The Seal of Solomon (Alfred Kropp #2)(67)

“I’m going to get one of these cars when this is over,” I said. I figured maybe if I kept talking the voice inside my head would shut up. “Girls might notice me then. But I’d have to follow the speed limit and I’m thinking that would seem really slow now that I’ve taken it to the max. I think I would resent them. I mean traffic laws, not girls. Is that what happens once you start ignoring the rules, Samuel? I’ve got this feeling that when I’m back in school I’m going to laugh in the face of my math teacher when she hands out the tests. I used to sweat buckets before a test, get sick to my stomach, get the shakes. I don’t think that’s going to happen now. And I was scared to death of girls, especially the pretty ones, but after this, girls are cake. Except it might be hard getting a date with no teeth and smelling like a sewer pipe.”

Op Nine took a deep breath and said, “There is always tension, Alfred, between the life we want and the life we find.” He eased off the accelerator and added, “The tunnel veers to the right ahead. I think we have reached the exit.”

53

I checked the time as Op Nine bore right onto the exit ramp.

“About thirty minutes to spare,” I said. “That’s good. I’m not usually this punctual.”

The car shook suddenly as thunder crashed overhead.

“I figured they’d pull out all the stops: thunder and lightning, ice and fire from the sky, earthquakes, tornadoes, tsunamis, you name it. It’s very biblical, but you read the Bible and half the catastrophes are caused by God. You were a priest. What’s that about?”

After about half a mile, the tunnel made a sharp left, then a right, and coming out of this turn we saw it, a spinning mass of orange flecked with white, directly ahead. Where the red walls of the tunnel met this light was a ring of pure white flame, and I thought of the circus and the flaming rings they made those poor big cats jump through.

Op Nine slowed to a crawl, and maybe a hundred yards from this burning mouth before the devil’s door, he brought the car to a full stop and turned off the engine.

“This is folly, Alfred,” he murmured.

“Shut up,” I said.

“Madness.”

“Cut it out, will ya? What kind of pep talk is this?” I started to shiver, though it was warm inside the car. My lower jaw was jerking up and down as I shook and I was afraid the rest of my teeth would shatter. “You’re supposed to be comfor—comforty—comforting me. You must have been a lousy priest.”

“I was a lousy priest.”

I looked over at him. He was staring into the mouth of fire.

“Samuel,” I said. “What did you see in Abalam’s eyes?”

“You know what I saw.”

“Abkhazia?”

He nodded. I could see the orange and white fire reflected in his dark eyes.

“Abkhazia, near the Black Sea, and home to Krubera, the deepest cave on earth. The Company had received reports of . . . unusual phenomenon in that region, the most compelling of which came from a team of National Geographic explorers, who had descended to the five-thousand-foot mark of the cave before abruptly returning to the surface. You know the area of my expertise, Alfred, so I needn’t tell you the nature of those most unusual reports and what drove a team of experienced, highly regarded scientists to abandon their quest to reach the deepest recesses of Krubera. There are some things deep within the belly of the earth that should never be disturbed.

“On July 18, 1983, two of us were inserted into Krubera. Myself and the very best operative the Company had at the time—a young man with a brilliant future, a protégé of mine who idolized me and who would obey any order I gave, no matter how ridiculous. These are the kind of agents OIPEP looks for, Alfred. Men and women who are willing to challenge the very gates of hell itself for the sake of the mission.” He gave a bitter laugh. “The mission!”

“On the third day of our descent, as we reached the four-thousand-foot mark, an earthquake struck, as is common in that region. I would like to say it was borne of natural causes . . . but I cannot say that; even to this day, I cannot say that. The cave collapsed a thousand feet above us, burying us under three tons of rock. We had carried in enough water and rations to sustain two people for seven days.”

He swallowed hard, and I watched his prominent Adam’s apple bob up and down.

“Or one person for fourteen days,” he added.

“So your friend was killed in the earthquake?” I asked.

“No. No, Alfred. We survived the quake with only minor injuries.”

“But Ashley said you were the only one to come out alive.”

He nodded. “The Company dispatched a rescue team at once, for our communications to the surface had not been lost. They radioed down to us an estimate of the time it would take to dig us out . . . thirty days.”

He fell silent. The silence went on and on. I was shaking so badly by this point, my neck had begun to hurt.

“So . . . so he starved to death? But if you were down there for a month, how did you keep from starving too?”

“He did not starve, Alfred.”

“Well, if he didn’t starve, then . . .” I stopped. “Oh, God. You didn’t.”

“You said before that I supersede the First Protocol. It is more accurate to say that I am the First Protocol. I am the personification of it. I am the Superseding Protocol Agent, the Operative Nine. I am the mission, and the mission must survive.”