Siren's Secret (38 page)

“But really, Stafford. ‘I only hope your life will be better for knowing me’?” She tilted her head. “That was a bit much. True,” she admitted. “But overly sentimental.”

She jumped into the lock room. “Come on. There has to be another way out.” He took a torch from the maze room and followed.

“I don’t suppose that part about loving me was true either,” she said.

She had her back to him. Samuel stopped. She was giving him an out. It hurt.

“I don’t suppose,” he said.

She paused almost imperceptibly, then continued, scrambling out the passage. He followed.

“Will you show me the treasure?” she asked.

“Me too,” a faint voice said.

They turned to see the guard staring at them, eyes eager.

“How did you know the circle was the right choice?” he asked her.

“I didn’t. I made up the part about the circle representing the sun. I have no idea what it represents.”

“You’re kidding.” Samuel’s stomach turned.

“No,” she quickly explained. “I mean, I thought I was right, but because I had an odd feeling—”

“A feeling? I thought you had to think logically. ‘Perlustrate the evidence.’ ”

“Actually it was more like a vibration.” Olivia contemplated.

“Even stranger.”

“Stafford,
strange
is talking to fish.”

“I don’t talk to fish.”

“Very well, you
eavesdrop
—which is both strange and rude. The vibration is real, empirical evidence. Only it seems no one else can feel it. For some reason my body is attuned to the magnetic forces in the tomb. It is the only thing that can explain the peculiar sensation I get sometimes. As if I’m being pulled off balance.” She paused in thought. “I thought perhaps if I held the artifact in front of each insert, I would feel a pull at the correct one. But I was wrong.”

“You were?”

“Yes. The first two both had a pulling sensation. It was the last one that made me wobbly. Not what I expected. Additionally, I noticed, as you also may have, that the couple on the sarcophagus wore rings. Since that was the only circular item I could think of, and the librarian’s treasure, according to her writings, is love, I thought a personal item might represent love. Therefore, based on my magnetic testing and logical deductions, I concluded that the circle, or ring in this case, was the most likely choice.

“Most
likely?”

“I had two other theories, but the odds were lower.”

“Right.”

“Will you show me the treasure now?”

Samuel obeyed, opening the box and pulling out a smooth round magnetic stone that fit in his palm. On top he placed two finger rings.

“Another magnet—not the astrolabe disc,” she said. “Iron, not precious metals.” She picked up the rings. “Iron rings were worn by slaves. As a sign that someone was owned by another. How odd.” She walked to the sarcophagus and showed him the engraving where the couple’s hands touched.

“These were theirs. A symbol that each was owned by the other?” he asked.

“The magnet must have a purpose.”

“To hold the rings,” Samuel said. He demonstrated.

“No.” She took the magnet and started sliding it over the surface of the sarcophagus. “Nothing.”

She stared at Samuel confused. “There must be something else. There are always at least two ways out of anything. No architect or engineer builds himself into a corner. And we’re in the corner, so there has to be something else …” She got on her knees and explored the floor. “Another fake wall, or stairs, or something.”

“Well, that’s a wall.” Samuel pointed toward the trapped guard, who nodded agreement. “And we’re on the middle level. So I’m going to guess either up or down.”

Olivia felt a magnetic pull near the edge of the room. She brushed off dust from the floor and placed the magnet over a complementary shape. It clicked.

She waited. A loud vibration began in the room, and the sarcophagus began to move.

“Down,” she said, grinning.

He kissed her and jumped on board. “Brilliant. Definitely brilliant.”

She frowned. “Wait.”

Olivia pulled the magnet free.

“What is it?”

“I have to do something else.”

She ran to the astrolabe room. It was a beautiful room, and the story on the walls could be transported and kept in a museum for all to see. Even the splintered art stacked on the floor could be saved.

Olivia grabbed a fading torch near the entrance and brought it to the room. “I can’t believe I’m doing this.”

“Are you sure?” Samuel asked, when she handed him a heavy tool left by the workers.

Olivia closed her eyes, knowing that with this act she would be a destroyer of knowledge, instead of a proclaimer of knowledge. Everything she had ever wanted was in front of her. About to be obliterated by her own hand.

