The Last Chamber (25 page)

Atlanta, Georgia

The guard looked up from his computer screen and gave a nonchalant
smile. The computer was positioned on top of a small desk in the corner of the
wide hall. Joe imagined the guy must have had the single most boring job on the
planet, to just sit there and check people’s clearance for access to a room.

At the time being, that boring job presented a huge problem to what
they were trying to do. Helen and Joe continued moving forward, hoping the guy
hadn’t noticed their pace slow upon seeing him. As they neared, he gave a
single nod to them, and shot a quick glance at the ID badges that hung around
their necks. Almost as quickly, he returned to staring at the computer screen
while Helen rapidly entered in her five-digit code.

She pressed the
enter
button, but instead of getting a green light accompanied with
the door opening, a red light appeared on the pad. Her code hadn’t worked. Joe
checked out of the corner of his eye to make sure the security guard hadn’t
noticed. For the moment he hadn’t, his eyes still glued to whatever it was he
was looking at on his monitor. Helen swallowed hard and entered her code again.
She took a breath as she hit
enter
. A shot of fear ran through her as the red light beeped
again.

This time, the security guard did notice. The man looked up from his
computer with an irritated expression on his face. When he stood up, Joe
realized how big the guy really was. The guard was easily three four inches
taller than Joe and was built like a Mack truck, with muscles bulging out of
the tight guard uniform. He had a military haircut, something Joe hoped was
more related to fashion rather than a previous line of work.

As the huge man stepped out from behind his desk, Joe had a million
thoughts run through his head. Some of them were wild, fanciful ideas of taking
the guy out at the knees then knocking him unconscious. That might have worked,
but to what end? They would still be stuck there in the hallway entering an
invalid code. And if it didn’t work, which was the more likely scenario, Joe
would probably end up in a hospital or dead.

The tension built as the guard stepped closer to where they stood next
to the keypad. “I’m sorry, ma’am. We’ve had problems with this thing all day.
People have been entering their access code, and it isn’t letting anyone
through. The tech guys are supposedly working on it, but it may be tomorrow
before they have it fixed.” He smiled as he cut in front of them and punched in
a different set of numbers. “They gave me an override code just in case anyone
else had any problems.”

“Thank you so much,” Helen offered, forcing a grateful smile. “I was
starting to think I was losing my mind for a second there.”

“No trouble at all, ma’am.” The guard tried to sneak a quick up and down
at Helen, hoping she hadn’t noticed. Joe almost couldn’t contain his laughter.

Finally, the door clicked open. Helen made herself contain a sigh of
relief. “Thanks again,” she said and almost rushed through the opening. Joe
simply gave the young man an appreciative nod.

Once the door closed behind them, they both let out a gasp.

“I thought we were done for sure,” Helen related.

“Done? Did you see the way he checked you out?” Joe nearly exclaimed
as they disappeared around a left corner in an even more sterile hallway.

She let out a doubtful hiss. “Honey, that boy is half my age.”

“I don’t know. You might qualify as a cougar to these young guys.”

She shook her head and his comment as they rounded another bend in the
corridor and came to a long, glass window. Through it, they could see a vast
warehouse full of boxes, crates, and plastic containers. There were mechanical
loaders moving about, lifting some of the plastic-wrapped shipments onto
pallets for other automated vehicles to take to another part of the room.

“This is a high-tech operation they got going on here,” Joe observed.
“I only see a few people inside that warehouse area.” He motioned to a few
people in white lab coats. Each one of the workers wore a white mask over his
mouth and nose.

Helen acknowledged the people inside with a short glance, continuing
to push forward until they had reached a more elaborate doorway. It was an
air-lock entrance, the likes of which Joe had only seen in movies.

On the wall next to one of the windows, a temperature gauge displayed
red digital numbers that read 40 degrees.

“Is that the temperature in there?” Joe asked.

She nodded. “The flu vaccine needs to be kept cool. The temperature
should be between thirty-six and fifty degrees. Forty is optimal.” She pointed
at the intricate doorway. “That will be a clean room,” she said then stepped
over to the other side of the corridor where a few lab coats and masks hung on
a metal rack on the wall.

