"Don't you get it? I could have a hundred shots at him. It wouldn't change a thing."
"Do you know why you lost?"
My laughter quieted down.
"You lost because you lost yourself. He got into your head, messed around a little."
I lowered my head. The back of my skull touched rock. "How are we supposed to stop him?"
"Not through brute force, that's for damn sure." Graham continued to push the machine. "Look, we don't have to be tougher than him. We have to be smarter, better motivated."
I opened my mind and let his words float around for a bit. I started thinking about what would happen if Jenner escaped with the Amber Room. I thought about the people who would die. My friends back in New York. Graham.
Beverly.
My hands lifted. My muscles bulged as I shoved the machine. It shifted an inch.
I roared. My muscles felt like they were about to burst.
The machine shifted another few inches. Then it crashed to the floor next to me.
I sat up. My eyes narrowed as they fell on the large empty space in the middle of the room. The Amber Room was gone. It was now firmly in Jenner's possession.
But it wouldn't stay that way.
Not as long as I had something to say about it.
Chapter 95
I missed her scent. Even in the stiffest winds, her aroma — a strangely intoxicating mixture of coconuts and vanilla — had remained ever present. But now, I couldn't detect even the slightest trace of it.
I glanced around the vault. "Have you seen …?"
Graham shook his head. "No."
The ground trembled. Rock shifted. More dust wafted into the air.
I cast a wary look at the ceiling. It trembled fiercely, as if it might collapse at any second.
I dusted myself off. Rooted around on the floor until I found my gun. As I strode past the fallen vault door, I noticed signs of recent activity. Debris had been cleared away. Greasy wheel marks lined the ground. A distinct odor of electricity lingered in the air.
The area just outside the vault was quiet and clean. I saw more sets of greasy wheel marks.
Graham crept up behind me. "Any sign of them?"
I shook my head.
"Why didn't they kill us?"
"I don't know."
I twisted back to the vault. The ceiling quaked yet again as I half-jogged, half-limped across the floor. Small pebbles bounced off my parka. More dust clogged the air. It choked my lungs and rendered my eyes nearly useless.
I clambered over some equipment and forged a path to the southeast. Upon reaching the corner, I knelt down and studied the crevice. "It's sealed up, crushed by the shifting rock. We won't be able to get out this way."
"As long as those wolves can't get back in here, I'm fine with that."
I hiked around the rest of the room. In the northeast corner, I noticed a small alcove. Broken pieces of rock choked the entrance to it. But I could just make out the top part of a door. "Beverly?"
I heard a faint groan. Heart pounding, I boosted myself onto a large rock. I crawled over the pile and grabbed the doorknob. I tried to push it open. But it held fast.
I shoved my shoulder into it.
The door flew open.
I pointed my beam into a mid-sized room. I saw a table. Leather straps hung from its sides. Knives, needles, and other sharp instruments gathered dust on the blood-streaked floor. Bits of fabric and what looked like bones lay scattered among the debris.
A second room lay just beyond the first one. I could see a couple of cells within it. Their bars had been ripped open. Torn-up mattresses and more bones lay within them.
I noticed a distinct aroma in the air. But it wasn't blood or gore.
Coconut? And is that vanilla?
I swept my beam toward the table. Beverly Ginger cringed and raised her hand to block the light. Her face looked strangely soft. For the first time since I'd met her, she appeared almost vulnerable.
"Cy?" Gingerly, she rubbed the back of her head. "What happened …?"
"You tell me. One moment you were with us. The next moment you were gone."
"I came in here, shut the door."
"What about the wolves? And the gunfire?"
She gave me a surprised look. "I don't remember any of that. I just remember the room exploding. I guess I passed out."
My brain lost control of my body. Before I could stop myself, I was marching across the room. My arms gathered her up.
My lips met hers.
She kissed me back.
Fireworks exploded inside my head.
Chapter 96
She pulled away from me. A physical chasm appeared between us. But the mental one was much wider.
"What's wrong?" I asked.
She glanced around the room. "This was my grandfather's laboratory."
"What?"
"His name was Jean-Pierre Badon. Back in the 1940s, he was a well-known scientist. He specialized in vaccination research. The Nazis captured him during the Battle of France."
"That's why you came here? To find him?"
"I never knew my family. Father Andrews found me outside of St. Michael's Home for Children. I was in this little basket, along with a bunch of yellowed letters." Her eyes tightened. "I spent most of my childhood in group homes. All the while I searched for my parents. But I never located them. I still haven't located them."
"Sounds rough."
"Eventually, I taught myself French just so I could read the letters. They made life bearable. I read them over and over. They were so beautiful. Tender yet full of fire. The kinds of things people write when they're in love." She closed her eyes. "Those letters made me feel like I was a part of something special … a family."
I nodded.
"Someone had marked up the letters. Just little notes about the writer and the recipient. I tracked down the clues and discovered the letters were written by my mom's parents." Her cheeks turned rosy red. "It turns out my grandmother was pregnant with my mom during the Battle of France. She barely escaped capture. After the war, she wrote hundreds of letters, asking every conceivable person about her husband. She never found him."
"That must've been hard on her."
"Eventually, I tracked down my grandmother's grave. She was all alone in this giant cemetery." Beverly’s voice caught in her throat. "I know it's silly. But I couldn't stop thinking about it. She'd loved this man so much and yet she couldn't spend eternity with him. It seemed so wrong. I wanted … no, I needed to find him. I needed them to be together again."
I swept my beam around the area. "Are you sure this was his lab?"
"Positive."
"What a horrible life."
"He wasn't a prisoner."
I arched an eyebrow.
"He was working for the Nazis." She waved her hand at some papers. "He was researching the Großen Sterbens bacteria when he died."
"Are you sure?"
"I've read his handwriting thousands of times. I'd know it in my sleep." She shook her head. "He knew about the virus, knew what it could do. How did he live with himself?"
"He did what he had to do to stay alive."
"There's always a choice."
"I'm not saying you have to forget what he did. But you can't ignore the circumstances."
"Do you think I'm a good person?" she asked.
"Of course."
"I have a lot in common with my grandfather. Same writing style. Same interests. Same fears. Same demons." She ran her fingers through her hair. "He worked on a deadly virus just to save his own hide. What's that say about me?"
"Nothing. You're not him."
She stared at the ground.
"Look, I never knew your grandfather. But I know you. And that's why I need your help." I grabbed her shoulders. "Aaron's got the Amber Room. If we don’t intercept him, he'll poison the world."