” Ellis grunted from the back seat.

  Riley handed the book back to Abigail and drove away, after punching an address into the GPS.

  “What now?” Ellis asked him.

  “I know we have to get to Sardis in a hurry, but no one as yet knows the location. I doubt Vortex know as much as we do. We’ll need some sleep. We’ll stay in a hotel tonight.”

  His words received no argument. Abigail sighed with relief. She had been running on adrenaline, but now the very mention of sleep made her realize just how much she needed it. Her nerves were on edge and she was exhausted. She probably needed to sleep for a week but a night’s sleep was all she was going to get. Still, she was grateful for that.

  Abigail dozed off a few times and awoke when she hit her head on the side of the car. It was too dark now to see the scenery. She only realized she had slept when the car stopped.

  Riley got out of the car. Abigail looked around at the Bed and Breakfast in the quaint little village. The others got out of the car, so she followed suit.

  Riley took everyone’s suitcases out of the trunk. “We should split up,” he said to Ellis and Thatcher. “You two stay here and Abigail and I will book into a B&B around the corner.”

  “Are you going to take the car?” Thatcher asked.

  “You guys won’t need it?”

  They both shook their heads. Riley put Abigail’s and his suitcases back in the trunk. “I’ll meet you back here in the morning at seven,” he said.

  They drove around the corner and Riley parked the car. Abigail looked out the window at a big sign, ‘White Stag Bed and Breakfast.’ It looked nice enough, but she really didn’t care. She would have been happy to sleep in the car at that point.

  Riley took the luggage out of the trunk once more. “We’re catching a taxi,” he told her. “We’re going to the next village. It’s just a precaution.”

  Abigail thought that a little strange, but she didn’t say anything. Sleep was uppermost on her mind. “How far to the next village?”

  “It’s probably about thirty minutes or so.” He leaned closer to her and said in low tones, “I can’t be certain there isn’t a tracking device on that car.”

  They walked the short distance to a local pub and sat at a table while Riley called a taxi. “It’ll be here in five minutes,” he told her.

  The rest was a blur. Abigail could barely keep her eyes open. The very act of staying awake became a physical effort for her. She tried to focus on the traditional English pub interior: the low ceilings, the rough wooden beams, the whitewashed walls, but the lazy drone of conversation lulled her to sleep.

  The taxi deposited them in at a Bed and Breakfast in a sleepy village. The sign outside announced there were vacancies.

  Riley took Abigail by the arm, escorted her in, and asked the lady who met them in the lobby if they had a vacancy for two rooms.

  The friendly woman was most accommodating. “Americans, are you? Well, I’ll have to take your passports. Not that I think you’re criminals or anything, but it’s the law.” She chuckled.

  “That’s perfectly all right,” Riley said. “We’ll be leaving before seven in the morning.”

  “That’s fine. The first breakfast is served at six. Do you have any allergies or food preferences?”

  “No. Riley looked at Abigail. She shook her head.

  “Here’s the breakfast menu. If you could just fill out the forms and drop them in this box here.” She tapped a large wooden box with a slot in the top. “We can have a nice cooked breakfast ready for you at six.”

  Riley paid and thanked the woman, who smiled before disappearing through a side door. Abigail was sitting on a chair by the reception desk, already dropping off to sleep.

  “What would you like for breakfast?” Riley asked her.

  Abigail opened one eye. “Anything at all.”

  Riley filled out the form for her and dropped it in the box. “Come on, I’ll walk you to your room. I’ll collect you at exactly six. Set the alarm.”

  “Um, err,” was all Abigail could manage.

  Riley showed Abigail to her room, and unlocked the door for her. “Again, don’t answer the door to anyone except me at precisely 6 tomorrow morning.”

  “Sure.” She walked into the room.

  “And Abigail, lock the door behind me.”

  “Sure,” she said again. She shut the door and latched the chain.

  Abigail threw herself on the bed and immediately fell into a deep sleep.

  She awoke sometime in the night with a start. She jumped out of bed and turned on the light. The door was still locked. All of a sudden, Abigail didn’t feel tired at all. She hurried to the adjoining bathroom and looked at herself in the mirror. The shock itself was enough to jolt her awake. Her hair was sticking in all directions and was frizzy. It looked as though a goat had chewed on the ends. Deep semi circles of shadows sat under her eyes, both of which were somewhat bloodshot.

