Twenty meters down, the tunnel ended in a heap of rubble. Only Baxter’s foot, swim fin dangling from it, jutted out. Fisher reached out and gave the foot a squeeze, but no response. Baxter was gone. His mood grew blacker at the loss of a good fighter, even if the man did crap on a bit too much about how much he loved Russell Crowe movies.
Retreating from the cave-in, he and Hartley took the tunnel Penn had scouted. They caught up with her at another split. Here, one tunnel went up, the other down. Hartley took the upper passageway, this time with a touch more caution after Baxter’s accident. Penn took a similar approach to the lower tunnel.
Seconds stretched into eternity as Fisher fretted over their slow progress. And what if their quarry had gone down the passageway that was now caved in? What if they found a way out on the other side? He was just ruminating on this new, unhappy thought, when he heard a sound like a bowling ball rolling down the lane. The sound grew louder and, with a thud, a massive stone ball lodged in the entrance of the passage Hartley had taken. Fisher tried with all his might to dislodge it, but the rock held fast. He thought of Hartley trapped in the tunnel, and hoped there was a way out on the other side.
His heart beat like a snare drum and the blood coursing through his veins set up a roar like a hurricane in his ears. Now he knew the truth. What happened to Baxter had not been an accident. This place was a death trap, and he had no choice but to try and make it through.
Once again, he followed behind Penn. The woman was a zealot, perhaps a bit too blindly devoted to Morgan, though he’d never say that aloud, but she either had good instincts, or was very lucky. Perhaps her good fortune would help them carry the day.
This passageway took him round in a descending series of circles before ending at a juncture where a single tunnel broke to the right. He frowned. Penn should have stopped here and waited for him, but she was nowhere to be seen. He decided to continue along the main tunnel a little farther, eyes peeled for traps. A bit farther down, he came upon a series of shafts leading off from the main tunnel. No sign of Penn. He was about to go back and investigate the first tunnel he’d passed when something caught his eye— a trickle of something dark drifting out of the last shaft. Heart sinking, he went to investigate. Two meters down the shaft, he found Penn.
She lay pinned on the floor by thick iron spikes. Her arms and legs were contorted in a grotesque tableau. She had lost her mask, and her eyes stared blankly upward, her face frozen in a mask of agony.
A black rage descended on Fisher. He no longer cared for booby traps, treasure, or Locke’s wrath. He wanted revenge.
This tunnel opened into a smaller chamber, circular, like a turret. A double-line of repeated symbols spiraled down from the peak of the domed ceiling, where an odd, wedge-shaped pattern was carved, running all the way down to the floor. The seal at the center of this room showed two knights riding a single horse— another Templar seal. To their left was the trap that had injured Matt’s arm. To their right stood another stone altar, but this one was not empty.
A wooden casket, two feet long, sat atop the altar. As Dane swam closer, he could see it was coated with some sort of resin that gave it a glossy sheen and had protected it from who knew how many years of immersion. Like many ancient caskets, it was shaped like a split log: wide and flat at the bottom, rounded on the top half. Its hinged lid appeared to be sealed with lead.
Dane reached out and gently took hold of it, fearing all the while that the wood would crumble at his touch. It did not. Emboldened, he lifted it. It was deceptively heavy. Either the casket was lined with lead, its contents were extremely heavy, or both.
Despite the dim light and the dive mask, he could see excitement shining in Bones’ eyes. They were about to solve the riddle of Oak Island. He put the casket in a mesh bag and hooked it to his belt as an added precaution, though he’d have to carry it. Now, to get out of here unseen and unscathed.
He turned to make for the exit tunnel, hoping it had not closed behind them, when a beam of light sliced through the water. Someone had caught up with them.
Chapter 15
Dane and Bones drew their Recon knives, extinguished their dive lights, and moved to either side of the passageway that led back to the underground church. Any small ember of hope that the unseen person did not know they were there was doused when something silver flashed through the water and embedded in the limestone wall. Whoever was out there had a spear gun.
Their only hope was to take their pursuer unaware as he entered the chamber. Of course, they’d need to be quick and luck would have to be on their side. The intruder’s dive light cast a faint glow— just enough that Dane could see Bones swim to a spot above the passageway and cling to the wall Spider-Man style. Good thinking. Their adversary was likely to to the sides and down before looking up; an instinct honed by life outside the water.
They waited in near-darkness and absolute silence. Energy coursed through Dane, every nerve on edge. It was amazing how alive he felt when possible death was near. Danger brought everything into focus.
Seconds passed, then minutes. Nothing. The guy was waiting for them to make a move, and who could blame him? He had the projectile weapon and the full length of the tunnel to take shots at them. It would be like a carnival game to him— Dane and Bones were sitting ducks.
Dane glanced up at Bones who shook his head and tapped his pressure gauge. Their supply of air was limited. Right now they had sufficient reserves, but it wouldn’t last forever, and only a fool let his tank get close to empty. They were screwed.
He racked his brain for a possible solution. Going down the tunnel was out of the question unless they had something they could use as a shield, which they did not. He wondered if the top of the altar would work, but dismissed the thought immediately. He couldn’t get anywhere close to it without placing himself in the line of fire. Besides, it wasn’t wide enough to provide suitable cover. What they needed was a way out.
And then he remembered the booby-trapped shaft he and Matt had discovered. If they could get through, they could make their way out to the shore, and to open water. He swam to the blocked shaft, turned on his light, and inspected the space closely.
The shaft was three feet square and sealed off by a solid stone block. He already knew it couldn’t be pried up, but he remembered the iron spike trap they’d encountered and the lever that sprang and released it. Besides, he had to believe that whoever constructed this chamber would have left themselves a secondary exit in the event that the tunnel leading to the temple collapsed.
The ornate bands carved in the wall angled past on either side of the shaft. Dane gave them a close look, all the while wondering when their stalker would show up and start shooting. He pressed on anything that resembled a button, but to no avail. And then his hand passed over a carving of a chalice. This particular image was raised farther than those surround it, and the top of the cup was scooped out. Dane hooked his fingers inside and pulled.
The chalice tilted forward and, with a scraping sound made to seem all the louder by the silence in the chamber, the stone block rose.
He signaled to Bones, who swam over. Dane released the chalice and the stone remained in place. But would they trigger the trap again by swimming through? He inspected the shaft, searching for anything that would spring the trap, but he saw nothing.
Without warning, the block fell again with a resounding crash. Bones held up ten fingers and shrugged. Ten seconds? Keeping one eye out for the man with the speargun, Dane pulled the lever again and watched the stone rise. He counted down and, twelve seconds later, the trap sprang.