She grabbed a coat off a hook and started putting it on. “You’ll need
to wear one of these,” she stated. “And we’ll need to hurry.”

Joe obeyed and quickly snatched a lab coat from the rack. He slipped
it on over his coat then copied his wife, pulling a facemask over his nose and
mouth.

“We have to go one at a time through this air lock,” she said,
pointing to a sign that backed up what she said. “I’ll go first.”

Joe watched as Helen pressed the button that opened the automatic
door, and stepped inside. When the portal closed behind her, she pressed another
button on the inside edge of the next door. A stream of mist and air sprayed
out from jet nozzles imbedded in the ceiling. After a few seconds of the
sterilization process, a green light flashed next to the second door before it
popped open.

For a moment, Joe thought he heard footsteps tapping from around the
corner. He wondered if the security guard had been alerted to who they were or
the fact that they weren’t really employees of the company. He had to wait
until the other door closed before he could open the first, but the thing was
moving slowly. The noise was growing louder, and he feared any second the guard
or several guards would appear around the corner.

A green light came on next to the button and he pressed it hurriedly.
As soon as the opening in the portal was big enough, he stepped inside and hit
the second button, closing the door behind him and starting the sterilization
process. The strange spray wasn’t wet. It felt more like a cool, dry powder.
Grates in the floor sucked air downward, pulling the smoky substance into an
air duct below. A few seconds passed before the second green light came on, and
the door opened for him as it had for Helen.

She was waiting on the other side as he entered the warehouse. “I
thought I heard someone coming,” he said in a weak attempt to stay calm.

Her face became concerned. “Quick, over here,” she moved towards a
stack of plastic boxes and ducked down behind them. Joe followed closely and
looked back just in time to see another person in a suit walking around the
corner.

“Crap,” he whispered.

“Did you see anyone?”

Joe nodded, crouching next to her. “I don’t think he saw us. He was
looking at his cell phone. It was a guy in a suit, not security.”

She looked relieved for a moment. “Still, we better get this thing and
get out of here.” He agreed with a quick nod.

“How do we know what we’re looking for?” he wondered, silently.

She scanned the row of plastic wrapped packages across the aisle.
There was a bar code on the top right corner of each one. “I guess we look at
the labels.”

“Right,” he hoped he didn’t sound like an idiot.

Helen shuffled over to the row and examined the first label. “This one
is going to Russia,” she said. “But it isn’t what we’re looking for. It’s some
kind of antibiotic.”

A sudden noise startled her from the other side of the row. She peeked
through the crack between the shipments and was relieved to see it was just the
robotic forklift. The machine picked up a pallet then backed its way down the
aisle, out of sight.

Joe put his hands out, asking if that was one of the shipments they
were looking for. She responded by shaking her head quickly.

Another noise echoed from down at the other end of the aisle, causing
Joe and Helen to jerk their heads in that direction. One of the machines had
turned their direction and was rolling along the concrete floor. The machine
took up most of the space in the row, meaning Joe and Helen were going to have
to move.

Taking a chance, Joe eased his head back around the end of the row and
stole a look through the glass to the corridor. The man in the suit had just
finished putting on a mask and was taking the last remaining lab coat off the
rack.

“That guy looks like he’s coming in,” Joe informed Helen. “We have to
get over to that other row or that thing is going to hit us. Gotta go now.”

He grabbed Helen by the wrist and jerked her up, careful to keep low
as they moved. The loader was moving closer as he stopped at the corner of the
next row and took another cautious glance back through the glass. The man had
his back turned, which Joe took as the perfect opportunity to move. They both
stood in sync and rounded the end of the row, ducking behind the other side of
the stack of supplies. A few seconds later, Joe heard the sterilization chamber
power up, signaling that the man was about to enter the warehouse.

While temporary danger had been averted, there was still the problem
that the guy would likely find them eventually. And there were two other people
in the room in lab coats. As soon as they were spotted, there would be no
chance of escape. They had to move fast.

