"He left us," she said. "The guide, or whoever he was, is gone."

Seneca took Matt's hand, hearing nothing but her own breathing, the pounding of blood in her ears, the scuttle of the rats, and the distant drip on water. They were alone, engulfed in the eternal blackness of the catacombs.

HALLOWEEN 2012, PARIS.

SENECA CLENCHED MATT'S HAND. It was a small comfort but she was grateful. "Should we try to follow him?"

"Quiet," he whispered.

They waited in silence for five, maybe ten minutes-no way for her to be certain.

"I wanted to make sure he wasn't just waiting in the distance or coming back," Matt said.

"I don't understand. Shouldn't we have tried to go after him?"

"No. Even if we had, he knows the way and would have quickly out-distanced us. Remember, he's got a map. We don't even know how long he was gone. We made dozens of turns through so many different tunnels, we'd never catch up or even know if we were headed in the right direction."

"How could he have known so many details when we first started out, then needed a map later."

"He could have taken the regular tour for the tourists. It wouldn't be hard to learn a few facts to sound authentic."

Seneca felt helpless and a bit uneasy talking to blackness. And it was blackness beyond anything she had ever experienced. There was no point of reference other than Matt's voice. The total lack of sight had already eroded her courage. "Why did he do this to us?"

"It has to be connected to the tomb robbery. After all, he knew exactly why we came here. And I find it impossible to believe that he was the real contact arranged by your magazine. This guy didn't want our money. He wanted us..."

"Dead?"

"I was going to say lost, but down here that's the equivalent of dead." Matt sank to the floor and guided her down beside him. They sat on the sandy floor with their backs to the wall. "Here's what worries me. Did you notice all the graffiti on the walls and the trash covering the floor once we first left the tourist areas?"

"Yeah, tons of it."

"The last few times the guy turned on his light and I could see our surroundings, the amount of graffiti had diminished. Only a scattering here and there. And very little trash. We kept going on for quite a ways after that. After the crawlspace I didn't feel much litter at my feet-the beer cans and bags of trash like from before. That means the cataphiles may not come into this area often, if at all."

"Cataphiles?"

"Despite the catacombs being off limits except for the tourist section, the tunnels are a popular attraction for underground urban explorers. At night they descend into the underground through manholes, abandoned railway tunnels, basements of derelict buildings, deserted metro stations, wherever they can find an opening. Most are teens or college age. It's an obsession for them. The locals call them cataphiles-literally lovers of the catacombs. Cataphiles play a constant game of cat and mouse with a team of underground police who patrol large portions of the tunnels looking for them. The kids get fined a few Euros and just show up again the next night or following weekend."

"But isn't that good news?" Seneca said. "Doesn't that mean that we could be found by the cataphiles or even the police?"

"It would be good news except for two things, and that's what's bothering me. The lack of the graffiti I last noticed and the absence of litter tells me we're in an area not frequented by anyone for some reason. And to add to that, it's the beginning of the week, the night with the least amount of underground explorers. Our friend knew exactly what he was doing. He brought us to a secluded section on a night with the fewest visitors."

"Now I understand why he didn't just shoot us. If our bodies were discovered with bullet wounds, it would obviously be murder and result in a police investigation. But if we die of an injury or simply become lost until we starve to death, it would be chalked up to a couple of stupid American tourists who wandered off into the Paris underground and never came out."

"Listen," Matt said as a distant rumble shook the ground around them.

"What was that?"

"Might be a nearby metro tunnel. The problem is, low frequency sounds are omni-directional. There's no way to know for sure where they originate. We could think we were headed toward the source only to find it was from the opposite direction."

She heard it again, this time more distant. Then there was only the faraway dripping of water.

Matt said, "In my research, I read about a guy who worked at the Val-de-Grace hospital. One night he left his post and descended into the quarries on a mission to steal from the wine caves of the monks of Chartreux. It was 1793 when he went missing and they didn't find his body until 1804. Apparently, he was discovered holding a large ring of keys and was lying a few yards from an exit. Presumably, his candle went out, and he wandered for days before dying of thirst."

Seneca felt a chill colder than the constant fifty-two degrees of the tunnels claimed in the tourist brochures. She started to tremble, and as she did, Matt responded by slipping his arm around her shoulders and pulling her closer. "What should we do?" she asked.

