The Bone Chamber

Alfredo began climbing up the V-shaped crevice. He reached down for Francesca’s hand, pulled her up, as Xavier boosted her from the floor, then followed. Inching their way inward and upward, they didn’t speak. Suddenly Xavier reached over, gripped her arm, his fingers digging into her in warning.

She needed none. She heard the two men coming up the tunnel, and she held her breath, praying they wouldn’t hear anything. Beside her, Alfredo’s foot slipped, knocking loose a bit of tufo that skittered down the crevice into the tunnel below, and she thought this was it. They were caught.

“You hear that, Vinny?”

“You shut up long enough and I might.”

Francesca’s heart pounded at the realization of just how close the men were to their hiding spot.

“It’s coming from up there,” the first man said.

“It’s them. It has to be.” Francesca heard what sounded like a gun being racked, as though one of the men was checking his weapon, checking to see if he had enough ammunition. “Hurry. They might be getting away.”

“What’s your rush? Even if this tunnel does lead out, we have someone posted on almost every street corner around the basilica. They can’t get farther than that.”

“Yeah, well we need to be there when they find what they’re looking for.” A light bounced off the tunnel walls. She closed her eyes, pressed her face into the rock. Please don’t let them find us…

“Why do you suppose Mr. Westgate wants to get this thing?”

“Because Mr. Westgate’s boss wants to get power over Adami.”

“How’s some stupid map gonna get him that?” Vinny asked. “They both got more money than God. Seems to me that if we were smart, we’d get the map for ourselves.”

“And have both Adami and Mr. Westgate’s boss after us? You got a death wish?”

“Just thinking aloud.”

“What the hell?” She heard their footsteps stop, heard some shuffling. “They’re gone! I could’ve sworn I heard something coming from up this way.”

“They must have gone out a different tunnel.” Francesca dared a look over Xavier’s shoulder, caught a glimpse of the light beam as it swung the opposite direction.

“Now what?”

“The only thing left. We go after the two down in the cistern.”

Griffin stared at the mass of urns before them, certain they were filled with gold-not that he was about to disturb the tufo dust to find out. Even so, he couldn’t help but wonder if they were the first in centuries to look upon this chamber. The treasure reported to be a deathtrap by the mad genius.

“This is what they’re killing for,” she said. “Gold.”

“I’m fairly certain it’s more about where it’s reported to have come from, assuming it really is Templar treasure from Solomon’s Temple.”

“You believe that?” Her voice was quiet, filled with awe, perhaps at the thought that they could indeed be standing amid something historic. “Do you think the Templars became Freemasons, all as a duty to protect this?”

“The gold or the map? The bigger question is what’s the secret of getting out without being crushed, or releasing some disease. There’s a reason di Sangro chose to hide this treasure, even at the cost of his reputation. He took an oath.”

“My. You were listening in class.”

“Very funny,” he said. “If Francesca is correct, and others in the past knew the treasure existed, the danger would have to be very real in order for someone to leave this amount of gold alone. Sort of makes you wonder about the loyalty of whoever set this up. Who was it who walked away from all this, and wasn’t tempted?”

“I’m thinking whoever put him here.”

She pointed to the interior of the cavern, her headlamp shining on a wide rock formation near the center, where, surrounded by even more urns, it appeared as though a man sat resting, his back to a large chest, his hands crossed over his midsection, as though someone positioned him after he died. Together, they walked over, touching nothing, carefully weaving around the rock columns, the chests and urns, their footsteps echoing off the cavern roof. Griffin looked around, trying to decide if there was any truth to the possibility that the place was an elaborate trap, meant to snare di Sangro’s perceived enemies. As they approached, it became apparent that the dead visitor, a male, had indeed been resting there for quite some time, perhaps a century or more, judging from his clothing. Like the monks in the Capuchin Crypt, this man seemed well preserved, no doubt due to the constant cool, dry temperature of the underground cavern. “Prince of Sansevero?” Griffin asked.

“A good guess, since his clothes seem a bit too fancy for a mere laborer,” she said, nodding at the bunch of lace at his throat. “And he’s wearing a Masonic ring.”

“The shield behind him, that would be the crest we saw on the computer,” Griffin said, nodding toward a blue and gold crest beneath a crown. “Definitely royalty.”

“Royalty or not, what if he died because he couldn’t find his way out?” She pointed to the numerous openings throughout the cavern.

“Any one of those could be the way out, or simply part of the maze we’re already lost in.”

She looked down at the corpse again, eyed the ring, careful not to touch anything. “Okay. Let’s say this is Raimondo di Sangro. It might be my imagination, but could we be looking at a very obvious skull and crossbones, sort of what was carved over the tunnel in the upper chamber? That is supposed to be the sign the Templars took up after they were hunted down. Maybe this one happens to be pointing at something with his right hand?”

Griffin saw exactly what she meant. Every finger but his right index was folded. “Pointing to the way out? Or better yet, to this missing key?”

“Or the way that leads to death? And what’s with all the sand piled up behind him and these urns?”

“Good question.”

“We need to think about this,” she said. “Francesca told us that Alessandra and Tasha were talking about subtext. Freemasons were all about symbols and the hidden meaning…”

“The skull and crossbones led down. If this is a trap, it’s a trap for the unwary, for those who aren’t supposed to be here. Assuming what the good professor told us was correct.” He glanced over at the tunnel opening, the one the corpse seemed to be pointing toward. It was tall, cleanly carved, and wide enough for two to walk abreast. The others were of varying sizes, and all far more claustrophobic-looking. “It could be any one of these. Seven openings, including the one we just came through. Maybe they all lead to the same place?”

“That shadow arrow I saw up there clearly pointed down. And yet the entrance was hidden from any who dared venture into that cistern, and now we have Dead Guy here, pointing to God knows where.”

“Pick one?”

“And hope we don’t end up as two more bone markers, pointing out the road that led us to our deaths?” she asked.

“Or end up as pancakes.”

She looked over at the tunnels, then grinned. “How much you want to bet it’s going to be the smallest, darkest tunnel?”

“Some secrets should never be shared.”

Her smile faded. “Yeah. And some things, especially about friends, should never be secret, but it’s a little late for that, isn’t it.”

Moment of levity over. Not that he blamed her. “Look, I know it’s late, but I’m sorry about what happened. If I could change things, I would.”

She refused to look at him.

“Truce?”

This time she looked right at him. “Fine. Only because we need to get out of here. But understand this. Any chance we had of liking each other ended the moment you let her lie to me, and then never told me.”

“You’re taking this far too personally.”

“Personally?” She stood up straight, putting both hands on her hips. “Personally?”

“She was working for the government. It was a job. She was doing it.”