hallways. Normally, they would have had to sneak in during the early hours after midnight or attempt a brazen break-in. Now, apparently, they had other means.
Nina smoothed back an unruly wave of hair, gave Caleb a knowing grin and said, “It pays to have connections.”
“But this…” He looked around, amazed. Armed Egyptian soldiers stood guard outside, beyond the perimeter of the jeeps, keeping onlookers away.
Helen overheard them. She gave Nina a frowning look and said, “It’s what I’ve been working on, Caleb, building relationships with the Council of Antiquities. And George’s monetary influence helps.”
“Of course.”
“Let’s move, people!” Waxman spread his arms and turned in a full circle in the breeze. Seagulls took off behind him, circled and alighted on the castle’s ramparts. “Today is an historic day! For archaeology, for history, and for the new trail we’re blazing in paranormal research. Follow me, if you please.”
The members of the Morpheus Initiative followed through the outer gate, one by one, Waxman and Helen in the lead. They crossed the deserted courtyard to the inner citadel and mosque. Once, from these windows, arrows had rained down upon Turkish ships.
Inside, the fort was cool and refreshing. Caleb let his fingertips dance along a granite wall and took a moment to consider that they were possibly touching a remnant of the great Pharos Lighthouse. “This archway looks older,” he noted, catching his breath. “And those pillars-they have to be part of the Pharos.”
“I think you’re right,” Helen said, up ahead, her voice breathless.
Out the open window, three seagulls had followed them and were circling, screeching. Caleb had the sudden fear they were sounding an alarm, protesting an unwarranted intrusion. He looked past them into the harbor where a fleet of boats, dinghies and random vessels of all colors and types were moored, pointing toward Alexandria, waiting for some great pronouncement from Cleopatra, perhaps, or Caesar himself.
“Ready, Caleb?” Nina pinched playfully at the back of his thigh, then took off down a plain corridor that narrowed like the inside of a tomb. Waxman, Helen, Victor, Elliot, Mary, Amelia, Tom and Dennis waited, expectantly. Helen nodded, smiling.
“Your show, kid,” said Waxman. “You saved us from going in through the water vents and braving the currents, so this is your vision, go with her. Lead the way.”
Helen paused, counting. “Aren’t we missing one?”
“Xavier?” Waxman said, glancing around.
“Got the kid’s stomach bug?” Elliot asked.
“Or he’s hung over,” said Victor.
Or, thought Caleb, he’s the only smart one in this bunch.
“Well, we’re not waiting for him,” Waxman said, a little ruefully.
After adjusting his knapsack to the other shoulder, Caleb followed Nina, moving through the first hallway. “Wait up! Do you even know where you’re going?”
“Sure, I’ve seen it, remember? The stairs should be just past the mosque.” The hallway suddenly opened into a large chamber. They both peered at the beautiful dome three levels up. A single dove flew around the red brick ceiling, circling gracefully. “There it is,” she said, pointing to a faint outline in the far wall. “That’s where the door will open when you pull the lever.”
“When I pull the lever?” Caleb put his hands on his hips.
“I’m not a glory hound, you get the honors,” Nina said, sliding up to him, giving his leg a squeeze. “After all, you did all the hard work last night, you deserve it.”
Blushing, Caleb looked up the stairs. “If it’s even still there.” They went up to the next level and walked side by side through the slanting shafts of sunlight down the narrow sandstone corridors. When Caleb realized their strides were matching, step for step, he almost burst out laughing. He felt like they were the fort’s defenders, marching on patrol.
At a shadowy recessed area in the western corner beyond a chain with an “Off Limits” sign preventing public access, Caleb dug out his flashlight, switched it on and cut through the darkness. The beam continued inside an alcove about the size of a supply cabinet and illuminated three fist-sized rectangular slabs of rock, all about waist high, protruding from the wall. He had a moment’s hesitation. He had not seen three. He had not even seen this arrangement.
“Come on, slowpoke. It’s the middle one,” Nina said, leaning forward. She gripped the lever with both hands, pulled it up, then to the left and down. A grating noise echoed below, and Nina smiled into the flashlight beam. “You didn’t see them do that?”
Caleb slowly shook his head.
She patted his shoulder as she walked by and said, condescendingly, “Now, now, it’s okay. Just keep practicing.”
They squeezed into the narrow opening beyond the massive, three-foot-wide door. It had opened just far enough to let one person through, and they inched forward in the darkness, letting their eyes adjust. Caleb wondered how someone could bring any kind of significant treasure out this way.
The flashlight beam played off a narrow space and a wall just ahead of them. Caleb aimed it down. The shaft of light, alive with the thick dust stirred by opening the door, illuminated the steeply descending stairs.
“Ready?” Waxman’s voice dwindled and was quickly swallowed up by the dust and gloom. “Go on, Caleb.”
“How did I get into the lead role, here? I’m not even a member of this team.”
“You’ve always been a member, Caleb.” His mother’s hand on his shoulder. “But if you don’t want to go first-”
“Fine, I’ll do it.”
“I’ll understand,” Helen said. “Belize, and-”
Nina gripped his arm from the other side, digging her fingers into his flesh. “Don’t listen to her,” she whispered. “This is your time, make it up to Phoebe now.”
He started down.
“Should have brought sweaters,” Helen said, and Caleb cursed his stupidity. A cold, stale breath rose from the depths, chilling them to the bone. “How deep do you think it goes?”
An image materialized in Caleb’s mind. It was like an architect’s diagram-the tower, hollow and inscribed with its ramps and statues and fuel transport hoists and the same thing projected beneath it, as if a mirror were held under the design.
“As above, so below.”
Waxman looked up. “Huh?”
“Just a feeling.” Caleb took the first tentative step. “Sostratus might have built this according to the Hermetic tradition, representing below what is above.”
“So you’re saying we might be going four hundred feet down?”
“Maybe.” Or maybe the door he had seen was almost two hundred feet down, then there would be another stairwell or shaft to take the visitor to the “beacon,” the light-the treasure at the bottom.
Or maybe he was way off.
They descended toward the mystery slowly, one long step after another. Nina walked behind Caleb, clutching his t-shirt with one hand and steadying herself against the cold wall with the other. The subterranean gloom did its best to resist the feeble light cast by the flashlight, but they could see well enough to continue.
Around and around. Caleb counted seventy-two steps before the wall disappeared and the last step ended. They stood before a great darkness and had the sense of an overwhelming space ahead. The flashlight pointed down at their feet, at the dust and pebbles. The beam trembled, and Caleb realized his arm was shaking.
He felt Nina’s hand on his, and together they raised the light. It stretched across the floor, dipped into a rectangular pit, then came up the other side and struck the far wall. He moved the light higher, and his jaw dropped. There were the carvings-signs and stars, circles and moons. Shadows played among the shapes, danced around symbols, letters and images too far away to see clearly. Then he found the center and traced up the length of a painted vertical staff that had two brilliant, green-scaled snakes wound about it. He followed their coils around until they converged. Great fangs and eyes locked onto each other.
“Wow,” Dennis whispered, and pushed through the group to the front.
