The Last Odyssey (Sigma Force #15) - James Rollins Page 0,114

Once closer, it ticked faster.

Kowalski grabbed Gray’s arm. “Maybe let’s not break these.”

5:24 P.M.

Safecracking is all a matter of delicacy.

Seichan passed the hot tip of her knife along the edge of the pot’s lid. The heat softened and melted through the wax seal. She scraped a bit loose, then held the blade out toward Maria.

The woman thumbed a lighter, raising a flame.

Seichan hovered the knife tip over the fire, heating it back up.

“Men,” Maria commented. “Always going around smashing things. I hope you raise Jack with a little more common sense.”

“I’ll do my best,” Seichan said, hoping that ended up being true. “Though half his DNA is Gray’s, so you never know.”

Seichan returned to her efforts, working more of the wax free.

Behind her, bored by her meticulous efforts or too nervous to stand idly by, the men had joined Father Bailey over by the slab on the floor.

“What do you make of it?” Gray asked, down on a knee.

“I thought it might be some sort of altar or ritual place of sacrifice,” the priest said. “But now I’m wondering . . .”

“About what?” Gray asked.

As Seichan melted through a thicker layer of wax, the top wobbled under her palm. “Got it,” she announced, glancing back at the men.

Gray came over, drawing the others. He waved Mac up front. “What do you think?”

The climatologist tested his Geiger counter. “Readings still holding steady. In the safe range, but we don’t want to hang around here forever.”

Gray nodded to Seichan. “You can do the honors.”

She grabbed the lid with both hands. She rocked it back and forth and turned it enough to break the residual wax—then lifted it straight up.

Gasps rose behind her. The clicking on the Geiger sped up.

They all retreated from the glistening green oil filling the pot. It cast out a wan, sickly glow. Seichan crouched, ready if anything horrid should burst or crawl out of the toxic soup. After several breaths, it was clear nothing was coming out.

“I think it’s just the liquid,” Gray said. “Like the pots on the other side.”

Bailey inched forward. “In Captain Hunayn’s journal, he stated that on his first voyage to Tartarus his crew only went as far as the city’s threshold, due to his lack of supplies. But at that entrance, he collected jars of what he called Medea’s Oil and returned home with them.”

Hmm . . .

Seichan moved away from the others.

“I don’t think it’s wise to leave the contents exposed to air for long,” Bailey warned. “Hunayn named this Medea’s Oil for a reason. According to the mythology of the sorceress Medea, her oil held the secret to an unquenchable fire, a gift given to her by the Titan, Prometheus, who taught her how to store it in airtight golden caskets.”

“Not unlike these pots,” Gray said.

“One of which is no longer airtight,” Mac reminded them.

Bailey continued: “It’s said her oil—like the legend of Greek Fire—was ignited by water and could not be put out by it.” He pointed to the amphorae. “While it’s dry enough in here, I fear if exposed too long . . . with these many pots . . .”

“Kaboom,” Kowalski added.

“He could be right,” Mac said. “Back in Greenland the crabs ignited fairly quickly, but the air was damp and full of ice crystals.”

“Then let’s close the jar for now,” Gray suggested. “At least limit the exposure to any moisture in the air.”

“No,” Seichan warned. “Not yet.”

She reached the back of the cavern and ran her palms over the curve of the dark brown wall. Its surface was coarse, but far too uniform. They’d all missed it, their attentions too caught up by the mysterious jars and altar.

She lifted her steel dagger and pounded its hilt against the wall.

The gong announced her discovery.

She turned to the others. “We’re not in a rock cave, but a bronze chamber, long tarnished and blackened with age.” She pointed her blade at the pots. “If that’s where Hunayn stole his magical oil, then this must be the entrance to Tartarus.”

The others hurried toward her and ran their hands along the tarnished walls, confirming her discovery.

“She’s right,” Gray said, rapping his knuckle to prove it. Others did the same, confirming his suspicion. “It’s not just the back wall. The entire cavern is bronze. One seamless bubble of it.”

Kowalski raised the question that most needed answering. “Enough with all the knocking. How do we get in?”

Father Bailey returned to the altar. “I . . . I think I know.” He turned to them