And she dared not move.
Soldiers lay flat on the tier above, rifles aimed at them.
Gray mumbled, staring at the glass floor. His words reached only her own ears. “The Minotaur’s maze.”
Her brow crinkled. Standing in place, he glanced at her, then back to the floor. What was he trying to indicate?
The Minotaur’s maze.
Gray was referring to one of the names for the labyrinth. Daedalus’s maze. The mythic labyrinth that was home to the bullish Minotaur, a deadly monster in a deadly maze.
Deadly.
Rachel remembered the trap at Alexander’s tomb. The deadly passageway. To solve these riddles didn’t require just the technology. You had to know your history and mythology. Gray was trying to warn her. They may have solved the technology, but not the entire mystery.
She now understood Gray’s hope. He had only told Raoul enough to hopefully get the man killed.
Raoul freed a laser scope and stepped toward the central pedestal. Then he seemed to think better of it. He pointed the scope to Gray.
“You,” he said, plainly suspicious. “You take it out there.”
Gray was forced away from the wall, away from her side. His arms were cut free. But he was hardly free. Rifles tracked his every step.
Raoul shoved the laser into Gray’s hand. “Set it up. Like you described.”
Gray glanced to Rachel, then headed across the glass floor in his socks.
He had no choice.
He had to enter the Minotaur’s maze.
7:32 A.M.
GENERAL RENDE checked his watch. Thunder rumbled beyond the walls of the palace. What he had sought for so long was about to come true. Even if they failed to open whatever secret vault lay below, he had taken a brief look. That storehouse alone was a treasure to dwarf all others.
They would escape with as much as they could and destroy the rest.
His demolition expert was already going over the incendiary charges.
All that was left was to wait for the trucks.
He had arranged for a caravan of three heavy-duty Peugeot trucks. They would run in shifts to a huge warehouse at the outskirts of town near the river, unhooking their load, mounting an empty container, and returning.
Back and forth for as long as they could.
The general frowned at his watch. They were running late. He had had a call from the lead driver five minutes ago. The roads were a mess, and even though dawn had already broken, it remained a perpetual twilight under the thunderclouds and torrents of rain.
Despite the delay, the storm served to shelter them, to cover their actions, to keep any interest here to a minimum. Outlying guards were ready to eliminate anyone who became too curious. Bribes had been paid.
They should have half a day.
A call came through on the radio. He answered it.
“First truck is climbing the hill now,” the driver reported. Thunder boomed in the distance.
Now it began.
7:33 A.M.
SCOPE IN hand, Gray crossed to the short pillar of magnetite. Overhead, double arches of the same stone stretched. Even without touching anything, Gray sensed the power that lay dormant.
“Hurry up!” Raoul called from the edge.
Gray stepped to the pedestal. He placed the scope atop the pillar, balanced it, and pointed it toward the twelve o’clock window. He paused to take a deep breath. He had tried to warn Rachel to be ready for anything. Once this was activated, they were all in danger.
“Turn on the laser!” Raoul barked. “Or we begin shooting out kneecaps.”
Gray reached to the power switch and thumbed it on.
A fine beam of red light shot out and struck the gold glass plate.
Gray remembered the batteries at Alexander’s tomb. It took a moment for whatever charge or electrical capacitance to build, then the fireworks began.
He had no intention of standing here when that happened.
He turned and strode rapidly back to the wall. He didn’t run, no rash actions, or he’d be shot in the back. He regained his spot on the wall.
Raoul and Alberto stood at the base of the stairs.
All eyes were on the single strand of red fire that linked scope to mirror.
“Nothing’s happening,” Raoul growled.
Vigor spoke from the other side. “It may take a few seconds to build enough energy to activate the mirror.”
Raoul raised a pistol. “If it doesn’t—”
It did.
A deep tonal note sounded and a new ray of laser shot out from the twelve o’clock plate and struck the five o’clock one. There was a half-second dazzle.
