Leviathan(73)

“Oh, I’ll break it, Mister Adler,” Beth answered. “And I just wanted you to know something. Your secrets are finished. Forever. And you're finished. Because when I break that code the entire world is going to know what's been going on down here. And I mean that; the entire world.”

“I believe,” Adler replied slowly, eyes hazing with menace, “that you should be more careful in your actions, Mrs. Connor. You may place yourself in grave danger.”

Beth laughed, stepping even closer.

“Do you pray, Mr. Adler?”

Stunned, Adler began, “I ... Yes ... Of course I pray, Mrs. Connor. All good men pray for—”

“Then you'd better pray that nothing happens to my child or my husband,” Beth said, coldly holding Adler's gaze. “Because if Connor or Jordan is hurt, the only thing you'll need to be afraid of is me. And believe me, Mr. Adler; you'd better be very, very afraid.”

* * *



Thor stared at the darkness a long time before he realized he was awake.

Floating in darkness, yes ...

No ... not floating …

Cold, black stone.

He was lying on black stone, cold surrounding him. He didn't realize for a long time that he was alive, then it came to him at once, a falling, white-black fear, nothing, then a solidifying awareness that made him conscious of the cold night, of air.

Cautiously Thor moved his left arm, testing. Yes, he could still move. He had survived. And he felt cautiously, trying to register if his back had been broken. But everything seemed intact.

He felt splintered wood beside him, matchstick edges of a rifle stock. It was his weapon, but Thor couldn't think of it now.

In pain, he sat up, gently touching a wound on his head, crusted with blood. With a deep breath he gazed about the dark, remembering what had happened.

He had fallen as far as twenty feet before he struck a sloping rock. But the bruising impact slowed him briefly and he had managed a wild, tearing hold on the outcrop before rebounding painfully from something else, perhaps a steel beam, to fall another ten feet until finally slamming with mind-numbing force upon the shaft floor.

Thor realized he was cold, possibly in shallow shock. And he had no idea how long he had lain unconscious, bleeding and beaten. But he decided, with a cautious testing, that no bones were broken. He wearily let it fall away, useless now. Then he felt the battle-ax at his back.

Stiffly, Thor shrugged off his cloak, slipping the battle-ax's strap from his shoulders. Even in the dark, he knew by the perfectly balanced weight that the ancient weapon had survived the terrific fall. Then he rolled, rising unsteadily to his feet, leaving the ax on the stones. And he stood for a moment, swaying, dizzy, sensing ... something.

A stillness of air.

Blindly Thor reached out and instantly his hand touched ... cold ... cold steel. As smooth as glass. Teeth clenched, Thor smiled.

Yes!

It was the entrance of the cavern. He spread his arms, measuring the dimension of the massive steel portal, but the colossal vault was even wider than his enormous reach, stretching into the dark.

Thor stepped back and cautiously reached down, lifting the battle-ax to sling it over a shoulder, fighting off dizziness. Then he slowly angled left, stepping carefully to avoid stones, following Blankenship's instructions toward the ventilation tunnel.

Down here, Thor knew, or felt somehow, he had entered a strange and different world – a hated world ruled by the absence of hated light as powerfully as the world above was ruled by its presence.

But he had no time for such thoughts. He turned his mind from them, concentrating on what he had to do. With six cautious steps, he had reached the edge of the steel door. He didn't search for his flashlight. He knew it could not have survived the fall. So he gently waved his hands in the air, feeling, finding the air current, then closing his hands toward the wall until he touched the slated ventilation grate.

Yes, the current.

It was there.

Warm, dark air.

Thor smiled at his success and then his smile faded, his face setting in grim determination. His teeth clenched tight as his fingers curled inward through the thick rebar-grate, locking like talons. Then his huge, solid shoulders pulled hard against the steel.

Nothing.

The steel was immovable. Buried in six inches of granite.

A mountain, deep in stone.

A moment more Thor stood, feeling the ice-cold steel in his grip, its power mocking him, destroying him. Yes, he knew, all his life had brought him to this hour. All that he had ever loved and honored. All that he had ever lost, and all that he had ever defended.

“No,” he whispered. “No ... No ...”

He would not be stopped.

With a dark frown Thor leaned forward, locking an iron grip on the thick steel bars that left no blood in his hands. Then his hold tightened even more, grinding the steel into his flesh until his fingers cracked with pressure. And his titanic shoulders expanded, herculean arms tensing and bending to prepare the full measure of a strength he had never used. His heart beat faster and faster until he felt his heartbeat there in his hands, in the steel.