A sharp crack rang out and Maddock danced sideways as a hunk of rock fell. It struck the floor where he’d stood moments before and shattered.
“What’s our play?” Bones asked. “We could try to clear the pool, but my hopes aren’t high.”
Maddock had a different idea. “I want to try something.” He took a few steps and paused when he felt the floor crack beneath his feet. Here goes nothing. He raised his foot and stamped down.
Crack!
Pain shot up his leg. For a moment, he’d forgotten he wasn’t wearing shoes. Brilliant, Maddock.
He took a step back, raised his foot, and repeated the action.
Crack!
And then the floor gave way beneath his feet. He felt himself falling, but Bones caught him from behind and hauled him back.
“I get what you’re doing,” Bones said, “but there’s no guarantee there’s water down there. Might be another cave.”
“Good point.” Cautiously, Maddock looked down into the hole he’d created. A few feet below the surface his light reflected off of dark water. This entire region was a honeycomb of underwater tunnels. He was gambling that they could find one that would lead them to safety.
“It’s a risk,” Bones said. “We get down there and find out it’s a dead end, we’re screwed.”
“Not necessarily. We’ll keep an eye on our air. Worst case, we come back here and try to dig our way out.”
Bones nodded. “It’s your brilliant idea. You go first.”
“Fine.”
They recovered their gear and suited up. Maddock wondered if they were doing the right thing. Possibly they would accomplish no more than waste precious air.
“Anytime, Maddock.”
Maddock was about to suggest they take one more look for a way out when the decision was taken out of his hands by a low rumble and the crack of the ceiling above them shattering. The place was coming down around them. Cursing inwardly, he plunged into the icy water.
The two men hit the water simultaneously and began to swim. All around them, chunks of stone fell through the water. One caught Maddock on the back of the head and he saw stars, but kept on swimming. The dark passageway curved to the left, looping back in the direction of the spring. But Maddock’s rising hope was quickly dashed as he rounded a corner and hit a dead end. This was it. They couldn’t keep going and couldn’t go back to the cave. He’d led them to their death.
Damn!
In frustration he punched the wall in front of him. The brittle limestone shattered, revealing a familiar-looking passageway up ahead. There was their guide rope! Eroded by the flow of water over time, the wall he’d struck had been wafer-thin. It was only due to dumb luck, but he’d saved them.
By the time they returned to the surface, their tanks were nearing empty. They paused to catch their breath, enjoying the fresh air and sunlight.
“Not bad,” Bones said. “Usually, I’m the one saving our asses by breaking stuff.”
“I learned from the best.” Maddock took a moment to reflect on the day’s events. They’d gone from a simple dive in search of the lair of an obscure pirate, to almost being killed. And if his guess was correct, they were now on the trail of one of the greatest treasures in history. He turned to Bones. “I know we’re supposed to be on vacation, but I’m in the mood for a treasure hunt. How about you?”
Bones smiled. “Glad to see you getting back to normal. I’d also like to see if we can find out who Nomi really is and who she works for.”
“I’ve got some ideas on both counts.”
“Works for me, but it’ll have to wait until tomorrow. I’ve got other plans.”
“Like what?”
“Like rewarding attractive young ladies for their patriotism.” He pointed off to their right, where the two young women they’d seen the previous day lay sunbathing. They’d traded their Confederate flag bikinis for the stars and stripes.
“That’s technically a violation of the flag code,” Maddock said with mock sincerity.
“I agree. They should take those suits off immediately.”
Maddock rolled his eyes. Some things never changed.
Chapter 8
Isla found herself staring down a long, sloping stone passageway. Crumbling stonework lined the walls and ceiling. Dust covered the flagstone floor. The corridor was coated in enough cobwebs to decorate a haunted house. This place had been here for a long time.
She immediately noticed that there was something odd about the path that lay in front of her. The layer of dust was noticeably thinner in the center, as if someone had passed this way before. Not too long ago, but long enough that a new layer had begun to form. But why was it so uniform? Footsteps wouldn’t do that. It was as if something heavy had been dragged across the floor. Then she remembered what Agnes had said.
When he came home there was something different about him. Died in his sleep that very night.
She had visions of Charles Baxter, dying from whatever the Sword Bridge had done to him, dragging himself up the gentle slope toward the door. She’d had her doubts when Agnes had shared that particular story, but now she wasn’t so certain.
Intent on exercising caution, she dug into her drawstring bag and took out gloves and a dust mask. It was entirely possible that in an ancient tunnel like this one, Baxter had been exposed to some sort of deadly spores. No telling what kinds of mold grew down here. Next, she pocketed her flashlight and strapped on a headlamp. Best to have both hands free. Finally ready, she clambered into the passageway. She debated closing the door behind her, but if anyone followed her into the cellar, they’d see the boxes she’d moved and know exactly where she’d gone. No sense risking it locking behind her. She propped it open with one of the old boxes and descended into the darkness.
The passage leveled out and soon branched off in three directions. She took a moment to inspect them. Nothing seemed amiss about any of them — no obvious traps or pitfalls. The only obvious difference was the floor. The branch to the left had a dirt floor, the one straight ahead was of crumbling brick, the path to the right the same stone as that on which she stood.
It’s too easy, she thought. One’s natural inclination would be to stay on the flagstones and ignore these other two passages. But what was the clue Agnes had passed along?
Follow the stony path. The bridge is real; the lions are not.
“Charles Baxter, you’d better not have been lying,” she said to the darkness as she turned and followed the way to her right. She proceeded with caution, testing the ground with each step before putting her weight forward, looking for anything that might be a booby trap. After a few minutes of this, she allowed herself to relax. After all, Baxter hadn’t said anything to his wife about any traps. Or, if he had, Agnes hadn’t passed it along. She hoped it was the former.
She turned a corner and found herself face-to-face with a lion. She let out a high-pitched yelp and sprang back, banging her head against the wall behind her. She held out her hands in a futile defensive gesture, but the lion didn’t move.
“It’s a statue, you eejit,” she scolded herself. “Baxter said it. The lions are not real.”
But it certainly looked real enough. The creature was sculpted in remarkable detail and painted to add to the realism. For some reason, it wasn’t covered in dust. As she looked around, she realized the same was true of the entire chamber in which she stood. Up ahead, she heard a whispering sound, like the rush of water, and felt a hint of a breeze.