Helen stayed crouched low and shifted over to the next row of
shipments. She read the label, but again was disappointed. She was beginning to
wonder if they were going to find anything.

A buzzer made a sound from behind where Joe was crouching. It was
followed by the click of the air lock door opening.

The guy in the suit was in the warehouse, and Joe and Helen were
running out of time.

Armenian Mountains

The temperature inside the inflatable tent was remarkably warm
considering that just outside it, snow was piling up by the minute. The
mountain winds combined with the storm to cause the sides of the temporary
shelter to shake violently, testing the strength of the anchors Will had driven
into the ground.

Alexander Lindsey sat in a chair near one of the heaters, still
wrapped up in his coat despite the warmth pouring out of the device next to his
feet. His eyes poured over the pages of an old book he held delicately in his
hands. The cover of it was brown leather. Its edges had been worn away through
the years. The pages within were still in fairly good condition despite the
apparent age of the book. The old man read the contents of the book slowly, not
wanting to miss anything important.

The room had been peaceful, other than the wind outside causing the
nylon to flap back and forth. Will was busy cleaning one of his handguns, while
Kaba did the same on a makeshift table they’d put together out of a few plastic
crates.

Out of the blue, the peace in the room was broken up by a short gust
of cold air through the door as it followed the French archaeologist into the
area. Snowflakes covered his hair and shoulders like a dramatic case of dandruff.
He shook off the accumulation and stepped further into the dwelling.

Lindsey looked up from his study with disdain. “Is there something we
can do for you?” he asked in an impatient tone.

DeGard faked gratitude and tilted his head one way in a mocking bow.
“Thank you, Monsieur. But I am merely tired of the idle talk that is taking
place in the other tent. I decided I would come over here to see what you three
were doing. However, now that I am here, I can see it is no more interesting
than the chit chat of those brutes you call your guards.”

“Well, I am so sorry to disappoint you,” Lindsey lied, overdoing the
sarcasm by a metric ton.

DeGard didn’t seem to care. He reached down and pried up the leather
book in his employer’s hands so the cover became visible. The Frenchman’s eyes
narrowed as he tried to see what the man was reading. A curious expression
crossed his face.

“What is this?” he asked after moment of awkward silence.

Lindsey eyed him suspiciously and pulled the book back a few inches.
Will turned his attention to the conversation from across the room.

“I see no harm in telling you,” the old man said, finally. “You may as
well know. It’s a diary. And it is very old.”

“Obviously it is old,” DeGard commented with a sneer. “There are not
many books in existence from the period.”

Lindsey stared up at DeGard over the tops of the wireframe glasses
perched on his splotchy nose. He could tell the Frenchman was waiting for
further explanation, but he wanted to make his employee wait for just a few more
seconds. If he happened to beg, that would be even better.

“Who did it belong to?” DeGard pressed.

Lindsey lowered the book to his lap and closed it gently. “Its
original owner was a man by the name of Sir Francis Drake. Do you know that
name?”

“Of course. Every historian knows Drake. He was one of the greatest
pirates who ever lived. How did you obtain this diary?”

“Privateer,” Lindsey corrected.

“Whatever you want to call it, Monsieur. How did this book come into
your possession?”

Lindsey shook off the desire to have Will shoot the man dead right
there. “Sir Francis was not just a pirate. He was a world traveler and a very
learned man. He did not spend all of his time at sea, though history teaches us
that is where his expertise was most renowned.” He took a deep breath before
starting again. “On one particular journey, he and his crew sailed the
Mediterranean to the coast of the Turkey. After securing their vessel, the men
ventured deep into Islamic lands, something few Christians had done since the time
of The Crusades.”

Kaba looked up again from cleaning her gun. She had come from the area
the old man was mentioning. While there were no fond memories for her there,
cutting ties to one’s homeland was something even bitter reminders could not
do.

DeGard shook his head dubiously. Narrow eyes peered with suspicion at
Lindsey. “Francis Drake went into Arabia? I have never heard this tale. Are you
sure your sources are accurate?”

