Douglas Preston: Riptide

A great tremor shook the shaft. Dirt and sand rained down, and the titanium bracings above gave a howl of protest. There was another flicker, and the emergency lights failed. The bucket came to a wrenching stop just below the ladder array, banging both sides of the narrow shaft.

Making sure the sword was secure, Neidelman reached up toward the winch rope, groping in the darkness. His fingers brushed against the lowest pilings of the array. Another terrible shudder twisted the Pit and he lunged upward with desperate strength, hoisting himself to the first rung, then the second, his feet dangling over the ruinous chasm. The entire support structure of the Pit was trembling under the strain, bucking like a live thing under his hands. There was a snapping sound in the darkness as one of the lower struts popped free. In the glow of a remote flash of lightning, he could see a broken body, bobbing in the watery ruin far beneath his feet.

As he hung from the array, gasping for air, the enormity of the disaster began to sink in. He dangled motionless for a second as his mind sought answers.

Then a vast black rage crept over his features and his mouth opened, wailing even over the roar of the void beneath him.

"Haaaaatch!"

Chapter 60

"What are you talking about?" Hatch asked, leaning against the wet tunnel wall, fighting for breath. "What final trap?"

"According to Roger, the Water Pit was built above a formation called a piercement dome," Bonterre shouted. "A natural void that goes deep into the earth. Macallan planned to snare Ockham with it."

"And we thought bracing the Pit would take care of everything." Hatch shook his head. "Macallan. He always was one step ahead of us."

"These struts of titanium are holding the Pit together—temporarily. Otherwise, the whole thing would have collapsed by now."

"And Neidelman?"

"Sais pas. He probably fell into the void with the treasure."

"In that case, let's get the hell out of here."

He turned toward the mouth of the tunnel just as another violent tremor shook the array. In the moment of silence that followed, a low beeping sounded from beneath Bonterre's sweater. She reached in, drew out the Radmeter, and handed it to Hatch.

"I got this from your office," she said. "I had to break a few things to find it."

The display was dim—the battery was obviously low—but the message displayed across the top of the screen was all too clear:

244.13 Rads/hour

Fast neutron flux detected

General radiation contamination probable

Recommendation: Immediate evacuation

"Maybe it's picking up residual radiation?" Bonterre suggested, peering at the screen.

"The hell it is. Two hundred forty-four rads? Let me see if I can bring the locator up."

He glanced at Clay, who obliged by turning the flashlight beam toward the machine. Hatch began stabbing at the miniature keyboard. The warning message disappeared, and the three-dimensional coordinate grid once again filled the screen. Standing, Hatch began to move the detector around. A blazing, rainbow-colored spot blossomed in the center of the screen, colors shifting as he turned.

"Oh, my God." He looked up from the screen. "Neidelman's not dead. He's on the ladder now, below us. And he's got the sword."

"What?" Bonterre breathed.

"Look at these readings." Hatch turned the Radmeter toward her. A ragged patch of white showed on its display, oscillating wildly. "Christ, he must be getting a massive dose from the sword."

"How much of a dose?" Clay asked, his voice strained.

"What I want to know is, how much of a dose are we getting?" Bonterre asked.

"We're not in immediate danger. Yet. There's a lot of intervening ground. But radiation poisoning is cumulative. The longer we stay, the bigger the dose."

Suddenly, the earth shook like a possessed thing. A few feet down the tunnel, a massive beam gave way with a loud crack. Dirt and pebbles rained around them.

"What are we waiting for?" Bonterre hissed, turning toward the depths of the tunnel. "Let's go!"

"Wait!" Hatch cried, the Radmeter buzzing in his hands.

"We cannot wait!" Bonterre said. "Can this tunnel lead us out?"

"No. The base of the well was sealed off when the reverend reset the trap."

"So let's climb out the Pit! We cannot stay here." She began walking toward the array.

Hatch pulled Bonterre roughly back into the tunnel.

"We can't go out there," he hissed.

"Why not?"

Clay was now at their side, looking intently at the screen. Hatch glanced at him, briefly surprised at the look of suppressed excitement, almost triumph, on the minister's face.

"According to this," Hatch said slowly, "that sword is so radioactive that even one second's exposure to it gives a lethal dose. Neidelman's out there now, and he's climbing toward us. If we so much as peek out into the main shaft, we're toast."

"Then why is he not dead?"

"He is dead. Even the most massive doses of radiation take time to kill. He was dead the moment he laid eyes on that sword. And we're dead, too, if we get within a sight line of it. Neutron radiation propagates through the air like light. It's vital that we keep rock and earth between him and us."

He stared at the Radmeter. "He's maybe fifty feet below now, maybe less. Go back down this tunnel as far as you dare. With luck, he'll climb right past us."

Over the uprushing of sound, Hatch heard an indistinct shout.

Gesturing for the others to stay back, he crept forward, halting just before the mouth of the shaft. Beyond, the web of titanium struts shivered and swayed. A low-battery alarm began sounding on the Radmeter, and he looked down to check the display:

3217.89 Rads/hour

Fast neutron flux detected

IMMEDIATE EVACUATION CRITICAL

Christ, he thought, it's redlined. They were still within safety limits, shielded by the rock and dirt of the Water Pit. But Neidelman was closer now, and soon not even the intervening earth would—

"Hatch!" came the hoarse, ragged voice.

Hatch paused.

"I found Lyle's body."

Still Hatch said nothing. Could Neidelman know where he was? Or was he merely bluffing?

"Hatch! Don't be coy, it doesn't suit you. I saw your light. I'm coming for you. Do you hear me?"

"Neidelman!" he yelled in return.

There was no answer. He glanced back at the Radmeter. The whitish blob on the screen kept ascending the grid, flickering in and out with the waning power of the battery.

"Captain! Stop! We need to talk."

"By all means. We'll have a nice little talk."

"You don't understand!" Hatch cried, inching even closer to the edge. "The sword is highly radioactive. It's killing you, Captain! Get rid of it, now!"

He waited, straining to hear above the uprushing roar.

"Ah, the endlessly inventive Hatch," came Neidelman's voice, faint and unnaturally calm. "You planned this disaster very well."

"Captain, for Chrissakes, drop the sword!"

"Drop it?" came the answer. "You set this trap, wreck the Water Pit, kill my crew, deprive me of my treasure. And now you want me to drop the sword? I don't think so."

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"Don't be diffident. Take credit for your fine work. A few well-placed explosives did the trick, right?"

Hatch rolled onto his back, staring at the ceiling, searching for options. "You're a sick man, Captain," he called out. "If you don't believe me, ask your own body. The sword is a powerful emitter of fast neutron radiation. It's already stopped all cell mitosis and DNA synthesis in your body. Soon you'll be suffering from cerebral syndrome. The most severe form of radiation poisoning."

He listened. Except for the roar of the great gulf beneath, the only sound he heard was the dying chirp of the Radmeter. He took a deep breath.