don’t really think about whether or not to go in—it’s more about how. Remembering the force it took Levi, I place my body against the stone wall and push as hard as I can and—
It slides right open and I’m back in the museum meeting room. I think. It’s dark now, pitch black and airless. I stay perfectly still and listen for any sounds. Even … breathing.
It’s as quiet as a tomb.
I work my way along the side of the room, my arm brushing a tapestry as I move very, very slowly to not give myself away. My sneakers are silent, and I’m barely breathing, bracing for an attack at any moment.
Is there another way out of this room? Another secret door?
Gingerly, I reach over to the wall and touch a glass box, then the stone wall again. I move ahead another few feet and touch something cold and sharp. A sword. For a moment, my fingers linger on the weapon.
I close my hand over the hilt and try to lift, but it barely moves. I’m no gladiator. I can’t lift—
Gladiator! This is where that four-pronged knee-buckling thing was. The quadrant, right on this wall. I flatten my hand and inch to the right, remembering exactly where I saw the ancient weapon, my fingers touching the rough-hewn metal almost immediately.
It lifts off the hook, no more than a few pounds, and it fits fairly neatly in my hand. It’s warm and … deadly. Actually, it doesn’t necessarily kill, if I recall what I saw in the video in my Latin class. But the quadrant can bring a man to his knees, and since it’s the only weapon on this wall I can handle, that’ll have to be enough.
Tucking the quadrant into my jacket pocket, I take a few more steps, carefully navigating around a large clay vase, then—
“Hello, Mackenzie.”
The room is suddenly bathed in light and I whip around with a gasp to meet the steel-blue gaze of Rex Collier.
“We’ve never had a woman in here, let alone an expert in the classics. What do you think?”
I can barely blink or breathe, let alone think. He looms over me, taller than I remember, more regal, far more threatening.
“Jarvis said you’d be a handful when we put your name on the list.” He barely smiles. “He was right.”
My head is humming, questions buzzing and colliding with exclamations of fury and the need to hurt him and get out of here. But I don’t move. Does he know where Molly is? Did he take her?
“What do you think?” He gestures toward the tapestries. “They’re all real,” he says. “All in my family for centuries. Payment for the job.”
“The job?” I practically spit the words, angry at myself for even asking questions when all that matters is getting out of here alive with Molly.
“It’s dirty work, but someone—someone quite talented—can do it. This way, Kenzie.” He indicates a space in the wall between a carved bust and a glass box with a leather-bound book inside. Pausing, he points to the box, but my mind is whirring. I have to get out of here. I have to do something drastic.
“That’s the Persius Cipher.”
Can I lift a chair and hit him over the head? Hoist one of those clay vases and knock him out? I have to think, buy time, and be clever.
“The Persius Cipher?” I ask.
He gives me a smile. “You’ve heard of it, of course.”
Never in my life. “Of course. Can I see it?” Maybe if he opens the glass, I can break it and slice him.
He gives me a wary look, as if he can read my mind.
“I’ve never touched a manuscript like that before.” I try to sound convincing. Will it work on him? “Could you take it out of that box and let me examine it?”
He steps aside and opens his hands, giving me permission to go to the manuscript. I put my hands on the clear glass, saying a silent prayer of gratitude that it really is glass, not plastic. I squeeze, lift, and in one lightning-fast move, crash it against the pedestal, holding on to one long shard as I pivot, ready to dive at him.
And I come face to face with the barrel of a pistol.
Rex Collier just smiles. “Nice try, but you really need to work on your timing.” With his free hand, he touches the wall and it slides open, revealing another corridor.