voice.
She had. It meant she was on the right track.
She did the same thing in the center section, but this time traced an S rather than a C.
Another click.
Grinning now, she moved her hand to the final section and traced the letter A.
CSA. The Confederate States of America.
Something near and dear to both of them.
The square in the exact center of the mosaic slid aside with a sharp snap, revealing a depression beneath.
It was just large enough to fit the average personâs finger.
Intrigued now, the abbot reached out a hand, intending to press the location, but Annja pulled the box out of his reach.
âWait,â she said. âIt could be booby-trapped.â
Sheâd run into more than a few of those in her years as an archaeologist and wouldnât have put it past the box maker to build a trigger into an obvious location like this one.
It would be a good way to lose a finger.
She snagged a pencil off the abbottâs desk and used the eraser end to poke the center of the depression.
Nothing happened.
She tried again.
Still nothing.
âPerhaps the pencil isnât wide enough?â the abbot suggested.
She tried a third time, but with two pencils held together rather than one.
The box just sat there, silently gloating at them.
After everything sheâd been through so far, there was no way was she going to let a stupid wooden box beat her.
She bent over, closer to the table, and stared at the depression in the lid. From that angle it was clear that rather than being smooth, as sheâd originally suspected, it was beveled in a simple pattern.
It looked familiar somehow.
She stared at it for a long moment, trying to give it shape and form, to understand what the object that would fit into it might look like.
Suddenly she got it.
âYes!â she cried, startling the abbott. Getting up from the table she went over to her backpack and dug in the pocket for the envelope containing the ring sheâdfound during her sojourn into the catacombs the night before.
Parkerâs ring.
With the break in at the museum, she hadnât had the chance to properly catalog and store it. In fact, sheâd almost forgotten she still had it.
Taking it out of the glassine envelope sheâd stored it in, Annja held the ring up to the light and examined the stone. It appeared to have the same basic shape as the depression in the box. And it was the right size, too.
Annja would bet anything that both Parker and Sykes wore identical rings!
She stepped up to the table and without hesitation pressed the stone atop the ring into the depression in the lid of the puzzle box.
A sudden clicking and whirring erupted from the box, like the sound a windup toy makes when it has been released. Panels across the surface of the box popped open, twisted and turned with the help of mechanical gears buried deep inside the contraption, and these in turn opened others. It took a good three minutes for the box to stop rearranging itself on the table in front of them, and by the time it was finished Annja could see a definite crease where the top separated from the rest.
When she was reasonably confident that the box wasnât going to start rearranging itself again, she reached out and separated the two pieces.
Inside, in a velvet-lined chamber, another envelope rested much like the one sheâd taken from the pocket of Parkerâs sack coat.
Just to be safe, she poked that with a pencil as well before reaching in and picking it up.
Inside was a single sheet of stationery.
In the cellars of the wine god
Lies a key without a lock
That will lead you to the place
Where the two mouths meet
There youâll find the Lady
Left alone and in distress
You must secure her when youâre able
And take Ewellâs Rifle from her crest
Take the rifle to the place of Leeâs greatest failure
Where the Peacock freely roamed
Find the spot where my doppelgänger rests
eternal
Deep beneath
She had. It meant she was on the right track.
She did the same thing in the center section, but this time traced an S rather than a C.
Another click.
Grinning now, she moved her hand to the final section and traced the letter A.
CSA. The Confederate States of America.
Something near and dear to both of them.
The square in the exact center of the mosaic slid aside with a sharp snap, revealing a depression beneath.
It was just large enough to fit the average personâs finger.
Intrigued now, the abbot reached out a hand, intending to press the location, but Annja pulled the box out of his reach.
âWait,â she said. âIt could be booby-trapped.â
Sheâd run into more than a few of those in her years as an archaeologist and wouldnât have put it past the box maker to build a trigger into an obvious location like this one.
It would be a good way to lose a finger.
She snagged a pencil off the abbottâs desk and used the eraser end to poke the center of the depression.
Nothing happened.
She tried again.
Still nothing.
âPerhaps the pencil isnât wide enough?â the abbot suggested.
She tried a third time, but with two pencils held together rather than one.
The box just sat there, silently gloating at them.
After everything sheâd been through so far, there was no way was she going to let a stupid wooden box beat her.
She bent over, closer to the table, and stared at the depression in the lid. From that angle it was clear that rather than being smooth, as sheâd originally suspected, it was beveled in a simple pattern.
It looked familiar somehow.
She stared at it for a long moment, trying to give it shape and form, to understand what the object that would fit into it might look like.
Suddenly she got it.
âYes!â she cried, startling the abbott. Getting up from the table she went over to her backpack and dug in the pocket for the envelope containing the ring sheâdfound during her sojourn into the catacombs the night before.
Parkerâs ring.
With the break in at the museum, she hadnât had the chance to properly catalog and store it. In fact, sheâd almost forgotten she still had it.
Taking it out of the glassine envelope sheâd stored it in, Annja held the ring up to the light and examined the stone. It appeared to have the same basic shape as the depression in the box. And it was the right size, too.
Annja would bet anything that both Parker and Sykes wore identical rings!
She stepped up to the table and without hesitation pressed the stone atop the ring into the depression in the lid of the puzzle box.
A sudden clicking and whirring erupted from the box, like the sound a windup toy makes when it has been released. Panels across the surface of the box popped open, twisted and turned with the help of mechanical gears buried deep inside the contraption, and these in turn opened others. It took a good three minutes for the box to stop rearranging itself on the table in front of them, and by the time it was finished Annja could see a definite crease where the top separated from the rest.
When she was reasonably confident that the box wasnât going to start rearranging itself again, she reached out and separated the two pieces.
Inside, in a velvet-lined chamber, another envelope rested much like the one sheâd taken from the pocket of Parkerâs sack coat.
Just to be safe, she poked that with a pencil as well before reaching in and picking it up.
Inside was a single sheet of stationery.
In the cellars of the wine god
Lies a key without a lock
That will lead you to the place
Where the two mouths meet
There youâll find the Lady
Left alone and in distress
You must secure her when youâre able
And take Ewellâs Rifle from her crest
Take the rifle to the place of Leeâs greatest failure
Where the Peacock freely roamed
Find the spot where my doppelgänger rests
eternal
Deep beneath
Similar Books
