The Doomsday Key (Sigma Force 6)

He patted the sides, ran his palms over the surfaces.

Nothing.

Though frustrated, he remained confident. Whatever was hidden had to lie beneath the ruins of Saint Mary’s. But maybe he was wrong about the access point. Maybe it wasn’t this crypt. Father Giovanni could have searched it upon Lyle’s suggestion—just as Gray was doing—then moved on.

He heard a splash behind him as someone joined him in the crypt.

He retreated and climbed out of the niche. Rachel stood there. Her hair clung wetly to her face. Her eyes glowed under the shine of his flashlight, full of hope. He could not fail her.

“Dead end?” she aked.

He grimaced, not appreciating her choice of words, nor happy with his lack of success. “I don’t see any sign that Father Giovanni has been down here.”

“Can I try?” she asked and held out her hand for his flashlight.

How could he refuse?

He passed her the light. She crouched on one hand and sidled into the empty tomb. Her lithe physique allowed her more maneuverability in the tight space. Her flashlight swept along the walls.

“See anything?” he asked.

“No.”

From above, Wallace voiced Gray’s earlier concern. “Maybe we’re in the wrong hole.”

Rachel gave up and swung around. In a demonstration of limberness, she turned herself fully around in the niche and headed back out—then froze.

“What is it?” Gray asked.

“Come see.”

Her flashlight was pointed straight back at him. Shielding his eyes, he started to crawl in toward her.

“No,” she warned. “Slide in on your back.”

Gray obeyed. Soaking wet, he rolled over and scooted on his elbows and pushed with his legs into the niche. Faceup was the proper position for lying in a grave.

“What’dya see down there?” Wallace called.

“Don’t know yet,” Gray answered as he shimmied deeper.

“All the way back,” Rachel urged.

He kept sliding in. Eventually his head rested between her knees. She leaned over him with the flashlight. She smelled of wet wool. He was all too conscious of her br**sts above his head.

“Look,” she said.

He was, but she probably meant where the flashlight was pointed. He had to squirm up to his elbows and look back toward the entrance. He didn’t see anything at first, just the back half of the brick wall that closed off the natural stone niche.

“Notice how all the bricks are laid horizontal, but look at the three around the lip of the opening. At the top and to either side.”

Gray saw it now, too. “They’re placed vertically.”

The opening was a perfect half circle. The three vertical bricks marked off the 12, 3, and 9 o’clock positions.

“Do you think it’s significant?” Rachel said.

Gray did. “It’s like half of the pagan cross.”

In the reflection off the pooled water, he could almost see the other half of the circle. He pictured completing the symbol, drawing lines to connect the stones. It would form the Druid cross they’d been following from the beginning.

“But what does it mean?” Rachel asked.

“Let me try something.”

Gray crab-crawled on his elbows back out of the niche, then reversed himself and went in on his belly, feetfirst this time. He hoped he wasn’t completely soaking himself for no reason.

Wallace called down, “Well?”

“Still working,” Gray answered in a strained voice.

He got under the entrance and examined the three bricks. The two to the side seemed nondescript and solidly mortared. Stretching up, he grabbed the top brick. It seemed no different—until his probing fingers scraped along the top lip. There was a slight indentation, perfect for a grip.

He snagged his fingers in place and tugged.

The stone pivoted out. It caught for a moment, but as he pulled harder, a metallic snap sounded behind him—followed by a grinding of rock. They both twisted and glanced over their shoulders. The back wall swung open, revealing a narrow staircase leading down.

“The entrance,” Rachel murmured near his ear. “We found it.”

It took some maneuvering to back their way through the door and into the stairwell. Though narrow, it was wide enough to stand up in.

Rachel shone her flashlight down the short flight of brick steps. “Is that a tunnel at the bottom of the stairs?”

Gray climbed down to investigate, but as his boot hit the fifth step, he felt the stair sink an inch under his weight.

Another metallic snap sounded.

His heart stopped as a single word crystallized in his mind.

Trap.

Behind them, the door swung closed. Rachel yelled and leaped for the exit. She was too late. The door sealed with a distinct and final click.

She pounded on the stone door, but it was no use.

They were locked in.

12:42 P.M.

Seichan heard Rachel yell—then a crack of thunder deafened everyone standing over the crypt.

As it echoed away, Wallace leaned over the hole. “Didya find something down there?”

There was no answer.

Seichan also noted that the glow of the flashlight had vanished. Something was wrong. Reacting on instinct, she tucked her arms and dropped smoothly through the narrow entrance. She landed with a splash, absorbing the impact with her knees. Her fingers already clutched her lighter. She shoved her arm into the dark niche and flicked the lighter on. The flame’s glow flickered all the way to the back of the crypt.

It was empty.

“What’s going on?” Wallace called from above.

“They’re gone.”

Kowalski moved closer to the crypt, dripping wet and sullen. Lyle had gone to fetch some umbrellas. “What did I tell you…never go down a hole with Pierce.”

“It might be a good thing,” Wallace said.

Kowalski turned on him with a baleful eye.

“They must have found the secret entrance,” Wallace elaborated.

But Rachel’s cry had not been a happy one of discovery.

Seichan leaned into the crypt. She shouted with all her lung power. “Pierce! Rachel!”

Lightning flashed and thunder rolled, but Seichan made out a faint call. At least they were still alive. She climbed in farther.

“I can’t understand!” she shouted.

A loud splash startled her. She glanced over her shoulder and saw Wallace standing behind her, one hand on the rope.

“I wouldn’t do that,” Kowalski warned from above.

“Be quiet!” Seichan snapped.

She cocked her head and listened. She made out Gray’s voice. She closed her eyes, straining. His commands were clipped. She imagined him cupping his mouth and shouting.