  She took a long hot shower and looked in the mirror once more. There was an improvement, but now her face was beet red. Abigail shrugged. Her face was the least of her concerns. She climbed back into the bed and pulled the heavy blanket over herself. She did her best to fall asleep, but this time sleep eluded her. Now she was wide awake.

  Abigail gave up. She sat up and reached for the book Jason had sent Professor Briggs. What was so significant about this book?

  The scholarship was well out of date. Jason wasn’t a lexicographer, but he didn’t need to be, to know that. And it wasn’t a nice rare volume either. Abigail couldn’t figure out why Jason would send it to Professor Briggs. She flipped the pages and then held the book upside down and shook it in case there was a message inside. There was not.

  Yet there had to be some significance. Abigail stared at the book once more. She knew Jason—he wasn’t in the habit of sending gifts to people.

  She shook her head. No, this book had to hold a clue somehow.

  Abigail was about to give up in disgust. She turned the book upside down one more time and shook it. Nothing fell out. “Just as I expected,” Abigail said aloud, but then she noticed writing in red ink inside the book.

  She read the writing and gasped.

  20

  OXFORDSHIRE

  The Temple of Artemis is under the Acropolis North under what I believe is the site of Croesus’s palace complex.

  Abigail was elated. That information, along with the photos, would pinpoint the location of the tunnel. She knew that the sectors ByzFort and Field 49 were believed to be the site of the Lydian palace complex, and that the palace under the Acropolis North was a different palace complex, but this did not matter to her. The clue was that the Temple of Artemis was under the Acropolis North.

  And now Abigail knew why nobody had discovered the tunnel entrance. She had been looking at drone footage of the site only the other week. Visible were several exposed sections of the tunnel that connected the Acropolis North with the dry stream-bed that once ran between ByzFort and Field 49.

  Abigail couldn’t wait to tell Riley, but it was just after 3 a.m. She was sure she would not be able to sleep, but lay back on the bed and shut her eyes, willing sleep to come. She awoke with a start when her alarm sounded, five minutes before six. Abigail climbed out of bed, more slowly this time, rubbing her eyes. She didn’t feel refreshed at all—rather, she felt as though she needed another good night’s sleep.

  Riley knocked on her door at precisely six as she knew he would. She was ready. Abigail took in his clean-shaven jawline, his broad shoulders, his bright blue eyes. Butterflies coursed through her stomach.

  “You look refreshed,” Riley said.

  That was the closest to a compliment he had ever given her.

  “Thank you.” Did she imagine it or did his face flush slightly?

  “Breakfast?” he said rather too briskly as he turned on his heel and led the way down the corridor.

  Abigail was more alert now and was taking in her surroundings. A Scottish coat of arms hung on the wall directly opposite the entrance to the dining room. The dining room was tiny, just enough room for two booths at right angles to each other. Currently, it was empty.

  The lady must have noticed Abigail looking around. “The other guests won’t have breakfast until eight. You have the room to yourselves.”

  Abigail shot her a smile before sitting down. She hadn’t noticed the lady’s Scottish accent until now. She had, however, noticed Riley sat with his back to the wall as he always did.

  “Coffee?” The woman hovered over them, holding a stainless steel coffee pot.

  “Yes, please!” Abigail said more forcefully than she intended. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee was delightful.

  The woman laughed and filled both cups. When she left the room, Abigail looked around to make sure nobody could hear and leaned across the table. “I know exactly where the entrance to the tunnel is.” Her voice ended on a note of triumph.

  Riley looked shocked. “But how?”

  Abigail looked around the room once more before sliding the book across the table to him. She opened the page with the writing and jabbed her finger on it. “Look what it says!”

  “And you know where the Acropolis North is?”

  “I do,” Abigail said. “Can I have your iPad?”

  He reached into his backpack and fetched the iPad for her.

  She typed on it for a while and then slid it back to Riley. “This is drone footage of the Acropolis.”

  She watched his face as he registered what he was looking at. “What are all those tunnels?”

  “Those are cross sections of the tunnel that ran between the Acropolis and a dry stream-bed. There are several tunnels under Sardis. In 1964, archeologists uncovered a network of Roman tunnels dug by ancient tomb robbers. They were only wide enough for one person.” She tapped her finger on the iPad for emphasis. “These go under a burial mound to the chamber of what is presumed to be a member of the Lydian royal family. No chamber has been found as yet, despite archeologists digging over one hundred meters of tunnels.”

