survive-in the afterlife.”
“Go on,” said Stone.
“If such an important ritual as the Opening of the Mouth was rushed, it implies great urgency involved in the final stages of her entombment. Who knows what other critical steps for the journey of Niethotep’s soul into the next world might have been abbreviated-or even skipped?”
“This Opening of the Mouth ceremony,” Logan said. “If the queen’s soul could not receive nourishment in the next world-what would happen?”
Romero thought a minute. “From the ancient texts, I would guess that her vital spark-the soul that leaves the body after death-would be trapped here.”
Rush shook his head. “If she really committed this atrocity-killed her husband or at the very least usurped his place in the next world-I’d think at least a part of her ka would want to remain here. To guard the crown, safeguard her immortality, make sure nobody did to her what she did to Narmer.”
“The curse,” Romero murmured.
Her soul would be trapped here… To guard the crown; to make sure nobody did to her what she did to Narmer… All of a sudden, a terrible thought struck Logan.
“Oh, my God,” he said aloud.
Suddenly, there was another rumble from above, stronger than before. The papyrus sheets on the table trembled, as if from a gust of wind.
“What the hell is that?” Stone asked.
Valentino turned to two of the roustabouts. “Kowinsky. Dugan. Go out to the platform, see what’s going on.”
As the two headed back through the tomb, Logan took Rush aside. “We’ve been forgetting something,” he said in a low voice, out of earshot of the others.
The doctor looked at him. “What? What is it?”
“Remember our earlier talk? Where we speculated that Jennifer was brain-dead for so long-that she went over for so protracted a period-that she might have, in essence, lost her soul? Your phrase, not mine.”
The doctor frowned, nodded.
“I told you that I believe it possible for the life force of one who has already passed on to take residence in a living being- if that being’s own life force, own soul, has been compromised. But that in all documented cases, the dead person’s spirit can only take possession of someone of the same sex.”
“I remember,” Dr. Rush said. “That’s how we knew Narmer, or some shade of Narmer’s, could not be speaking through-could not be within-Jennifer.”
“Exactly. But if it isn’t Narmer’s life force that’s here at this site… if, rather, it’s the life force of a woman…”
“Queen Niethotep.” Slowly, Rush raised a hand to his mouth. “Oh, Jesus…”
At that moment, the two roustabouts, Kowinsky and Dugan, came running back. Both had their radios out.
“There’s an emergency topside,” Kowinksy said. “The emergency relief valves of the high-pressure methane system have been opened.”
“What?” Stone said, his voice sharp with anxiety. “Why?”
Kowinsky shook his head. Fear was written clearly across his face.
“You said valves. How many? More than one?”
“At least three. In Red, White, Maroon.”
“That’s impossible,” Stone went on. “The safety protocols-”
“They’ve been compromised somehow. That’s why it was discovered only now. Fires are breaking out in the crawl spaces beneath the wings, there’ve been explosions, flames are beginning to reach up into the Station itself. And if they’re unable to get to those valves in order to shut them off-”
Stone jerked a thumb in the direction of the tomb exit. “Everyone out, get topside. Now!” He took the radio from Kowinksy, snapped it on. “This is Porter Stone. Who am I speaking to?”
“Menendez, sir, in the Staging Area.” In the background, Logan could hear shouting, what sounded like the rushing of a blowtorch. “We’re sending a team down to you with emergency ropes now.”
“We’ve got close to a dozen people down here,” Stone said. “You’re going to need to-”
But he was interrupted by a frantic series of cries on the radio, voices overlapping each other, cutting in and out.
“What’s that she’s got? Nitroglycerin?”
“Get back! Get back! ”
“Don’t let her near the Maw, she’ll-”
And then there was a brilliant light from the direction of the Umbilicus, like the flare of a hundred suns-an explosion that pierced Logan’s ears and knocked him to the floor of the tomb-and then all went dark and his world ended.
53
Logan didn’t know if he’d been out for an hour-didn’t know if he’d been out for a day. But as he opened his eyes and tried to rise to a sitting position, shaking his head to clear it, he realized it could only have been a few seconds. The tomb was full of raised voices and the sound of running feet. A handful of tiny emergency lights had come on, bathing the chamber in a sepulchral crimson glow. Rush was bending over him, massaging his wrists and trying to get him on his feet.
“Come on, Jeremy,” he said. “We’ve got to go.”
The tomb was beginning to fill with choking, acrid smoke. There was a strange smell in the air: a combination of burning rubber, ozone, and-ominously-methane.
“What’s happening?” one of the roustabouts was shouting, in a ragged, hysterical tone. He had a gash on his temple that was bleeding freely. “What’s happening?”
What’s happening? The words of Narmer’s curse came into Logan’s mind. Any man who dares enter my tomb will meet an end certain and swift. The hand that touches my immortal form will burn with unquenchable fire. Should any in their temerity pass the third gate, then the black god of the deepest pit will seize him, and his limbs will be scattered to the uttermost corners of the earth.
“It’s Narmer’s queen,” he said. “Niethotep. She’s trying to preserve her immortality by burying her tomb-the tomb she stole from her husband-all over again. Killing all who would attempt to despoil it-who might attempt to wield the crown. It’s the queen-with a little help from Jennifer Rush.”
Logan realized that, in fact, he had only thought these words, not spoken them aloud. Ethan Rush was still at his side, urging him to stand. With an effort, he rose to his feet; the world swayed around him, then slowly righted itself. Rush looked intently into his eyes, grunted, then began leading the way out of the tomb.
They left the ebony nightmare of chamber three, passed through chamber two and into the larger space of chamber one. Here, the entire team was clustered around the Lock and the platform that lay beyond. There were no emergency lights here, and several people had their flashlights out, the yellow beams lancing through the thickening air. Numerous radios were chattering, filling the background with a steady, electronic din. Logan could make out the figure of Stone, standing on the air lock platform, starting to direct people up the sloping tunnel of the Umbilicus. One of the security guards urged Stone to make the climb himself, and after a moment Stone relented and went next in line. He was followed by two of the technicians. Then one of the grunts, the one named Kowinsky, forced himself to the head of the line and began climbing frantically, despite the angry shouts of Valentino, who was standing at the rear, urging everyone else on before him.
And now, shuffling forward with the others, Logan found himself ducking through the heavy door of the Lock, past the dressed granite that made up the entrance to Narmer’s tomb, and onto the thick metal grating of the air lock platform. Tina Romero was directly in front of him; she looked back, gave him a wan smile, and started to ascend. And then it was his turn. He grabbed the first handhold, looked up in preparation to climb-and stopped dead.
