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I didn’t remember the session, but I suddenly recalled the content, every single detail. Even with the Mexican buzz in my brain. I ran my finger over the lock face, then reached into a kitchen drawer and pulled out a butter knife. I pried off the small screen that was meant for displaying the pin code. Underneath was a set of very small circuit boards.
At that point, I was as focused as a surgeon. I pried off the top board to get at the one underneath. I pulled two small wires loose from the second board and pressed the bare ends against two metal leads, one on the board itself, the other on the inside of the lock casing. I heard a small click.
“Told you,” said Kira.
I grabbed the thick metal handle and gave it a tug. Sure enough, the door was loose. But I almost didn’t want to open it. Something told me that whatever was behind that door was going to change my life in a major way. Probably more pain. I looked at Kira.
“This isn’t really a utility closet, is it?” I said.
“It was mislabeled,” she replied.
CHAPTER 57
I OPENED THE door. An automatic sensor turned on a bank of industrial lights overhead. As my eyes adjusted, I suddenly felt totally sober again. I couldn’t believe what I was looking at.
We were in a huge room with a high ceiling and no windows. It was filled with metal shelves in long, neat rows. It looked like a natural history archive. It had the smell of old paper, old chemicals, old leather.
“Welcome home, Doctor,” said Kira.
She stood by the door as I started walking through the room. At first, there was too much to take in. Stacks of journals. Jars of sand and soil and dried plants, all neatly labeled. Topographical maps with notes and arrows drawn all over them. Files with TOP SECRET government stamps. And that was just the first row. It was overwhelming.
“What the hellisall this?” I asked.
Kira walked down the other side of the shelf and looked at me through the gap. She ran her hand over a pile of thick dossiers tied with twine.
“This whole floor belonged to Doc Savage, your great-grandfather,” said Kira. “Everything in here was his.”
“I thought Doc Savage lived in New York,” I said. I remembered some lore about a hideout on the eighty-sixth floor of some Manhattan skyscraper.
“That’s true,” said Kira. “He had an apartment there. But after a while, too many of his enemies knew about it, so he just kept it as a decoy.” She looked around the room. “Thisis where he did his experiments, and perfected his training, and worked on his inventions. Right here.”
At the back of the space, there was a long lab table with gas outlets and cartons of unused test tubes and petri dishes. One end was filled with dark brown chemical jars. The other end was piled high with lab notebooks.
Another corner of the room was filled with electronic devices, some finished, some half assembled. There were coils of wire and bins filled with parts—knobs, switches, dials, and a lot of stuff I didn’t recognize.
It looked like the secret lair of some mad scientist, but there were some personal items, too. A watercolor painting of a small boat withOrionon the stern. A theatrical makeup kit. A pair of boxing gloves. And leaning up against the wall, a battered violin case. Along with everything else, I’d heard that my great-grandfather was a musical prodigy. Maybe it was true.
On the floor was an old wooden liquor crate, top ripped off, with one bottle missing. Now I knew where the mezcal came from. I squeezed past the memorabilia and peered into the far corner.
“Jesus!”
I was staring at an antique arsenal. Shotguns. Pistols. Hunting knives. Military rifles. Bayonets. Hand grenades. Just about every possible way to kill another human was sitting right there. It felt weird. I turned to Kira.
“Don’t tell me this was all for self-defense,” I said.
Kira shrugged. “Dangerous times. Dangerous tools.”
I turned away from the weaponry to a small table. There was a black and white photograph sitting on top. It was Doc Savage himself, no doubt about it. I’d seen the illustrations from the pulp stories, but this was the first actual photo of him that I’d ever laid eyes on. I spotted the family resemblance right away. Same widow’s peak, for one thing. In the picture, my ancestor looked strong and fit. Totally buff. In fact, he looked a lot like me.
There was another picture underneath. Another man. Same era. Same features. Except this guy was no great physical specimen. He was stooped and awkward-looking. Kind of like I looked before I was taken.
“Who’s this?” I asked.
Kira walked over to meet me at the table. She ran her finger across the picture.
She hesitated for a second before she answered, like she wasn’t sure how to break the news.
“That’s Doc Savage’s brother, Cal,” she said.
