himself retching. Above the surgical mask Hackett's eyes showed his disgust. For a man who hated anything remotely dirty or sucio this was a nightmare.
In the darker corners of the ceiling, Ross spotted thousands of bats hanging from the rock. He dreaded the possibility of their waking suddenly and overwhelming them as they fled the cave in their thousands. He pointed upwards to warn the others, who instinctively pushed themselves closer to the wall, putting as much distance as they could between them and the edge.
The danger, however, came from below.
Hackett saw the sandy-coloured snake first, wriggling along the ledge, trying to evade them, but Zeb almost stepped on it. It reared and struck her thick walking boot. As it prepared to strike again Hackett kicked it away, inadvertently towards Mendoza, who jumped out of its path and lost his footing. Trying to regain his balance, he fell on then rolled off the ledge. He scrabbled frantically for a handhold on the sharp rock but gained only a momentary grip before he dropped into the seething mound of filth. He sank fast. Cockroaches covered his boots and lower leg, then swarmed up his body.
By the time Ross was on his knees and holding out his good hand, Mendoza was up to his neck in bat faeces. As his head sank below the cockroaches, he stared up at Ross, lips sealed, eyes wide with terror. Ross hung further over the ledge but couldn't reach his flailing right hand. Then an arm circled his waist and a rope tightened over his shirt.
'You're okay,' said Hackett. 'Zeb and I've got you.'
Eyes watering, nostrils stinging, Ross edged over till his face was inches from the filth and grabbed Mendoza's hand just as it disappeared. Mendoza's other hand reached for him and the sudden weight almost yanked his face into the mire. 'Pull me up!' he shouted.
His arm jerked so hard that Ross had to use his broken wrist to avoid dislocating his shoulder. Gritting his teeth against the pain, he felt the rope tighten round his waist and drag him up. Gradually, Mendoza emerged, and when his head cleared the surface he breathed out and gasped.
As they dragged him on to the ledge, Sister Chantal sprayed him with insect repellent. Lying there, he writhed like a madman, knocking Hackett's glasses and medical bag into the filth. His panic only abated after Hackett patted down his clothes, scattering the remaining cockroaches. As Mendoza recovered his composure and changed his clothes, Ross watched Hackett's medical bag and spectacles sinking beneath the seething cockroaches. He also saw the snake, writhing in its death throes. After a few seconds the mound had consumed it.
Zeb patted Hackett's shoulder. He was rubbing his hands as if to erase any trace of the cockroaches he had brushed off Mendoza. 'Thanks for kicking the snake away from me.' She gestured to his usually clean, pressed trousers and grinned. 'You should regard this as aversion therapy.'
Hackett smiled thinly. 'I've lost my glasses. I'm almost blind without them.'
'I can't believe a man like you doesn't have a spare set,' said Zeb.
'I do,' Hackett said. He pointed at the mound. 'It was in my medical bag.'
Mendoza stood up and helped Ross to his feet. 'That's the second time someone's saved my life. How's your wrist?'
Like my hand's coming off, he thought. 'It's fine,' he said.
They continued along the pyrites seams, descending until they reached another vast chamber, not as wide or as long as before but taller, illuminated by a single, distant opening above. A Manhattan skyscraper could have stood in that cavern and not protruded from the hole.
'Look,' said Hackett.
Ross's heart skipped a beat. A few yards from where they were standing, half concealed by stones, corroded but still recognizable, lay a metal helmet of the same peaked design used by the Spanish conquistadors, and a pewter goblet.
'Surely they can't be from Falcon's quest,' said Zeb, as Hackett picked up the goblet, rubbed it clean and put it into his backpack.
The heat was oppressive now and Ross could see a causeway of black pumice stepping-stones ahead, leading across a chasm through which a stream of molten lava flowed: the river of fire mentioned in the Voynich. Beyond, they would encounter an unwelcoming network of dank, dark, dripping caves.
They were now at the threshold of the garden, and for the first time since he had embarked on his quest, Ross allowed himself to believe that Falcon and Sister Chantal had been telling the truth. He might indeed find something remarkable and miraculous here to help Lauren.
'These are the last obstacles,' said Sister Chantal. 'Beyond the river of fire lie caves of burning rain and poisonous gas, but if we follow the veins of gold we will reach the garden.' She paused, glanced at Ross, then focused on the others. 'Remember your vows. Tell no one of this place and take nothing from it.' She looked at each in turn, only moving on when they nodded.
Hackett didn't look happy. 'Mountains of bat shit, cockroaches, rivers of fire, burning rain, poisonous gas. I hope this garden of yours is worth it. Good God, it's like one of those old adventure stories.'
Ross put on his sunglasses. 'There's only one way to find out.' He pointed to the causeway. 'I'm going to cross that. Then I'm going to hold my breath, cover my skin and eyes, and rush through those caves, following the pyrites to the other side. When you follow me, you mustn't breathe the air or let the liquid dripping off the ceiling touch your skin or eyes. It's basically concentrated sulphuric acid.' He put on his waterproof and pulled up the hood, leaving as little skin exposed as possible, then walked to the causeway. 'You guys ready?'
Sister Chantal smiled.
'You, Zeb?'
Zeb nodded, eyes bright. 'Yep.'
Mendoza stepped forward to join them but Hackett hung back.
Ross's heart was beating fast. He couldn't remember the last time he had felt so excited. He realized then that this was no longer just about saving Lauren and their child. His passion for geology, stifled for so long by Big Oil, had reawakened. He called to Hackett, 'What are you waiting for? Want to discover what drove a priest to write the most mysterious manuscript in the world? Want to see a place even more amazing and magical than your precious Eldorado?' He began to walk across the causeway, heat wafting up to him from the lava. 'If you do, follow me.'
PART THREE
The Garden of God
50
After he'd crossed the causeway, Ross checked that the others were following him, then turned on his torch, took one last breath, grasped Sister Chantal's hand and led her, with Zeb, through the dripping caves. Even with the sunglasses his eyes watered. A drop from the acidic ceiling touched his right hand and he felt it burn before he rubbed it off with the opposite sleeve. This was the burning rain described in the Voynich. That, and the toxic smell of brimstone, or sulphur – a substance associated with the Devil – had made Orlando Falcon fear he had entered the portals of Hell.
Right now, Ross sympathized with him.
Holding his breath, he glanced round the system of toxic subterranean caves and passageways. From the heat under his feet, and the river of fire behind them, he guessed there was magma beneath. He felt as he had in the caves of Cueva de Villa Luz in southern Mexico, as though he had gone back billions of years to when the young Earth was a toxic incubator for the most primitive forms of life. Even here there was life: he could see small extremophiles feeding off the sulphurous walls.
Following the gilt seams, he dragged Sister Chantal and Zeb through the labyrinth for so many seconds that
