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“Exactly what I was thinking.”
They split up, each strolling along a wall, studying each piece in turn. “Here’s something called a gerron,” Sam said over his shoulder, stopping before a case displaying a tall, oval shield made of wicker and leather. “Used by Persian troops.”
“I’ve got a Persian sword over here,” Remi replied from across the room. “An akinakes, it’s called. It was carried by Persian Immortals of the Achaemenid Dynasty.”
“Looks like we have a theme going. I’ve got a sagaris over here. A Persian battle-ax—also from the Achaemenid Dynasty.”
They continued their tour, each reading aloud from the placards as they went. Shields, spears, daggers, long bows . . . all from the ancient Persian Achaemenid Dynasty of Xerxes I.
“I think someone’s got a fetish,” Remi said as they met back near the door.
“I agree,” Sam replied. “Unless I miss my guess, we may have just found the Bondaruk skeleton we’ve been looking for.”
“Maybe, but that begs the question: What does any of this have to do with Napoleon’s Lost Cellar?”
They made their way back to the blue-carpeted rotunda. Remi crouched by the right-hand door, pulled it open, and took another peek. “Nothing’s changed.”
“Okay, here’s what we’re going to do,” Sam said, then quickly explained. “Once I go in, if the camera stops panning, close the door and find a place to hide. It might mean they’ve seen something and guards are on the way.”
“What about you?”
“You worry about you. I’ll be right on your heels.”
They switched places at the door. Sam waited until the camera had panned fully to the right, then dropped to his belly and slithered through the door. He rolled right until his back touched the wall, then crawled along it to the next door.
Now he could hear the faint whirring of the camera’s pivot motor. Remi, once again kneeling beside the door, tapped the floor twice with her fingernail: Camera away. Slowly, Sam turned his head until he could see through the glass. He checked the ceiling and walls above the computer workstations for cameras; he saw none. Out of the corner of his eye he saw the camera panning back toward him. Remi tapped her fingernail once—Camera coming—and he ducked down.
Five seconds passed. Remi tapped twice. Sam reached up and tried the doorknob. It was unlocked. He rolled left and got to his knees, careful to keep his head below the glass. He waited until Remi gave him the all-clear double tap again, then turned the knob, pushed open the door, crawled through, and shut it behind him. Three seconds later he was standing pressed against the wall below the camera. He gave her a thumbs-up. Fifteen seconds later she was through both doors and standing beside him.
The control room was twice as big as the alcove. Under the half-glass wall was a long white melamine desk holding two computer towers and twenty-four-inch LCD displays. Fifteen feet down the wall against which they stood was the other door.
Sam tapped his ear, pointed to the camera, then to himself: Might have microphone; will check. Remi nodded her understanding.
Synchronizing his movements with the camera’s panning, Sam ducked first left, then right, rising up on his tiptoes so he could get a clear view of the camera.
“No sound,” he told Remi. “I’ll check the door. You say go.”
They waited, watching the camera pivot above their heads.
“Go.”
Sam slid left down the wall, checked the doorknob, found it unlocked, then slid back. “Our luck is holding,” he said.
“That’s what makes me nervous.”
The camera’s panning speed didn’t leave them enough time to open the next door, peek through, then either pull back or keep going.
“We’ll have to take our chances and risk it,” Sam said.
“I know.”
“Ready?”
She took a deep breath, let it out, then nodded.
They watched the camera, waiting for it to swing fully away, then dashed down the wall, opened the door, and stepped through.
CHAPTER 40