“Yes. The location to the pieces, at least where they were sent, is here. And the story warns that when they’re assembled, a time of great change will overcome the world.” She memorized the images before her. “I don’t know if it’s true, but enough people have died for this secret. Let it end.”

Samuel gave her one last look, then swung. And then again. He demolished the engraved limestone until it was unreadable.

When he was done, Olivia set the torch to the pile on the floor, the ancient wood catching flame with ease. A mystery forever lost.

Destroyed.

By her.

Tears came again, despite her resolve, not just from the heat and smoke.

She turned from the past. “Now we can go.”

Samuel offered his hand. “Nice work, Lady Olivia.”

Olivia clicked the magnet in place and they lay on the sarcophagus in each other’s arms.

“Here,” Samuel put on the large ring and slid the small ring onto her finger. “You hold on to this one.”

“Wait!” The guard implored them in English and Arabic.

“If we make it, we’ll send a doctor,” Olivia said.

She closed her eyes and huddled against Stafford. To their amazement the tomb was lowered via a great pulley system into a room below. Darkness enveloped them.

“I hope there aren’t any asps,” Olivia said.

“Me too.” Stafford adjusted the torch and pulled her closer.

“This is nice.”

“Being lowered deeper into the ground on top of a stone casket?” he asked.

She snuggled closer to him, one arm around his waist, the other holding the sarcophagus. “No, Stafford.” She leaned up and kissed his chin before closing her eyes, exhausted. “This.”

Olivia didn’t move until they landed with a splash. Her father had mentioned the lowest levels were flooded. Samuel raised the torch. The room seemed empty.

“I have to admit,” Olivia said. “I hoped this would be a treasure room.”

Samuel nodded. “Me too.”

They laughed.

Samuel held the torch out at arm’s length and circled it around the space. “There’s a bit of water. Hold this.” Olivia accepted the torch while he picked her up from the sarcophagus and carried her several yards to higher ground. Then he pointed her in the direction of the giant pulley system. “I think we are under the librarian’s tomb. You can see all the magnificent devices he dreamed up to torture you with.”

“She.”

“She?”

“Of course, Stafford. What did you think? A man’s treasure would be love?”

“Actually …”

She’d already walked away, enthralled with the giant-sized mechanics around her. “It could take years to study this,” she said, holding the torch out in awe. She turned to him. “We’re going to be famous, Stafford!”

He grabbed the torch from her. “We’re not out yet. Let’s go.”

They found stairs against the wall of the strange workroom.

“These must exit near the surface.” Olivia sucked in air, from the exertion of so many steps. At the top, they reached a small landing. The exit was stuck. She held the torch while Samuel put his shoulder into it. Nothing.

“Maybe there’s a magnet or something.”

He pushed again. “We’re out of …”

Olivia’s hand reached under his arm and pressed something into the wall. “I think that’s the lock.”

The door budged. Then flew off. Thousands of years of dirt and dust around the door assaulted them.

“Careful,” Samuel choked, his voice lowering. “It’s still dark. Let me see where we are.”

He squeezed her hand for encouragement, and no sooner had he stepped into the next tunnel when a bullet struck him.

Then a second.

Samuel dropped the torch as bullets hit his arm and shoulder.

He breathed in, a surge of strength building after the shock of bullets. He pushed Olivia out of the way.

Moreau. And his men. They’ve intercepted us.

The noise of the door had no doubt alerted Moreau.

“We found the treasure, Moreau,” Olivia taunted. “But I will
never
give it to you if something happens to Stafford. Let us go and you’ll have it all.”

Moreau took a gun from a guard and aimed. “I don’t negotiate, my lady.”

Samuel slammed Olivia against a wall, covering her, as another shot grazed his leg. He steadied himself. “Olivia,” he whispered, agonized, into her ear. “I’m going to attack.” His breath came hard. “I want you to run. Hide. Someplace safe until I can get help.”

“No,” she said, her voice hushed and angry.

Moreau and his men were getting closer.

