Journey Through the Mirrors (43 page)

They stayed silent for a few moments; all they heard was the whistling of air that passed over the numerous holes in the cavern’s ceilings and upper walls.

Valerie peered over the boulder. “I don’t see anything, either. Let’s take a closer look.” She raised her gun, and they moved forward, Chetan now brandishing his gun, too.

“How does this thing open?” Logan asked, eyeing the stainless-steel door, which had no handles or hinges. “I don’t even see a security panel.”

“Probably proximity,” Chetan suggested. “You need to have a proximity device to open it.”

Valerie holstered her gun and turned her head lamp back on. “Wasn’t there supposed to be an exit vent here leading to the surface?” She pulled out her PCD and looked at the tunnel map. “Yeah, right here.”

“It’s probably behind the door,” Logan said, placing his hand on it.

“So now what?” Chetan asked, discouraged.

“Now we find another way out.” Logan turned his head lamp back on and surveyed the ceilings and walls. He sniffed the air. “I smell sulfur. Do you?”

Valerie nodded. “The whistling is much louder in here.”

“That’s because there are many more holes in the walls and ceiling here than there were in the narrower part of the tunnel. There must be other lava tubes above us,” Logan said. “Tributaries of the Gruta.”

“Where there is flowing air, there might be a way out,” Chetan suggested. “We just need to find a hole up there that we can fit through.”

“And then get up there,” Valerie added.

Logan looked back at the boulder. “Boost me up. I have an idea.” Chetan interlocked his hands, providing Logan with a step to climb up. Standing on top of the boulder, Logan looked up at the ceiling. His head lamp illuminated an opening there.

“Could we fit through it?” Valerie asked.

“I think so,” Logan said. “It’s still about three to four meters up there. Are you in the mood for a little rock climbing? We’ll need that rope and grappling hook that Rigel gave us.”

Valerie unhooked the rope from her belt, and Chetan tied one of the ends to a small grappling hook.

Logan reached down and took the hook and the rope from Valerie. He steadied himself atop the boulder and began to spin the rope with the hook attached. After building speed, he launched it toward the hole and missed terribly. The hook bounced off the ceiling with a clank and fell to the ground. After a few more failed attempts, Valerie grew impatient. “Let a trained professional give it a try.”

Logan gave her a look, but he jumped off the boulder and helped Valerie climb on top of it. She took a few moments to study the hole in the ceiling and the hook on the end of the rope. Then she whirled the rope. On her first try, it sailed into the hole and wedged itself.

Chetan whistled appreciatively. “That why she’s one of WCF’s finest.”

Valerie pulled on the rope to make sure that it was secure and began climbing up. A humbled Logan followed and found a wide smile on Valerie’s face as he made it through and joined her in the upper lava tube.

“It’s hotter up here. The sulfur smell is more pronounced, too.”

“Yeah, and you can really feel the breeze,” Valerie said, then called through the opening, “Come on, Chetan. Your turn.”

Chetan grabbed the rope and started climbing. When he was barely a meter and a half off the ground, he jumped down and turned off his head lamp.

Valerie leaned over the opening. “Chetan, what are you doing? Get up here right now!”

“Pull up the rope!” he said, his voice low. “The door just opened. I count six men. They have guns and spot lamps.”

Logan and Valerie turned off their head lamps. They could hear muffled voices. “Hurry up and start climbing. That’s an order!” Valerie whispered.

“No time. They’re coming this way. I’m going to make a run for it. You and Logan need to keep going.” Chetan shot off into the darkness.

“Someone’s down here!” one of the men yelled. “He’s running down the tunnel.”

“Stop!” another yelled.

Logan pulled Valerie back from the opening. More shouts followed, and then a round of gunshots echoed in the cavern. They heard people running below on the cavern floor. Logan squeezed Valerie’s hand. A moment later, there were more raised voices and more rounds of gunfire.

“I’m going after him.” Valerie pulled away from Logan and prepared herself to climb down. “I can’t leave him.”

