He took the well-worn stairs three at a time, the heavy smoke from the blaze chasing him down into the vault.
Cate and Eddie saw his urgent return but before they could ask what had happened, Alex yelled his warning, “He’s set fire to the church.”
“How do we get out?” cried Cate.
Overhead, the string of small incandescent bulbs struggling to light the vast, dark crypt, flashed for a second then went out, plunging them into total darkness.
Eddie’s voice cut through the wall of black, “We’ve lost our power!”
Colin sat on the low brick wall surrounding the cemetery. A medic made the two last turns with the bandage around Colin’s arm before pinning it closed.
“You’re lucky,” said Simon. “If it hadn’t been for the vest you wouldn’t be sitting here now; and one inch further over on your arm and that bullet would have torn through your bicep.”
“And four inches higher it would have given me a second Adam’s apple,” scoffed Colin. “Comes with the turf, right?”
A call from behind ended any chance of Simon replying, as Constable Darby ran up yelling, “She’s on fire. My church is on fire.”
Simon whirled around as a stained-glass window shattered from the heat, and flames roared out through the opening, ravenously searching for oxygen. The blaze, unseen until now, was obvious to all, as plumes of smoke billowed towards the heavens.
“She’s going to burn down,” Constable Darby was distraught and started toward the place of his youth.
Colin grabbed him with his good arm and pulled him back, “No one goes in. The Americans have guns. It’s too dangerous for our men. We have to wait until they come out.”
Simon turned to the distressed constable, “Darby, call the fire department right now.”
As the policeman reached for his cell to do as ordered, Simon voiced his concern to the MI6 agent, “What if they don’t come out? What if the three of them are trapped in there?”
“We watch both exits. The firefighters can hose the outside of the building but no one goes in until we know it’s safe. We have to have the Americans in custody first.”
“And if we don’t get them?”
“Then we let the church burn. There’s no other alternative. We can’t lose any of our men needlessly.” Colin stared at the flames now leaping from a second shattered window and held back the smile he felt building. This will be the perfect end to my hunt, he thought. In a few days, after the fire is out and the destruction is done, the forensic teams will search through the debris, find the bodies, the revolver, the expended rounds that would match the one lodged in his vest, and come to their inevitable conclusion. He knew it was a flawless plan; he wouldn’t have to do anything except wait. There would be no awkward questions or chance of blame. And even better, no loose ends and no loose tongues. The boy, his companions, and all the damning paperwork, would be gone forever. And a century of fear and uncertainty would be finally over.
Smoke filled the crypt. The flashlights on two of the three cell phones lit the way as the trio moved deeper into the ancient chamber, away from fire and their only exit.
A blazing piece of wood, perhaps from a shattered pew or even the door’s own heavy bracing beam, rolled down the stairs, thundering into a shelf full of books and manuscripts. In seconds, the dry paper erupted into a volcano of flame.
“The fire’s in here now,” screamed Eddie.
“We have to get to the far end of the crypt, away from the flames and the smoke,” ordered Alex.
“That will take us away from the way out,” Cate was panicked.
“We have no choice; the fire has sealed off the exit. We’ll look for another door. Another stairway. Anything. For all their stone walls, these old churches are framed with wood and full of flammable paintings and tapestries. That means it’ll go up in minutes, like Notre Dame did. We have to keep moving into the crypt.”
“It would have helped if you had charged your phone, then we’d have three flashlights.”
Alex shot an angry glance at Eddie for his comment, but it went unseen in the dark.
Their beams pierced the smoke, illuminating the back wall of the fourteenth-century crypt, along with a couple of wooden chairs and a gigantic fireplace carved into the stone.
“That’s it. It ends here! We’ve got no place else to go,” Cate almost sobbed as she swept her cell’s flashlight side to side, revealing their plight.
Above them, the old church creaked and groaned, sounds that resonated even down into the foundations. Had there been enough light, Eddie and Cate would have seen the color drain from Alex’s face. He understood what the aged building was telling him. He called to his friends in alarm, “We have to find shelter.”
