by David Wood
“Very well.” The bishop sighed. “Move forward with stage two, and keep me abreast of developments.”
Robinson’s right arm twitched as if he were about to salute. He settled for a sharp, “Yes, Bishop,” turned, and strode from the room.
The bishop returned to watching the eagle and contemplating the future—a future in which he controlled the fate of the United States and, perhaps, the world.
“Lord, haste the day,” he whispered. “Lord, haste the day.”
Chapter 14
“Upstairs or downstairs?” Bones whispered. They stood on a landing behind the door through which Greg had sent them.
“Downstairs,” came Greg’s reply. “When you hit the ground floor, turn left. You want the fifth door on your right. You’ll pass some private offices. I haven’t gotten access to their security system yet, so I’m blind. Be wary and try not to let yourself be spotted.”
“Don’t worry about me,” Kasey said. “I just wish you hadn’t made me bring a bull into this china shop.”
“Tell you what. If I give us away, you can make me a steer.”
Kasey gave Bones a withering look before descending the steps on silent feet, Bones creeping along behind. The hallway was silent and empty.
“Remember,” Kasey whispered, “I take the lead.”
Bones winked and she sighed. “Until you screw up,” he mouthed at the back of her head. Kasey glided along like a shadow, peering through each office window as she went. The girl moved well, and looked good doing it.
They reached their destination without incident, and found the door locked.
“Need me to pick it?” Bones offered.
“It’s electronic, genius.” Kasey drummed her fingers on the door frame. “What’s the holdup, Greg?”
“Something odd’s going on. I’m being blocked, but it appears to be from the outside. Someone else is hacking into the system.” Bones heard the sound of furious tapping on a keyboard. “You might want to duck out of sight until I get it.”
Bones looked around, for what, he was not sure. The office closest to them was empty, but the door was ajar and the lights were on. He figured the occupant was likely to return soon. Shelves lined the walls, and a modest desk and chair, with a jacket draped across the back, faced the door. “Hold on,” he said. “I got this.”
He stepped inside, unclipped a security badge from the jacket, and brought it to Kasey. “I swiped it so you can swipe it.”
“Oh my God, do you ever stop?” Kasey sighed. “But it was a good idea.” She held the badge up to the sensor. A green light flashed and, with a click, the door unlocked. “We’re in,” she said for Greg’s benefit, and they stepped inside and flicked on their Maglites.
Bones had expected a vault, or something equally imposing, but instead found himself in a simple storage closet. Bundles and boxes, all labeled, filled the metal shelves on his left and right, and a few more items lay on a trestle table.
He kept watch while Kasey searched the room. The hall remained empty, but his senses were on high alert, and Greg’s next communication only stoked his nervous energy.
“I think we’re almost out of time. Have you found the skull?”
“Not yet,” Kasey said. “Why?”
“The outside hacker just called up the skull’s location in the museum’s database. Two guesses who’s behind it.”
Bones gritted his teeth. “Is there another way out if they come down the stairs?”
“Checking.”
“I’ve got it.” Kasey appeared at his side, clutching a fist-sized bundle. “Let’s get out of here.”
They hadn’t taken more than a few steps when footsteps echoed down the hall.
“That’s got to be them. In here, quick!” Bones shoved Kasey inside the open office, turned out the light, and closed the door.
“We’ll be trapped in here.”
“Trust me. I’ve got a plan.” He turned on his Maglite and played it across the desk. The beam fell on a coffee mug. Bones dumped the contents on the floor and stuffed it into his jacket pocket.
“Not that there’s ever a good time for stealing, but now? A coffee mug?” Kasey asked.
Bones ignored the comment. “Greg, you got an escape route for me?”
“Far end of the hall, opposite the direction you came. Turn right. There will be a stairwell on your left.”
“Roger.” Bones turned to Kasey. “I’ll lead them away. When they’re gone, you get out of here. I’ll connect with you when I can.” Before she could argue, he kissed her hard on the lips, turned out his Maglite, and ducked out the door.
