The Holy Grail (Sam Reilly Book 13)

by Christopher Cartwright

  There were multiple pictograms that meant nothing to him.

  At the base was one shaped like a cloud with three human figures floating above. He pressed the cold ornament, which moved inward.

  A moment later, the entire staircase lifted an inch off the ground, levitating. It could have been achieved through magnets, or machinery, or some type of ancient technology long forgotten. Tom didn’t know and didn’t care.

  He just needed to work out how to move the stairs.

  “Can you please come down here, Genevieve. I think we might be able to move the platform.”

  “Sure.”

  Genevieve stepped down with the brisk athleticism of a gymnast.

  She stepped off the last stair.

  Tom said, “I pressed something over there on the orb and now the entire thing has shifted off the ground. I’m hoping we can move it.”

  “Only one way to find out. Let’s try.”

  She leaned against the base of the step before Tom could do anything, and the entire thing moved. There was no strain in her muscular physique.

  “Wow! Superwoman!” Tom said.

  “I’m barely touching it.”

  Tom put his hands on the side of the stairs, gripping them for support. “Okay, you head up there, and tell me when the stairs align at the spot you were trying to study.”

  Genevieve moved up the stairs as fast as she had come down them.

  Two thirds of the way up, she said, “Keep going. Another five or six feet.”

  Tom pushed gently, and the stairs swung round on an invisible axis.

  “Stop!” Genevieve yelled.

  Tom continued searching the area, filming every aspect of the room as best he could.

  About ten minutes later, Genevieve said, “You’d better come up here, Tom!”

  He glanced at her face, where small lines of fear developed beneath her eyes. “What is it?”

  “I think we have a serious problem!”

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Genevieve said, “They’ve been genetically modifying the human genome for centuries… possibly even millennia!”

  “How?” Tom asked. “Why? I don’t understand. For what purpose?”

  “How would you alter a person’s genetics prior to modern medicine and DNA sequence editing?”

  “Hi, I’m Tom,” he said, holding his hand out sarcastically. “An expert cave diver and pilot. I’m not sure why you think I know anything about gene editing.”

  She shook her head dismissively, as though he was over-thinking things. “How does natural biology and evolution work?”

  “Information regarding what works and what didn’t work gets passed on by those who survive.”

  “Right. Darwin’s theory of evolution.”

  “What’s this got to do with ancient technology, terrorism, and Ben Gellie’s parents?”

  “What if you wanted to create a very specific genetic trait, but despite not having the science, you have time. How would you do it?”

  “Through breeding?” Tom asked.

  “Right. The Russian cult translated and read the ancient scripts left here by the Master Builders. They couldn’t work out the science, but they had a genetic recipe…”

  “For what?”

  “I don’t know, but look at this.” Genevieve read some more text in Russian, then expelled a deep breath of air and swallowed hard.

  “What is it?” Tom asked.

  “Some of the text is missing. But, if I’m reading this right, they were making a weapon – the Phoenix Plague.”

  “The Phoenix Plague?” Tom repeated the name. “As in the mythological bird that kept burning only to rise again from its ashes?”

  “That would be the one,” she replied.

  “How?” Tom asked.

  “I don’t know.”

  “They were trying to create a deadly virus! A plague capable of destroying the world, so that what, something else could rise from the ashes of human remains?”

  “It looks like it,” Genevieve admitted.

  “But who?”

  Genevieve shook her head. “It doesn’t say.”

  Tom fixed his flashlight on the last section, the very ending of all the writings. “There’s something else! What does it say?”

  “You’re not going to believe it.”

  “What?”

  “They weren’t just trying to develop a deadly virus. They succeeded in developing it, incubating it into a deadly host, genetically designed, to be a ticking time bomb, capable of releasing the virus onto the world in the most effective way possible.”

  “Where?”

  “It doesn’t say. But it gives the name of the host…”

  Tom shouted, “Who?”

  Genevieve swallowed hard. “Ben Gellie.”

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Tom’s eyes were wide, his chest pounding at the news. “Are you certain?”

  “Yeah,” she replied, her eyes cast downward, fixated on the Russian text next to the ancient Master Builder script. “There are words missing and things I’ll need to check on the computer tablet, but I think it’s clear, Ben Gellie is a deadly terrorist, who’s about to bring the human race to its knees.”

  “Sam was certain Ben was one of the good guys.”

  Genevieve shrugged. “It might be true, even.”

  “How can you believe that when you think he’s the one carrying the Phoenix Plague?”

  “Maybe he doesn’t know the truth. He’s just the host, a carrier of a disease he doesn’t yet know exists. He’s no more evil than a weapon, which has no say over how it’s used.”

  “All right,” Tom said, realizing that what she was saying was probably the truth. “What do we know exactly?”

  “Okay, like I said, there are words missing.”

  “Why?”

  Her well-trimmed eyebrow arched. “Why what?”

  Tom said, “Why are there words missing?”

  “I don’t know. There have been missing parts throughout all the Russian notes. It might be text that has faded over time, or it was written and then washed off after discovering it was wrong…”

  “Or someone intentionally removed it?” Tom suggested.

  “Like redacting a secret document?”

