Celtic Empire (Dirk Pitt 25)

A large upright boulder blocked the entrance, but carved steps descended to the side. At the foot of the steps, a deep basin was cut into the floor, extending across its length. Rising from somewhere in the center of the basin was a towering wood post that rose high above the elevated entrance.

Pitt hesitated at the top of the steps when he heard the sound of voices approaching from behind. They weren’t those of his companions. As he turned to descend, his light illuminated the timber, revealing a line of rope dangling from its peak. Pitt suddenly realized it was no simple wooden post, it was a ship’s mast. A single rectangular sail hung in tatters. Below him was a ship, 90 feet long, with a hull made of cedar planking. Moving closer, he aimed his beam along the side of the strange vessel, revealing a sea of oars attached to the hull. He couldn’t help but wonder who last touched this ship so many centuries ago.

68

The narrow tunnel that split to the left at the junction proved a far more arduous path. It snaked for a couple hundred yards, rising sharply in elevation at times. The narrow walls became constricted in places, forcing Giordino and Dirk to slide Brophy through its confines. The path leveled, and the tunnel finally reached its end in a small natural chamber that was roughly square. A high mound of boulders towered over one side of the entrance, but the chamber was otherwise open. It wasn’t empty.

Along the far wall was a narrow wooden altar. A pair of bronze oil lamps flanked a high silver cross that was mounted on an ancient anchor. On the rock wall behind the cross was a faded mural, featuring a man standing in a desert setting, a pyramid to one side and a halo of gold above his head.

“Guess we found a dead end,” Giordino said. He carried Brophy across the chamber and set him down in the corner. The professor looked up, his eyes crystallizing as Dirk’s light splayed across the mural.

“It’s Saint Anthony of Egypt,” he said, sitting upright. “This must be a secret vestry, or perhaps a chapel, built for Anthony by the monks.”

“Whatever it is, there’s no way out,” Dirk said. “Might be a good time to pray for his help.”

Giordino eyed the altar, then waved his light toward the mound of rocks by the entry.

“I’m not sure who this Saint Anthony character is,” he said, “but I think he might have helped us already.”

69

Gavin reached the tunnel intersection and stopped to catch his breath. Overweight and averse to exercise, the hired tough was out of his element. The initial climb, followed by the subterranean descent, had left him winded and sweaty, despite the cool temperature. Three wavering lights appeared behind him as McKee, Rachel, and Riki caught up. Like Gavin, McKee appeared fatigued from the hiking, though the two younger women showed more stamina.

“The main tunnel looks like it continues to the right,” Gavin said.

McKee studied the two tunnels, then pointed her light at the ground. In the dusty gravel underfoot, she detected a partial footprint leading in the direction of the smaller tunnel.

“You take this one. Rachel and I will follow the larger one.” She patted a two-way radio on her hip. “Call me in five minutes with a status.”

Gavin nodded and took a few steps into the narrow passage. He stopped and turned. Excluded from her mother’s commands, Riki duly stepped past McKee without saying a word and followed in Gavin’s path.

Rachel took the lead down the right tunnel with McKee close behind. She moved cautiously, scanning the tunnel with a light in her left hand, the Beretta thrust forward in her right. The two women reached the end of the passage and stepped into the cavern. They stopped at the elevated landing, scanning the depths of the room with their lights. McKee eyed the tall timber at the center, a slack line of hemp angling off to a side wall. She raised a hand to Rachel, and both women stood perfectly still, their eyes and ears straining to detect another presence.

The cavern remained dead silent for a moment, then they heard a faint rustling. McKee realized it originated above them. She looked up with her light toward the top of the timber. The angled line was now taut and moving in a wide arc toward their position. She turned to the side, detecting an accelerating shadow, and jumped back.

Flung by Pitt from a nook in the side wall, a triangular limestone anchor came hurtling through the air like a pendulum. Secured to the mast line by a hole in its upper section, the ancient ship’s anchor swung across the platform in a wide arc. It missed McKee, but struck Rachel, who had been peering in the opposite direction.

The stone anchor struck her shoulder and the back of her head. She instantly corkscrewed to the ground, the blow knocking her unconscious. McKee dropped low as the anchor reached the end of its extension and swung back over he

r head. She crawled to the fallen woman and retrieved the Beretta that had dropped at her feet. McKee rose to her knees, then turned the gun and light to the wall where the flying object had originated from.

The dangling stone banged against the wall, then spiraled toward its tethered pole with a loss of momentum. There was no sign of the person who had launched it.

70

Help me . . . Help me, please . . .”

The cry came soft and weak, but with an unmistakable Irish accent. Gavin hesitated, holding his gun steady in front of him, then moved slowly toward the voice.

The narrow tunnel led into a larger opening, Gavin could see, the voice hailing from the pitch-blackness inside. Breathing heavily from the undulating climb, he tried to calm himself a moment before moving forward. Riki remained a shadow at his side, tucking close without uttering a word.

Stepping into the chamber, Gavin aimed his light and gun at the far corner. Seated on the ground, clutching his bloodied side, Brophy squinted into the light with a look of agony he didn’t have to exaggerate.

“Can you help me?” he asked, his voice suddenly loud and firm.

His words provided a signal to Dirk and Giordino. Crouched on the back side of the rock mound adjacent to the entry, the two men rose and heaved on the silver cross borrowed from the altar. Its lower end was wedged beneath a large round boulder perched at the top of the pile. The stone quickly rocked loose, falling down the opposite side of the mound.

Turning to the sound of the tumbling rock, Gavin looked up too late. The boulder was nearly on him when he attempted to jump back. In a moment of panic, he squeezed off a pair of shots from the Ruger that ricocheted off the rock walls. The boulder struck him on the side, crushing his arm as it knocked him hard against the side wall.