Three men, casually dressed, strode down the hallway. All were tall, fit, and moved with single-minded determination.
“Pardonnez-moi,” one of them called. His accent was atrocious, but his attempt at French indicated he had taken Bones for one of the museum staff.
“Oui?” Bones called over his shoulder.
“You’re an American.” The man looked hard at Bones. “What’ve you got in your jacket?”
“Naked pictures of your old lady.”
“He’s got the skull!” The man shouted. “Come on!”
Bones turned and dashed down the hallway, keeping one hand clutched to his jacket pocket to maintain the ruse that he carried the skull inside. He turned the corner and slowed his pace a bit. If he lost them too soon, one or more of them might double-back and then Kasey would be in trouble. He stole a glance back to make sure all three were still behind him, and then sped up again.
He found the stairwell and took the steps three at a time. His footfalls thundered in the empty space.
“Bones, what’s happening?” Greg asked.
“I’m heading up the stairs and I’ve got all three guys after me. Kasey, get out of there!”
“Way ahead of you,” came her breathless reply.
Bones hit the first floor landing, shouldered through the door, and emerged in the middle of a display of primitive dress from around the world. All around him, faceless figures encased in glass stood sentinel. Before he could get his bearings, the glass pane before him exploded and he caught the faint pop of a silenced pistol.
“I thought they had gun control in France,” he muttered as he took off through the maze of glass cases.
“Stay alive, Bones.” Greg’s voice remained implacably calm.“I’m on my way.”
The shots continued, and screams filled the air as museum patrons made a beeline for the exit. All around him, glass shattered and bullets tore through the silent figures. He didn’t know where, exactly, the shooter was, but the man was between Bones and the front door. He’d have to find another way out.
The three men who had been chasing him added their voices and bullets to the cacophony. Bones dove behind a marble pedestal and assessed the situation. The walls of glass, and their scant protection, were literally crumbling all around him. He was almost out of time.
“Spread out! One of us is bound to find him.”
The voice was only meters away and coming closer. Bones tensed, ready to spring, and waited. He could now see the man’s blurred form through one of the few standing displays. The man held his pistol at the ready, and moved at a steady walk. Knowing he needed as much of the element of surprise on his side as possible, Bones took the coffee mug out of his jacket and tossed it over his shoulder.
The man heard the clatter and crash, fired a shot in the direction from which the sound had come, and took off running. Bones stuck out a leg as the man sprinted past, tripping him up and sending him falling hard to the floor. His breath left him in a rush, and his consciousness followed a few seconds later when Bones hammered two vicious elbow strikes to the temple. Helping himself to the man’s weapon, a nickel-plated Beretta 92FS, he grinned. The odds were not yet in his favor, but he’d shortened them considerably.
“Stevens! Did you get him?” someone cried out.
“He’s headed back toward the stairs,” Bones called in a nasal voice. He had no idea wh
at Stevens sounded like, but if silence had greeted the question, the men might have jumped to the correct conclusion. This way, there was a slight chance he could throw them off the trail. He counted to ten, and then moved quietly in the direction of the front door.
No joy. A figure stepped out in front of him and opened fire. Bones dove to one side, came up in a crouch, and fired off a single shot that just missed. His target dropped to the floor and flattened out behind a pedestal covered in broken glass and the shredded remains of a display. Cursing the unfamiliar feel of the Beretta, Bones rolled behind a still-standing display, wondering when the others would arrive.
The man behind the pedestal opened fire. As broken glass rained down on Bones, the shots ceased.
He’s reloading, Bones thought. Time to move in.
He rose up, Beretta at the ready, just in time to see a tall, lean figure move like a shadow across his field of vision. The man on the floor managed a cry of surprise that melted into a gurgle as Greg struck him in the throat, then put him to sleep with a chokehold.
Footsteps, more gunshots, and Greg melted into the shadows.
