Timeline

The monks took him away from the woodcutters, stripped him, and searched his body for stigmata. "They were looking in rather unusual places," the Professor said. "That’s when I demanded to see the Abbot. The Abbot wanted to know the location of the passage in La Roque. I suspect he’s promised it to Arnaut. Anyway, I suggested it might be in the monastic documents." The Professor grinned. "I was willing to go through his parchments for him."

"Yes?"

"And I think I have found it."

"The passage?"

"I think so. It follows an underground river, so it is probably quite extensive. It starts in a place called the green chapel. And there is a key to finding the entrance."

"A key?"

The guard snarled something, and Marek broke off speaking for a moment. Chris got up, brushing the damp off his hose. He said, "We have to get out of here. Where is Kate?"

Marek shook his head. Kate was still free, unless the shouts from the guards he’d heard down the hallway meant that she’d been captured. But he didn’t think they’d caught her. So if he could make contact with her, she might be able to help get them out.

That meant somehow overpowering the guard. The problem was that there were at least twenty yards from the bend in the corridor to where the guard was sitting on his stool. There was no way to take him by surprise. But if Kate was within range of their earpieces, then he could –

Chris was banging on the bars of the cell and shouting, "Hey! Guard! Hey, you!"

Before Marek could speak, the guard stepped into view, looking curiously at Chris, who had reached one hand through the bars and was beckoning him. "Hey, come here! Hey! Over here!"

The guard walked up to him, swatted Chris’s hand, which extended through the bar, and then broke into a sudden fit of coughing as Chris sprayed him with the gas canister. The guard wobbled on his feet. Chris reached through the bars again, grabbed the guard by the collar, and sprayed a second time right in his face.

The guard’s eyes rolled up in his head, and he dropped like a rock. Still holding on, Chris’s arm banged against the crossbars; he yelled in pain, then released the guard, who fell away from the bars and collapsed in the middle of the floor.

Far out of reach.

"Nice work," Marek said. "What’s next?"

"You know, you might help me," Chris said. "You’re very negative." He was down on his knees, reaching through the bars to his armpit, his hand grasping outside. His outstretched fingers could almost reach the guard’s foot. Almost, but not quite. Six inches from the sole of his foot. Chris stretched, grunting. "If we just had something  –  a stick, or a hook  –  something to pull him. . . ."

"It won’t do any good," the Professor said from the other cell.

"Why not?"

He came forward into the light and looked through the bars. "Because he doesn’t have the key."

"Doesn’t have the key? Where is it?"

"Hanging on the wall," Johnston said, pointing down the corridor.

"Oh shit," Chris said.

On the floor, the guard’s hand twitched. One leg kicked spasmodically. He was waking up.

Panicked, Chris said, "What do we do now?"

Marek said, "Kate, are you there?"

"I’m here."

"Where?"

"Just down the corridor. I came back because I figured they’d never look for me here."

"Kate," Marek said, "come here. Quickly."

Marek heard her footsteps as she ran toward them.

The guard coughed, rolled onto his back, then propped himself up on one elbow. He looked down the corridor and hastily began to get to his feet.

He was on his hands and knees when Kate kicked him, snapping his head back, and he fell onto the floor again. But he wasn’t unconscious, only dazed. He started to get up, shaking his head to clear it.

"Kate," Marek said, "the keys. . . ."

"Where?"

"On the wall."

She backed away from the guard, got the keys on a heavy ring, and brought them to Marek’s cell. She put one key in the lock and tried to turn it, but it didn’t turn.

With a grunt, the guard threw himself at her, knocking her away from the cell, into the center of the room. They grappled, rolling on the floor. She was much smaller than he was. He held her down easily.

Marek was reaching through the bars with both hands, pulling the key out of the lock, trying another. It didn’t fit, either.

Now the guard was straddling Kate, both hands around her neck, strangling her.

Marek tried another key. No luck. There were six more keys on the ring.

Kate was turning blue. She made rasping, choking sounds. She pounded her fists on the guard’s arms, but her blows were ineffectual. She punched at his groin, but his surcoat protected him.

Marek shouted, "Knife! Knife!" but she didn’t seem to understand. Marek tried another key. Still no success. From the opposite cell, Johnston yelled something in French to the guard.

The guard looked up and snarled a reply, and in that moment Kate brought her dagger out and slammed it into the guard’s shoulder with all her strength. The blade didn’t penetrate the chain mail. She tried again, and again. Furious, the guard began to pound her head against the stone floor to make her drop the knife.

Marek tried another key.

It turned with a loud creak.

The Professor was shouting, Chris was shouting, and Marek flung the door open. The guard turned to face him, getting to his feet, releasing Kate. Coughing, she swung the knife at his unprotected legs, and he yelled in pain. Marek hit him twice in the head, very hard. The guard fell on the floor, not moving.