  “We can’t rule it out.”

  Genevieve made a dramatic sigh. “No. But whatever the case, those words are gone. All we have to work with is what we’ve got.”

  “So what have we got?” Tom asked.

  “There’s a story about John and Jenny coming together as the perfect genetic match to develop a host with the strength to survive the Phoenix Plague long enough to complete its incubation period.”

  “Maybe John and Jenny had another child?”

  “Maybe, but this one specifically refers to Ben.”

  “You’re kidding me!”

  Genevieve’s face crunched up in fear. “Afraid not. It refers to three ancient strains of DNA used to achieve the goal. It then lists those as: Australopithecus boisei, Homo ergaster, and Homo neanderthalensis.”

  Tom turned his palms upward. “That’s it? I don’t get it. I thought you said it specifically refers to Ben.”

  “It does,” Genevieve replied, her voice emphatic. “Did you ever study biology?”

  “A little in high school. Nothing that’s coming to mind right now.”

  “Good thing I paid attention in school then. In biology, a tribe is a taxonomic rank above genus, but below family and subfamily. Bring back memories?”

  “Not a thing.”

  “All right. In biological classification, taxonomic rank is the relative level of a group of organisms in a taxonomic hierarchy. Although the system is constantly being updated, there are currently eight ranks widely accepted for classifying all living things. Starting from the top down, these are domain, kingdom, phylum, class, order, family, genus, species.” Genevieve leveled her eyes at him. “Now do you remember?”

  “Briefly. Go on.”

  “At
the highest level, domain separates all life into three classes, Archaea, Bacteria, and Eukarya. Humans for example, fall under the domain Eukarya. Humans fall under the kingdom of Animalia, the phylum of Chordata, class of mammal, order of primates, family of Hominidae, genus of Homo, and species of sapiens.”

  “Genevieve!” Tom yelled. “Get to the point!”

  “Australopithecus and Homo are both part of the family of hominidae. Australopithecus boisei, Homo ergaster, and Homo neanderthalensis all lived during the same period roughly a hundred thousand years ago and some of their DNA is still carried in humans today.”

  “Okay, so you’re saying John and Jenny Gellie have ancient DNA in their blood?”

  Genevieve took a deep breath and said, “I’m saying, the magic formula included boisei, ergaster, and neanderthal DNA – B.E.N.”

  “Ah Christ!” Tom said. “Ben Gellie is the product of genetic engineering! He’s the carrier of the Phoenix Plague. We need to leave now! We need to get a message to Sam – he’s got it all wrong.”

  They both started to run up the stairs, racing for the main obsidian tunnel. Once there, they ran at full speed for nearly fifteen minutes, racing through the series of mind numbing spirals that seemed intent on stopping their progress.

  The tunnel curved left and they entered the final spiral and dropped to the floor – as the thunderous echo of shots raked the wall above, sending fragments and fine shards of obsidian glass splintering onto their backs, announcing the springing of a trap.

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Genevieve got a shot off before she hit the ground.

  She squeezed the trigger automatically and her MP5 submachinegun became a natural extension of her arm. By the time her shoulders crashed into the cold, obsidian floor, she’d released five shots, killing two men.

  Tom stood up, his weapon raised, ready to fire. Both remained silent, their eyes darting between each other and the two bodies.

  Genevieve listened.

  She heard the sound of blood pounding in the back of her head, the inhale and exhale of her own labored breathing, the slight click as Tom changed his weapon to F – for fully automatic fire – but she didn’t hear any footsteps.

  The tunnel was quiet. Deathly so.

  She moved farther along the spiral, keeping her senses focused on the open space up ahead. The tunnel was empty, the walls of obsidian providing no cover and limited camouflage. Tom moved with her. Neither spoke. They didn’t have to. They were experts in this sort of field, and lovers, making them work with the innate harmony that transcended verbal communication.

  Tom bent down and glanced at two bodies. He didn’t check a pulse. They both had two 9mm bullet strikes their heads. No one was going to survive those shots. Instead, he ran his eyes across the two men, rolled them over.

  Genevieve glanced at him. “Well?”

  “No insignia, no ID, carrying Israeli Uzi submachineguns.”

  “Mercenaries. The question is who’s paying? The US Defense Department or someone private?”

  Tom said, “We’re not going to find out staying here.”

  She heard the sound of dozens of footsteps running. “We’re not going to remain alive staying here! Let’s retreat to the next spiral change.”

  “Agreed!”

  Genevieve ran a hundred or so feet until she reached the point where the spiral changed direction, opening to a new branch of the labyrinth.

  She stopped at that point. They had the advantage of some decent cover, while the advancing mercenaries were out in the open.

  They both aimed their weapons down the curving tunnel. At least ten mercenaries came into view all at once.

  Genevieve and Tom opened fire.

  Their shots ripped the first wave of their opponents to pieces. She and Tom spaced out their shots so that at any stage one of them still had a near full magazine at the ready.

  She felt the unique calm of battle.

  Breathing deeply, she traced the fallen mercenaries. One of them, with a sucking chest wound, moved for his Uzi and she put two bullets in his skull.

  The obsidian labyrinth became silent.

