by Brett King
He saw on the guy’s face that he disagreed. Nebola was confident the man from the Shadow Chapter would change his mind when he had a look at how things were playing out in the catacombs. Nebola put an extra swagger in his walk as he went over to greet his supervisor—Edgar Wurm.
Chapter 50
3:14 a.m.
Edgar Wurm scanned the small office. He took Nebola’s outstretched hand in a brisk shake as he glanced at the little girl seated at a table of monitors. She moved back and forth in a swivel chair, swinging her slender legs as she talked to her father. John Brynstone’s rugged face appeared on one screen, looking relieved to see his daughter.
“You’re letting her talk to Brynstone? I didn’t authorize that.”
“Just for a minute.”
“Take away his daughter and it weakens Brynstone.” Wurm frowned. “Let him see her, even for a moment, and you grant him strength.”
“Not sure I agree,” Nebola said.
“You better agree. As long as I’m overseeing your work in the Shadow Chapter, you better agree with every blasted word that comes out of my mouth.”
“Yes, sir.”
Wurm silenced Nebola with a wave of his hand. The man was an annoyance. Right now, Wurm was interested in the girl with the honey-blonde hair.
Wurm was a collector. He was used to getting what he wanted. Ever since he had learned about Shayna Brynstone’s power, Wurm knew he wanted to collect her. She was the last of her kind, too valuable to leave out in the world. He had convinced the Chapter to support his mission. They understood his vision and had bankrolled the entire project, lending considerable resources to the operation.
Wurm had requested Nebola from their ranks, in part because of his connection to Metzger. Nebola was brought in to acquire the child. In his own fumbling way, he had attained that goal. Of course, Brynstone would protest Wurm’s desire to add Shayna to his collection.
For that reason—and that reason alone—John Brynstone had to die tonight.
The gravity of the moment brought tears to Cori’s eyes, and she felt her face brighten with heat as she laughed with relief. Shayna was right there, her face filling the small screen at the base of Rashmi Raja’s neck. Such a perfect vision of a child. Despite everything, she looked wonderful. Alive. Happy, even.
When she had appeared a moment ago, Brynstone had shoved aside McHardy to see.
“Shayna,” he had said. “Are you okay?”
“Sort of scared, Daddy.”
“Sweetie, the man who was here a minute ago,” Brynstone had said with urgency. “Where is he now?”
“Back there,” she said in a low voice. “Talking to someone.”
“Can he see the screen you’re looking at? Can he see us?”
“Nope.”
Brynstone turned to Cori, grabbing her arm. “Talk to Shay. Keep her calm.”
He dropped to his knees and unzipped the backpack. He started rifling through it. From the corner of her eye, Cori watched as Brynstone brought out what looked like a small pair of wire cutters.
Cori cleared her voice. “I missed you, Shay. It’s so great to see you. That’s a cute shirt.”
“Thanks, Cori. Missed you, too.”
Speaking quietly, Brynstone motioned to McHardy. “I need your help.”
Both men kneeled in front of Raja.
“John, I don’t like this idea.”
“Trust me, Rashmi.”
“No plan B?” she asked.
“Like what?”
“Don’t know. Something that doesn’t involve me getting blown to bits.”
“Keep still, Rashmi. Remember they can detect it if you move too much.”
The woman’s eyes widened as she tried to remain still. Cori had to admire her—Raja was keeping her cool.
Brynstone handed a small pair of wire cutters to McHardy and whispered something about a primer, a reactor, and an ignition timer. She didn’t know what he was talking about, but hearing the words made Cori nervous. She concentrated on talking to the little girl.
“Shay, honey, where are you?”
“I don’t know.”
“Are you inside a building? Tell me what you see.”
Yawning softly, she looked around. “An office or something. I see desks. I’m at this table with a whole bunch of TVs. I can see you on one of the TVs. You look sort of muddy. Eww.”