“Shelter? Where?” asked Eddie.
Alex swung around. There was only one place that could offer any protection. The deep, massive fireplace hewn out of the final wall. He pointed to it, hoping their lights would show his raised arm, “Quickly. In there. Now!”
A terrifying noise split the air, as above them the old stonework shifted, then with an enormous BOOM, the intense temperatures generated by the blaze cracked and forced apart the heavy supporting blocks.
“What is that?” screamed Cate.
“The church. It’s coming down!” Alex ran for the carved fireplace, Eddie and Cate right on his heels.
Twelve firetrucks, summoned from every nearby town, surrounded the church, six of them already dousing the immense building with arching jets of water, the others searching for high-pressure hookups which were few and far between in this tiny village.
Four helicopters circled above, two streaming live footage to CNN and Sky News.
Because of the blaze and heat, and to avoid interfering with the firefighters as they took their positions, the MI5 perimeter Simon had set up was forced to withdraw an additional thirty yards from the church itself, but the attentive operatives kept their eyes locked on the two exits, even though flames now filled both doorways.
“Thank God this didn’t happen in central London. There would be hell to pay,” said Simon.
“There is no blame here. The Americans are the ones who started the blaze, probably hoping to cause a diversion and escape,” covered Colin.
Simon’s eyes showed he didn’t fully believe him, “Are you sure?”
“Look at my arm. Those bastards shot me.”
A thunderous sound drowned out any thought of further conversation as stone split apart and the almost two-hundred-foot-high spire wavered and in a nightmarish, inconceivable move, folded in on itself and then cracked, falling backward, its entire height and ten thousand tons of carved slabs, smashing down on the church’s already stressed roof, crushing it and crashing through into the nave, causing the walls of the building to explode outward in a mass of shattered bricks and flame.
The MI5 assault teams and even the fire crews, used to being at the scene of intense blazes, dove desperately to the ground to avoid being struck by the blast of burning rubble and ash flung out from the impact zone as the collapsing gigantic tower drove the red-hot blocks through the ancient roof, flattening the church.
As the horrendous, scorching dust cloud parted, the men pulled themselves cautiously back to their feet. In the distance, screams and cries from the dismayed villagers, drawn to the conflagration by the sirens and lights, echoed through the air as they reacted in shock to the unimaginable destruction of their town’s beloved heritage building.
Simon tried to take in the horrific scene in front of them, “They must be dead. All three of them.”
Colin was not so certain, even as he gazed at the ruined church and the unrelenting blaze, “Let me have your radio.”
Simon passed him the walkie-talkie set to the frequency monitored by the MI5 spooks surrounding the church, “All operatives, this is Signet. Did anyone get out? Report.”
A dozen voices crackled back over the airwaves, one at a time. Their messages were identical, “No, sir. Nobody g
ot out.”
Colin handed the radio back to Simon, still not convinced, “It’ll be days before forensics can get in there and be certain.”
“Are you insane? No one could have survived that.”
Colin would not let it go, “We have to be sure.”
Simon moved closer to him and lowered his voice, “However this fire started is not important right now. One thing I do know is it ended your mission. No one got out and the records are all burned. It’s taken a century, but your search finished here tonight. I can’t keep my resources tied up unnecessarily. There will be too many questions if I do, questions I don’t think you want asked or answered. It’s over as far as Five is concerned.”
“I understand what you’re saying and why. Let’s lower the alert level but leave some of your men here to maintain a perimeter in case somehow-”
He was cut off by the roar of a huge flame blasting upwards through the rubble as another section of wooden rafters from the crushed roof ignited.
It was enough for Simon, “They’ll be no somehow. Go back to Six and get your arm treated. I’m pulling Five out now. Let the firefighters have full access to do their job. The local police from here and the surrounding towns can handle the rest.” He gestured to Constable Darby who remained rooted in place, his mouth hanging open in shock.