“Wait,” Logan said. “Listen.”

They heard people approaching below. “Who else is down here with you?” a deep voice asked.

“No one,” Chetan said. “I’m a geologist. I’m just exploring the island.”

“This island and everything on it is private property,” another male voice said.

“Here’s his badge. He’s WCF.”

“A geologist, eh? Keep searching the tunnel. I’ll send more men down here. Where there’s one WCF agent, there’s bound to be more. I’ll take him up and let the boss know.”

Logan and Valerie remained still and silent until they couldn’t hear any more voices. “He’s still alive,” Logan whispered. “We’ll get him back. We have to keep going.” When he turned on his head lamp, he saw the anguish on Valerie’s face.

“I’m not losing another member of my team,” she said, determined.

Logan turned on her head lamp and grabbed her hand.

The upper lava tube was lower and narrower than the one they had come from, and it was much hotter. The smell of sulfur was also more pronounced. Barely able to stand without knocking their heads against the ceiling, Logan and Valerie walked in the direction of the breeze. The tunnel curved right and then left as they proceeded. They heard a rumbling sound before a faint orange light appeared about thirty meters ahead of them. The tunnel then grew even smaller, and they had to hunch down in order to move forward until they couldn’t go any
farther. They gazed awestruck at the gigantic pit that was the source of the heat, the sulfuric smell, and the orange light. Lava poured out of an opening like a waterfall in slow motion, falling in a river of molten rock. The heat was almost unbearable.

Logan looked up. Metal beams and girders were supporting a retractable flooring system, perfectly square in shape. Catwalks and ladders led up to small hatches on its perimeter. Hanging from the center of the flooring system was a fifty-meter tube that was attached to a large cylindrical object. “Where in the world are we?”

Valerie pulled out her PCD. “According to the map, we are directly below the pyramid.” She frantically pushed the buttons of her PCD, trying again and again and sighing in defeat when she put it away.

“What is it?” Logan asked.

“They deactivated Chetan’s PCD,” she said. “I’m not getting any signal from it.”

48

If you saw a man steal some food from another man and then saw that man robbed by someone else, would you deem that justice? Or would you offer him some bread?

—THE CHRONICLES OF SATRAYA

CAIRO, 1:15 P.M. LOCAL TIME, MARCH 26, 2070

Mr. Perrot awoke with a terrible headache. He opened his eyes and saw that he was lying on a stone floor facing a wall covered with hieroglyphics. He reached to the right side of his head near his temple and could feel that a small piece of metal, about the size of a bottle cap, had been placed there. He tried to remove it, but it hurt too much to touch the skin surrounding it. He heard a sound from behind him, and he tensed. Not knowing what to expect, he turned cautiously. To his relief, he saw it was Madu lying beside him, trying to sit up. “Are you all right, my friend?” Mr. Perrot asked groggily, still trying to get his own bearings.

Madu blinked slowly. “What happened? The last thing I remember is someone breaking the windows of the car.” Madu felt the right side of his head. He, too, had a small piece of metal on his temple. “What is this?”

“I’m not sure.” Mr. Perrot mustered the strength to rise to his feet. “Whoever brought us here must have affixed these devices to us. Not that I’m even sure where
here
is.” Large copper urns spouting flames sat
in front of massive pillars at the four corners of the room. No doorway was visible, and the ceiling was so high the light of the flames could not illuminate it.

Madu brought himself to one knee and gazed around the chamber. “It can’t be,” he said in awe.

“Do you know this place?”

Madu quickly turned to the hieroglyphics on the wall closest to him. “I have studied this pattern a million times,” he said, running his hand over it affectionately.

He extended his hand, and Mr. Perrot helped him to his feet.

“This is the secret chamber I told you about, the one I was brought to when I first discovered the
Chronicles
 . . .”

“How is that possible?” Mr. Perrot asked. “You said only Nadine and Rigel knew about this place.”

Madu did not answer. Mr. Perrot felt a tingling on the back of his neck. He reached back to see if an insect was crawling up his neck.