Two men appeared, looking around wildly. Bones recognized one as the man who had spoken to him downstairs. They spotted him at almost the exact moment he saw them. They raised their pistols, but Bones was quicker. He squeezed the trigger.
And nothing.
The Beretta was empty.
“Of course,” he muttered. “Now what?” His eyes fell on the figure above him—a Maori warrior, clutching a tao, a traditional short spear. “Any port in a storm.” He snatched the spear, gave the dummy a shove, and ran.
The ruse only fooled his pursuers for a moment. Bullets shredded the dummy, and then the men were on the move again.
Bones zig-zagged around the few displays that remained standing, bullets whistling all around him. They had to run out of bullets sooner or later… he hoped.
Up ahead, a broad staircase led up to the second floor gallery. Mounting the steps, he ducked his head as he climbed, regretting his height and broad shoulders. Shots pinged off the marble banister, one ricocheting inches from his head.
“If one of these bullets rips my jacket, I’m going to be pissed.”
At the top of the stairs, he turned left and ran along the balcony overlooking the first floor. The men weren’t shooting now. Though he hoped their magazines were empty, it was more likely they were merely conserving their bullets until one of them got a clear shot at him.
“Greg, where are you?”
“I’m following along behind you guys, but I don’t have a weapon. The guy I took out had fired his magazine dry.”
“Any idea where I’m headed?” Bones dashed along the balcony, wondering when the next hail of lead would fly. “All I see up here is a set of double-doors.”
“Conference rooms, I think. No idea if there’s a way down.”
“Lovely.” A bullet whizzed past his ear and struck one of the doors with a thud. Acting on instinct, Bones dodged to the side, whirled, and flung the spear at the man in the lead. It flew true, taking the surprised man in the thigh and sending him tumbling to the ground. His partner stopped short, gaping at the fallen man. Seeing his chance, Bones dashed through the double doors as bullets flew again.
A short hallway led to a conference room, where windows framed in the thick vines of the so-called green wall overlooked the street below. There were no other exits. He was finally cornered. The last pursuer was closing in. Time was almost up.
A wooden podium stood at the far end of the room. Bones ran to it, picked it up, rushed toward the nearest window, and struck it, battering ram-style.
The glass cracked, but did not shatter.
“Seriously?” Bones dropped the podium and lashed out with a series of side kicks. Glass flew, falling to the sidewalk below. He finally cleared a hole large enough for him to fit through, and clambered out the window just as the conference room door flew open.
Down on the street, people cried out, and sirens wailed in the distance. Bones gripped the thick vines, his feet finding holds in the green wall’s tangled foliage. Moving with the agility of a monkey, he clambered not down, but up and to the side. He’d just come level with the top of the window when his pursuer leaned out, looking down at where he expected Bones to be.
Bones was ready. He lashed out with a powerful kick, catching the man square on the chin. Stunned, he wobbled, and Bones caught him with an up-kick across the bridge of the nose, and then drove his heel into the base of the man’s skull. The man flopped unconscious, half in and half out of the window, like a wet blanket draped over a clothesline, his gun falling to the ground two stories below.
Bones slipped back through the window to find Greg entering the conference room.
“That’s the last of them.”
“Good,” Greg said. “Kasey’s got the car and will pick us up. Let’s get out of here before the police arrive.”
Bones laughed. “If only I had a dollar for every time I’ve said that very same thing.”
They circled the museum at a fast walk, and hurried down Avenue de la Bourdonnais to Rue de l’Universite, where they joined a crowd of tourists headed for the Eiffel Tower.
“That thing is huge.” Bones gazed up at the famed landmark. He knew the iron lattice structure rose more than a thousand feet in the air, but he was unprepared for just how impressive it was, its bronze surface gleaming against the cornflower sky. “Dude, I would love to climb that thing.”
“You could take the elevator,” Greg said.
“The hell with that. I’m a climber.”
“Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that. You’d be treed like a cat.”
They strolled beneath the tower and wandered along the manicured green, reminiscent of the National Mall in Washington D.C., until they reached the Champ de Mars.
“Kasey should be along any minute.” Greg glanced at his watch, then checked his phone. “No messages. I guess she’s okay.”
Bones looked up and down the street. “Either that, or she can’t text while she’s being chased.”
“Why would you say that?”
Bones grimaced. “Wait a few seconds and see for yourself.”
Chapter 15
“Why aren’t we moving?” A note of panic resonated in Sofia’s voice.
“We just hit a little snag, that’s all,” Willis reassured her. “Maddock, how you want to handle this? Release the cable?”
“I’d hate to have come all the way down here and leave without the device.” Maddock carefully brought the sub about. “With all the gadgets we’ve got on board Remora, surely one of them will do the trick.”
“Whatever you’re gonna try, you’d better make it quick. Oxygen’s starting to run low.”
Maddock glanced at the panels in front of him. Willis was right; time was growing short. He tried pulling the device free. It was not so much a serious attempt, but a matter of eliminating the simplest solution first. No luck.
He brought the sub about, unable to maneuver well with the cable still attached, and moved closer to the fallen statue. Poseidon gazed up at them through dead eyes of stone, a faint echo of the life that once teemed in this sunken ghost city.
“Should we call to the surface for help?” Sofia asked.
“We lost contact with them a while ago,” Willis said. “Too far below the surface and too much rock in between.”
“There’s nothing they could do anyway. We’ve got the only sub.” Maddock extended the sub’s mechanical arms, grabbed hold of the statue, and lifted, but the statue didn’t budge. The point of the device was stuck between Poseidon’s left arm, held down by his side, and his hip. Maddock tried again, but to no avail.
“New plan. Let’s see if we can cut it free.”
“You’re not going to cut the statue!” Sofia protested. “It’s thousands of years old.”
“You’d prefer to leave the device down here?” Maddock asked. When silence met his question, he extended
the sub’s cutting blade and set to work on the statue. The stone was solid and the blade’s first stroke scarcely made a scratch. Gritting his teeth, Maddock set to cutting again. Silt and bits of stone clouded his view, and he used a water jet to clear his view. Soon, he’d managed to cut more than halfway through.
“Will you get it before our air runs out?” Sofia’s forced casualness lent a stiff tone to her voice.
“No problem.” Maddock didn’t know if that was necessarily true, but he saw no reason to worry her. “Not much more to go.” He set to cutting again, the blade now chewing up the rock. Just a few seconds more…
“Maddock! Stop for a minute.” Willis, usually unflappable, sounded concerned.
“What is it?”
“I’m picking up some odd vibrations. Hold on.” Willis activated the sub’s external microphones and turned them up. “You hear that? It sounds like…”
“Falling rock.” Maddock’s mouth went dry. “We’ve got to get out of here.” He turned the sub about and gunned the engines. It strained against the cable. Maddock’s finger hovered over the release switch that would free the sub from its tether. He didn’t want to lose the strange, Atlantean device, but his desire to live was stronger.
Just as his finger touched the switch, they broke free, and the sub lurched forward, dragging the device behind it. Willis and Sofia cheered as Remora zipped toward the exit tunnel.
Up ahead, chunks of stone fell like giant snowflakes from the ceiling of the passageway. Maddock had no choice but to try to make it through, or else they’d be trapped in the pyramidal chamber.
“Guess those torpedoes were a bad idea,” Willis said.
“We’re about to find out.” Maddock gritted his teeth as the mini sub entered the tunnel. Falling rock pelted the sub’s exterior, but the little craft surged ahead. “Hang on!” Maddock barked, steering the sub hard to the right as a huge chunk of stone broke free and fell right in front of them.
They almost managed to avoid it.
The falling rock struck Remora on its port side, causing it to pitch to the starboard side, where it banged into the tunnel wall.
