The Midas Code

A shout from across the chamber got his attention. “Tyler! I thought you’d be dead.”

It was Orr. He had returned, and he’d been able to remove the shoelaces binding his wrists. Tyler didn’t know whether he’d come back to make sure they’d all been killed or to gloat.

“This isn’t over, Orr,” Tyler said.

“Looks like it is to me. Then again, you could try to swim across, but that might be a little painful.” The water was already three feet deep and rising fast.

“Before I leave you to your doom and lock you in here for another two thousand years,” Orr continued, “I thought you might like to know that your father’s dead. So is Carol Benedict.”

“You son of a bitch!”

“Yeah, they’ve been dead since I first saw you this evening, and now you get to think about that for the rest of your short, miserable life while I’m off to enjoy my spoils.” He pointed at his eye. “And this? It’s nothing that a little plastic surgery won’t fix. Ciao!”

He smiled a shit-eating grin, waved a salute, and was gone, sure that Tyler would soon be a distant memory.

SIXTY-FOUR

T yler wasn’t going to give up that easily. Orr should have known that by now.

Wading or swimming through boiling acidic water was a death sentence, but Tyler wasn’t going to swim. He had a boat.

He ran over to the gilded wooden sarcophagus and tipped it over to lighten the load.

“Sorry, Your Majesty,” he said as Midas’s corpse tumbled out over the edge of the terrace and into the water. He flipped it back over and heaved the lid onto it.

He had to push the sarcophagus down the stairs, but Cavano’s body was in the way. Tyler grasped her jacket, careful not to touch the flaming-red skin that now covered her entire body like a rash, and pulled her until she was clear. He put her back down, and her eyes popped open, the bloodshot orbs nearly bursting from the sockets. Her face was contorted in agony.

“Wa… water,” she wheezed.

Tyler hesitated, but he couldn’t refuse the dying woman’s last request. He retrieved the canteen and tipped it so that water dribbled into her mouth. She swallowed, then gagged, and some of it streamed down her cheek.

“Is Orr… dead?” she croaked.

“No,” Tyler said. “But I’ll catch him.”

She coughed, barely able to force the words out. “You won’t. You won’t find Jordan Orr.”

“Why not?”

“Because he’s named for his grandfather.” Her breath caught. “His real name… is Giordano… Orsini.”

Her eyes widened as the pain overwhelmed her. She shrieked, but no sound came out. Her head lolled to the side, and her final breath rushed out. She was dead.

But she got her wish to be the golden girl. The rivulet of water on her cheek left a streak of gold. She would be immortalized in the metal when the chamber was submerged.

“Uh, Tyler?” Grant said. “You might want to hurry before I turn into a three-minute egg.”

So would the rest of them if he didn’t act fast. The water was already four feet deep.

Tyler pushed the coffin toward the stairs, his rib protesting the entire way. When the coffin was at the bottom step, he left it there and went back for Stacy.

“Can you walk?” he said.

Stacy nodded as tears streamed down her face. She had heard Orr’s news about her sister.

He helped her to her feet, and she went ashen from the headrush. He threw her arm over his shoulder and carried her to the sarcophagus.

They got on top of its lid, and it sank until the top bobbed only six inches above the surface of the water.

Tyler took off his T-shirt, wrapped it around Cavano’s contaminated gun, and used the stock as a paddle, rowing as fast as he could.

When he got to the pedestal, there was only a foot of clearance left.

“We’ll sink to the bottom if my fat ass gets on there with you,” Grant said.

He was right. Tyler kept padding. “I’ll push it back to you.”

Tyler rowed as fast as he could until he was at the steps leading up to the exit. He helped Stacy off. She was barely able to move on her own. When she was safely out of harm’s way, Tyler laid the gun on top and used his foot to shove the coffin back to Grant.

He dragged Stacy up to the top of the stairs and laid her down.

“A little help!” Grant shouted.

Tyler went back to the railing and saw that Grant was foundering. The coffin was sinking. Cavano must have put a bullet hole in it. Grant wasn’t going to make it to the stairs.

Tyler searched around him and saw Stacy’s explosive belt. He picked it up by the end and lowered it over the railing.

“Come this way!” he yelled. “Hurry!”

Grant rowed like an Olympic sculling champion. When the coffin was near the wall, he stood and reached for the belt. He supported himself with it using his feet to scrabble up the wall.

Tyler strained to hold on to the belt under the weight of Grant’s 260 pounds. With one last heave he jerked backward, and Grant caught the top of the railing with his hand just as the top of the sarcophagus went under.

A searing pain stabbed Tyler’s side as the rib finally snapped. He ground his molars trying not to cry out. Grant heaved himself over the railing.

“Thanks,” Grant said. “You okay, man?”