“You’re right.” Cori laughed nervously. “It’s really muddy down here.”
She glanced at McHardy. Color had drained from his face as he crouched at Raja’s feet, holding the cutters. She caught herself listening to Brynstone.
“Slow down and breathe, Math. Stop panicking. Doesn’t do us any good.”
“What do you want me to do?”
“That wire right there. See it?” Brynstone whispered. “Start with the blue one. We need to cut the same wires at the same time. Blue and blue. Then we move to the next wires. Red and red. We can do it.”
“Can’t you cut both wires?”
“I need you on Rashmi’s left side,” Brynstone growled. “Lighting conditions are not optimal. Time’s short. We need to work together. Same color wire. Same time. Or else boom. Got it?”
“Okay, John. Say when.”
Brynstone mouthed the words “on three,” then used his free hand to count it out.
Cori started thinking about what would happen if the two men made a mistake. My God. Her legs started to tremble. She glanced at Raja. The two women locked their gaze onto each other. They exchanged a scared look, each thinking the same thing.
We’re gonna die.
In the hallway outside the office, Edgar Wurm stared down at Nebola. “Have they found the missing half of the Scintilla?”
“Not yet. Ball is in your court. What’s the next move?”
“Contact your men. Notify the pilot. Get the helicopter here. After that, find out if the formula is with the bodies.”
Leaving Nebola, Wurm headed to the opposite end of the hallway. A door opened not far away, and a shadow fell across the wall.
Stepping into the hallway, Erich Metzger wore a serene expression. He was an ideal competitor for John Brynstone—no one was better suited to go face-to-face with him than Metzger.
Brynstone had the sole distinction of being the only person to survive Metzger’s assassination attempt. He was the man’s only failure, although Metzger wouldn’t see it that way. Wurm sensed the guy couldn’t wait for another chance at Brynstone.
The feeling was mutual.
Wurm had never met the assassin. He had seen photographs in a Shadow Chapter dossier, no two looking the same. With an uncanny proficiency in matters of disguise, Metzger was a creature of many faces. He watched the man approach with a wary gaze. Was it Metzger’s real look, Wurm wondered, or just part of another bloody masquerade?
Metzger stopped and clasped his hands in front of himself. His dark eyes were terrible and piercing.
“Herr Doktor Wurm.”
“Guten Morgen, Herr Metzger,” Wurm answered. “I wish to discuss a matter with you.”
Cori did not take her gaze off Rashmi Raja, each woman holding her breath. Each feeling the ragged tug of panic in her stomach. The moments stretched into eons.
“I can’t feel my toes,” Raja whispered.
“Wiggle your toes a little,” Cori said, “but keep your body still. Focus. You can do this. Just a little longer.”
“You talking to me, Cori?” Shay asked on the monitor. “Wiggle my toes?”
“No, Shay. Not you.”
“Who are you talking to?”
Cori drew in a breath. She didn’t want to get into details. “I’m talking to my imaginary friend.”
“You have one, too? What’s your I-F’s name?”
“Um, Rashmi.”
Raja to
ok a halting breath. “How are they doing?”
Cori glanced down. Brynstone and McHardy were working on disabling the explosives. How were they doing? It was a good question. Cori had no idea. She didn’t want to say that.
“Good,” she whispered, looking up at the taller woman. “Hang in there, Rashmi.”
“Everything okay?” Shay asked. “Why’s Daddy doing that?”
“You can see him?” Cori asked, shaking herself back into the conversation.
“The third TV. On there. Yeah, I see him.”
Cori didn’t want Nebola to walk in and see Brynstone and McHardy working on the wires. “Shay, listen to me. Do you see a button on the TV where you see your dad? A power button?”
She turned. “Mm-hmm. A green light.”
“Good. Push the button. Turn it off.”
“Turn off the TV?”
“Only the TV where you see your dad.” Her voice quivered. “I know you want to watch your dad, sweetie, but we really need your help. Turn it off. Make the green light go away.”
