Sean did as he was told and pointed the broad LED beam into the coffin within the stone box.
Centuries of decomposing had stripped away all of Jonathan Stuart’s body, leaving nothing but an exposed skeleton. The skull still had some brittle hair attached. The man had been buried in full military dress. His torso was covered in a faded red jacket. The once bright-cherry color had deteriorated into a dingy version of its former self. The white breeches also displayed signs of aging and stains. Stuart’s arms were placed across his chest, one over the other. A black commander’s hat rested underneath bony fingers. Stuart’s ceremonial sword lay next to his leg, still in its scabbard and attached to the belt.
Sean’s light scanned the body, stopping momentarily on the medals pinned to the left breast of the jacket then continuing on to the neck where something glimmered oddly in the light.
He bent over to take a closer look, peering through the settling debris at a shiny yellow piece at the top of the skeletal ribcage.
“What is it?” Petrov said in an even tone, repressing any urge to sound excited.
Sean reached into the coffin and reverently lifted the golden coin. “Stuart must have asked that it be placed on his chest when he was buried,” he said, lifting the object to eye level to get a better look.
The same bearded face adorned the surface, though it was in much worse condition than the one Coop’s ancestors handed down. Despite the dirt and wear that the coin had been through, Sean could still make out the image of Holger Danske, and a few runic letters inscribed below.
“Give me the coin, Sean. And do it slowly,” Petrov ordered. “Set it on the edge of the box right here.” He tapped on the lip of the sarcophagus with a thick index finger. “If you try anything funny, well, you know what will happen.”
“You’re going to kill us anyway,” Sean resisted.
Petrov took in a deep breath and sighed. “Da.” The Russian word for yes. “I am going to kill you anyway. But isn’t it human nature to cling to every moment we have on this earth? Our survival instinct is hardwired into the fiber of our minds. So, knowing you want to hold onto every second, please, place the coin on the edge here. Then I will let you say goodbye to your friends before I shoot you in the face.”
Sean stared through Petrov’s cold, soulless eyes. A storm raged in his heart, but there was nothing he could do at the moment. If he tried anything, the man would pull the trigger. But that was going to happen anyway. He set the coin down on the ledge and took a step back. “You’re wrong about me,” he said defiantly.
“Oh?” Petrov cocked his head to the side as he picked up the piece of gold with the non-pistol hand.
“Sure, we all have that survival instinct built into us, but some of us are different. I don’t care if you kill me. Just leave those two out of it. Once I’m gone, they’ll be no threat to your little treasure hunt.”
The Russian’s stoic expression cracked, if only for the briefest of seconds. “You think this is just about money?” He shook his head, making a clicking sound with his tongue. “It is much more than that.”
Sean had been trying to stall, but now he was curious. He decided to see if he could egg the conversation on a little further. “I doubt that. People like you and whoever you’re working for only care about two things: money and power.”
“Exactly.”
The elongated muzzle on Petrov’s silencer puffed loudly, accompanied by a quick waft of smoke. Sean tried to turn but there was nothing he could do. The bullet struck him and knocked him back a few feet and onto the floor. A burning pain in his chest seared through his nerves.
At the entrance, Adriana started to scream, but the man holding her muffled the noise with a firm hand over her face.
“Nicholas,” the man watching Tommy got the Russian’s attention. “There are people coming.”
Petrov stepped out of the alcove and looked down the path. A funeral procession was slowly making its way in from the parking area just beyond the great stone arch. It would be only a matter of a minute or so before the procession reached the crypt.
“Put the others inside,” he ordered.
Immediately, the two henchmen shoved Adriana and Tommy into the chamber, one after the other. They grabbed the door pieces and yanked them together. The mercenary with the American accent grabbed the lock and forced it back into place, sealing the entrance shut.
Petrov shoved his weapon back into the holster inside his jacket. His men followed the cue. “Let’s go,” he said quietly and started walking casually toward the funeral march. As the three men passed the line of mourners and the coffin being carried along, they bowed their heads in faux reverence. The people wouldn’t know that the secondary reason for the strangers’ actions was to hide their faces.
Once they were around the corner of the stone arch, Petrov and his men picked up their pace until they reached their vehicle. A minute later, they were gone.
Chapter 22
Sean gasped for breath as he lay on the cold stone floor inside the crypt. Adriana and Tommy hurried over to him and turned on their phone lights to illuminate the eerie darkness.
“You’re gonna be okay, buddy,” Tommy said, though his tone was full of distress.
Adriana knelt beside Sean and put her hand on his face. A tear welled in her eyes, though no one could see it in the black chamber. She remained silent, though her heart yelled out a thousand different things.
Sean grunted, his face twisting as he winced in pain. “There are so many profane things I want to say right now.” His eyes squinted hard.
Tommy checked Sean’s torso. He saw where the bullet entered through the jacket, but there was no blood. “Why aren’t you bleeding?” Tommy asked, wondering how that was possible.
Sean planted his hands on the ground and scooted over to the side of the sarcophagus. He labored to perform even a simple movement. He rested for a second with his back against the heavy stone, then reached into his jacket pocket and removed his trusty money clip. The flattened bullet was firmly imbedded into the metal, as well as his driver’s license and a few debit cards. But it hadn’t penetrated. He forced a laugh. “Looks like I’m going to need a new one of these.”
Adriana slapped his shoulder. “I thought you were dying, rolling around on the ground in pain like that.”
Sean tightened up again at her reaction. “Trust me, sweetheart, it does hurt.” He gently touched his chest where the bullet had stopped. “That’s gonna be a nasty bruise tonight.”
“Better a bruise than dead, you lucky son of a gun,” Tommy said with a smile. “Can you stand?”
Sean swallowed hard and nodded. “Yeah.”
With the help of his companions, he wobbled back onto his feet, bracing himself on the edge of the stone box.
“They locked us in,” Tommy overstated the obvious.
Sean passed on the opportunity to reply sarcastically. “Yeah. And they have the coin.” He reached into his pocket and retrieved his phone. Ten seconds later, he was on the phone with Jim.
“Ello,” Jim answered in his jovial accent.
“Jim. It’s Sean. We ran into a bit of a snag.” Sean proceeded to tell their driver of their predicament, and how to find them, giving a few quick and easy-to-follow directions. When it sounded like Jim had the details he needed, Sean hung up.
He tried to take a deep breath, but it still felt like there was a twenty-pound weight sitting on his chest. His hand involuntarily went up to the spot where the bullet had miraculously stopped.