Sharyn backed to give him room.
As before, Laurent set the poles of the magnetic rods to the top and bottom of the crystal orb, then slowly rotated the eye one full turn. Once this was done, the book’s copper bands snapped open.
They all retreated.
Nothing happened.
Archie grimaced. “Maybe we should try—”
A gong-like chime sounded from the fissured wall. A rectangular crack appeared in the rock, framing the alcove—then the whole outlined section slowly sank away.
Sharyn recalled Laurent’s words last night, explaining the source of this supposed magic:an alchemy of magnetismcast between the machinations inside Saint-Germain’s diary and the magnetite impregnated in the surrounding rock.
“The book,” Archie warned.
Sharyn flinched, then reacted quickly, alerted by his warning. She rushed forward and retrieved the volume from its niche before the slab dropped away. She hugged the book to her chest and stumbled back.
We dare not lose this.
As the slab receded into the floor, a stairway appeared beyond the threshold, descending deeper into the mountain.
Trembling, unsure how much time they had left, Sharyn moved closer. She stabbed the beam of her flashlight down its length. A wash of stale air exhaled out, no doubt ripe with poison.
Ignoring this danger, she took the first step toward the mystery below.
Let’s go see what our deaths have bought us.
55
11:04 a.m.
Duncan huddled with Russo by the bunker’s outer door. Off to the right, a localized blizzard obscured the large plateau that extended from the mountain’s shoulder. Through the swirling snow, he watched a third helicopter descend and land, joining the two others. Its rotor wash swept the rock of powder, snow, and ice.
All three aircraft popped their hatches. Men in black armor and helmets piled into the snow, bearing weapons. Duncan tried to count their number, but the snowy squall made this difficult.
Still, if I can’t see them, hopefully they can’t see me.
He turned to Russo, who crouched over her open pack and got ready. He had already strapped a pair of snowshoes over his boots, as had she.
“We must move swiftly,” Russo instructed. “Not only going out, but coming back.”
He remained silent. He had no intention of staying out there any longer than necessary. As she sat back, she withdrew a yellow tube from her bag. It was as thick around as his forearm and as long. A fuse draped from one end.
She passed it to him. “This is packed with a kilo of TNT. So do not hesitate.”
He nodded, spotting another charge inside her pack.
In case, I fail the first time.
He rubbed his shoulder, readying himself.
Russo pointed at the exit. “I can’t survey the landscape from this vantage. We’ll go out together. I’ll pick the best spot. Then you’d better prove your rugby skills.”
While she had prepped for this excursion, he had brought up his athletic prowess. It was less bragging as it was an attempt to reassure himself.
I can do this.
Russo squinted toward the open plateau, which remained clouded by mist and blown powder. “Let’s go.”
