“The whole city? Everything?” DeMeo was completely bewildered.
“Depends on your perspective,” McCauley replied.
“Actually he created a grand distraction,” Jaffe explained. “The British calculated that the German bombers would head over the Mediterranean at night. The pilots had their compasses and charts. However on cloudless nights they’d rely on the port’s lighthouse to guide them in. They’d trust their eyes on the bombing run. Except for the fact that Jasper Maskelyne and his Magic Gang had been at work. As the lead German bomber approached the target, he observed that the lighthouse beam and the city lights were just a few degrees off compass. Not much, but enough to question his German mapmakers. So he banked his plane slightly, lining up for a straight-in visual attack. All the bombers similarly adjusted their flight plans and simply, unquestionably followed the leader. When they flew over ground zero they dropped their bombs and left. They did it night after night. The city was in ruins. A total success.”
“But I thought?” Katrina interjected.
“A total success for Maskelyne. Not the Germans. He’d successfully moved the Port of Alexandria.”
“But you just said the Germans destroyed what they saw,” she exclaimed.
“Absolutely. They destroyed what they saw. It wasn’t the real lighthouse or the city. The true objective was completely in the dark. The Germans obliterated a wooden replica — a model of Alexandria, geographically close enough to the real city, structured on the same urban plan, but on a much smaller scale. They bombed the living daylights out of a fake wooden target built by set designers. They trusted their eyes over their compasses. Maskelyne saved Alexandria.”
“Brilliant!” DeMeo exclaimed.
McCauley corrected him. “Magic.”
Now it was time to take his team behind the curtain he’d created. “How’d you like to see the tunnel we discovered and not what Al set up as the target?”
Eighty-four
Al Jaffe had camouflaged the entrance to the actual cave as perfectly as he had fashioned the false one — the airplane’s target. He’d replicated Maskelyne’s magic.
They removed the brush and the rocks he had piled up. Once clear, McCauley led the team through the passages. He stopped and commented on the Native American cave drawings, now more meaningful.
DeMeo was awestruck.
“Stay together,” McCauley instructed as they advanced. “I’ll need everyone to…” McCauley’s voice suddenly echoed into darkness. “Okay, slowly take out the propane lamps. Time to light them…carefully.”
He’d had five weeks to think about returning. Ultimately nothing could dissuade him from seeking answers. In some way, he believed the old man in Italy wanted him to understand why the secret was too great to share. McCauley had invited the others, explaining they didn’t have to come. It might not be safe. The trio never objected.
Katrina, Pete DeMeo, and Al Jaffe pulled up behind McCauley. They continued until there was utter darkness ahead. Zero black darkness.
“Oh my God!” DeMeo exclaimed. “More incredible than you described.”
“Amazing, isn’t it,” McCauley stated. “No light reflects back. It’s all absorbed.”
“So where are we?” DeMeo asked.
McCauley recalled Father Eccleston’s comment. When?
He moved forward and groped around the black wall. McCauley exhaled when his fingers touched the depressions that made up the prime pyramid.
“We’re here,” he quietly said.
“Are you sure you want to go further?” Katrina replied with a warning tone. She knew what might come next, but not why.
McCauley smiled. “Yes. Yes, I am.” As he reached for the apex of the pyramid he said, “Turn your lamps off now.”
The lamps dimmed and went out. The darkness and the quiet was enveloping.
McCauley gently slid his fingers across the wall and located the sequence of notches within the prime pyramid. Just as he had done in Italy, he pressed the two indentations on the second row and the four in the fourth row exactly together.
The same five seconds passed and then the pressure changed, followed by the wall slowly rising.
“Now watch,” he said.
The scene that unfolded didn’t disappoint. Darkness slowly morphed to white as if programmed on a slow rheostat.
“Incredible!” DeMeo exclaimed. “There’s no actual light source.”
There wasn’t. Yet light now engulfed the environment. From the floors. The walls. The ceilings. Everywhere. It defied reason. It operated under its own physical laws.
DeMeo barged forward with youthful enthusiasm.
The others advanced more cautiously, enthralled by the perfection of the technology.
“This can’t be man-made,” DeMeo said. His voice should have echoed, but it was actually muted.
McCauley had his own thoughts, but no way to confirm them. Not until…
“Damn!”
DeMeo, well ahead of him, doubled over.
“What?” McCauley asked. “Are you okay?”
“I bumped into something. It’s right in front of me, but I can’t see it. Damned thing blends into the rest of the whiteness. I’m holding onto it, but that’s the only reason I know it’s here.”
“Don’t move.” McCauley walked straight toward DeMeo, but more carefully now, not knowing whether there were more obstructions.
“Okay, right here, boss. Feel,” DeMeo offered.
McCauley extended his hand across what felt like a desk or table top. It was as smooth as the wall and likely made from the same material. But the surface cast no shadows since it was illuminated with the pure white light that bathed, or more correctly emanated from within everything and everywhere.
He continued to feel around the edges to the sides, noting the size was roughly four feet square. The width was approximately two inches. The entire top was supported by a single post that was anchored without seams to the ground.
“Everyone stand around the sides. Let’s try to visualize some definition to this.”
They took positions. Katrina to his left, Jaffe opposite him and DeMeo on his right.
It helped give them perspective. Next McCauley ran his hand along the top. Suddenly he stopped.
“What?” Jaffe asked.
“Another dent.” It was closest to Katrina. “Put your finger on it.”
Katrina placed her hand over McCauley’s. He guided her finger to the spot. Then, with palms flat and his fingers extended, he slowly swept across the surface, finding another dent higher up near Jaffe. “Here, Al.”
McCauley continued and came to another also within Jaffe’s reach. He tapped the spot and Jaffe automatically put his index finger on it.
The Yale professor looked at where the hands were and made an assumption that another might likely complete the shape. It was there. “Pete, this one’s yours.”
“So what is it?” Jaffe wondered.
“A square?” Katrina noted. “No, more like a rectangle, but slightly askew.”
“Another puzzle. Another lock,” McCauley ventured.
Katrina’s left hand was free. She rested it on the surface and another depression.
“Whoa. Here!” She tapped the point. From McCauley’s perspective it was slightly left of her corner.
“What’s in your pockets?” McCauley asked excitedly.
“Car keys, wallet, cell phone,” DeMeo said.
“Pretty much the same, Coins.” Jaffe added.
“Same here,” Katrina replied.
“Coins. Let’s go with coins. Easiest to see. Place one on each of the spots.”
With their nickels, dimes and quarters they were able to see an off-center box with one coin to the left.