“What do you take, Pierce? Brandy, scotch, bourbon?”

“Bourbon’s fine.”

He pours a glass almost to the top, doesn’t bother with ice, and hands it to me. “I know what you’re here to ask, and the answer is no, so let’s just get that little bit of unpleasantness out of the way so we can enjoy the evening. Now Kane tells me you’ve come around on the Gibraltar dig, says Craig gave you the nickel tour of our little project.” He fixes me with a coy smile. “Now I’d like to hear your impression of it — as a professional miner. Will she hold until we can get through?”

I start to speak several times. Wicked thoughts run through my head. He brushed you aside like a door-to-door salesman. He’s Immari, a snake as bad as Kane. I take a long pull of the drink and speak as evenly as I can. “I’d like to know why.”

“Let’s not be uncivil, Mr. Pierce.”

“She’s in love with me.”

“I’m sure she is. War is an emotional time. But the war will end, and feelings will fade. The real world will set in, she’ll come back to England, and she’ll marry someone who can give her the life she truly wants, a life of civility and grace. A life you can’t appreciate until you seen the savagery of the rest of the world. That’s her what’s in store for her. I’ve already made the arrangements.” He crosses his legs and sips at his brandy. “You know, when Helena was a girl, she used to take in every flea-ridden, diseased, wounded, and otherwise half-dead animal that ever wandered onto the estate. She wouldn’t relent until they either died or recovered. She has a good heart. But she grew up and lost all interest in rescuing animals. Everyone goes through phases like that, especially girls. Now I’ll hear your opinion on our tunnels in Gibraltar.”

“I don’t give a damn about those tunnels or what’s down there. It’s a dangerous mine, and I won’t work it. What I will do is marry your daughter, with or without your permission. I’m not a wounded animal, and she’s not a little girl anymore.” I set the drink down on the glass table, almost breaking it and sloshing brown liquid all over it. “Thanks for the drink.” I rise to leave, but he sets his own drink down and heads me off at the door.

“Just a minute. You can’t be serious. You’ve seen what’s down there. You’d turn away from that?”

“I’ve found something that interests me a great deal more than lost cities.”

“I’ve told you — I’ve already made a match for Helena. It’s settled. Let’s put that aside. As for the dig, we can pay you. That’s my role in this, incidentally. I manage the purse — the Immari Treasury. Kane runs the expeditions, and a great deal more, as I’m sure you’ve gathered by now. Mallory’s our master of spies. Don’t underestimate Craig, he’s quite good at it. So what will it take? We can double it. $2,000 per week. In a few months you could set yourself up any way you like.”

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“I won’t work that mine at any price.”

“Why not? The safety? You can fix it; I’m sure of it. The Army men told us you were quite clever. The best, they said.”

“I told her I wouldn’t work in a mine. I made her a promise. And I won’t make her a widow.”

“You assume you’ll marry her. She won’t marry without my permission.” Lord Barton inhales and watches for my reaction, satisfied that he’s cornered me.

“You underestimate her.”

“You overestimate her. But if that’s your price, you can have it, and the $2,000 per week. But you agree, right here and now, that you’ll work that dig to the finish. Once you do, I’ll give my blessing without delay.”

“You’d trade your approval for whatever’s buried down there?”

“Easily. I’m a practical man. And a responsible man. Maybe you will be too one day. What’s my daughter’s future for the fate of the human race?”

I almost laugh, but he fixes me with a stare that’s dead serious. I rub my face and try to think. I hadn’t expected the man to haggle, least of all over this business under Gibraltar. I know I’m making a mistake, but I don’t see what option I have. “I’ll have your permission now, not after the dig.”

Barton looks away. “How long to get into the structure?”

“I don’t know—”

“Weeks, months, years?”

“Months, I think. There’s no way to kn—”

“Fine, fine. You have it. We’ll announce it tonight, and if you don’t keep up your end in Gibraltar, I’ll make her a widow.”

CHAPTER 87

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CHAPTER 88

Kate leaned her head against the wooden wall of the alcove and stared at the sun, wishing she could stop it right where it was. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw David open his eyes and look up at her. She opened the journal and continued reading before he could say anything.

December 20th, 1917

The Moroccan workers cower as the rock comes down around them. The space fills with smoke and we retreat back into the shaft. And then we wait and listen, ready to pile into the car that straddles the rails, ready to zoom out of the shaft at the first sign of trouble — fire or water in this case.

The first cry of a canary breaks the silence and one by one we all exhale and move back into the massive room to see how far the latest roll of the dice has gotten us.

We are close. But not quite there.

“Told you we should have drilled it deeper,” Rutger says.

I don’t remember him saying anything. In fact, I’m pretty sure he sat indolently, not even inspecting the hole before we packed it with the chemical explosive. He walks to the excavation site for a better look, raking his hand on one of the canary cages as he passes by, sending the bird into a panic.

“Don’t touch the cages,” I say.

“You’d let them choke to death on methane gas to give yourself a few minutes head start, but I can’t even rattle them?”

“Those birds could save every one of our lives. I won’t have you torture them for your own enjoyment.”




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