"I think our best bet is to try to work our way back in the direction we came. If we can find the crawlspace, maybe it'll lead to the area that has more traffic."

"But we must have passed dozens of other tunnels and bonefilled rooms and holes in the walls. He had a friggin' map. We've got nothing. We could think we're going in the right direction while we're headed off to an even worse place."

Matt gave out a nervous laugh. "I'm not sure we could find a worse place. The guidebook calls the catacombs the Empire of the Dead."

"Thanks for that cheerful thought." She felt tears forming. "Maybe one of us is a bad luck charm." There was a long pause. Then she said, "It's the second time someone has tried to kill us."

"You're right. I never believed it when they said the incident on my boat was an accident. And the helicopter manufacturer's attorney was way too quick to agree to settle out of court."

"Now that this has happened, I think it's what we're investigating that's gotten us into trouble."

"The tomb robberies."

"Right. That's the common thread. After all, there's no connection prior to us meeting in the Keys. And don't forget the bombing in Mexico while I was covering what's looking more like a tomb robbery." The chilling fingers of panic were starting to work their way up her spine. "Three attempts on my life. I think that makes me the bad talisman."

Matt snuggled her closer. "It might have been just you in Mexico, but now it's us. Someone is stealing the remains of mass murderers for a specific purpose and they don't want us finding out what it is. That's why there was the explosion in Mexico, why they shot up my boat, and that's why we're sitting here in the dark with little chance of finding our way out. I think we're starting to get too close to the truth, and they want us out of the way."

"If you're right, they've done a good job of getting the message across to "Think you've got enough for a story now?"

Seneca chuckled, appreciating his attempt to lighten up the moment. "I hope I get a chance to write it."

The distant rumble shook the ground again.

"You ready to try and find a way out?"

"Yes," Seneca said, and started to get to her feet, but Matt held her arm, pulling her back.

"Can I ask you a question?"

"Of course," she said.

"Do you like Halloween?"

"Well, sure, at least I did when I was a kid. It was one of my favorite holidays. But I'm not feeling the love right now. I've got all I can take of being spooked."

"Halloween is still my favorite holiday. I go all out decorating my house every year. In addition to handing out candy, I always have a big bag of glow sticks, and I give one to every trick-ortreater so they'll have a safe night collecting their candy."

"That's really sweet, Matt, but is this the appropriate time to be telling me? I think we should leave Halloween chat for some sunny day at the beach or something. Know what I mean?"

He didn't answer. Instead, Seneca heard what sounded like him digging into his jacket pocket. Next was a crackling sound like he was opening a candy bar wrapper. Then a snap and shaking sounds.

Suddenly, the space around them came to life in a soft green glow.

"Happy Halloween," he said with a broad grin.

GRAFFITI 2012, PARIS.

"How MANY GLOW STICKS do you have?" Seneca asked as Matt held the light-emitting plastic tube in front of them and started along the tunnel back the way they had come. The chemiluminescence from the stick painted their immediate surroundings a pale lime green.

"I packed them thinking they might come in handy in the dark of the catacombs. The good news is, I have two." He moved cautiously along what was once a quarry shaft that probably dated back to the Romans.

"What's the bad news?" Seneca held on to the back of Matt's jacket as they gingerly made their way across the rough, uneven floor.

"Each one lasts about a half hour. Unfortunately, there's no way to turn them off and conserve the light. So if we don't find our way out of here in about an hour, we're screwed."

"Then we need to move as fast as we can."

"Just remember, if we get injured, even having the light stick won't do us much good."

"Yes, sir."

It was about thirty minutes later by Seneca's calculations when they came to an area of the tunnel partially flooded with ankledeep water.

"You remember this?" Matt asked.

"Sort of. After the crawlspace, I was completely disoriented. I know we passed through water, but I can't swear this was the same place."

"Damn." Matt shook the glow stick.

"What's wrong?"

"We're losing it. I probably should have waited to activate the stick until we got to the crawlspace."

"You did what you thought was best. Let's just keep moving."

She tried to sound confident, but she could tell the stick was dimming. The green glow made everything start to look the same to her-endless rock walls and scattered debris. For all she knew, they could be going in the wrong direction and heading deeper into the maze of tunnels. It seemed that all she could think about was the story of the guy who died in the dark a few yards from an exit. They didn't find his body for eleven years. She was wandering through the Empire of the Dead. Was it just a matter of time before she and Matt joined their ranks to become another set of bones among millions?

