FORTY-TWO
Gallo’s heart raced as she stepped away from Pierce. She was afraid, no doubt about that, but she had been in stickier situations. She wasn’t that worried for her own safety. She was worried for Pierce and Fiona. Fallon was ambitious and greedy, but he didn’t strike her as a killer. The mercenaries with him however, seemed all too eager to carry out his threat. But she held her head high, willing herself to remain strong, to accept this reversal on her own terms.
They exited the chamber and started down the passage. Fallon walked ahead of Gallo, both of them bracketed by the hired guns. After a few minutes of walking, Fallon looked back over his shoulder. “So, where to next? I know you must have some ideas about this.”
Gallo considered Pierce’s parting advice. Ask the Templars. “Ideas are all I have,” she admitted. “What I need are facts, to help me start eliminating the least plausible scenarios.”
“Dr. Pierce mentioned the Freemasons. Is that a possibility?”
She resisted the urge to snap at him. “As I said, I need facts. People have been speculating about and looking for Templar treasure for centuries. Nothing has ever been found. If we’re going to find something, we have to take a different approach. We don’t have time to reinvent the wheel.”
He gave her a long, appraising glance before returning his gaze forward again. He said nothing more as they made the twenty minute long trek back to the end of the tunnel, giving Gallo a chance to review her own knowledge about the Templars. Her professional area of expertise encompassed the beginnings of the Holy Roman Empire, and she knew more than the average person about the Crusades in the broader context of history. But what she did not have was a working knowledge of the more radical ideas and fringe theories, and that was where she would find the golden thread that would lead her to the Ark.
Which raised the question of whether she ought to. Maybe it would be smarter to lead Fallon astray, clearing a path for Pierce and Fiona to find the Ark. Pierce had told her to go along with Fallon, but exactly what he meant by that was open to interpretation.
Fallon stopped and she almost ran into him. Ahead, the gunman in the lead had also halted as the ceiling sloped down to block their way. “Dead end, boss.”
“It’s just an illusion,” Fallon said. “Keep going.”
The mercenary reached out with one hand, testing the solidity of the stone. Gallo held her breath. Fiona’s Mother Tongue incantation could change the matter state of rock without altering its appearance, but how long the effect would last was a big unknown. The man’s fingers sank into the sloping barrier as if it was a holographic projection.
As the first man disappeared into the wall, Fallon turned around shining his flashlight down the passage behind them. “It looks like Pierce took my advice to stay put.”
“Looks that way,” agreed the mercenary.
“Did you bring explosives? C-4 or whatever you call it?”
The other man nodded.
“I don’t want Pierce following us,” Fallon went on. “As soon as we’re outside, I want you to blast the entrance.”
Gallo’s heart skipped a beat. “No!”
She started toward him, hands raised without any idea of what she intended to do if she actually landed a blow. As it was, she never even got close. The mercenary threw his arms around her, restraining her.
“Once we find the Ark, I’ll make sure they’re dug out. They’ll live, provided you remain cooperative.”
“You can’t do this,” she said, the protest tumbling from her lips.
“Oh, but I can.” Fallon leaned in close. “I told you it was a race. Now you have a personal stake in it.”
Even as Gallo struggled in her captor’s grip, the harsh reality of the situation filtered through her panic. Her protests would accomplish nothing. Fallon wasn’t going to change his mind. But she also knew something Fallon didn’t know. Fiona could walk through walls — at least some of the time. And that gave her hope.
She sagged in defeat and allowed herself to be ushered through the lightless haze separating the tunnel from the surface. Two more mercenaries were waiting outside, guarding the exit, and as soon as they were all clear, one of the men hurried to carry out Fallon’s orders. He produced a large satchel, almost overstuffed with blocks of plastic explosives, and re-entered the concealed passage, disappearing from sight. When he came back out again, he carried a spool of wire, which he played out until it was empty. He then attached a small plastic device that looked a little like a grip exerciser.
“Better duck,” he advised. “Fire in the hole.”
As soon as Gallo was huddled on the ground, the man squeezed the device three times in rapid succession. On the second squeeze, there was a resounding thump underfoot, and a cloud of dust rose up from the area where they had just been standing.
Fallon turned to her. “It’s up to you now, Dr. Gallo. If you ever want to see them again, find the Ark for me.”
Gallo nodded, pretending to be mortified. It would take more than a cave-in to keep Pierce and Fiona down.
FORTY-THREE
Pierce waited about five minutes after Fallon’s departure to start working on the problem of escape. He had no intention of sitting on his butt for three hours, leaving Gallo in Fallon’s clutches, but he also knew better than to test the tech billionaire’s resolve. Fallon might not have the stomach to pull the trigger himself, but Pierce knew the mercenaries would follow the standing order.
He studied the cross on the floor and the opening above for a few minutes, and reached a decision. “Fi, are you ready to get out of here?”
“Yeah,” Fiona replied. “But you heard what that jerk said.”
“I did. He said he was going to have one of his hired goons watch the entrance. But maybe there’s another way out of here that he doesn’t know about.” He pointed to the hole in the ceiling. “Think that goes all the way to the top?”
Fiona shook her head. “Maybe it used to, but I think if it did, someone would have found this place by now.”
“Good point. So maybe the Templars covered it over once they were done removing the Ark.”
“So how do we get up there?”
“That’s the flaw in my plan,” Pierce admitted. He sank down onto the floor to consider the problem.
He was still doing that when a hot breeze issued from the passage, spiking the air pressure and forcing him to work his jaw to pop his ears. A moment later, a loud boom, like the report of a cannon, rushed out of the tunnel and shook the ground underfoot.
“What the hell?” Pierce jumped to his feet as the tunnel vomited a cloud of dust over them. He squeezed his eyes shut and tried to hold his breath as the grit filled the air. “Son of a bitch,” he coughed. “He blasted the entrance.”
Fiona covered her mouth and nose with a sleeve and squinted at Pierce through the haze. “He tried to kill us.” Then she lowered her arm and broke into a grin. “He doesn’t know what I can do.”
Pierce answered with a smile of his own. “No, he doesn’t.”
They didn’t wait for the dust to settle, but started down the passage at a jog. The air cleared as they ran, but a cloud of anger soon replaced it for Pierce. Anger at Fallon. Anger at himself for having misjudged the man. Anger at his inability to save Gallo. He barely noticed the cracks and fissures that now crisscrossed the walls and ceiling, or the piles of rubble that littered the floor of the passage. Then he saw something moving in the gloom.
He skidded to an abrupt halt. Fiona slammed into him from behind.
“Go back!” he shouted, spinning around. He grasped hold of her shoulders, then turned her as well. “Now! Faster!”