Map of Bones by James Rollins Page A

opened into an ordinary-looking reception area, manned by two armed guards and a female receptionist. It could pass as a bank lobby. But the amount of surveillance and state-of-the-art countermeasures rivaled those at Fort Knox. A second entrance to the bunker, a large service access, equally guarded, lay hidden in a private garage complex, half a mile away. His motorcycle was over there, being repaired. So he was hoofing it to the Metro station where he had a mountain bike stored for emergencies.
    “Good morning, Dr. Pierce,” the receptionist said.
    “Hello, Melody.”
    The young woman was unaware of what truly lay below, believing the fabricated story of the think tank, also named Sigma. Only the guards knew the truth. They nodded to Gray.
    “Are you leaving for the day?” Melody asked.
    “Only for an hour or so.” He slid his holographic ID card into the reader by the desk, then pressed his thumb on the screen, signing out of the command center. He had always thought the security countermeasures here were overkill. Not any longer.
    The outer door’s lock unhitched.
    One of the guards opened the door, stepped out, and held it open for Gray. “Good day, sir,” the guard said as Gray exited.
    Good hardly described his day so far.
    A long paneled corridor stretched ahead, followed by a single flight of stairs that led up into the public regions of the building. Entering a large hall, he passed a touring group of Japanese visitors led by a translator and guide. No one gave him a second glance.
    Talk about hiding in plain sight.
    As he crossed the tiled floor, he heard the tour leader’s speech, spoken in rote, given a thousand times. “The Smithsonian Castle was completed in 1855, with the cornerstone being laid by President James Polk. It is the largest and oldest of the Institution’s structures and once housed the original science museum and research laboratories, but now it serves as the administrative office and Information Center for the Institution’s fifteen museums, the National Zoo, and many research sites and galleries. If you’ll follow me, next…”
    Gray reached the outer doors, a side exit to the Smithsonian Castle, and pushed to freedom. He squinted at the bright sun, shielding his eyes. As he lifted his arm, he felt a twinge of protest from his ribs. The Tylenol with codeine must be wearing off.
    Reaching the edge of the manicured gardens, he glanced back to the Castle. Nicknamed for its red-brick parapets, turrets, spires, and towers, it was considered one of the finest Gothic Revival structures in the United States and formed the heart of the Smithsonian Institution. The bunker had been tunneled out beneath it, built when the southwest tower had burned to the ground in 1866, requiring it to be rebuilt from the ground up. The secret labyrinth had been incorporated in the renovation, eventually becoming the subterranean fallout shelter, meant to protect the brightest minds of its generation…or at least those in Washington, D.C.
    Now it hid Sigma’s central command.
    With a final glance at the U.S. flag flying over the highest tower, Gray headed across the Mall, aiming for the Metro station.
    He had other responsibilities besides keeping America safe.
    Something he had neglected for too long.
    4:25 P . M .
ROME, ITALY
    T HE TWO BMWs continued to pin the Mini Cooper. No matter how Rachel struggled, she could not pull free.
    The guns in the back seats swung forward.
    Before the assailants could open fire, Rachel shoved the car into park and yanked her emergency brake. The car jolted with a scream of tearing metal. Her rearview mirror shattered. The effort threw off the gunmen’s aim, but it was not enough to free her trapped car.
    The BMWs continued to drag her car forward.
    With her Mini Cooper now dead weight, Rachel dove for the car’s floor well, gouging her left side on the gearshift knob. A spate of gunfire shattered through the driver’s-side window, passing through where she had been