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“Like I said, that old crypt connected to a smuggling tunnel. We’ll use that entrance. Hang on, I’ll get my weapon.”
“Will we need a boat?” Ambrose said. “A kayak?”
“Not now. The tide is out.”
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
No, this situationis not under control,” Guthrie snarled. “We would not be down here dealing with the podcaster and the architect if it was under control. And when we’re finished here we’ll have to deal with the writer. The whole project is a fucking disaster.”
“Shut up,” Margaret said, her voice tight with fury and tension. “None of this is my fault. I’m not the one who thought it would be a good idea to bring in Geddings.”
“We needed someone who knew the local community. It was a smart strategy.”
“Right up until he decided to blackmail us because of the screwup with the Kendrick woman.”
“That was Fenner’s fault,” Guthrie roared. “Fuck, where’s Llewellyn?”
“You’re the one who carried her down here,” Margaret said. “Where did you put her?”
“Over there, next to that wall. Fuck. The drug must have worn off already. It should have held her. The architect is still out. You fucked up.”
“I gave her the same dose I gave Collier,” Margaret said.
“We should have used the stuff Fenner gave us to use on Geddings,” Guthrie said.
“We don’t even know what that crap was,” Margaret said. “Fenner cooked it up for us. We’re lucky there was a supply of the sedative in your office.”
“Nothing is going right,” Guthrie whined. “We had to move too fast this morning. No time to plan.”
“What else could we do? If we hadn’t spotted Drake leaving the hotel we would still be trying to figure out how to get a handle on the situation.”
“If only we hadn’t had to go back to the house for the guns.”
“Don’t be an idiot,” Margaret said. “It’s not as if the dean and the head of the college Foundation can be seen walking around campus carrying pistols. Now where is she? She has to be down here. There’s no way out.”
“The caskets,” Guthrie said. “She must be hiding among them. How did she find them? She wouldn’t have been able to see anything. I found her phone and Taser when I searched her bag. It’s still upstairs.”
“She must have blundered into that section of the crypt. I’ll deal with her.” Margaret raised her voice. “Pallas Llewellyn, it’s going to be okay. We’re here to help. We know you’re hallucinating. We’ll take you to the emergency room. Just follow the beam of my flashlight. Can you see it? Open your eyes and look for the light.”
Pallas gripped the handle of the chisel and waited, trying to remain motionless. She was horribly aware of the sound of her breath and the pounding of her heart.
“I know you’re confused,” Margaret said. “I can explain everything. I’m afraid you walked into a clandestine drug trial that is being run by the government. It’s all highly classified. For obvious reasons the authorities don’t want you exposing the project on your podcast. If you will sign some papers swearing that you won’t discuss the trial, you’ll be free to go.”
The footsteps were coming closer. Margaret was working her way deeper into the maze of jumbled caskets. The beam of her flashlight bounced around in the dense darkness. Pallas found the light disorienting. She had to focus even harder in order to stay in her other vision.
She experimented with closing her eyes and concentrating on her sense of hearing.
Margaret was closer now. Her footsteps echoed on the concrete as she threaded a path through the stacks of burial boxes. Her shoe struck some bones. They skittered across the floor of the crypt.
“Fuck,” Margaret hissed. “I hate this place.”
She was in the adjacent aisle now. Pallas held her breath.
“You and Drake are here because of what happened to the Kendrick woman, aren’t you?” Margaret said. “Fenner told us she had been identified as a good candidate for the drug, but she experienced a psychotic break. She went mad. Attacked Fenner. He grabbed the lamp to defend himself. Geddings got rid of the body. We had no choice. We couldn’t have that sort of bad publicity. We would have been ruined. I’m sure you understand. It was unfortunate, but no one was to blame.”
Margaret was on the opposite side of the stack of burial boxes. Pallas dropped the chisel and used both hands to push the top two caskets into the neighboring aisle.
Wood cracked and creaked, screeched and splintered. Margaret screamed as the disintegrating caskets and their contents cascaded down on her. The roar of a gunshot boomed in the darkness.
