The Bone Labyrinth by James Rollins Read Free Book Online Page A

on.
    Novak led with his light.
    As she tagged along behind him, she cast anxious glances over her shoulder, watching for any sign of the thieves returning. Once they reached the smoky mouth of the tunnel, she asked, “What does it matter if anything’s left here?”
    “Dr. Wrightson summoned me here personally to solve the historical mystery that’s been hidden here for centuries. I won’t let his and Arnaud’s sacrifice be in vain.”
    Lena bit back a twinge of guilt. She pictured Wrightson and Arnaud vanishing into the darkness. She had also been called here to solve a mystery.
    In her case, a scientific one.
    Before entering the tunnel, she took a final look at the carved stalagmites and the impressive swaths of cave art. Father Novak was right.
    They might as well learn as much as they could.
    Before it was too late.
    1:16 P . M .
    As the only member of the Roman Catholic Church present, Roland was determined to bear witness to the desecration of this small chapel, a chapel whose construction had apparently been overseen and sanctified centuries ago by Father Athanasius Kircher. As he headed into the tunnel with his flashlight, questions swirled in his mind.
    Why did the reverend father sanctify this place centuries ago? Why was it kept hidden—and more important, why was it looted and desecrated just now?
    Hoping for answers ahead, he followed his beam through the churning rock dust and residual smoke. At last he reached the cratered remains of the Gothic chapel. The stone walls were now a pile of rubble. It looked like most of the debris had been blasted in such a manner as to completely bury the grave site with its strange petroglyphs and carefully laid-out bones.
    The American geneticist—Lena—coughed behind him, doing her best to suppress the noise with a fist pressed to her lips. “Looks like they were covering their tracks, obscuring evidence of their theft here.”
    “But you took photos earlier, yes?”
    “Damned straight, I did.” The note of righteous indignation in her voice tweaked a smile out of him. “Sorry, Father. I didn’t mean to—”
    “It’s all right. I’m damned glad you took those pictures, too. And please call me Roland. I think we’re beyond formalities here.”
    She joined him at the edge of the blast site. “I don’t think we’re going to salvage anything here.”
    “Don’t be so sure.”
    Roland carefully stepped and climbed through the worst of the desecration, hoping the thieves were so focused on their goal that they failed to examine the far wall of the chapel, especially the side facing the old entrance to this cavern system.
    Before he could cross through the rubble, Lena called behind him. “Father . . . Roland, come see this.”
    He turned to see her shining her helmet lamp toward the cavern wall opposite the ancient gravesite. The blast had collapsed a section of bricks there, revealing what appeared to be another alcove hidden on that side. He joined her and added his light, shining it into the space once sealed by the chapel’s brick wall on this side.
    He gasped at the sight. On the back wall of the alcove was another large star-shaped petroglyph. Again made of palm prints. “It’s just like the one across the way.”
    “Not exactly,” Lena said.
    “What do you mean?”
    She pulled out her cell phone and pointed it into the space. “The prints are smaller and more numerous, and note all the pinkie marks of these palms . . . they’re bent askew, like the artist’s finger was broken and healed crooked. Definitely someone different made this petroglyph. And from the size of the prints, maybe a female.”
    As Lena snapped a series of pictures, Roland glanced back to the pile of rocks covering the opposite grave. “Maybe that other man was this woman’s mate.”
    “Maybe, but we’ll never know.” Lena angled her light to the bottom of the alcove. “There are no bones here.”
    At least not any longer .
    Roland turned and worked his way to the