The crypt was full of choking dust, smoke, ash, and rubble where parts of the ceiling had crumbled and fallen through. Across the length of the low roof above them, beams were already burning, and even though the three Americans had been partially protected by the thirty feet of dirt and rocks between them and the inferno above, they knew it was only minutes before flames consumed the entire crypt.
Cate was the first to speak, the fear present in her words, “What was that? It felt like an earthquake.”
“The spire must have come down. If it did, it would have taken most of the church with it. Thank God for the way they built things back in the old days or we’d be gone as well.”
Alex had barely finished his words as a blazing rafter separated from the ceiling and crashed to the floor, spreading the fire even closer to them.
“That doesn’t help us, it’s burning down here now and everything is going to go up in flames. This crypt is full of wood and paper and we can’t get out!” Cate was so scared she could hardly talk.
There was a dark laugh from Eddie, “And we’re going to burn to death in a fake fireplace. Look, it doesn’t go anywhere. They put it in for show.” He turned the light on his cell phone upwards, and as the beam cut through the dust and smoke it lit up a solid roof, covered with carvings, above the fireplace, not an open chimney flue.
Alex checked with his hands. It was unbroken stone. He spun around to Eddie and clasped his hands excitedly on the boy’s shoulders “Of course! You’re absolutely right!” He turned back to the inside of the fireplace and continued to feel the sculpted stonework.
Eddie was confused, “Why build it if you can’t use it? Waste of time and money.”
“I’ll be sure to file a complaint with the vicar at his next Sunday service,” quipped Cate, resigning herself to their desperate fate.
Another fiery joist smashed down, and now the flames were within a few feet of them. Alex continued to ignore the intense heat and everything happening outside of the fireplace and focused his attention on the intricate carvings inside. He grabbed Eddie’s phone from him, “Let me have it. I need the light.” The professor trained the flashlight on the wall and slowly moved the beam up and down.
“What’s he doing?” Eddie turned to Cate for understanding, “Why is he looking at the artwork? We’re about to burn to death, get crushed, or suffocated from the smoke, and he’s checking out crummy antiques?”
Alex yelled to Eddie over his shoulder, “I’m finding a way out. There would be only one reason to build such an ornate fireplace, without a chimney, at the back of a crypt where it couldn’t be used. And that’s to hide a priest hole.”
“What’s a priest hole?”
“It’s an escape tunnel. During the reformation, religious men were often hunted down and killed, many in their own churches, so the ministers and vicars put in priest holes to have a secret way out.”
“Then where is it?” asked Cate, suddenly alert.
“Behind here somewhere, in the stonework. There must be a concealed door. We have to find a way to open it. Look for a slider or a hidden handle. Help me.”
Those were the only words Alex needed to say, and now three sets of hands searched, pulled and pushed frantically as smoke filled the room and flames licked closer.
A section of the wall further into the crypt collapsed from the weight of the burning church above, spinning stone and dirt into the chamber and causing a flareup of the blaze. The heat became overwhelming, and even Alex doubted they would be able to find the secret door and get it opened in time.
Eddie coughed from the heavy smoke, breaking into a fit so strong he slipped backward from the inside of the fireplace, tumbling toward the flames. He shot his arm out, reaching to grab anything to steady his balance, and wrapped his hand around an inlaid crucifix. As he put his weight on it, the cross turned, and with it there was a loud, creaking sound and a stone door swung inwards, revealing a dark passageway.
“We found it! The priest hole!” yelled Alex. “Get into it now, while we still have time.”
Cate, Eddie, then finally, Alex, dove headfirst into the low tunnel and crawled forward on their hands and knees as fast as they could, while behind them the crypt exploded with flames stretching upwards from the floor and curling across the ceiling.
With her phone in her teeth, its flashlight illuminating the narrow, damp shaft, Cate led the way, pushing through dense cobwebs and over mud puddles that had collected on the rough stone path scraping at her knees. Her backpack bumped and caught on the low, rock roof above, so she crouched down further to find room as she pushed on.