The child moved out of the frame.
Raja closed her eyes. She bit her bottom lip.
Shayna returned on the small screen.
“That TV is all black now.”
“Good girl.”
“I don’t like these men,” Shayna said. “Viktor is nice I guess, but I don’t trust him.”
“Shay,” Cori said, trying to sound relaxed, “how many people are with you?”
“Um, bad men with guns came in here. They said some bad words, then they went somewhere.”
Raja glanced down at Brynstone. In a faltering voice, she called, “John, are you close? Can you do it?”
Frowning, he didn’t look up but muttered, “Doing my best.”
Cori returned her attention to the monitor. Heart rattling in her chest, she coached herself to stay focused on the conversation with Shay. “That guy who was with you? Viktor. Is he still talking to someone?”
“Mm-hmm.”
“Who is Viktor talking to?”
“I can’t see them.”
“Can you hear them?”
She turned her head, the camera picking up shiny blonde hair as she looked back. Her face appeared on the screen again. “They’re in another room. It’s like I can kind of hear their voices, I think.”
Cori needed to figure out where to find the girl in case they made it out of this place.
“Should I take off the headphones? Want me to go listen to them?”
“No, don’t do that. That’s okay. Just keep talking, sweetie.”
“Is my daddy still there?”
“Right here,” Brynstone called. “You’re such a brave girl. Daddy is so proud of you.”
Sweat streamed down his face. He pointed to a green wire. McHardy frowned as he eased the wire cutter around it with shaking hands. That made Cori nervous.
“Daddy, are you gonna come see me?”
“Soon as I can, baby girl. Soon as I can. Be strong, Shay. I love you.”
“Love you, too.” On the monitor, the little girl turned to her left. “Cori?”
“Yeah, Shay?”
“Viktor and the other man?” the child said. “Well, um, I think Viktor is coming back.”
“Okay, Shay,” Cori called, her voice frantic. “Turn that other TV back on. Fast.”
Chapter 51
3:21 a.m.
Viktor is coming back.
Shayna’s words seemed to blast through the small chamber like a shock wave. Brynstone cursed. Panicked, Math McHardy dropped the cutters and jumped to his feet, scrambling back into place beside Cori.
Brynstone winced.
So close. So damned close.
Only two wires stopped him from deactivating the explosives on Raja’s vest. He shoved the cutters in his pants pocket and hurried back to the sarcophagus. He made it just as Shayna moved to a nearby seat and Nebola’s face appeared on the monitor strapped to Raja’s chest.
“Where’s the chrism formula?” Nebola demanded, appearing on-screen. “Show me.”
Brynstone decided to lie. “I looked for it while Shayna was on camera. All we have are bodies and the scroll that tells about Quintus murdering the Lost Ones.”
“You can’t find the chrism formula?”
Resting his hands on the edge of the sarcophagus, Brynstone peered into the camera. “It’s not here.”
“Then there’s nothing to stop me from blowing the hell out of the catacombs along with you and your friends.” To make his point, Nebola held up the detonation switch, his thumb poised above it. “Check again, Dr. Brynstone. Pull out all the bodies.”
Brynstone frowned. Leaning inside the sarcophagus, he reached for the mummy with the long hair. He searched along the body, the tattered clothes falling apart in his hand, but there was no sign of the chrism formula. He hated moving the specimen, given its delicate condition, but he didn’t have a choice. Raising it in his arms, he lifted the dead man from the sarcophagus and placed it with care on the floor.
On-screen, Nebola said, “That mummy. Any chance he’s Saint Lazarus?”
He thought about it. Nebola could be right.
It gave him a chill. Had he just touched the corpse of the most famous back-from-the-dead person in history?
