Still, as Gray stood there, he knew photos could not capture the ancient feel of the place. He took a moment to absorb it all. Something about the structure nagged at him. He pushed away all distractions. He ignored the others wandering the ruins, turned a deaf ear to the guide's continuing discourse.

Instead, he listened to this place.

He allowed himself to slip back in time, to hear the monks' chanting, the ring of bells in a call to prayers, the silent prayers cast heavenward.

Here was a sacred place...

Surrounded by ancient stone columns...

Then he knew.

He turned full around once more, his eyes wide. "We're in a sacred stone ring."

A step away, Rachel lowered her camera. "What?"

He waved an arm around the cloister. "These columns are really no different than the standing stones back in the peat bog." His excitement grew, his voice breathless. "We're standing in the middle of a Christian version of a stone ring."

Gray rushed to the towering columns and moved from one to the next. Carved out of massive blocks of yellow-gray limestone, each one had to weigh several tons, truly no different from the standing bluestones of England.

On his fourth column, he found it. It was faint, no more than a shadow worn into the surface of the limestone. He ran his fingers over the mark, tracing the circle and the cross.

"It's the symbol," he said.

The guide had noted his sudden attention. She joined him. "Magnifique. You've discovered one of the consecration crosses."

He turned to her for elaboration.

"During the Middle Ages, it was traditional to sanctify a church or its property with such symbols. Unlike the crucifix that represents Christ's suffering, these crossed circles represent the apostles. It was typical to adorn a sacred place with them. They always numbered-"

"Twelve," Gray finished for her. He pictured the standing stones in the peat bog. There had been twelve crosses there, too.

"That's correct. They mark the blessings of the twelve apostles."

And maybe something much older, he added silently.

Gray moved through an archway into the covered walkway. He wanted to examine the far sides of the columns. The standing stones back in England had spirals on their reverse sides.

He searched quickly along the cloister. The others joined him. He found no markings on the inner surfaces of the columns. By the time he had circled all the way back to where he started, his excitement had waned. Maybe he was wrong. Maybe he was reading too much into the symbolism.

The woman noted his determined search. "So you've heard the local legend," she said with a slight scoffing tone. "I think half the reason the cloister still stands is because of that mystery."

Wallace wiped his brow with a handkerchief. "What mystery are you talking about, my dear lady?"

The woman smiled for the first time, slightly smitten by the older professor. Also, Wallace had been sticking close to her, asking lots of questions, which probably contributed to the attraction.

"It's a legend only told locally. A story passed from one generation to the next. But I'll admit, it is an oddity."

Wallace returned her smile, encouraging her to continue.

She pointed to the courtyard. "As I said before, it's typical to sanctify a church with twelve consecration crosses. But here there are only eleven."

Surprised, Gray stepped back out into the garden. He mentally kicked himself for not being thorough enough. He had never thought to count the number of symbols. He had assumed there were twelve, like the standing stones.

"The story goes that the missing twelfth and final consecration cross of Clairvaux Abbey guards a great treasure. People have been looking for it for ages, scouring the grounds here, even searching the outlying barns. But it's all just silly légendes. Absurdité. Most likely the twelfth cross had been carved inside the abbey itself, joining the blessing out here to the church."

And maybe that link still existed, Gray thought .

The guide checked her watch. "I'm sorry, but we must end our tour here. Perhaps if you come tomorrow, I could show you more."

This last offer was mostly directed at Wallace Boyle.

"Oh, I'm sure we'll be back," he promised her.

Gray glanced at Seichan to see if she thought that might still be possible. She had sidled next to him. With the tour ending, she had grown visibly tense.

Before he could question her, a loud siren blared, jarring and strident. They all searched around. What was going on?

The armed guard moved closer. Rachel turned to their guide, checking her face to see if this was a normal occurrence.

"We must find cover," Seichan said at Gray's ear. Her voice was urgent, but she looked almost relieved, as though she had been waiting for something to happen.

"What's going on?"

Before she could answer, a new noise intruded. Past the siren, a heavy thud-thud reverberated, felt in the gut. He looked to the sky as two helicopters shot into view over the wooded ridgeline. The pair rose high, then tipped their noses and dove straight toward the prison.

From the sirens, Gray knew those two did not belong in this airspace.

The prison was under attack.

3:22 P.M.

Krista sat next to the pilot as he angled the helicopter toward the prison below. Even through the muffling headphones and the roar of the rotors, she made out the scream of the sirens below. The facility had picked up their approach, tried to hail them, but without proper call signs radioed back, the prison had sounded the alarm.

Ahead of her, the first Eurocopter swept over the prison grounds. From its belly, barrels dropped. They tumbled below and crashed with fiery explosions. The concussions cut through the chaos, booming like thunder.

Krista wanted as much mayhem as possible. She had been informed of the security protocol at Clairvaux Prison. In case of emergency, the facility would isolate the abbey ruins, both to protect a national treasure and to secure any tourists trapped there.

Like now.

The pilot from the lead helicopter radioed to her. "Targets have been spotted below. Sending coordinates."

She glanced at her bird's pilot. He nodded. He'd gotten the coordinates and banked the helicopter hard to the right. They were carrying ten men aboard their bird. Drop lines were being readied at both hatches. Once over the ruins, the men would bail out, slide down the lines, and secure the targets below.

Krista would accompany that first assault team.

She intended to handle this personally.

After the prison was bombed and burning, the other helicopter would unload its men in a second wave. The two birds would continue their patrol, ready and waiting to evacuate on her orders.

Leaning forward, Krista stared below. The coordinates marked a massive square of stone ruins around a large garden. The space was wide enough to land a helicopter inside if necessary.

The pilot came on the line. "Waiting your mark," he said.

She lifted a fist and pointed her thumb down.

Time to end this.

3:24 P.M.

Gray sheltered with the others under the cloister's covered walkway. His ears rang from the blaring sirens. His head pounded from the concussions. Fountains of fire and smoke erupted all around them.

Gray understood the tactic of firebombing the prison.

Someone wants us trapped.

And he could guess who.

Seichan's bosses wanted them on a shorter leash. Had she informed them about how close Gray's team was to finding the key? Was this how they wanted to play their endgame?