“Gone,” Gianelli said, not believing his eyes. “They are all gone.”
Hofmyer stood next to him, slack-jawed incredulity on his face. There was no sign of Mercer or the Eritrean miners or the Sudanese guards. Mercer had made the entire group vanish.
On the far wall of the pit, written with neon yellow paint in letters five feet tall was a simple six-word message composed, no doubt, by Philip Mercer. It sent a deep chill through Hofmyer and especially Gianelli. They both felt that somehow it was true.
I’M WAITING FOR YOU IN HELL
The Mine
An hour before Gianelli broke through the first avalanche and encountered the drop mat, the working floor of the mine had been far different. Machinery thrummed and ratcheted, echoing off the arched roof and drowning the shouts and oaths of the Eritrean workers. The activity was frantic as they strove to reach Mercer’s nearly impossible deadline. They tore into the deep shaft like madmen, jack-hammering out chunks of stone that had to be muscled from the pit. They had bored a man-sized hole a further fifteen feet into the soft stone, deflected at an angle from the main shaft in strict accordance to Mercer’s instructions.
In the entry tunnel, the scene was less hectic but just as noisy, the crew continuing to drill ten-foot-deep holes into the hanging wall. Mercer had left the work in the pit and joined this crew, following behind them with bundles of explosives. He placed each charge carefully, not letting the pressure of time rush the delicate process. Selome worked with him, handing him the cylinders of plastique from a cart they had dragged into the tunnel. The drillers were far enough ahead so they could hold a shouted conversation.
“Are you finally going to explain what we’re doing?” she asked.
Mercer didn’t look up from the charge he was wiring. “Yeah. This drop mat is going to buy us a few more hours before Gianelli reaches us.”
“You already told me that,” Selome replied. “And you said you’re going to make us all disappear, but what do you mean?”
Mercer answered her question with one of his own. “Did you notice something incongruous between the mine that Brother Ephraim described and this tunnel here?” Selome shook her head. “He said that Solomon’s mine was excavated by children working in slave conditions, right?”
“Yes.”
“Then explain to me why the children needed to dig this tunnel so wide and so tall. Also, how could they have dug it straight to the kimberlite deposit? The odds against that are about one in a trillion.”
“I have no idea.” It was obvious that she hadn’t considered either of these points.
“This tunnel was built after the kimberlite had been discovered in order to make extracting the ore more efficient. It was sized for adults, not children, dug so that two men carrying baskets of ore in their hands could pass each other comfortably. The kimberlite had already been located through another set of tunnels that run beneath this one, and that’s the mine that The Shame of Kings describes.”
“Oh, my God,” Selome breathed. “It was staring in front of me all along and I never saw it.”
“Hey, I do this for a living,” Mercer said. “This one was dug when the mine’s high assay value made it economical to drive a tunnel directly to the ore body rather than haul it out through the smaller, children’s tunnels below us.”
“So the other team is digging where you think the two mines intersect? You found the location from the satellite photographs?”
“Yes.” Mercer finished with the charge he’d been wiring and inserted it into the hole over his head, tamping it gently to seat it properly. “Those Medusa pictures finally had some value after all. When I first saw them in Washington, I noticed that white lines covered some of them and assumed they were either distortions or veins of a dense mineral giving back a strong echo to the positron receiver. What I figured out since coming here is that they represent hollows in the earth, tunnels like this one.”
“And you found a way back to the surface?”
Mercer looked a little sheepish. “Well, not exactly. Remember, the resolution on those pictures was terrible. It’s not quite guesswork on my part, but damn close. Still, I think where those men are drilling will lead to the older tunnels, the ones Ephraim told us about.”
“I’m not saying I don’t believe you, but what if it doesn’t?”
“Then Gianelli’s going to break into this mine and gun down everyone he sees.” Mercer shrugged. “I’ve gotten us this far, haven’t I? Maybe our luck will hold.”
They blasted the drop mat as soon as Mercer had rigged the last charge, everyone having taken an impromptu vote to either surrender to Gianelli or try to find a way out on their own. Mercer felt he owed them that. He explained the pitfalls and the danger, but the vote was unanimous to seal off the mine again.
When the crew had finished blocking the tunnel, Mercer shifted them to the pit. They drilled for another hour, the men working with machine-like efficiency, Mercer in the thick of it. He was operating one of the drills when the bit struck a void in the rock and the entire rig sank up to its couplings. Not wanting to hope too much, but feeling a building excitement, he hauled the drill back up, aligned it a few inches away, and fired in another hole. A section of floor collapsed and he found himself standing above a black hollow that hadn’t seen light in three thousand years. His triumphant whoop alerted the other men, and they crowded around, recoiling at the fetid, decaying odor that belched from the depths.
Mercer shut down the drill and signaled to a man above to silence the generators. In moments the shaft was filled with excited voices as those workers not otherwise engaged clambered to look into the darkness.
“You did it,” Selome shrieked, and threw her arms around Mercer’s shoulders. Her passionate kiss brought a round of cheering from the workers and a delighted smile to Mercer.
“Little early for the champagne,” he warned. “There’s something I forgot, and it may already be too late. Cave disease.”
“Cave disease, what’s that?”
“Cryptococcus. It’s a fungus that lives in undisturbed areas like caves and abandoned mines. Once inhaled, it germinates in the lungs and can cause fatal meningitis if not treated quickly. The main tunnel was safe because Hofmyer vented it before sending in workers, but this other mine may be rife with the stuff.” Mercer paused, assessing the odds. “We’ve already breathed the air blowing out of the hole, and we don’t have a choice but to continue.”
“Is there a cure?”
“Yeah, um, amphotericin and flourocytosine, I think. But we don’t have time to worry about that now. Gianelli should be working on the blast mat, and we have to get everyone into the original mine and hide every trace that we were ever here.” Mercer then added with a fiendish grin, “And that includes the safe full of diamonds.”
Another twenty minutes and they were ready to abandon the chamber. Mercer had rigged a coffer dam above the pit that led to the old mine and loaded it with tons of rubble. He configured it so its contents could be dumped into the shaft after they had escaped through the hole in its bottom. He also ordered the destruction of the remaining mining equipment and scrawled a personal greeting to Gianelli and Hofmyer for their arrival. Dropping the safe into the hole widened it enough for the men to begin lowering themselves into the cramped tunnels below.
Mercer considered leaving du Toit and the Sudanese behind, but they would give away the escape route the instant Gianelli reached the chamber. He couldn’t bring himself to murder them. They were prisoners and deserved some sort of fair treatment. He made sure they were securely bound and well guarded before allowing them into the tunnel.