The Bone Chamber

dug into her fingertips. She was stretched out, one foot on each wall, her hands gripping the sides.

A low rumble pulsated along the tunnel walls.

“Griffin?”

“Just the earth settling. Don’t worry.”

But the rumbling didn’t stop. It grew louder, deeper, vibrated through the stones into her bones. She braced herself against the walls, tried to hold on. Rocks hurtled down, hit her helmet, her arms. The earth shuddered one last heave. Her bloody hand slipped, and she plunged down into the blackness, nothing beneath her feet.

36

Francesca and Xavier met Dumas at the cafe, and Francesca’s pulse shot up again as a third fire truck zipped past. Alfredo had left to get his van, in case they needed more equipment for a rescue. He had not yet returned. A second building midblock had collapsed, just sank into the earth, and, from the talk around them, the citizens of Naples were blaming it on yet another crumbling tunnel, long forgotten, finally giving way.

Xavier shook his head. “How does a man set a trap that lasts over two hundred years?”

“Like da Vinci before him,” Dumas said, “di Sangro’s genius was unparalleled.”

“But to what end?” Francesca wondered aloud. She’d studied every nuance about the prince and even she was having difficulties comprehending that his trap was real. Or perhaps she didn’t want to believe it. To do so meant that there was no hope.

“From what I gathered from the documents that you uncovered at the Vatican, di Sangro’s sole purpose was to protect that which he sought to hide, from those he hoped to hide it from. Why else leave such enigmatic clues?”

“Enigmatic?” Xavier said. “Or purposefully deceitful? Maybe he really was the monster that some historians thought.”

“I don’t believe so,” Dumas said. “Misunderstood, as those who are too far ahead of their time often are. But in this instance, he had a purpose. Perhaps one the church didn’t see as clearly as he did at the time. To protect mankind.”

Francesca watched the crowd surge forward, no doubt trying to see what, if anything, or anyone, was left in the collapsed building. “If di Sangro went to such trouble to give specific clues on the door of his chapel, warning of a trap, or how to avoid it, then there could equally be a specific escape route.” She turned to Xavier. “Where was it you thought his tunnel came out?”

“Originally? Where we came out.”

“Any other guesses, now that we know that wasn’t the right way?”

And Dumas, staring at the fallen building, said, “Let’s hope it wasn’t there.”

Xavier took out Francesca’s map, spread it across the tabletop. “This is the cistern they went down, and here’s where we came out…” He pointed to the area where the building fell through. “It was obviously to one side of the cistern, probably off that ledge near the top, some hidden passageway. If di Sangro had a route planned out, it would be on the outskirts of the cave-in.” He drew a circle with his finger around the building. “Somewhere in this area, or this one. Perhaps they were lucky.”

“As much as I don’t like it,” Dumas said, “we will need to split up again, the better to cover both areas.”

“Then that’s what we need to do,” she said. “We need to find them before Adami’s men do.”

“Sydney!”

Blackness. Pain. It was several moments before Sydney dared breathe, dared move. And several more moments before she realized that she was suspended by the rope, hanging, spinning. “Griff?”

“You’re okay?” His voice sounded a million miles away.

“Yeah. Sort of…Oh my God. The map!” She reached back, felt it still strapped across her shoulder, looked up, tried to see him, but her eyes filled with dust, still raining down from above.

“Can you climb?”

“I’m sure as hell gonna try.” She reached out, touched the wall, tried to stop the turning, then braced both her feet against the tunnel walls. As soon as she started climbing, the rope seemed to loosen from around her chest, and she felt like she could breathe again.

“You’re doing good. Keep going.”

She had to stop to rest, tried to ignore the pulsing pain in her hand. “You know this is hell on my manicure.”

“Didn’t think you were the manicure type.”

“You know me. All about fashion and accessories. A real girly girl.”

Toward the top, however, the passageway widened, and she couldn’t find purchase, her hands and feet slipped. She finally had to stop. “I can’t make it.”

She could hear Griffin breathing above her. “Just a bit more.”

Her foot slid on the tufo. “I’m losing my grip. It’s too wide.” And just when she was sure she couldn’t hang on another second, just when she knew she was going to fall again, drag him down with her, the rope pulled tight beneath her arms.

“I’ve got you,” he said. “I’m going to pull you up.”

“Whose idea was it to get on that plane to Italy?”

“We’re almost to the surface. Just a couple more feet.”

He helped her to the top, then over the edge, and she collapsed next to him. She’d been climbing on sheer adrenaline, of which there was none left at the moment. As she caught her breath, she looked over at him. “I’m going to have rope burn in places no rope should ever be.”

He laughed. “That’ll be foremost in my mind next time I decide to climb through tunnels in Naples.”

“Figures,” she said, staring up at the ceiling, at the shadows.

“You want, I could-”

“Is that light up there?”

“Where?”

She pointed straight up.

“I’ll be damned,” he said.

“Where are we?”

“Sort of looks like an unfinished basement, if I had to guess. Maybe the opening was blocked until the cave- in.”

She closed her eyes in relief, opened them again, worried that the light from the windows above would disappear, that it had all been a dream. But no, it was still there. And in that moment, she reached out, felt the round shape of the tube from the cavern. “What time is it?” she asked.

Griffin looked at his watch. “We have less than an hour before Adami expects us to contact him.”

Together they moved to the window. Griffin opened it, about to help Sydney out, but stopped at the sound of the sirens.

“What’s going on?” Sydney whispered.

She peered out the window they’d almost climbed through, saw general chaos with people running in every direction, then froze at the sight of dark-clad legs walking toward their window. She looked up, saw Dumas looking down at them.

“Need a hand?” Dumas said.

Griffin hesitated. He glanced over at Sydney, then turned his attention back to Dumas. “As it turns out, yes.” Griffin held up the window, and Sydney handed him the tube, then allowed Dumas to help her out. Griffin followed.

Dumas eyed the leather tube that Griffin now carried, but said only, “This way.” They followed him down the street to a small car parked about two blocks away. “The professoressa and her friend