Pandora's grave

Harry flipped the folder open and briefly studied the 8x10 photo inside. “Moshe Tal,” he announced calmly, his voice betraying none of his inner confusion. “Israel’s foremost archaeologist.”

“You know him?”

“By reputation only. A modern-day Indiana Jones, so they say.”

“Whoever ‘they’ are, they’re right. He’s a cowboy.”

“So I’ve heard. Not too much regard for the conventions of the business. Where’s he fit into this picture?”

The CIA director snorted. “He is the picture. Six months ago he obtained permission from the Iranian government to conduct an archaeological dig in the Alborz Mountains, apparently in the ruins of a medieval Persian city.”

“Excuse me, sir,” Harry interrupted. “They allowed an Israeli archaeologist inside their borders?”

“It’s already sounding rather strange, isn’t it?”

“You’d better believe it. How large of a team does Dr. Tal have with him?”

“The team was very small. That’s another one of his trademarks. Fifteen in all including Dr. Tal, thirteen Americans and an Australian woman named Rachel Eliot.”

“No other Israelis?”

A grim smile creased the director’s face. “They obeyed their government’s injunction to stay out of Iran.”

“Our citizens didn’t? Why doesn’t that surprise me?”

“Because they usually don’t.”

“Wait a minute, director,” Harry said, suddenly holding up his hand. “You said the team was very small. What’s happened?”

Director Lay opened his desk drawer and took out another folder, handing it across. “That’s why you’re here. They’ve disappeared.”

Harry’s only reaction was raised eyebrows. “Indeed.”

“They disappeared five days ago,” the director nodded. “The whole team. Every last one of them. It’s all in the folder there. Every blessed thing we know about it.”

Harry opened the folder, taking out a couple of glossy photographs, clearly enhanced from a satellite.

“The first one is from the 13th. Because of the number of Americans in the team, we were doing a daily satellite overpass of the camp. Just to make sure nothing happened to them.”

“But something did.”

Lay nodded. “Correct. The first photograph, digitally enhanced from the KH-13 overpass, shows a bustling camp,” he noted, referencing the Key Hole spy satellite. “Almost everyone is present in the photo. One of the Americans, Joel Mullins, is missing, but on thermal scan, we picked up a heat signature from inside one of the tents.”

“So, he was probably inside.”

“Likely. Now take a look at the second photo, taken on the 14th. What do you see?”

“Nothing,” Harry said slowly. “No people, no tents, nothing. It’s all gone.” He looked up. “It’s been five days now. Anything?”

“Yes.” The DCIA pulled a third photograph from his desk and handed it over. “Take a look at this.”

Harry did as he was told. His eyes opened wide. “What on earth are they doing there?”

“That’s what I need you to find out.”

1:05 P.M.

A beach

Atlantic City, New Jersey

“Cut that out!” Thomas Parker spluttered, waking up abruptly from his nap as water splashed over him.

The thirty-six-year-old New York native looked up at the young woman standing over him, at the now empty bucket in her hands, water dripping suspiciously from its rim. Mischief glinted in her dark eyes. She made a quick motion as though to toss it at him, giggling uncontrollably as he rolled off the blanket into the sand.

“I said, cut it out, Julie!” he protested, the sand sticking to his wet chest.

“Are you going to make me?” she laughed, dancing away from him as he grabbed for her ankle.

He leaned back, slicking his wet brown hair back from his forehead, gazing up at his girlfriend. “No, probably not. But sooner or later-” he shook his finger at her. “You’ll see.”

“I’ll see what?”

At that moment, his cellphone rang and whatever his reply might have been was forever lost as he reached for it. Words were blinking on-screen: SECURE CONNECTION. It had to be Kranemeyer. And that didn’t bode well for his plans for the evening. He stood and glanced over at Julie.

“This is private,” he warned her, rapidly tapping in the code sequence for the encrypted line.

“What is it, another girlfriend?” she demanded, watching his face closely.

He shook his head, grinning back at her.

“No, it’s my boss.” He stepped another few feet away from the sun umbrella he had been lying under. “Thomas speaking.”

“Where the devil are you, Parker? I tried your home phone, but I couldn’t reach you there.”

“I’m on vacation, sir. Why would I be at home? I’m in Atlantic City, taking in the surf and sand.”

“Well, your vacation’s over. I need you back at Langley right away. Something’s come up.”

“Right away?” Thomas with palpable reluctance, glancing back at Julie. He was going to have fun explaining this one.

“Listen, Parker, I want you back on base as fast as possible. We’re deploying. Do you have any further questions?”