Excavation

Henry sensed that the abbot, though he might whisper of guarded secrets, actually enjoyed this little dog-and-pony show for his guests. In some ways, it worried Henry. To reveal these secrets so openly suggested that the sect had no real concern that Joan or Henry would ever be sharing such knowledge with the world. The abbot’s confidence and willingness to talk, more than anything, made Henry edgy.

Once at the altar, Abbot Ruiz waved an arm over the golden figure. “Here is our ultimate goal.”

“I don’t understand,” Joan said. Henry shared her confusion.

The abbot touched the sculpture with a single trembling finger. “Here is an empty vessel, responsive only to our thoughts. But with enough raw material, we hope to reach the spirit of God Himself. To bring his will into physical form.”

Henry stared at the sleeping figure of Christ. “You’re not suggesting -”

“We believe it was by providence that el Sangre was delivered into the hands of the Church when first discovered in the New World. It was a challenge to our faith. A test of God. If we bring together enough of this divine substance, God’s mind will reach out and enter our vessel here, bring it to life.” Abbot Ruiz turned to Henry, his eyes bright with zeal. “Our goal is to bring a living God back to this earth.”

“You’re talking about initiating the Second Coming!” Joan exclaimed.

Abbot Ruiz nodded, turning to stare across the golden figure. “Christ born again here on Earth.”

Henry shook his head. This was insane. “So why us? Why do you need us?”

Ruiz smiled and drew them away. “Because you discovered the remains of Friar Francisco de Almagro, one of our predecessors. In the sixteenth century, he was sent to search for a rumored deposit of el Sangre, a strike so large that it was said by the Incas to ‘flow from the mountaintops like water.’ He never returned and was assumed killed. But when I received word from Archbishop Kearney in Baltimore, our hope was renewed. Maybe our ancestor had discovered the mother lode, only to die before he could bring back the knowledge.” He glanced at the slumbering Christ figure. “We pray, Professor Conklin, that you’ve stumbled upon our means to reach God.”

“You truly think this mythical mother lode is at my dig?”

The abbot raised his eyebrows. “Word has reached us from our agent on-site there. Signs look promising. But after that accident at the underground temple, it’ll take us a while to -”

Henry tensed. “What accident? What are you talking about?”

Ruiz’s face grew grim. “Oh, yes, that’s right. You would have no way of knowing about the collapse.” The abbot quickly related what had happened at the ruins.

The blood drained from Henry’s face.

“But fear not, though the students are trapped, their last transmission suggested that they’d found a natural cavern in which to take shelter.”

“I need to get up there! Now!” Henry blurted out, pulling from Joan’s grasp. All interest in anything here died to cold ash. Oh, God… he had forgotten all about Sam. He had not even considered that his nephew might be in danger, too.

“There is nothing you can do. I’m in contact with my men up there. Any change, one way or the other, and I’ll tell you immediately.”

Henry’s blood, which had drained from his face, rushed back. “You’ll get no cooperation from me! Not until I know my nephew is safe!”

“Calm yourself, Professor Conklin. I’ve already sent a team of mining experts to assist in the rescue.”

Henry wrung his hands together. Joan stepped nearer, drawing an arm around his shoulders. He stood stiffly in her embrace. After the death of his wife and brother, Sam was his only family. Henry had no room for anyone else. If he had not been so enamored of his old college flame, Henry might have been thinking more clearly and avoided this whole mess. Stepping out of Joan’s embrace, Henry spoke to the abbot through clenched teeth. “If any harm comes to Sam from this, I will kill you.”

Abbot Ruiz backed up a step, while Friar Carlos moved in with his Glock, warning Henry off. The abbot’s voice trembled slightly. “I’m sure your nephew is safe.”

Another booby trap!

As the gold floor trembled underfoot, Sam pulled Maggie to his side. She had been attempting to unlock the statue’s door, but it had locked tight behind them. “Brace yourselves!” Sam yelled above the growing roar of rushing water below. “Be ready to act!” Through his bootheels, the reverberations thrummed up his legs and tingled his ribs and spine.

A step away, Denal supported Norman; the young Quechan’s eyes were huge saucers.

The rumble below grew deafening in the small space, and the floor bucked under Sam’s boots. “Hang on!”

Suddenly the roar filled the space around them; the floor trembled as if holding back an immense pressure. Then the loud knock of catches releasing echoed all around them. The platform shot upward under them. Norman fell to his hands and knees, crying out in pain as his injured limb struck the metal floor. No one else spoke, hushed with fear, frozen in tense postures.