Excavation

Joan replaced the phone. “Security is on its way. You were lucky this time, Henry. Next time use the hotel’s safe.”

Henry looked around the room. “I think you’re right. These thieves were damned thorough.” Joan stayed silent as Henry examined the disheveled room. “Welcome back to America,” he muttered sourly.

Joan’s eyes strayed to a suit box from Barney’s tossed in a corner. A register receipt was still taped to its cover. She eyed Henry’s handsome suit. So it seemed the professor had done some last-minute shopping for their “date.” She forced down a small smile and silently cursed the thieves that had ruined their evening.

Soon two large men in blue suits appeared at the open door. They flashed identification and entered. “We’ve called the police. They’ll be here in a moment to take a statement. Another room is already being prepared for you.”

Henry turned to Joan. “Why don’t you head home. I can take care of matters here.”

“I suppose I’d better. But tomorrow bring the crucifix with you to the lab. I’ll have Dr. Kirkpatrick look it over. He’ll know for sure if it’s gold or not.”

Henry looked about the room with a forlorn expression. “Thanks, I’ll do that.”

She moved to leave, but he stopped her with a touch on her arm. She turned to find him smiling at her. “As weird as this may sound considering the state of my room, I had a nice night.”

She squeezed his hand and held it a fraction longer than professionally necessary. “I did, too.” She returned his smile, if only a bit more shyly. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

He nodded, and as she stepped from the room, he added softly, “I look forward to it.”

Joan didn’t turn, pretending not to have heard, when actually she feared her reddening face would reveal too plainly her heart. Only when she was safely in the elevator and the doors had closed did she let out a long sigh of relief. “Get ahold of yourself,” she warned the empty elevator. “He’s an old friend. That’s all.”

Still as the elevator headed down, a small shiver of pleasure passed through her. Tomorrow could not come soon enough.

As another tumble of rocks echoed down from above, Sam glanced up from where he knelt. His eyes flicked to the others gathered around the three bands of hematite. Norman stared up toward the roof with a small flinch of his shoulders. Ralph only grumbled and continued swathing the yellow dye across his band with a small paintbrush. Denal sat to one side, running his hands slowly up and down the crowbar in his lap.

Only Maggie met his eyes. “The second level must be collapsed by now,” she whispered.

Sam nodded with a deep sigh. None of them wanted to consider what that meant. He glanced to his watch. It was a little after ten in the evening. At this rate, there was little chance the pyramid would remain intact for another two days. To distract from the weight of rock slowly crumbling down upon them, they had attempted to keep busy. Sam’s suggestion that they test his experimental dyes on the hematite bands had been grudgingly accepted.

“Now what?” Ralph asked. He stretched a kink from his back where he bent over his band.

Sam scooted closer. “Next you need to sponge the excess dye gently away with this lipophilic agent.” He passed Ralph a dry sponge and a jar of clear solution.

“I’m ready, too,” Maggie said, and reached for a second sponge.

With Sam directing, the other two students soon had the bands prepped for deciphering. Sam lifted the black Wood’s lamp and switched it on. “Okay, extinguish the flashlight.”

Once done, darkness suddenly collapsed tighter around them. A pool of purplish light was all that stood between them and absolute blackness. Bathed within the glow, the two bands fluoresced a soft green. The group clustered tighter.

“Amazing,” Maggie exclaimed.

Under Sam’s ultraviolet lamp, the ancient writing stood in stark relief, the green lettering glowing brightly, as crisp as the day it had been etched into the metal.

“Cool,” Ralph said, patting Sam on the shoulder.

Holding back his own whoop of pride, Sam ran a finger along the lettering, carefully reading the writing on the first band. “Nos Christi defenete. Malum ne fugat.” Sam concentrated intently as he translated the scrawled Latin. “ ‘Christ protect us. May the evil never escape.’ ” A chill passed down Sam’s spine.

“Not the words you want to hear trapped in a collapsed tomb,” Ralph said.

“Especially when we’re sitting right outside the cursed chamber,” Norman added, eyeing Sam. “What was that you said about the pictograph in the next room? The gateway to Heaven, the gateway to Hell?”