The Italian released his ankles. Eddie shuffled across to bring himself into what he hoped was the right alignment. ‘Okay, now!’
Cellini pushed him again. The scrapes passed above his head… then the suit jarred against the ceiling, stopping him dead.
‘Push harder!’ he barked, trying to hold back his rising panic — not simply because he was caught, but also because now that he was in direct contact with the statue, the shudder was being transmitted into the hard body of his suit. It was an irregular pulsing thump, like a door banging in the wind, only something much bigger and heavier.
Whatever it was, it was getting worse.
He scrabbled at the floor with both hands as Cellini strained to force him through. His fingers brushed the Codex. He angrily pushed it away, wriggling and twisting as the ominous drumbeat grew louder—
A rasp — and suddenly he was free. Cellini released his legs. He kicked, the fins driving him forward. Another shove of the Codex, then he fired the thrusters to bring himself to the base of the stairs. ‘I’m out!’ he said, turning to look back into the cramped passage.
‘What about the Codex?’ asked Cellini.
‘The stupid thing’s here, don’t worry. Hurry up, your turn!’
He aimed his light down the tunnel. Cellini was edging towards the lowest point beneath the statue. ‘A bit to the right,’ Eddie told him. ‘That’s it. Keep on coming, you can do it…’
The young man reached the clench point, his suit knocking against the ceiling. ‘I can’t fit!’
‘Yeah, you can,’ Eddie replied, trying to sound reassuring. ‘Just roll a bit and you’ll be able to get your air tanks through. Trust me,’ he added with a smile.
Cellini nervously followed the instructions. ‘That’s it!’ said Eddie. ‘Come through, now!’
The Italian advanced. This time, the suit’s carapace slipped beneath the obstruction, grinding against it as he squirmed forward—
Another deep rumble echoed through the water. The floor jolted — and displaced silt erupted through the passage as the great statue shifted.
Eddie felt as if he was inside Big Ben when the bell struck noon, a colossal metallic boom pounding him. Ears throbbing, he tried to hold himself in position. His vision was reduced almost to nothing by the swirling cloud. ‘Nerio! Nerio, are you okay?’
No answer.
The reason wafted past him a moment later, a tiny point of blue light in the murk — the broken end of the Italian’s fibre-optic cable.
‘Eddie!’ said Blumberg. ‘We’ve lost contact with Nerio! What’s happening?’
‘His comm line’s snapped,’ Eddie replied. ‘The statue moved.’
‘Oh my God!’ said Nina. ‘Are you okay?’
‘Yeah, but Nerio was right under it, and I can’t see anything!’ He groped until his fingers found the metal ceiling. There was still a gap underneath it, but how far had it dropped? An inch would trap Cellini — and anything more would crush his suit. At this depth, even the smallest breach would instantly kill its wearer.
Blumberg spoke again, but Eddie shouted him down. ‘Quiet, quiet! Everyone shut up — I need to listen.’ He waited for the radio chatter to cease, then called out Cellini’s name.
All he could hear was the background hiss of his suit’s air supply. ‘Nerio!’ he yelled again. ‘Can you hear me?’
Still nothing, then…
‘Eddie!’ The voice was faint, reaching him through two thick acrylic bubbles and several feet of silt-choked water, but the Italian was alive. ‘Help!’
‘I can hear him!’ Eddie reported. ‘I’m going back into the tunnel.’
‘You might get stuck too,’ said Nina in alarm.
Blumberg joined in with a warning of his own. ‘Eddie, if the statue shifts again, you could both be killed!’
‘I can’t leave him behind,’ Eddie said firmly. He pulled himself back into the cramped tunnel. ‘Nerio, I’m coming! Keep talking, let me know where you are!’
Cellini’s voice grew louder. ‘I’m here, I’m here! My radio is out!’
‘I know, your line snapped. Stretch your hands out. I can’t be far from you.’
Eddie looked ahead. The water was still an opaque soup… then it started to swirl. ‘I’m almost there,’ he said. ‘Keep waving!’
Something flicked through the gloom, stirring up suspended silt. A moment later it moved back: Cellini’s gloved hand. Eddie grabbed it. ‘Mi hai trovato!’ gasped the Italian.
‘Still got to get you out of there,’ Eddie cautioned. ‘I’m going to try to pull you. Are your thrusters working?’
‘Yes, but they did not help.’
‘We’ll have to use brute force and ignorance, then. Usually works!’ He gripped Cellini’s wrist, using his other hand to take his own suit’s control stalk. ‘Okay, you ready? Start ’em up!’
Both sets of thrusters whined to full power. Eddie backed up, but halted again almost immediately as his arm reached full stretch, straining to pull the Italian. ‘Are you moving?’
‘I don’t know!’ Cellini replied. ‘I… I hear the suit rubbing on the statue, but — no, no!’ Excitement filled his voice. ‘I can see the floor, I moved!’
‘That’s great!’ Eddie growled, tugging at him. ‘Keep it up—’
Another rumble shook the temple — and a sharp crack came from his suit’s fibreglass back as the statue pressed down hard upon it.
He froze in fear, but no explosive inrush of water hit him. The section of casing covering the air tanks was cosmetic streamlining rather than structural. It had split under the weight, but the pressurised body had not been damaged.
Yet. If the statue dropped any lower, it would crush the shell like an egg—
An idea came to him. He twisted to test it, and found that even though the suit was still graunching against both floor and ceiling, he had slightly more freedom of movement. ‘Nerio!’ he yelled. ‘Back up, as far as you can! You need to hit the ceiling harder!’
‘What are you doing?’ Blumberg demanded.
Cellini was equally bewildered. ‘But the suit will break!’
‘I know, I know — but if the back breaks, it doesn’t matter! It’s just a cover! If you flatten it, you’ll be able to fit through.’
‘Eddie, that’s crazy,’ said Blumberg, but the Englishman ignored him — and to his relief, so did Cellini. The Italian withdrew, Eddie letting himself be pulled deeper into the tunnel until he jammed against the statue.
‘All right,’ he called. ‘Are you set?’
‘Yes!’ came the reply.
Eddie restarted his thrusters at full power. ‘Now!’
He lunged backwards, pulling Cellini with him — and the younger man slammed against his confines. There was a sharp snap of splintering fibreglass. ‘Keep going, keep going!’ Eddie shouted. He pulled Cellini’s arm. ‘You’re moving!’
Another crack — and Cellini broke free, rushing forward with such force that he almost collided head-on with Eddie. The Englishman shoved himself backwards, swinging around as he reached the bottom of the stairs. The water was less murky here, letting him see the archaeologist’s smile of relief as he emerged. His suit’s back had been flattened, spears of broken casing jutting out like porcupine quills. But the tanks inside were still intact. ‘You saved me! Thank you, thank you!’ He moved as if to embrace the Englishman.
‘We’re not out of here yet,’ Eddie reminded him. ‘Get to the top, fast!’
‘But the Codex—’
‘I’ll get it!’
‘And I lost the camera—’
‘Just go! God, bloody archaeologists!’
Cellini’s thrusters surged and propelled him up the staircase. Eddie was about to follow, but decided — with aggrieved reluctance — that a promise was a promise. He flailed his fins until one touched something straight-edged on the floor. He grabbed the heavy book, then started after the Italian at full speed—