The old man held up the book, wagging it at DeGard. “I’ve had this
analyzed by three different experts. Every single one of them has said this was
certainly written by Drake. Now, do you want to hear the rest of the story or
do you wish to return to the other tent?”

“I apologize. Please, continue.”

Lindsey decided not to question the sincerity of the apology, instead
going on with his tale. “While in the city we now call Istanbul, Drake and his
men had found an inn to rest for the night, calling themselves traders from the
west. The story says that even though the innkeeper was disinclined to harbor
Christians, the gold Sir Francis offered far outweighed any misgivings the
proprietor may have had.

“During the night, Drake awoke from a frightful dream, in which he had
seen a bizarre vision. Fearful any of his men might consider him to have gone
insane, he kept it to himself and recorded the contents of the dream in this
diary.” Lindsey finished by snapping the book like a whip to emphasize the
ending.

“So, it is just a book about Captain Drake’s dream?” the skinny man
was unimpressed.

Lindsey gave a smile as one would have given an ignorant child. “That
is not all that happened, my dear DeGard. After the dream, Drake was extremely
troubled. He believed he had a vision but could not divulge any of the
information to his men for fear they would mutiny. So, in the middle of the
night, he left the inn and headed into the city for some night air. As he
strolled through the streets, he passed a window that flickered with
candlelight. He couldn’t read the sign over the door because it was in Arabic,
but the door was open despite the fact that it was late at night. For some
reason, Drake was compelled to enter the building. Inside, he found an old man
sitting on the floor next to a fire. Several candles burned in various places
around the room.”

A gust of wind rattled the walls of the inflatable tent, momentarily
interrupting Lindsey’s story. DeGard looked around, seeming worried the
structure would collapse or blow away. But after several seconds, the wind died
down again, returning the room to the steady ripple of the nylon in the breeze.

“As it turns out,” Lindsey continued, “the old man Drake found in the
room was actually an alchemist.”

“Alchemy?” DeGard scoffed again.

“I am only telling you the story behind this diary and why it pertains
to our journey now.”

“By all means, Monsieur, go on.”

“The Arabic alchemist told Sir Francis of a place where the eternal
life could be found, where a substance grew from a tree that could sustain life
perpetually.”

Finally, DeGard understood the point of the old man’s story. “Ah. So,
the book is a map?”

“No,” Lindsey shook his head. “If it were a map, none of this charade
would have taken place. The stones, the clues, all of it would be pointless if
I had a map. Don’t you think?”

The Frenchman didn’t react, feeling foolish for probably the first
time in his life.

Lindsey held up the book again. “This book contains a warning and
instructions to anyone who is brave enough to enter the final chamber.”

“A warning?”

“Yes. Inside the final chamber, those who seek eternal life will face
three tests. Those three tests must be conquered in order to gain access to the
tree of life.”

A deathly silence fell over the room again as DeGard absorbed the
information. If what the old man said was true, it meant that Sir Francis Drake
had kept a deep secret for most of his life. While the Frenchman was no expert
on the history of the famous privateer, he believed he would have heard such an
interesting tale as the one that had just been spun before him.

Still, he had to push a little further. It was part of being a
historian and a scientist. “I must ask, Monsieur. Where did you discover this
diary of Sir Francis Drake? Surely something like that would have been hidden
away or locked in a vault somewhere.”

The old man had a sinister twinkle in his eye. For some reason, he
enjoyed toying with his French employee. Perhaps because he had felt like the
man had been disrespectful since the moment they had met. It didn’t matter
anymore. Soon, DeGard would be dead, and Lindsey would have the key to eternal
life.

“Someone found it for me,” he said, trying to keep a mysterious tone
in his voice.

Kaba looked over again from the corner but remained silent. Lindsey
didn’t acknowledge her glance, not wanting DeGard to know anything else.

When he spoke, the Frenchman turned up his nose in defiance. “Very
well. So, tell me, what are these three tests?”