“Olivia, my love, please. I’m weak with you here. You must get away.” He didn’t wait for her response. He turned around, his back to her, still protecting when the guards rushed them.

He charged back.

Samuel relieved the first victim of his weapon, running him through with his own bayonet. Next he fired the musket, eliminating another guard. He felt the pain in his shoulder and arm, but ignored it. The third man realized he could run or die. He ran. Then he died.

Moreau still had a gun trained on Olivia. Several more guards, alerted to the danger, swarmed them—not a single friendly face to be found.

“Come with me, Olivia,” Moreau said, motioning to her. “Or your hero dies.”

Olivia reached into her leather bag, and walked toward the nearest wall torch, holding something out. It made Samuel nervous. She was too trusting.

“Olivia,” he said. “No.”

“I have the disc, Moreau. I put it in my journal and wrote all the translations. It was the key to open the treasure room. The sarcophagus moves. Can you believe that? An astounding mechanism moves it, opening the entrance to all that you seek.” She kept talking, her voice getting a little softer, but with increasing excitement, drawing the men into her tale.

“The secrets of the lost realm are here. We’ve found it. And a treasure beyond imagining fills the great chamber below us. Moreau …” She glowed with excitement. “The treasure is
here.
Wealth and power beyond what you can imagine.” She held up the book to the light on the wall, opening to a written page and turning to the guards. “It says here, ‘The man who owns the key, owns the world.’ ”

Samuel moved closer, slowly. There were four guards, but how many more awaited? He’d worry about that later. He just needed to get Moreau. Two men stood between them, mesmerized with the others by Olivia’s temptations. The moment allowed him a chance to reposition and strategize.

Olivia turned a page, getting closer to the light to show them the future that could be theirs. Only, she was too close to the flame and didn’t realize it. Or did she?

The pages caught fire.

Olivia continued to talk. “I wrote all the secrets, Moreau …”

A guard yelled, reaching for the journal. Olivia reacted, screeching, then shoving the burning book at the man and grabbing the torch off the wall to attack another.

Damn the woman. She
was
brilliant!

He used the empty musket to attack. His target fought with equal vigor.

“Olivia, run! Run!”

Olivia did run. But not before taunting Moreau and the others with a tap on her bag. “You think I’m going to give the power of the world to you? Come and get it—if you can.”

Then she spun and darted like a streak of lightning down the tunnel.

Samuel felt a dangerous jab cut through his side, but it was nothing compared to the horror of Moreau’s enraged scream.

“Get her!”

Olivia knew she had to distract the guards from Stafford. Gads. How many bullets could one man survive? The thought made her breathless. She skidded on the claylike surface and grabbed for a wall, spinning into a turn and entering an unlit area. A sound caught her attention, and she saw Moreau behind her, cast eerily in the light.

He must have seen her. He guessed correctly, coming her way.

Olivia felt with fingertips and made another turn into darkness. She went a few feet. Dead end. Literally.

She inched back toward the corner, panting, struggling for air while trying not to make noise. The light flickered closer … and closer. Nowhere to turn and no weapons, except—

Olivia reached by feel for the remaining items in her carryall.
There!

Moreau’s steps became cautious, ready to attack.

Stafford, please be alive. I can manage this, if only I know you are alive.

She pressed against the wall, preparing herself. With any luck he would look right first, and she could strike from the left.

Another step. She could see the torch held out in front. Closer.

Closer.

He turned.

No luck.

A small pistol aimed at her chest. He smiled.

“Moreau!” A deep voice rumbled behind him, like a feral animal ready to strike.

Stafford! Alive!

Moreau spun, alert to danger. She knew it would only be a split second. A split second when she could get close enough to …

Olivia leapt. Her body hit his, his gun went off, and they both fell to ground, the torch rolling to a stop against a wall.

She cried out in both horror and pain.

Moreau gasped. Olivia pulled her weapon out of his throat and the air hissed free. She rolled over on her side, stiff, her fist cramping from the tight grip around the weapon in her hand.

Samuel landed next to her somehow. Sliding or falling, she wasn’t sure. He was bloody and pale.