their wedding night, John's body next to hers—
'Mamma?'
She turned and looked at Michael in the predawn gray-ness. 'Yes, son?'
'Will Daddy find us here—at Mary's?'
'I think so—if anyone can find anyone, Daddy will find us. Come here, Annie.' Annie came beside her and Sarah hugged both children to her body.
She heard the barking of a dog, released the children, and grabbed for the rifle. But the dog stopped on the rise of ground, a golden retriever—the one her children had run with, played with. The dog ran up to them.
Michael, and then Annie—always a little more afraid of dogs-hugged the animal, and were in turn licked in the face, Sarah stood up, slinging the rifle across her back—shf could rest now, at least until John found them. 'Until/ she repeated aloud.
Natalia placed her hands on her waist, just above the Safariland holsters carrying the twin Smith & Wesson revolvers. She looked at Paul Rubenstein, saying, 'I don't see anything, Paul.'
'When John brought me up here the first time, he told me that was the whole idea.' Rubenstein smiled in the gray predawn. 'I can't really explain it as he does—but I guess he did a lot of research. He said it was the way Egyptian tombs were sealed, and things like that. He wanted the place tamper-proof. Watch this.' Rubenstein approached a large boulder on his right. He pushed against it, and the boulder rolled away.
He walked to his left, pushing a similar but not identical boulder. It was more squared off. As Rubenstein pushed, the rock on which Natalia stood beside him began to drop down. As the rock beneath them dropped, a slab of rock—she compared it to a garage door—opened inward.
'John told me it's just a system of weights and counterbalances,'
Rubenstein told her. 'Maybe you understand it better—didn't you have some training as an engineer?'
'Nothing like this,' she said, feeling literally amazed.
Rubenstein shined a flashlight—she remembered it as one of the angleheads he and John had said they'd taken from the geological supply house in Albuquerque just after the Night of the War. In the shaft of yellow light, she could see Paul bending over, flicking a switch. The interior beyond the moved-aside slab of rock was bathed in red light now. 'All ready for Christmas.' Rubenstein laughed. 'Red light? That was a joke.'
'Yes, Paul,' Natalia murmured.
'HI get the bike. Hold this.' He handed her the flashlight.
She studied the rock, murmuring, 'Granite,' as she heard the sounds of Rubenstein's Harley Low Rider being brought inside.
'Now watch this,' Rubenstein said, suddenly beside her.
'Yes, Paul.' She nodded, giving him back the flashlight. He moved over beside a light switch, then shifted a red-handled lever downward, locking it under a notch. He left the small cave for an instant and she could both hear and see him rolling the rock counterbalances back in place outside.
Rubenstein returned to the red-handled lever, loosed it from the notch that had retained it, and raised il. The granite slab—the door—started shifting back into place, blocking the entrance.
'What are those steel doors for?' Natalia asked, | gesturing beyond the pale of red light.
'The entrance inside.' Rubenstein moved toward the doors, then began working a combination dial, then another, all in the shaft of yellow light from the anglehead. 'John installed ultrasonic equipment to keep insects and critters out—'
'And closed-circuit television,' Natalia added, looking up toward the vaulted rock above her.
'Can you find that switch for the red light back there?' Rubenstein asked her.
'Yes, Paul,' she nodded, in the dim light found the switch, then worked it off. There was near total darkness now. 'Paul?'
'Right here—wait.' She heard the sounds of the steel doors opening.
She stepped closer to the beam of the anglehead flashlight, staring into the darkness beyond it.
'Ya ready?' she heard Paul's voice ask.
'I don't know . . . for—' She heard the sound of a light switch clicking.
She closed her eyes against the light a moment, then opened them.
'I don't believe it.' She heard her voice; she couldn't remember it having ever sounded quite so astonished to her.
'That's the Great Room.' She looked at Paul, watched the pride and happiness in his face.
'Great—yes,' she repeated.
She started to walk, down the three low steps in front of her, a ramp to her left, her eyes riveted on the waterfall and the pool it made at the far end of the cavern; then she drifted to the couch, the tables, the chairs, the video recording equipment, the books that lined the walls, the weapons cabinet.
And on the end table beside the sofa . . . She stopped, approaching the couch, picking up the picture frame there.
'Would you like a drink, Natalia?' Rubenstein's voice came to her from across the Great Room. 'I can show the
rest to you after a while,'
