The foothills of Mount Everest stretched out in front of him, shrouded in mist like menacing shadows in the distance. The sun was setting, cloaking everything in a dim grey light. Mutt expected to feel awe, or something close to it, being so close to the tallest mountain in the world. But instead all he could muster up was a damp feeling of dread.

Shit, he thought.

He was absolutely miserable after traveling for the past three days in the same clothes. His leather lace up shoes were far better equipped to the arid climate of Jerusalem then the snowy landscape of Nepal. He could feel melting slushy snow making his socks damp. He huffed along, gritting his teeth, muttering curses under his breath.

'ThatKGBsonofabitchfatuglymotherfu-'

'Keep walking,' Isay said, wedging the barrel of the gun farther between his shoulder blades.

Isay had dragged him onto planes, trains, taxis, and even the back of a horse. Their breakneck pace hardly gave Mutt time for sleep or a shower, stealing some quick moments to gulp down gruel and jerky and continue on their way.

The mist was almost welcome to Mutt. He could feel the dirt and sweat dripping off his face.

There was a cabin in the distance, a few lights outside illuminating the big red door. The voices carried on the wind sounded distinctly Russian. They trudged and trudged until eventually, they were close enough to knock. Isay, keeping his gun pointed cautiously at Mutt, climbed the short succession of stairs.

'I'm tied up, remember?' Mutt said, holding up his hands and grinning at the big ugly Russian. He was still able to muster up a bit of sarcasm.

'Stay,' Isay said, regardless. A lot of American humour was lost on him. Mutt wished that Molly were here. He'd be able to tease her a little, and then she'd get angry, hit him back with that sharp tongue of hers and they'd laugh. He missed laughing. He missed hearing her laugh.

He felt a tug in his chest, craning his neck to survey the footprints they had made in the snow. He felt himself send out a silent prayer, for the millionth time, that they were after him.

Then he felt Isay grab his arm, pulling him into the cabin.

The weight of the pendant around Molly's neck was growing heavier by the hour. She leaned her head against the window of the train, watching the snowy landscape rush by her. Her breath fogged up the glass and she found herself tracing the alchemist shape with her finger. Circle, triangle, square.

'So we have a triangle pendant, with a small square in it,' Marion began.

They'd been having conversations like this the whole trip, as countries and territories blended into one another. Molly had been so worried about Henry and the spear that she'd begun seeing the world in black and white. She remembered back to Rome, how enchanted she was by the blue sky and stuccoed buildings. Now all she wanted was to be at home, in her little single bed surrounded by books.

None of that was so bad, afterall. She lamented about having to work for Henry as a secretary and waitress part time to make the rent, but it was a lot better than being kidnapped and dragged halfway across the world.

And yet…

'Dr. Pratt found an iron symbol in a cave in Nepal and she was killed shortly after it,' Dr. Jones murmured. 'And then the US government shows up at Marshall College asking the kid to go on a wild goose chase for some artefact.'

'They were probably trying to get to the spear before the Russian could,' Molly surmised. 'Little did we know they were one step ahead.'

'We were always pretty good at keeping up with them,' Dr. Jones mused, taking off his glasses and cleaning them with his sleeve.

Marion said something soothing to her husband and Molly found herself staring at the shape on the window again. She took the golden chain from around her neck and held it out in front of her. The gentle rocking of the train made the pendant sway back and forth. When they finally had time to examine it more, they uncovered little roman numerals etched into the top of the square and side of the triangle.

The necklace reminded Molly of a puzzle she was given for her tenth birthday. It was a painting of King Arthur kneeling before a beautiful woman.

She gasped. She had it.

Marion and Dr. Jones immediately looked over at her, their eyes wide.

'It's missing a piece!' she said loudly. Then tossing it across the table to Dr. Jones she said: 'Look!'

He caught the pendant and began examining it. He started shaking his head and looked up at her, questioning. 'I don't see it, kid,' he said.

'There are two tiny holes at the top!' she said, trying to keep her voice down. The last thing she wanted to do was attract too much attention. 'I betcha my diner tips that something snaps in there.'

Dr. Jones hummed in recognition, examining the necklace delicately between his thumb and forefinger.

'Do you know what the missing piece would be?' Marion asked.

She took a deep breath, gesturing to her little drawing on the window. 'If I was a gambling woman, which I'm not… but if I was, I'd say it would be a circle. It completes the alchemist's symbol.'

Marion looked at her husband. 'Three guesses as to who has the third piece.'

'The Russians.'

'Yeah. Got it in one.'

The blood trickling from his nose made his upper lip itch. He was desperate to itch it, but the more he struggled against the bonds, the deeper they cut into his skin. One of his eyes had already swollen shut and the other he could just about make out the dark figure pacing back and forth. Mutt had to be careful of clenching his jaw too tightly. Some of his teeth felt loose and he didn't want to lose one.

Leaning back against the wooden chair he willed himself to be calm.

'It doesn't matter if you don't know anything. They will come for you. And when they do, we will be waiting.'

He immediately recognized Alexi Glebovich when they led him into the isolated cabin. The man was wearing mountaineering gear and explained that they'd been digging around Eleanor Pratt's old archaeological site. That they'd found the piece to complete it. That the game was over, so he might as well tell them everything they had on the Bishop's Spear.

When Mutt promptly told them that he didn't know anything (which was technically the truth), they proceeded to beat the living hell out of him.

He considered making something up to stop them, but Glebovich wanted specific information. Too specific to fib.

'We need the numbers!' he'd shouted at one point.

Mutt was pretty sure that's when he'd broken his nose.

He watched as Glebovich took his leave from the tiny room. The remnants of coals were all that were going to warm him tonight. He shuffled the chair as close as he could to the dying embers. The room was engulfed in darkness. Leaning his head against the cool stones of the mantle, he let himself drift off.

'Wake up!'

Mutt jumped to a start. And then he realized he was standing, the ropes off of his hands and feet.

'What's-'

A flashlight nearly blinded him. His eyes were still badly swollen, though the cold had helped them go down marginally.

'No time to talk, we've gotta get out of here. Now.'

The accent was a distinct Brooklyn burr. 'Who the hell are you?' he asked, walking closer to the flashlight.

'Look, I don't have a lotta time to explain this, kid,' the man said. Instead he shone the flashlight on himself. 'Isay?'

Mutt nearly toppled over.

'Yeah yeah yeah, I know. It's why I work for the CIA, okay? Now c'mon genius, I gotta get you outta here before they blow the joint to smithereens.'

Mutt was too shocked to form coherent words.

'The name's Joe Gabbiano. Okay kid, now follow me. We're gonna rendez-vous with your parents a few miles from here. The weather is a bitch outside and it's only getting worse. You think you can make it?'

Mutt managed a nod.

'Good. Let's go.'