As they moved forward cautiously, he began to wonder just how well Streeter knew the Boston Shaft. There were few horizontal tunnels on the island, and almost all of them were riddled with intersecting vertical shafts. 'Any pits along here?' he asked at last.
There was a harsh laugh. 'If there are, you'll be the first to know.'
After what seemed an eternity of nightmare shuffling through the blackness, wondering if the next step would be into open space, Hatch saw a faint glow ahead. The tunnel took a gentle turn and he made out a ragged opening, framed in light. There was a faint hum of machinery. Streeter pushed him forward at a faster pace.
Hatch stopped at the point where the tunnel opened onto the main shaft of the Water Pit. Momentarily blinded after the long chase, it took him a moment to realize that only the banks of emergency lights running along the ladder array were still lit. Another sharp pain in his ear, and Streeter forced him forward onto the metal catwalk that connected the Boston Shaft to the array. Following behind, Streeter punched a keypad bolted to the side of the lift rail. There was a humming sound from below, and in a few moments the lift itself came into view, slowed, then locked into place beside the catwalk. Streeter prodded Hatch onto the platform, then took up position behind him.
As they descended toward the base of the shaft, Hatch realized the dank, rotten smell of the Water Pit was now mixed with something else: the stench of smoke and hot metal.
The ladder array ended at the base of the Pit. The walls were narrower here, the air thick despite the ventilation systems. In the center was the narrow shaft of freshly dug earth that led down to the treasure chamber itself. Streeter gestured for Hatch to climb down the ladder. Clinging to the rails, Hatch clambered past the complex tracery of titanium struts and braces. From below came the crack and fizzle of acetylene.
Then he was at the bottom of the shaft, at the very heart of the island, swaying on uncertain feet. Streeter dropped to the ground behind him. Hatch could see that the earth before him had been cleared away from the top of a massive, rusted plate of iron. As he stared, the last ember of hope died away. Gerard Neidelman was kneeling before the plate, angling an acetylene torch into a narrow cut about three feet square. A bolt had been welded to the top of the plate, and from it a cable was fixed to the large bucket. In the far corner of the shaft stood Magnusen, arms folded, staring at Hatch with a mixture of cold hatred and contempt.
There was an angry hiss as Neidelman cut the flame on the torch. Laying it aside, he stood up and raised his visor, staring expressionlessly at Hatch.
'You're a sorry sight,' he said simply.
He turned to Streeter. 'Where did you find him?'
'He and Bonterre were trying to come back to the island, Captain. I caught up with him in the Boston Tunnel.'
'And Bonterre?'
'Their dinghy was crushed on the reef. There's a chance she survived drowning, too, but the odds are against it.'
'I see. Pity she had to get involved in this. Still, you've done well.'
Streeter flushed with the praise. 'May I borrow your sidearm for a moment, Captain?'
Neidelman slid the pistol from his belt and handed it to Streeter, an inquiring expression on his face. Streeter pointed it at Hatch and gave his own gun to Neidelman. 'Could you reload that for me, sir? I ran out of ammo.'
He gave Hatch a crooked smile. 'You missed your opportunity, Doctor. There won't be another.'
Hatch turned to Neidelman. 'Gerard, please. Hear me out.'
The Captain slapped a fresh clip into the gun, then snugged it into his belt. 'Hear you out? I've been hearing you out for weeks now, and it's getting rather tedious.' He shrugged the visor from his head and handed it to Magnusen. 'Sandra, take over the torch, please. The island's battery system will only last two hours, maybe three, and we can't waste any time.'
'You
A weary look crossed Neidelman's face. 'You never give up, do you. Wasn't a billion dollars enough?'
'Think,' Hatch went on urgently. 'Think past the treasure for a moment, think of what's been happening on this island. It explains everything. The problems with the computers, the system acting flaky. Stray radiation from the treasure chamber would cause the anomalies Wopner described. And the rash of illnesses we've had. Radiation suppresses the immune system, lowers the white blood count, allows opportunistic diseases to intrude. I'll bet that we'd find the worst cases among those who spent their time in this Pit, day after day, digging and setting braces.'
The Captain stared at him, his gaze unreadable.
'Radiation poisoning causes hair loss, makes your teeth drop out. Just like those pirate skeletons. What else could be the cause of that mass grave? There were no signs of violence on the skeletons. Why else would the rest of the pirates have left in such a hurry? They were running from an invisible killer they didn't understand. And why do you suppose Ockham's ship was found derelict, the crew all dead? Because they'd received, over time, a fatal dose of radiation, leaking from the casket that held St. Michael's Sword.'
Streeter dug the gun barrel cruelly into his ear, and Hatch tried vainly to twist free. 'Don't you get it? God knows just how radioactive that sword is. It must be hot as hell. If you expose it, you'll kill not only yourself, but who knows how many others. You—'
'I've heard enough,' Neidelman said. He looked at Hatch. 'Funny. I never thought it would be you. When I was selling the idea of this dig to our backers, juggling numbers for risk analysis, you were the one stable factor in the equation. You hated the treasure. You'd never let anyone dig on your island. Hell, you'd never even been back to Stormhaven. If I could only secure your cooperation, I knew I'd never have to worry about greed.' He shook his head. 'It pains me to think how much I misjudged you.'
There was a final hiss of steel, then Magnusen stood up. 'Done, Captain,' she said, removing the visor and reaching for the electrical box that controlled the winch. There was a whine as the cable went taut. With a thin metallic protest, the plate was lifted from the iron slab. Magnusen angled it to the far corner of the shaft floor, settled it to the earth, then unhooked the cable from the base of the large bucket.
