They were stout double doors made from oak, thick and lovingly crafted. The knobs were huge and ancient; the brass locking plate below polished and free of the slightest fingerprint.
An envelope was pinned to the center of both doors. Even from a distance, Simon could see what it displayed.
After ascending a few more steps closer to the door, eyes locked on the envelope, he recognized it. It was an unusual geometric symbol he had seen before. It looked like some sort of insignia.
He had not seen it in years. When he first noticed the geometric symbol at eight years of age, it was on Oliver’s briefcase. He had asked his father what it was, but had only gotten a vague response. For years it had remained in the vast pages of his childhood’s unresolved memories.
He felt something cold and hard sink in his stomach as he slowly approached the door. Each step felt like a dream as fear began to grip his body. Even his own legs seemed to weigh him down as he inched closer to the door. Simon, stop the paranoia, he told himself as he covered the last few steps. It’s time. It has to be time.
The wooden floor beneath his feet announced his approach with each new creak. For a moment-just for a moment! — he was absolutely positive his father was waiting on the other side of those doors, that he would open them and find Oliver Fitzpatrick sitting behind his massive oak desk, grinning and congratulating him on a job well done.
But that’s a lie, he told himself. He wanted it so badly to be true, but it wasn’t. His father was thousands of miles away, trapped in the loneliest continent on Earth. His father was waiting for him there, he knew-counting on him.
He stopped two feet from the double doors and gazed at the brass knobs…and saw, to his amazement, a small key inserted into the right lock-a key bearing the same insignia as the envelope he had not yet taken as his own. His heart started pounding. That key was never there before. That key granted him the access he needed. That key could open the doors to a secret fragment of his childhood that had haunted him for years.
He reached out and touched it, his stomach cramping with tension. He closed his eyes and knew the unknown world he longed to discover was only inches away.
Then, instantly as if controlled by some outside force, he opened his eyes and found himself staring at the note pinned in front of him, between both doors. He paused, staring, almost hypnotized.
Then he let go of the key and reached for the envelope, tearing it free of the two pins that had pushed it deep into the wood. He ripped open the envelope even as he heard Hayden’s voice from downstairs: “Rendezvous coordinates laid in. We’re good to go.”
The note was written with an unfamiliar hand and obviously in some haste. The work was messy; the lines a bit crooked. But none of that mattered. He read:
This door leads to more than you are ready to embrace. Oliver knew this and kept it from you. He knew you would enter when you were ready, but that time is not tonight.
Things reveal themselves to us when we are destined to see them, and not before. Inside those doors you will not find what you are looking for. If you must enter, then that is what fate has written for us all. But I will not be here to witness it.
I leave you with this choice, Simon. The key is in your hand.
Farewell,
Leon
Simon was speechless. He stood in front of the door to his father’s study and looked back at the tiny brass key inserted into the lock. He dropped his head and closed his eyes as he thought of Leon’s words.
Simon wanted more than anything to enter that room. More than anything. He touched the knob again, thinking with all his might, trying to understand his father and his fate as he never had before. He gripped the key, crushing it between his fingers.
Then, he released it and looked at the note one more time. He folded the note, and was ready to put it into his jacket when he caught a glimpse of something written on the back of the notepaper.
His heart raced. He held it up, turned it in the light, and saw three lines written in Leon’s hasty, crooked hand:
— 73 degrees South
— 82 degrees West
— 10,022 feet
His eyes lit up. Coordinates, he knew. What we really need. Without another thought, he turned his back on the mysterious study and ran downstairs to join the others.
* * *
He found three of the team members huddled around Ryan’s display, waiting for the final course-alteration confirmation from the Munro. Samantha had curled up in the huge armchair and fallen asleep.
Simon stood waiting as Ryan entered the coordinates for where the team would rendezvous with the Munro. “Port Williams, Chile it is,” Ryan said as his fingers shook on the keyboard. “When we leave Corsica, that’s where we’ll reconvene. Donovan and the S.S. Munro will be waiting for us there.”
Simon walked closer to Ryan’s screen and said, “Check these other coordinates for me will you?” He recited the West and South numbers he had read on the note and memorized, but he kept the final line-the “-10,022 feet”-to himself.
Hayden raised an eyebrow. “So you found something?”
“I’m not sure,” he replied absently, then put a hand on Ryan’s shoulder. “Hurry.” He repeated the figures.
“Okay, okay.” Ryan’s fingers danced over the old-fashioned keyboard. He was almost used to the ancient tech by now.
After a moment, Ryan’s face grew pale. He looked like he had seen a ghost. “Son of a bitch,” he said. “Look at that.”
The display was showing a specific location on the Antarctic continent-an outpost marked as “Station 35.” Simon froze for an instant and his heart began to race; this could be the coordinate of Oliver’s location.
“How did he know?” Simon whispered and then stopped himself. Leon’s note was carefully folded and stored in his jacket pocket. No one else needed to know about it quite yet, he decided.
He thought about Leon for a moment, and chills went down his spine. He leaned forward and peered at the monitor, double-checking the numbers he had recited. Ryan was right.
Hayden couldn’t keep curiosity to himself. “So?” he asked Simon. “You discover anything else up there?”
Simon thought about telling him the whole story, but only for a moment. Then he just shook his head and said, “Not really. Not much up there.”
Ryan didn’t seem to hear him. “These are still pretty coarse as locational coordinates go,” he said. “And the UNED maps don’t show any stations or outposts near that specific area.”
Simon knew why, and that was why he had kept the last part of the coordinates to himself. “Still,” he said, “This is where we need to go after we get the Spector-Station 35.” He tapped the digital map on the screen, and wished that Leon had given him more.
Hayden scowled at him, skeptical as always. “Are you sure?” he asked Simon. “Are you 100 % positive?” For a brief second Simon thought to himself, how can I be sure? Leon must know something or he would have never given me the coordinates. It’s better than nothing. This must be why Dad wanted me to see Leon.
“I am,” he said, knowing deep down inside that Leon must have known all along.
Andrew shrugged. “All right then,” he said. “Let’s start packing up. We’ve got a boat to catch in a couple of hours.”
Simon got up, deep in thought, and walked to the window. He looked out at the moonlit landscape, still tortured by the night wind, and wondered if he would ever see Leon again. Or if he would ever have a chance to enter that study.
The image of the wooden door had permanently embedded itself in his mind. For an instant, he thought of throwing caution aside and running back upstairs, fast as he could, turning that key and throwing open those doors-
“Here.”
He turned in surprise. Andrew was standing there, a glass of scotch in his hand.