Chapter 37
Struggling to tuck away the book, Sharyn followed at Gabriel’s heels. Rather than leading them to the library door, he rushed toward the room’s fireplace, to an alcove in the shelving next to it, full of dusty leather volumes.
As he shoved into the narrow space, a blare of sirens drew her attention toward the front of the estate.
A moment later, a horn burst out in furious honks.
Then Anna’s voice called out sharply, scolding in French, clearly angry.
Dogs began barking—Tristan and Isolde—sounding as irate as their mistress.
Gabriel used this distraction to reach to a shelved relic—a small, tarnished oil lamp, like out of the story of Aladdin. Unlike that tale, no magic words were needed. Gabriel tilted the lamp, and a back section of shelving snapped open, swinging on a hidden hinge.
“Inside,” he ordered their group, pushing the opening wider.
They piled through, one after the other due to the narrowness. Sharyn entered behind Duncan, who kept looking backward. A muffled rifle blast made her flinch. It sounded like it came from one of the towers. A single round, likely a warning shot to discourage trespassing.
“Keep going!” Gabriel crowded after Naomi and closed the door behind him.
Past the threshold, a short landing led to steep stairs heading downward. The path was lit by a series of caged bulbs wired across the roof. The walls appeared to be raw limestone, chiseled roughly.
“Wh . . . Where does this go?” Tag coughed out from ahead, struggling with the steepness, aided by Archie.
“Our family and allies used this hiding place during the Resistance,” Gabriel called forward, forcing them all onward.
They hurried down the steps. Laurent, who led them, finally reached a stout steel door, barricaded tightly on this side. He yanked the bar, flipping it aside, and opened the way.
Sharyn noted there was no hesitation on his part.
He knew about this exit.
She understood now why he had felt so confident about coming to the chateau. Angered by his silence, she shoved past him. Beyond the door, a cavernous space opened. Its dimensions were hard to discern due to the scarcity of lighting. Only a few lamps hung from the stone roof.
Still, it was clear this was no natural cavern, but a quarried space. The walls were too straight, the ceiling flat. Yet, like all true caves, the place was dank and humid. Only here, the air reeked strangely of manure.
Horse dung . . .
Earlier, she had noted a similar ripeness from the dried mud on Gabriel’s boots. He must have been down here before they arrived, preparing for this contingency.
The source of the smell was evident. The few lamps illuminated wide, raised trays full of manure and hay. Pale growths grew thickly over the surface. Farther on, she spotted plastic-wrapped bales that sprouted thick white fronds from their sides.
“Mushrooms,” Duncan mumbled.
Gabriel explained. “Part of the family business. It was from these old quarries that limestone was mined for the hundreds of chateaus in the region. Abandoned and nearly forgotten, they proved the perfect place for growing mushrooms.”
As he hurried through the labyrinth of interconnecting caves, he extoled on their inventory.
“While other regions are famous for champagne, we are known for our champignon. Or mushrooms. In these meules,” he waved to the wide trays, “we grow oysters and our legendary buttons. The bales all around are beds for shiitakes.”
He spoke in a rush, fear making him ramble, which was clear from his frequent glances back. He must hate leaving his family behind, but like all Barbiers, he knew his duty and the risks involved.
Naomi searched around. “Is the plan to hide down there?”
“The locals certainly did that during the Napoleonic Wars,” Gabriel said. “But no, I’ve made other arrangements.”
“We’re leaving again?” Tag asked, his face pale.
“We can’t stay,” Laurent explained. “Many know of this place. Both for its refuge in the past and its farming use today. Authorities will eventually think to search down here. None of us can be found.”
Sharyn understood why, and it no longer centered on murder charges. “We know where the Second Adage points.”
Lawrence nodded. “If captured, they’ll force it out of you.”
“What about the Barbiers?” Duncan glanced to Gabriel. “While his family doesn’t know what we learned, we’ve put them in danger.”
Gabriel shrugged. “With you all gone, we can claim ignorance. Laurent had already rented your van under our name. And my mother and sister’s defense of the chateau would be taken as nothing more than protecting our land.
We rural French folk are a notoriously irascible lot, easily provoked to overreact.
Plus, our family is well-respected in the area. ”
After hiking another few minutes, they reached a cavern that held farm vehicles and equipment. A hangar-like steel door towered on the far side.