It seemed like forever the three of them crawled, until suddenly Cate stopped, pulling the phone from her mouth so she could call back, “The tunnel is changing. It’s starting to go up.”
She swept the cell’s flashlight ahead of her and saw the passageway angling steeply upward and a few yards away it finished, an old, splintered wooden hatch marking the end.
Excited, she moved swiftly on her hands and knees up the slope to the flimsy barrier right above her, the two metal handles bolted into it showing it pulled open downwards. “I’m here,” she told them. “There’s some kind of overhead trapdoor. I’ll see if I can get it open and climb up through it.”
She wrapped her hands around the metal grips and tugged. There was no movement and the frail door remained closed, so she pulled again, this time locking her feet in place and putting all her weight behind her effort. There was a loud crack and the dry, broken wood splintered and fell apart in pieces on top of her, along with dirt, dust, and, horrifically, a shower of human bones tumbling down with it. As the ancient remains sought to smother her, Cate pushed them to the side, all the while stifling her impulse to scream, “I’m all right. I’m going up to take a look.”
She climbed into a dark, tight space, the only faint light coming from the flickering flames that showed through a small crack in what seemed to be a solid covering penning her in. As she moved into the confined area, she felt more bones around her and realized, to her horror, their way out had led her into a raised concrete tomb.
There was a momentary urge to panic as all her childhood phobias flooded back – ghosts, vampires and zombies, being buried alive, trapped in a coffin with a dead body, claustrophobia, unable to move or escape – but Cate fought through them and reached up, forcing her fingers between the narrow gap and pushing hard.
The tomb’s lid moved, and scraped to the side, allowing more light, cast by the flames from the burning ruin, to show her the way. She grabbed the edge of the marble vault and pulled herself cautiously out of the grave, her resurrection putting her inside a family mausoleum with
an open iron gate facing the devastated church which smoldered a hundred yards away across the cemetery.
It was the first time she saw the extent of the horror they had been trapped beneath and found it hard to comprehend the scope of the nightmare she was witnessing.
The classic church was reduced to blazing rubble, with only two exterior walls remaining standing, the rest crushed by the massive spire’s collapse.
Above the glowing ruin, an impossible vision unfolded as high intensity spotlights shining down from circling helicopters cut through twisting columns of smoke sucked upwards by their rotor blades, while below them a dozen glistening streams of water curved into the air, seeking to rain relief onto the burning embers, and framing the edge of the scene, sweeping blue and red beacons on top of the firetrucks pierced the night, adding to the surreal feel of the disaster.
Behind her, Alex and Eddie climbed from the tomb and in turn, stood in shock, trying to take in the magnitude of what had happened.
“This is crazy,” was all Eddie could utter.
In the distance, past the security perimeter and firefighters, a series of TV trucks with raised antennas, transmitted live pictures of the tragedy to their news-hungry viewers around the globe.
“Can you see any police?” Alex whispered to Cate.
“Yes, a few. They are over with the firemen and reporters. They haven’t seen me. They are mostly concerned with keeping the villagers back.”
“Good. The tunnel has put us way outside of their cordon. We should get out of here while we can,” said Alex.
He guardedly pushed apart the iron gate acting as the door to the ancient mausoleum and stepped through into the graveyard. Cate followed, and as Eddie brought up the rear, he slipped on a large bone. The boy paused, picked it up, realized what it was and gently placed it back into the open casket. He saw an aged, bronze plaque attached to the lid of the stone coffin with a name engraved into it, Sir John Duncan 1421 – 1475.
“Sorry, Sir John. I didn’t mean to disturb your rest,” he said respectfully, and joined the others.
Far outside the narrow police perimeter surrounding the entrance to what had been a treasured country church, three people were silhouetted against the flames as they hunched down and ran silently through the graveyard, moving further into the darkness and away from the catastrophic destruction.
Birthright: Pray your past stays hidden (Alex Turner Book 1) Page 15
