Reliquary

“Let’s move on,” Pendergast said.

“I see. Whitey here feels there has been enough talk. Perhaps he fears it will be his bones left to the rats.”

“We need to set several series of charges directly below the Bottleneck,” Pendergast said smoothly. “If we stand here listening to your empty posturing, we won’t have time to exit before the Reservoir dumps. Then it will be your bones, as well as mine, that are left for the rats.”

“Very well, very well!” Mephisto said. “Don’t chafe.” He turned and began clambering down a large, dark tube.

“No,” Smithback said.

D’Agosta took a step toward the journalist. “Come on. I’ll take your hand.”

The vertical tube ended in a high-ceilinged tu

“Well!” whispered Mephisto, climbing on the walkway. “Perhaps the Mayor of Grant’s Tomb can finally dry out his wingtips.”

“Perhaps the Hobo King can finally shut up,” D’Agosta growled.

A delighted hiss came from Mephisto. “Hobo King. Charming. Perhaps I should go hunting track rabbits and leave you to do your own spelunking.”

D’Agosta stiffened but held his tongue, and Mephisto led the way across the walkway into a crawl space beyond. Margo heard the roar of falling water in the distance, and soon the passage ended at a narrow waterfall. A narrow iron ladder, almost concealed by the ordure of many decades, descended into a vertical tu

They passed through the tu

“Nous sommes arrivés,” said Mephisto, and for the first time Margo thought she could detect nervousness behind the bluster. “The Devil’s Attic is directly beneath us.”

Motioning them to stay put, Pendergast checked his maps and then vanished noiselessly into the ancient tu

There was a movement in the dark beside her. “Dear Dr. Green,” came the silky hiss of Mephisto. “I’m sorry you decided to join our little walkabout. But since you’re here, maybe you can do me a favor. Please understand I have every intention of letting your friends here take all the risk. But if something unpleasant should happen, maybe you could deliver something for me.” Margo felt a small envelope being thrust into her hand. Curiously, she began to lift it toward her goggles.

“No!” said Mephisto, catching her hand and thrusting it into her own pocket. “Plenty of time for that later. If necessary.”

“Why me?” Margo asked.

“Who else?” came the hiss. “That slippery G-man, Pendergast? Or maybe the large economy model of our city’s finest, standing over there? Or Smithback, the yellow journalist?”

There was a rapid footfall in the darkness, then Pendergast was back within the dim circle of their flashlights. “Excellent,” he said as Mephisto melted from her side. “Up ahead is the catwalk where I made my own descent. The charges under the Bottleneck should take care of the main Reservoir flow to the south. Now we’ll set the rest of the charges to block off any spillage from feeders beneath the north end of the Park.” The matter-of-fact tone of his voice was more appropriate for a croquet party, Margo thought, than this nightmare stalk. But she was grateful for it.

Pendergast grasped the handle of the flamethrower, undipped the nozzle guard, and pressed the primer a few times. “I’ll go first,” he said. “Then Mephisto. I trust your instincts; let me know if you sense anything wrong or out of place.”

“Being here is out of place,” Mephisto said. “Ever since the Wrinklers arrived, this has been shu

“Margo, you’ll be next,” Pendergast continued. “Take care of Smithback. Vincent, I’d like you to cover the rear. There might be a conflict.”

“Right,” D’Agosta said.

“I’d like to help,” Margo heard Smithback say softly.

Pendergast looked at him.

“I’m useless without a weapon,” the writer explained, his voice unsteady but determined.

“Can you handle a gun?” Pendergast asked.

“Used to shoot skeet with a 16-gauge,” Smithback said.

D’Agosta stifled a laugh. Pendergast pursed his lips a moment, as if calculating something. Then he unslung the other weapon from his shoulder and passed it over. “This is an M-79. It fires 40-millimeter high-explosive rounds. Be sure you’ve got a kill zone of at least one hundred feet before you use it. D’Agosta can describe to you how to reload as we go. I expect if action starts, there will be plenty of light for you to see with.”

Smithback nodded.

“The thought of a journalist with a grenade launcher makes me very nervous,” came D’Agosta’s voice out of the darkness.

“We’ll set the charges, then leave,” Pendergast said. “Fire only as a last resort; the sound will bring the entire nest down upon us. Vincent, set the flash unit to strobe, and use it at the first sign of trouble. We’ll blind them first, then fire. Be sure to remove your goggles first—the flash unit will overload them. We know they hate light, so once they know we’re here, let’s use it to our advantage.” He turned. “Margo, just how sure are you about the vitamin D?”

“One hundred percent sure,” she answered immediately. Then she paused. “Well, ninety-five percent, anyway.”

“I see,” the FBI agent replied. “Well, if there’s a confrontation, you’d better use your pistol first.”

Pendergast took a final look around, then began cautiously leading the group down the ancient tu

“Smores, anyone?” Mephisto murmured.

Margo breathed through her nose, struggling to stay calm. The air was heavy with the combined reek of methane and ammonia. And overlying them both was a faint goatish odor she knew only too well.

= 58 =

SNOW LEANED HIS aching back against the brick wall of the landing. Easing the fins from his feet, he laid them carefully along the wall, where the weights and tanks were being placed in neat rows. He thought about removing the rubber duffel at his side, then remembered what the Commander had said about not parting with it until the mission was over. The landing felt slimy beneath his neoprene booties. He removed his mouthpiece, wincing at the smell of the ambient air. His eyes stung, and he blinked several times. Better get adjusted, he thought, taking a hit of oxygen. From this point on, he knew, it would be on foot.

Around him, the SEALs were removing their masks and tanks, opening waterproof packs, readying gear. Commander Rachlin snapped on a flare and jammed it into a crack in the brick wall. It hissed and sputtered quietly, bathing the room in fitful red light. “Ready your comm sets. Emergency use only, on the private frequency. I want noise discipline enforced at all times. Remember, each team has a candyman carrying redundant charges. If for any reason one of the three forward teams is unable to carry out their mission, the other teams will cover.”