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of
paper showing Diana herself, an avid rock climber before her work
at the Smithsonian became too demanding. In the sketch, she was on
a ledge on the Isis Temple. But the oddest part was that there
were two ropes ascending off the
page .
    At the time, Diana believed
the artist had merely assumed she would need to arrange for
experienced guides. But now, with the two military-attired men
aiming a small arsenal at her, in almost the same pose as the
picture, she knew differently.
    Someone had set her
up.
     
    * * *
     
    "Get on your feet, Ms.
Montgomery."
    The other man grabbed her
under the arms and hauled her to her feet. She pulled free, spun
around. "What the hell is this? Who are you?"
    Her mind was racing. Maybe
some of the wilder rumors she'd heard were true: that this whole
area was off limits, ruthlessly protected by a government agency
trying to hide what Kincaid had found out here.
    The other climber –
shorter, wearing glasses with mirrored lenses in which she could
see her terrified face – shoved her against the hot rock
wall.
    "This is ridiculous," she
spat. "I'm an associate of the Smithsonian Institution.
I-"
    "No, ma'am, you're not. Got
a call from your boss yesterday, claiming you had stolen
confidential museum property, that you were to be apprehended on
sight."
    Damn Simcoe. She hung her head after an upwards longing glance
to where a small cave beckoned. What about that anonymous package?
Was that Simcoe too? None of this made any sense.
    Dejected, she headed to the
edge. The soldiers put their guns away, secured their harnesses and
prepared to rappel alongside her when suddenly another figure
dropped almost silently behind them. Dressed in khakis, with a
leather hat partially covering hair as red as the layers of shale
behind him, the newcomer sprang up from his crouch and delivered a
kick to the first soldier, sending him sprawling over the
edge.
    The other spun around, arms
up in a fighting pose, but the red-haired man ducked a punch as if
he knew exactly when it was coming, rose up and slammed a fist into
the soldier's chin, knocking him back. His heels slipped off the
edge and his arms spun wildly.
    Diana watched open-mouthed
as the newcomer stepped right up to the flailing soldier, placed a
finger on his chest, smiled and pushed.
    She scrambled to the edge
and looked down to see both men dangling sixty feet below, spinning
wildly, slamming against the rock wall and bouncing off.
    A hand gently caught her
shoulder. "Come on," he said, with just a touch of urgency. "That
won't stop them long."
    Diana shot to her feet, met
the man's piercing blue eyes, then glanced up to the cave. "Were
you…?"
    "Up there? Yeah, hiding
since last night, waiting for them to make their move."
    "Great, then you can get me
back up there? We can-"
    "Sorry but that's not where
we're going."
    "What? But the map…" She
paused. Could she trust someone who appeared all of a sudden,
dressed like Indiana Jones minus the whip? "Wait, who the hell are
you?"
    He continued smiling, and
the sun sparkled mischievously in his eyes as he slipped a large
waterproof backpack off his shoulders. He proceeded to extract
several expandable metal rods and unravel what looked like the
fabric of a parachute. "My name's Xavier Montross. And I sent you
the package."
    Diana stared at him. "You?
Then-" She stopped talking as soon as she focused on what it was he
was busy assembling. "What the hell is that?"
    "Hang glider."
    She took her eyes off him
long enough to look down the sheer cliff wall. One of her attackers
was still out cold, dangling in the winds. The other, his face
bloody, was climbing swiftly, fixing her with a vile
look.
    "We don't have much time,"
Xavier said.
    Diana shook her head. "I'm
not going anywhere until I get some answers."
    He stopped assembling the
triangular apex and the handles. "All you need to know, Diana
Montgomery, is right here." He reached into his backpack one more
time and retrieved a sketchbook. Flipped to a