  Riley raised one eyebrow.

  Abigail took that as a signal to continue. “And guess who wrote about these tombs and chambers centuries ago? Hipponax, the Ephesian poet who lived around the time of Croesus. Hipponax was Jason’s area of expertise.”

  “Surely people have translated Hipponax before.”

  Abigail chuckled. “Hipponax’s Greek was slang. It was a mixture of Greek, Lydian, Phrygian, and some Anatolian. Anyone trying to translate what he wrote as straight Ionian Greek would get it wrong, badly wrong.”

  Riley set down his fork. “So what does that mean in practical terms? I take it we don’t go into those tunnels we saw on the video?”

  Abigail shook her head. “No, not one of those tunnels, but we do go into a nearby tunnel. The writing in the book along with the photographs will show us exactly which tunnel it is.”

  Riley nodded slowly. “I see. We go to the cliff face where all those tunnels are and then the photos Professor Briggs gave us will guide us to the exact spot.”

  Riley looked the closest to excited she had ever seen him. He pushed on. “And that’s why no one would have taken any notice of the tunnel if they had seen it before. They would simply think it was one of those tunnels that go between the Acropolis North to the—what did you say again?”

  “Dry stream-bed,” Abigail supplied. “Exactly! I discovered this around two or three in the morning and I was too excited to get back to sleep.”

  “Don’t mention this to Ellis or Thatcher.” Riley stopped speaking as the lady re-entered the room with two plates laden with food.

  As soon as she left, Riley pushed on. “As I said before, let’s keep this information to ourselves. The fewer people that know, the better. We won’t tell anyone, including Ellis or Thatcher, until the very last moment.”

  Abigail’s initial excitement was replaced with apprehension. She had almost forgotten she was in danger. “Riley, are you sure Professor Briggs is all right?”

  “Yes, he’s perfectly fine, no need to worry. He’s in the safe house with his cat.” Riley laughed. “Four Vortex agents were apprehended.”

  “How many of them were there to start with?” Abigail said.

  “They’re not certain as yet, but at least one did get away. “

  “That’s good, right?” Abigail looked into Riley’s face hopefully. “Just one on the loose?”

  “I’m afraid not. Vortex will send more agents.”

  Abigail’s face fell. “So they have a never-ending supply?”

  “Pretty much.”

  Her stomach sank. Riley was taking plenty of precautions, but was she in fact safe? How long before the new Vortex agents would arrive? Or did they know she was headed for Sardis and were there, waiting for her to show up? It wasn’t the excavation season so they couldn’t pose as archeologists. It wasn’t the tourist season either, but there would no doubt be tourists at the site. Maybe the Vortex agents would be there after all, posing as tourists.

  Despite the warmth of the food she was eating and the hot coffee, Abigail was unable to suppress a shiver.

  They caught a cab back to their car parked outside the Bed and Breakfast and then drove it to meet Ellis and Thatcher. As soon as the car stopped, Ellis and Thatcher materialized and hopped in the back seat.

  Riley drove off immediately. “They will anticipate we will drive straight to Heathrow, so we should take two cars and drive to Manchester airport. I’m driving to Carterton now to hire another car. It’s west of Oxford, so Vortex won’t expect us to go in that direction. Leave us in Carterton, and then the two of you proceed to Manchester, but stay off the main roads.”

  “Where and when will we meet you?” Ellis asked.

  “I’ll call you,” Riley said. “For now, head for Manchester airport and wait there until you hear from me.”

  “That’s a bit vague,” Thatcher complained.

  “That’s all you’re getting.” Riley’s tone was firm.

  Abigail turned her attention to the quaint villages. The thatched roofs on the picture-perfect cottages fascinated her. When they reached Carterton, Ellis and Thatcher drove away. Abigail wasn’t sorry to see them go. Ellis’s disapproval of her was a constant source of irritation. Not that she was able to relax, given the circumstances, but it would certainly make things easier for her if his mood improved.

  Abigail leaned back in the comfortable seat. Driving in Britain, on what to her was the wrong side of the road, was disconcerting. She ducked several times when cars passed on the narrow road, much to Riley’s amusement.