Gabriel led them to an old truck whose wide bed was stacked with hay bales. Likely the supply was meant for the dark garden inside here, but as Gabriel led them to the rear, it was clear that was not its purpose now. The stacked hay held a hollow pocket inside, clearly meant to hide them.
“We learned many tricks during the Resistance,” Gabriel offered and waved for them to climb inside. “You’ll find a périscope at the back. To allow you to peek out as we travel. I’ll get you to the train station a few villages over. From there, I must wish you all well.”
Despite his brave words, the strain in his voice spoke to his anxiety to rejoin his family. To avoid delaying him any longer, they all clambered up and ducked into the cavity, which smelled of an earthy grassiness.
Tag kept his inhaler in hand, staring at the confinement with concern. None of them looked any less worried. Especially as Gabriel and Laurent lifted the final bale from the stone floor and filled in the remaining gap, trapping them inside. Plainly, Laurent intended to travel in the truck’s cab.
The reason became clear as the man pressed their host. “You have my rifle?”
“Up front,” Gabriel assured him.
Moments later, the trundling rumble of the hangar door reached them, followed by the roar of a diesel engine. With a jolting shake, the truck headed out. The only sign that they had exited the cavern was a slight increase in the meager light seeping between the hay bales.
Sharyn stared around at their shadowy shapes, all huddled together.
“I think we made it,” Tag whispered.
Archie cursed him. “Bollocks, mate, never say—”
The thumping of a helicopter cut him off, growing louder, closing on their location. It was impossible to say whether the truck had been spotted or the aircraft had made a poorly timed pass in their direction.
Sharyn reached up and pawed around her shoulders. Her hands struck something other than hay. She grabbed the end of the periscope that Gabriel had mentioned. She twisted to get her eyes to its goggled end. At first, there was only darkness, but her thumb found a lever and pushed it to the side.
A blinding light flared through the lenses.
She squinted against it and spied a bumpy view of woods to either side of a gravel road. The truck sped up as those in the cab recognized the threat, too.
Sharyn fought the scope to search the skies. Beyond the shoulder of the hill where the chateau sat, a black helicopter swept into view. Its flight momentarily bobbled, likely catching sight of the retreating truck. It angled for a closer inspection.
“They spotted us,” Sharyn warned.
Her words were meant for those trapped in the hay, but another still responded.
The crack of a rifle exploded from the cab.
She pictured Laurent leaning out the window with his weapon.
From the accuracy of his shot, the rifle must have been fitted with a sniper’s scope.
The helicopter’s tail rotor shattered, sending the bird into a hard spin.
It twirled in midair, then plummeted precipitously toward the forest. Leaves and branches exploded around it as it struck.
She held her breath, but no fiery explosion followed. She prayed those aboard had survived, as they were likely only local forces. She also hoped the pilot had not radioed ahead about the fleeing vehicle.
Their truck reached a main road, bumping from gravel to pavement, then picked up speed. They rode in a tense silence, having to trust that Gabriel knew the backroads well enough to make their escape.
After another fifteen minutes, Sharyn allowed herself to breathe more fully.
“Don’t say it,” Archie warned Tag this time.
Though their shapes remained shadowy, Sharyn recognized Duncan as he put his arm around her and drew her closer.
“What now?” Naomi asked.
No one answered.
Not even Archie offered a quip.
Sharyn leaned into Duncan’s embrace. She knew they must head into the Alps.
Laurent had given them little other choice, especially with the knowledge they now possessed.
She felt trapped and wondered if Laurent had done this purposefully, forcing their cooperation, especially as another question troubled her:
How did the Brotherhood know where we were?
She found it odd that the enemy had crashed upon them shortly after they had deciphered the Second Adage. It was as if their adversaries had been waiting for this threshold to be passed before attacking.
She pictured Laurent, who continued to hold too many secrets. Like the backdoor out of the chateau. Could he have co-opted their group for his own ends or in service to the Confrérie?
And maybe not just him.
She stared across to Naomi, Tag, and Archie. All three had had hold of an iPad at one time or another. Even Duncan had ample time at the computer.
She took a deep breath and let it out slowly, accepting a hard truth, something ingrained into her by now. Going forward, she intended to adhere to it.
Trust no one.