  It lasted nearly five minutes. An eternity during a firefight in an enclosed battlespace.

  Then someone threw something metal into the tunnel.

  Thick smoke billowed from the green M18 colored smoke grenades. It quickly filled the labyrinth, forming an impenetrable visual screen.

  Genevieve felt Tom squeeze her arm. She understood what it meant – we need to retreat. She nodded. They ran back through the spiral until they reached the next opposing turn. There they set up for their attackers once more.

  Tom said, “We can’t hold them off here indefinitely.”

  “That’s great. You got a better idea?”

  “Yeah, let’s find another way out!”

  Her lips curled with incredulity. “What have you got in mind? We’re inside a labyrinth. By definition, that means one way in and out!”

  He met her eye. “Elise said that during the CIA’s attack on the terrorist group, they slaughtered everyone, but somehow John and Jenny Gellie escaped?”

  “That’s right. Unaware of the US elite military presence in the labyrinth, the rest of their cult was massacred by superior forces.”

  “So John and Jenny Gellie weren’t inside at the time of the attack?”

  “No. There’s video footage that shows them entering the labyrinth. They were the ringleaders.”

  “Then how the hell did they get out?” Tom asked, with a rueful grin.

  “Good question.” Genevieve thought about that for a moment. “There must be a secret escape passage.”

  “The monastery!”

  “What?”

  “You said work on the Solovetsky monastery commenced in 1436, but the monks had gathered in the area, declaring it sacred land, nearly two years earlier!”

  “That’s right…” Genevieve confirmed, not yet sure where he was going with it.

  “What if someone knew about the labyrinth?” Tom asked. “What if someone knew exactly where it came out, but the raised sea level meant that they could no longer access it?”

  “What are you saying?”

  Tom said, “I think the Solovetsky monks bored a tunnel into the sphere, dropping down from there. Maybe it was an accident or maybe someone amongst them descended from the Master Builders and knew the truth? Either way, once they found the sphere, they set a course to follow the ancient scripts and produce the Phoenix Plague.”

  “But Bolshoi Zayatsky’s nearly two miles from the Solovetsky fortified monastery!”

  “Is it?” Tom’s eyes narrowed. “How would we know? That’s the purpose of a labyrinth: to confuse its intruders. Maybe, all along, we’ve been making our way north, into the grounds beneath the monastery.”

  The first group of mercenaries came into view, hugging the edge of the obsidian spiral.

  Genevieve opened fire with her MP5.

  The first two fell, and the third emptied his full 32 round magazine toward them. Genevieve ducked behind the corner of the spiral.

  She felt a fresh shiver. “We’re never going to outgun them. Let’s try and find your secret tunnel.”

  Tom grinned. “I think I already know where it is.”

  “You do?”

  “Yeah. That blank spot at the top of the dome. The one without any writings!”

  “Of course!”

  They ran all the way back to the sphere.

  Tom climbed down the stairs and up to the orb at the center. Genevieve fixed her flashlight on the raised pictograms.

  Behind them, she heard the heavy breathing of people running hard.

  They were getting close.

  Tom said, “None of these markings look anything like a trap door.”

  Genevieve pointed to a pictograph that had a single circle inside a circle. “It’s that one!”

  “You’re sure?”

  “No. But I’ve seen a similar description on the side of the G
reat Pyramid of Giza, where the secret escape passage used to be.”

  Tom closed his eyes, trying to picture the symbol at the base of the Khufu’s tomb. “You’re right!”

  Genevieve pressed the stone. Unseen mechanisms started to move above. She climbed the stairs and fired several rounds down the obsidian tunnel as a warning to the mercenaries.

  They reached the top of the obsidian dome.

  The ceiling seemed perfectly solid. There were no cracks. No sign of any potential opening. Genevieve pushed on it, but nothing budged.

  The wall beside them sparked as bullets ripped into the ancient volcanic stone.

  Genevieve turned and opened up return fire.

  Tom turned the butt of his Heckler and Koch upward and struck the ceiling. The outer layer of obsidian fractured under the force, splintering into multiple pieces and falling through to the ground nearly fifty feet below.

  Genevieve tilted her head upward.

  An internal ladder was carved into the stone.

  “Go!” she shouted. “I’m right behind you.”

  Tom nodded and disappeared into the void above.

  She emptied the last of her rounds into the tunnel below and then followed Tom into the escape passage.

  Climbing hand over hand, she made her way quickly to the top of the narrow chimney. It opened into a concealed vestibule of the stone cathedral.

  A monk glanced at them, recognition and fear displayed across his face in abject horror at the location from which they had come.

  Regaining his composure, the monk looked at them, and said, “What have you done?”

  They pushed past him, running out through the nave into an under-cover passageway.

  Behind them, she heard the monk shout, “Quick! They’re getting away.”

  Genevieve imagined her pursuers climbing the secret passage. They would be swarming out of the cathedral any minute.

  She and Tom reached a conflux of three separate hallways.

  “Which way?” Tom asked.

  “Go left!”

  They ran through the refectory and into the open courtyard.

  Up ahead, someone had had the good sense to close the gates.

  Shots fired from behind them.