They paused as Matt shook the stick again. This time it seemed like his effort only made the light diminish faster.

"Take a good look around," he said. "We need to keep going as far as we can before I activate the other glow stick."

Seneca took a hard look at the details of the tunnel up ahead, but the fading glow stick only illuminated eight or ten feet in a circle around them. And even as she tried to see what lay ahead, the light faded like a candle at the end of its wick. "Let's just keep going. There's nothing else we can do."

"Okay. Watch your head. The ceiling drops down in places."

With a tight grip on Matt's jacket, Seneca sloshed through the cold water. Soon, she felt the floor incline, and once again the path became dry and crunchy.

"A few more yards, then we'll stop," Matt said.

A moment later, she felt Matt halt and drop down against the wall, pulling her beside him.

"Are we having fun yet?" he asked as she heard him toss the glow stick across the tunnel. It hit with a soft thump. Like taking its last breath of life, the plastic tube glowed dimly before dying.

She reached out and took his hand. Seneca had taken his hand earlier, too. She hoped he didn't mistake it as a romantic gesture, just that it made her feel safe. "I only met you a week ago and so far I've gotten you into more trouble than I've ever been in my entire life. You're a good person, Matt."

"I'm just another of your satisfied customers," Matt said. His words were lighthearted. "But I think I'm more the culprit than you give me credit."

"Thanks for trying to make me feel less guilty. And I appreciate your humor."

"Truth is, I don't want to cry in front of a pretty lady like you. I guess I'm trying to apologize. If I hadn't called you, you'd probably be catching some rays around your apartment pool right now."

She squeezed his hand. "So tell me again why you're coming along on this quest?"

"Are you kidding? If we make it out of here alive, this is all going into my next book. I wouldn't miss this for the world. And the travel is tax deductible. Plus, we're in this together. As far as we know, we are the only people in the world who have stumbled onto this tomb robbery story. We've got to make an effort to get to the bottom of it."

Seneca raked her hand through her hair. "Frankly, none of it makes sense. We're talking stealing old bones here. What if it's a perverted attempt at some global scavenger hunt? The winner gets to sleep in Grant's Tomb or something equally twisted. There are a lot of sick people out there. We may be chasing nothing more threatening than an international fraternity prank."

"Now that would make quite a plot. Gamma Sigma Kappa frat brothers hunt down journalist and writer so they don't fuck up their college initiation. That should land me a lead story on The Daily Show with Jon Stewart. Of course I'd have to give up my writing career and become a greeter at Wal-Mart." He started fumbling in his jacket. "Time to light the way."

"Know what? Rather than using the glow stick, how about saving it for an emergency?"

"What do you propose? Trying to go on in the dark is slow and risky."

"I've got a better idea."

"I hope it involves a giant floodlight."

"Actually, you're close." She dug deep into the side thigh pocket of her cargo pants. Her fingers found the smooth metal surface of her compact digital camera. Carefully, she removed it, knowing that if she dropped the camera in the pitch blackness of the tunnel, it could be lost forever.

"So don't keep me in suspense. Do you have a flashlight hidden away?"

"Sort of. Remember on the plane I mentioned that I bought a digital point-and-shoot for the trip? I've had it all along. But it was just now that I realized we could use it to help find our way out of here."

"The flash would be blinding. We could never use it as a flashlight."

"Of course not. But we could take a picture with the flash and then look at it in the LCD display. It would show us what's up ahead for maybe twenty or so feet. The battery is good for hours, and the memory card holds tons of pictures."

"Damn," Matt said. "I gotta hand it to you, that's brilliant. Have you ever used the camera before?"

"No. I bought it at the gift shop at the airport. I took a quick look at the directions and figured I'd have time to practice with it at the hotel, but I forgot about it until we were leaving to go meet guide, or whatever he was. I've never taken a picture with it. But how hard can it be?"

"You're certain there's a battery and memory card in it?"

"Yep, brand new."

"Then let's give it a try. Know how to turn it on?"

"Yes, that much I remember from the quick start guide."

Seneca fumbled with the camera for a moment until she found the tiny power button. The rectangular LCD on the back of the camera glowed slightly and displayed a few small function icons like battery strength and red eye reduction.

"Okay, I think we're ready. Let's get up so we can move as soon as we study the photo."