No one spoke.
Then another beam of red fire blazed out, slamming into the ten-o’clock marker. It reflected immediately, springing from mirror to mirror.
Gray stared at the spread before him, forming a fiery star, waist high. He and the others stood between points of the display, knowing better than to move.
The symbolism was plain.
The Star of Bethlehem.
The light that had guided the Magi.
The humming note grew louder. The star’s fire blazed brighter.
Gray turned his head, squinting.
Then he felt it, some threshold crossed. Pressure slammed outward, shoving him to the wall.
The Meissner field again.
The star seemed to bow upward from the center as if shoved up from the floor. It reached the cross of magnetite arches overhead.
A burst of energy crackled across the vaulted archways.
Gray felt a tug on the metal buttons of his shirt.
The magnetic charge of the arches had grown tenfold.
The star’s energy was repelled by the new field and slammed back down, striking the glass floor with a loud metallic chime, the strike of a giant bell.
The central pillar blasted upward as if jarred by the collision. It struck the center of the crossed arches—and stuck there, two electromagnets clinging tight.
As the chime faded, Gray felt a pop in his ears as the field broke. The star winked out, though a ghost of its blaze still shone across his vision. He blinked away the afterburn.
Overhead, the short column still clung to the intersection of the archways, pointing downward now. Gray followed the stone finger.
In the middle of the floor, where the column had stood before, lay a perfect circle of solid gold. A match to the key. At its center—the center of everything—was a black slot.
“The keyhole!” Alberto said. He dropped his book, opened his satchel, and pulled out the gold key.
Gray caught a hard glance from across the floor, from Vigor. At that moment, Gray had handed them not just the gold key, but the key to the world.
Alberto must have suspected the same. In his excitement, he stepped out onto the glass floor.
Bolts of electricity shot upward from the surface, piercing through the man, lifting him off his feet and holding him suspended. He screamed and writhed as fire licked into him. Skin blackened; his hair and clothes caught fire.
Raoul tripped back to the stairs in horror, landing on his backside.
Gray turned to Rachel. “Get ready to run.”
Now might be their only chance.
But she didn’t seem to hear him, transfixed like the others.
Alberto’s cry finally cut out. As if knowing its prey was dead, a final bolt of energy tossed the man’s corpse to the shoreline of the glass pool.
No one moved. The smell of burnt flesh wafted.
Everyone stared at the deadly labyrinth.
The Minotaur had arrived.
7:35 A.M.
GENERAL RENDE retreated back up the steps to the kitchen. He had been called down by one of his soldiers when the brilliant star had ignited below. He wanted to see what was happening—but from a safe distance away.
Then the light had expired.
Disappointed, he had turned away as a tortured wail erupted.
&n
bsp; It stood the small hairs on his neck on end.
He fled back up to the kitchen. One of his men, wearing a French uniform, rushed up to him. “The first truck is here!” he said hurriedly.
Rende shook off the momentary anxiety.
He had a job to do.
“Radio everyone who’s not on guard duty. It’s time to empty the vault.”
7:36 A.M.
RACHEL KNEW they were in trouble.
Raoul roared back to his feet, swinging toward Gray. “You knew this!”
Gray backed a step down the wall. “How could I know he’d be fried?”
Raoul lifted his pistol and pointed it. “Time to learn a lesson.”
But the gun was not pointed at Gray.
“No!” Rachel moaned.
The pistol blasted. Across the floor, Uncle Vigor clutched his belly with a shocked groan. His feet slid out from under him, and he sank to the floor.
Seichan moved to his side, slipping to him like a black cat. She kept Vigor’s feet from touching the glass.
But Raoul wasn’t done with them. He pointed his pistol next toward Kat. She was only three meters away. The gun pointed at her head.
“Don’t!” Gray said. “I had no idea that would happen! But I now know the mistake Alberto made!”
