smoke. She rose and darted for the opening, firing at the other light bar. Another blinding explosion flared, then extinguished and the chamber was plunged into total darkness. She set her course just as the last bits of light faded and hoped she ran straight.
If not, a wall of rock would be waiting for her.
Knoll dashed for the stiletto as the first light bar exploded. He realized there'd be only a few more seconds of vision, and Danzer was right, without the knife he was unarmed. A gun would be nice. He'd foolishly left the CZ-75B in his hotel room, thinking it not necessary for this short foray. He actually preferred the stealth of a blade to a gun, but fifteen rounds would have come in handy right now.
He yanked the stiletto free of the canvas and turned. Danzer was racing for the opening to the shaft. He readied himself for another throw.
A light bar exploded in a blinding flash.
Then the room congealed into darkness.
Suzanne ran straight ahead and bisected the opening leading out to the gallery. Ahead, the main shaft was strung with bulbs. She focused on the glow closest to her and raced straight for it, then charged down the narrow shaft, using her gun to rake the bulbs clean and extinguish the trail.
Knoll was blinded by the last flash. He closed his eyes and told himself to stand still, stay calm. What had Monika said about Danzer earlier?
Hardly. Dangerous as hell was a better description.
The acrid odor of an electrical burn filled his nostrils. The chamber started to cool from the darkness. He opened his eyes. Black slowly dissolved and even darker forms appeared. Beyond the opening, past the gallery to the main shaft, lights flashed as bulbs exploded.
He ran toward them.
Suzanne raced for daylight. Footsteps echoed from behind. Knoll was coming. She had to move fast. She emerged into a dim afternoon and sprinted through thick forest toward her car. The half kilometer would take a minute or so to traverse. Hopefully she had enough of a lead on Knoll to give her time. Maybe he wouldn't know which direction she went after exiting.
She zigzagged past tall pines, through dense ferns, breathing hard, commanding her legs to keep moving.
Knoll exited the tunnel and quickly took stock of the surroundings. Off to his right, clothing flashed through the trees fifty meters away. He took in the shape of the runner.
A woman.
Danzer.
He sprinted in her direction, stiletto in hand.
Suzanne reached the porsche and leaped in. She revved the engine, slammed the gear shift into first, and plunged the accelerator to the floor. Tires spun, then grabbed, and the car lurched forward. In the rearview mirror, she saw Knoll emerge from the trees, knife in hand.
She sped to the highway and stopped, then cocked her head out the window and saluted before speeding away.
Knoll almost smiled at the gesture. Payback for his mocking of her in the Atlanta airport. Danzer was probably proud of herself, pleased with her escape, another one-up on him.
He checked his watch. 4:30 P.M.
No matter.
He knew exactly where she'd be in six hours.
FORTY-FOUR
4:45 p.m.
Paul watched the last partner file out of the salon. Wayland McKoy had smiled at each one, shook their hands, and assured them that things were going to be great. The big man seemed pleased. The meeting had gone well. For nearly two hours they'd fended questions, lacing their answers with romantic notions of greedy Nazis and forgotten treasure, using history as a narcotic to dull the investors' curiosity.
McKoy walked over. 'Friggin' Grumer was pretty good, huh?' Paul, McKoy, and Rachel were now alone, all the partners upstairs, settling into their rooms. Grumer had left a few minutes ago.
'Grumer did handle himself well,' Paul said. 'But I'm not comfortable with this stalling.'
'Who's stallin'? I intend to excavate that other entrance, and it could lead to another chamber.'
Rachel frowned. 'Your ground radar soundings indicate that?'
'Shit if I know, Your Honor.'
Rachel took the rebuke with a smile. She seemed to be warming to McKoy, his abrupt attitude and sharp tongue not all that different from her own.
'We'll bus the group out to the site tomorrow and let 'em get an eyeful,' McKoy said. 'That should buy us a few more days. Maybe we'll get lucky with the other entrance.'
'And pigs will fly,' Paul said. 'You've got a problem, McKoy. We need to be thinking through your legal position. How about I contact my firm and fax them that solicitation letter. The litigation department can look at it.'
McKoy sighed. 'What's that goin' to cost me?'
'Ten thousand retainer. We'll work off that at two-fifty an hour. After, it's by the hour, paid by the month, expenses on you.'
McKoy sucked in a deep breath. 'There goes my fifty thousand. Damn good thing I haven't spent it.'
Paul wondered if it was time McKoy knew about Grumer. Should he show him the wallet? Tell him about the letters in the sand? Perhaps he knew all along about the chamber being barren and simply withheld the information. What had Grumer said this morning? Something about suspecting the site was dry. Maybe they could blame everything on him, a foreign citizen, and claim justifiable reliance.
'Herr McKoy,' Grumer said as he rushed into the salon. 'There's been an incident at the site.'
Rachel studied the worker's skull. A knot the size of a hen's egg sprouted beneath the man's thick brown hair. She, Paul, and McKoy were in the underground chamber.
'I was standing out there,' the man motioned to the outer gallery, 'and the next thing I knew, everything went black.'
'You didn't see or hear anyone?' McKoy asked.
'Nothing.'
Workers were busy replacing the blown-out bulbs in the light bars. One lamp was already glowing again. She studied the scene. Smashed lights, bulbs obliterated in the main shaft, one of the canvas awnings ripped down the side.
'The guy must have got me from behind,' the man said, rubbing the back of his head.
'How do you know it was a guy?' McKoy asked.