“There is nothing there, Robert,” Madu said. “I believe that what you’re feeling are charged particles in the air. Do you remember I told you that capstones had been placed on top of all the Giza pyramids as part of the restoration work?”

Mr. Perrot looked at him, astonished. “Are you saying that the pyramid is generating electricity?”

“Yes,” Madu said. “This chamber is directly under the apex. Now that the capstone has been put into place, a tiny amount of electricity is flowing.”

The sound of mumbling caught their attention. Mr. Perrot could see someone’s shadow on the wall near one of the large pillars at the opposite end of the room. He pressed his index finger to his lips, and then he and Madu quietly made their way across the chamber. Madu
grabbed Mr. Perrot by the shoulder and moved him slightly to the side to avoid a raised platform on the ground that he was about to trip over. Mr. Perrot looked down and saw an image of two men playing flutes on it. It reminded him of the platform he’d seen in the Moon Pyramid at Teotihuacán. As he and Madu continued past it, they saw a large unzipped canvas bag filled with excavation supplies and hand tools. They assumed that the man, who was now mumbling more loudly, had brought it with him. When Mr. Perrot peeked around the pillar, he saw a man kneeling on the ground, facing the wall. The man’s thinning gray hair floated in the air due to the static electricity in the chamber. He was drawing something on the wall with a piece of white chalk. Madu looked over Mr. Perrot’s shoulder. The mumbling man seemed unaware of their presence and continued to draw over the ancient hieroglyphics.

“What is he writing?” Madu asked in a whisper, unable to see clearly in the dim light.

Mr. Perrot shook his head, unsure. “Hello,” he called to the man, but he got no reply. “Hello,” he called again, moving closer and placing his hand on the man’s right shoulder.

The man screamed and jumped to his feet, dropping the piece of chalk. He stepped backward and pressed himself tightly against the wall, holding his arms rigidly by his side. Startled by his actions, Mr. Perrot and Madu also stepped back. The man was wide-eyed, his gaze rapidly shifting between Mr. Perrot and Madu. He seemed to be afraid of them. Mr. Perrot noticed that he, too, had a small metallic device attached to his right temple.

“It is OK, my friend,” Mr. Perrot said in a calming tone. “We are not going to hurt you.”

Madu took a few steps forward and bent down to better see the scribbling on the wall. “This is the same writing we saw at the Calhoun Center,” Madu said, looking up at Mr. Perrot and then at the other man’s face. “And this is Cassandra’s music teacher, Sumsari Baltik.”

49

Mind is Mind.

—THE CHRONICLES OF SATRAYA

CAIRO, 1:31 P.M. LOCAL TIME, MARCH 26, 2070

“What are you doing here?” Madu asked Sumsari. “How did you get here?”

Sumsari didn’t answer. He continued to shift his gaze between Madu and Mr. Perrot.

“Sir,” Madu persisted, “you must tell us how you came to be here.”

“He’s lost his faculties,” Mr. Perrot said, turning to look around the chamber. “What is certain is that all of us have been brought here against our will. We need to get out of here.” He checked his coat pockets for his PCD. He was unable to find it. Madu searched for his, but it was gone, too. “Where is the door to this room?”

“There is a small passageway close to where we awoke,” Madu replied. “That is how I entered the second time, when I located the chamber on my own after much searching.”

Mr. Perrot tried to take Sumsari by the arm to lead him to the passageway, but Sumsari knelt back down and once again started to scribble and mumble, this time more loudly. “Must find . . . suffering . . . death.”

“Sir, you must come with us,” Mr. Perrot implored. “It is not safe for you to stay here.”

“Madness has overtaken him,” Madu said. “I wonder what he is trying to say.”

“He’s saying the same thing that he has been saying since the moment we took him,” a loud voice answered, echoing in the chamber.

Mr. Perrot and Madu turned around. A man stepped from behind one of the pillars, his face shadowed. Another, taller man emerged and stood by his side.