“Non,” Laurent reported. “And it’s getting late. We’ll do a sweep of the third level below. If we don’t find anything, we should get some food in us, then bed down. As tired as we all are, we could easily be missing something.”
“That’s if there’s anything here at all,” Archie added sourly.
Laurent ignored him. “We can start fresh in the morning.”
Sharyn longed for her bedroll and followed the others to the stairs that led down to the third level.
As they reached the steps, Russo called from above. “I’ve got the fire going. And some pans heating up. I also need to feed Katch. I’ve learned never to leave a cat hungry before going to bed.”
The lynx had followed his mistress to the stairwell, but still, the cat hung back, his eyes aglow, sheltering behind the woman’s legs. His gaze was fixed not on them, but on the twist of stairs heading deeper. His hackles remained up, shivering with tension. It had taken some convincing to get the beast to come even this far into the bunker.
“We’ll join you shortly,” Laurent said.
“Don’t be long. Don’t want to burn the sausages I brought.”
Archie looked like he wanted to follow the woman, drawn by the promise of food, but Laurent grabbed his elbow and drew him away. They descended to the next level and spread out again. This floor was much like the others, ruined by age, neglect, and mischief. Only here, chamber after chamber held the oxidized skeletons of old bunk beds, now just metal frames, bent and beaten, and shoved haphazardly against walls or toppled over.
Sharyn and Duncan worked their way through this deadfall of rusted metal, risking tetanus with every step.
“This whole floor must have once served as the bunker’s dormitory,” Duncan said. “One large enough to house several hundred people. Which supports your theory of this being an evacuation shelter.”
“Maybe . . .”
Duncan stared over at her, likely noting her hesitation.
She waved away any further inquiry, not sure what was nagging her.
After working through another dozen rooms, they rejoined Laurent. The tall man stood before a chiseled wall. He inspected the handiwork closely.
“What’s got your attention?” Duncan asked.
Laurent turned to them, fingering a few marks. “This chiseling. Both here and elsewhere. It’s all far cruder than I’d expect. Like it was done with tools predating World War II.”
Sharyn squinted closer, trusting his archaeological expertise. “Are you thinking these rooms had already been dug outbeforethe arrival of the Axis forces?”
“I do. And if I’m right, then the locals would have surely known about this place. It reminds me of what Gabriel told us—how those limestone quarries under his family’s château had once been used as a refuge for people fleeing the Napoleonic Wars. This may have served the same end.”
“Until it was co-opted by the Italian army during the war,” Duncan added.
Sharyn frowned. “If that’s true, if this place is older, it would support that this could very well be the place we came to find.”
Archie shrugged heavily. “Thenwhere’sthe entrance to this bloody treasure trove.” He swept his flashlight’s beam across the spread of dark chambers. “Nothing’s here.”
“Maybe it got destroyed when the army remodeled the bunker,” Duncan whispered, as if fearful of voicing this worrisome possibility too loudly.
Laurent rubbed his temples. “I don’t know. But we’ll think more clearly once we’ve gotten some sleep.”
Sharyn offered no argument against this. Her head ached from the strain, from hunger, from exhaustion. As they all slogged back to the steps, something continued to nag at her, but she shoved it aside and focused on the mystery at hand.
Once on the stairs, Sharyn confronted Laurent. “Maybe it would help our search if we had a fuller understanding of what happened in the past. Of how theGardiensdiscovered the gold cache in Libya.”
“You’re right.” Laurent pointed to the flickering glow above. “But that’s a story best told around a campfire.”
47
8:19 p.m.
Duncan kept close to the flames, with his feet resting near the fire. He had tugged off his boots and let the heat dry his socks. He luxuriated in the warmth.