Raoul turned to him, anger in every muscle. But Rachel recognized his fury was not at the loss of Alberto, but due to the fact that the sudden and dramatic death had frightened him. And he didn’t like being scared.
“What?” Raoul growled.
Gray pointed to the labyrinth. “You can’t just walk out to the keyhole. You have to follow the path.” He waved to the twisted maze.
Raoul’s eyes narrowed, the fire ebbed. Understanding lessened the fear.
“Makes sense,” Raoul said. He crossed to the corpse, bent down and broke the fire-contorted fingers, still clutched around the key. He freed the length of gold and wiped the charred flesh from its surface.
He waved one of his men down from above. He pointed out to the center. “Take this out there,” he ordered, and held out the gold key.
The young soldier balked. He had seen what had happened to Alberto.
Raoul pointed his pistol at the man’s forehead. “Or die here. Your choice.”
The man reached out and took the key.
“Get going,” Raoul said. “We’re on a timetable here.” He kept his pistol pointed at the man’s back.
The soldier crossed to the entry point of the maze. Leaning back, he placed one toe on the glass, then yanked it back. Nothing happened. More confident, but wary, he reached again and placed his foot down on the surface.
Still no electrical display.
Clenching his teeth, the soldier stepped fully out onto the glass floor.
“Stay away from the platinum etchings,” Gray warned.
The soldier nodded, glancing appreciatively toward Gray. He took another step.
Without warning, a stab of crimson fire jetted out of a pair of windows. The star flickered into existence, then died again.
The soldier had frozen in place. Then his legs sagged under him. He fell backward out of the maze. As he struck the ground, his body split in halves, sheared across the waist by the laser. A tangled nest of intestines snaked out from the upper half.
Raoul backed away, eyes flashing fire. The pistol again lifted. “Any more bright ideas?”
Gray remained stock-still. “I…I don’t know.”
“Maybe it’s a timing thing,” Monk called over. “Maybe you have to keep moving. Like that movie Speed.”
Gray glanced to his teammate, then back again, unconvinced.
“I’ve had enough with losing my own men,” Raoul said, fury building. “And I’m done waiting while you piece this puzzle together. So you’ll have to simply show me how it’s done.”
He motioned Gray forward.
Gray stood in place, obviously attempting to find some answer.
“I can always begin shooting your friends again. I know it helps my stress.” Raoul pointed the gun again at Kat.
Gray finally moved, stepping over the prone body.
“Don’t forget the key,” Raoul said.
Gray bent to pick it up.
It then struck Rachel. Of course.
Gray straightened and moved to the entry point of the maze. He began to step out, bunching up a bit to run, ready to follow Monk’s advice.
“No!” Rachel called out. She hated to help Raoul reach his goal. She had been prepared to die to keep the Court from gaining what lay hidden here. But she couldn’t watch Gray die either, cut in half or electrocuted.
She remembered Gray’s whisper about the Minotaur. He refused to give up. As long as they still lived, there was hope. She believed him. And more importantly, she trusted him.
Gray turned to her.
In his eyes, she saw the same trust shining there.
For her.
The weight of it silenced her.
“What?” Raoul barked.
“It’s not speed,” Rachel said, startled. “Time is valued by these alchemists. They left clues, from an hourglass to this mirrored clockface. They would not use time to kill.”
“Then what?” Gray asked, eyes still heavy upon her. But it was a burden she was willing to bear.
Rachel spoke quickly. “The mazes in all the cathedrals. They represented symbolic journeys. From this world to the next. To spiritual enlightenment in the center.” She pointed to the dead body, cut in half at the waist, the height of the mirrored windows. “But to reach there, pilgrims crawled. On hands and knees.”
Gray nodded. “Below the level of these windows.”
Across the floor, her uncle groaned, seated on the floor, blood seeping between his fingers. Seichan sat with him. Rachel knew it wasn’t the pain that elicited the moaned response. She saw it in her uncle’s eyes. He had already figured out this last riddle, too. But he had kept silent.
