What the hell is he doing?
With a grunt, the monk pulled a five-foot-square section of the floor loose, and with an effort pushed it to the side of the room, resting it against a wall.
Then he took a small flashlight from the folds of his robe, put it in his mouth, and backed into the hole in the floor. When only his chest was above floor level, he took the flashlight from his mouth.
"Be careful, Se¤or. Sometimes the ladder is slippery."
Does he expect me to go down there? What the hell is down there, anyway?
When the monk disappeared from view, Clete went to the opening and stared down. A metal ladder, looking like something you'd find on a destroyer, went down as far as Clete could see.
At least three decks.
He shrugged-what the hell?-and backed carefully into the hole. Lauffer's flashlight was too large to put in his mouth, so he had to put it in his pocket. There was just enough light for him to find the round rungs of the lad-der with his feet. He started to climb down.
He found himself in a room as large as the altar room above. There was no altar. Instead there were shelves on all four sides of the room, four high, each holding a wooden casket. Most of them were full-size, but he saw three smaller caskets, one tiny. Children's caskets, and a baby's casket. On the wall in front of him, where two shelves would ordinarily be. he saw another Christ on a cross.
The monk was descending farther into the ground. Clete followed him.
There's no smell of death in here. A musty smell, and the smell of wood, that's all.
The thought triggered a clear and distinctly unpleasant memory of the sweet smell of corrupting corpses.
Shit!
Clete climbed down after the monk through three more burial chambers, each full of caskets on shelves, and then to a fourth chamber. In this one, all but two of the casket shelves were empty.
I guess this is where el Coronel will go. How the hell are they going to get that casket down here?
The monk flashed his light on the two shelved caskets. Both were massive and polished like good furniture, Clete saw, but not identical.
I'll be damned! That's one of those cedar caskets Beatrice was raving about!
"We have moved your grandfather here, Se¤or Frade," the monk said, lay-ing his hand on one of the caskets. "Beside your grandmother."
"I see," Clete said.
"I will now leave you to your private prayers for the repose of the souls of the departed," the monk said, and started for the ladder. He stopped. "I suggest you be careful with your torch. If you drop it... very little light gets this far down."
He waited until Clete had taken his flashlight from his pocket and turned it on, then offered a final word of advice. "You might find it convenient to place the torch under your belt. And mind the ladder!"
"Thank you," Clete said.
The only thing I want out of this place is me! But, shit, I can't just follow him immediately.
You've been around dead people before. Stop acting like a child.
He flashed the light on the caskets, noticing for the first time that engraved bronze plates were on them.
MARY ELIZABETH CONNERS DE FRADE
1861-1916
"Mary Elizabeth Conners"? That doesn't sound Spanish. What did the monk say, "beside my grandmother"? Mary Elizabeth Conners is-was-my grandmother? She bore my father? Changed his diapers, for Christ's sake? Suckled him? An Englishwoman? Or an Irishwoman? He flashed the light on the other casket.
EL CORONEL
GUILLERMO ALEJANDRO FRADE