Brynstone brought out the armor next. Placing it beside the Lazarus mummy, he searched the next body, a woman, looking to be late fifties at the time of death. Once again, Brynstone marveled at the soft-tissue preservation. McHardy and Cori stepped in to help, each removing body after body and lowering them to the floor. It was tragic, handling the ancient corpses without gloves. Both in here and with the Lazarus Cross, he had committed unforgivable scientific sins. All in all, they brought out four mummies, leaving three in the sarcophagus.
“There,” McHardy said, pointing at a piece of vellum trapped beneath the leg of the mummy at the bottom.
It seemed like an odd place. Maybe it had once been on top, but had fallen over the centuries as the stack of corpses withered into their present desiccated state. Brynstone reached in and coaxed the small scrap of vellum from beneath one man’s leg.
Years ago, Edgar Wurm and Cori Cassidy had found the top half of the Scintilla. That same night, Cori had sent Brynstone the formula to create the White Chrism. Using it to save his daughter’s life, he had done it all without ever seeing the Scintilla. He had always wondered how it would look.
Cori moved beside him. “That matches the torn document Edgar and I found. That’s the other half.”
“Bring it here,” Nebola ordered. “Hold the Scintilla to the camera.”
“Forget it.”
“Are you serious, Brynstone? You’re doing this?”
“If I show you this half of the Scintilla, what’s to stop you from detonating the explosives?”
Nebola’s face darkened. “Someone here needs to speak with you.” He moved out of sight from the monitor on Raja’s chest.
Brynstone narrowed his eyes. He expected Metzger. He expected threats. That’s not what happened.
Edgar Wurm slid into view on the monitor. With flowing gray hair, the man had the look of an Old Testament prophet.
Disbelief hit as Brynstone tried to make sense of what he was seeing. It was bad enough that Nebola had abducted Shayna, but now he had Wurm, too. Since his “death,” Wurm had been successful at staying off the grid. How did Nebola find him?
Cori grabbed Brynstone’s arm. “Edgar, you’re alive?” She raised her hand to her mouth, making a hushed cry. “Is that really you?”
“Cori, I wondered if you and I would meet again. How unfortunate our reunion arrives under the present circumstances.”
“I, uh, I saw you fall that night,” she said, still bewildered. “I thought you were dead.”
“Edgar Wurm, you’re
too damned stubborn to die,” McHardy grumbled, coming over. “Even if you did, you’re too rotten to stay in hell.”
Brynstone reached over. “Shut up, Math. I need to help my daughter.”
Ignoring his rival, Wurm said, “John, do this for me. Bring the chrism formula to the camera.”
Brynstone couldn’t read the man’s expression. Wurm looked a little frightened.
Or not.
“Listen, John,” he continued, “I need your cooperation. Please show us the missing half of the Scintilla.” On camera, Wurm reached over, and the small monitor showed him pulling Shayna onto his knee. Wurm looked down at her. “Remember me? We met in Central Park some months back? You were playing in the snow with your black cat. I gave you a scarf for your snowman.”
She glanced up at him and nodded.
“Don’t be afraid, dear.” Wurm turned his attention back to Brynstone. “John, bring the chrism formula to the camera. We need you to do it. Both of us.”
Brynstone looked down, thinking it over. Cori placed her hand on his arm, running her fingers down to his elbow.
He walked around the sarcophagus, stopping in front of Raja. The woman looked frazzled. Awash in perspiration, her graceful appearance had vanished and she looked ready to collapse.
This wasn’t easy.
Brynstone held the small piece of vellum to the camera strapped across her forehead. Looking down at the monitor, he could see Wurm reading the document. Rashmi was watching Brynstone. He gave her a quick look and whispered, “Be strong.”
After a minute, Wurm smiled. “Thank you, John.”
Brynstone lowered the vellum. “Doesn’t Nebola want to see it?”
“He has no interest in the Scintilla.”
“Sure sounded like it.”
“I made him sound interested.”
“What are you talking about, Edgar?” he demanded. “What are you doing there?”