By speaking, Rachel had betrayed the future, risking the world.
Her eyes found Gray. She had made her choice. With no regret.
Even Raoul believed her.
He waved for Gray to hand over the key. “I’ll take it there myself—but you’re going first.”
Plainly Raoul did not have full trust in her idea. Gray passed him the key.
“As a matter of fact,” Raoul said, pointing his gun at Rachel, “since it’s your idea, why don’t you come along, too? To help keep your man honest.”
Rachel stumbled forward. Her hands were cut free. She crouched down with Gray. He nodded to her, transmitting a silent message.
We’ll be okay.
She had little reason to feel confident, but she nodded back.
“Let’s get going,” Raoul said.
Gray went first, crawling out onto the maze without hesitation, fully trusting in Rachel’s assessment.
She was held back by Raoul until Gray was a full body-length away.
The glass floor remained quiet.
“Okay, now you,” she was ordered.
Rachel set out, following Gray’s path. She felt a vibration through her palms. The face of the glass was warm. As she moved, she heard a distant hum, not mechanical or electric, more like the murmur of a vast crowd across a distance. Maybe it was the blood rushing through her ears, pounded by her worried heart.
Raoul yelled behind her to his men. “Shoot any of the others if they move! The same goes for the two out here. Upon my orders, take them out.”
So if the maze didn’t kill them, Raoul would.
Rachel continued onward. With only one hope.
Gray.
7:49 A.M.
RENDE PLACED a hand on the demolition expert’s shoulder. “Are the charges primed?”
“All sixteen of them,” the man answered. “Just tap this button three times. The grenades are daisy-chained on a ten-minute fuse.”
Perfect.
He turned to the row of sixteen men. Other wheelbarrows stood out in the hall, waiti
ng to be loaded. Five handtrucks also stood ready. The first truck had been carefully backed to the main gate, and the second was on its way. It was time to empty the vault.
“Get to work, men. Double time.”
7:50 A.M.
GRAY’S KNEES ached.
Three-quarters around the maze, it became torture on his kneecaps. The smooth glass now felt like rough concrete. But he dared not stop. Not until he reached the center.
As he made his turns around the circuit, he crossed alongside the neighboring paths with Rachel and Raoul. It would only take a hip check to knock Raoul off his path. Even Raoul suspected this, pointing his gun at Gray’s face as they passed.
But there was no need for the caution. Gray knew if he crossed the platinum etched lines with even a hand or a hip, he’d be killed as quickly as Raoul. And with the glass face activated, Rachel would probably be electrocuted, too.
So he let Raoul pass unmolested.
When he crossed paths with Rachel, their eyes remained fixed upon each other. Neither spoke. A bond had grown between them, one built on danger and trust. Gray’s heart ached with every pass: to hold her, to comfort her. But there was no stopping.
Around and around they went.
A droning grew inside his head, vibrating up the bones of his arms and legs. He also heard a commotion above. In the cathedral. Soldiers involved in some activity up there.
He ignored it all and crawled onward.
After a final turn, a straight shot led to the center rosette. Gray hurried forward, glad to reach home base at last. With his knees on fire, he lunged the last distance and sprawled onto his back.
The droning grew into a murmuring just beyond the range of the audible. He sat up, his hairs vibrating with the noise. What the hell…?
Rachel appeared and crawled toward him. Staying low, he helped her into the center. She slipped into his arms. “Gray…what are we—?”
He knelt with her and squeezed her silent.
There was only one hope.
A slim one.
Raoul appeared and crawled over to them. He wore a huge grin. “The Dragon Court owes you both for your generous service.” He pointed his gun. “Now stand up.”
“What?” Gray asked.
“You heard me. Stand up. Both of you.”
With no choice, Gray tried to pull himself out of Rachel’s arms, but she clung to him. “Let me first,” he whispered.
Map of Bones: A Sigma Force Novel Page 43
