The Judas Strain - James Rollins [122]
The most important cross—the one formed of sunshine—continued to inch inexorably across the room.
“Not on the floor either,” Vigor said, red-faced, straightening from his knees. He stood, one hand supporting his lower back.
Behind the altar, Seichan shook her head.
No luck either.
Gray stared up.
The roof was low, but not low enough to touch. It would require much lifting to test every cross up there that might be the right size.
“Maybe I was wrong,” Vigor said. “Maybe Kokejin’s tomb is somewhere else in the castle. All these crosses may be a false lead.”
Gray shook his head. No. They had lost a full hour already. They didn’t have time to search every nook and cranny of the castle by hand. They had committed to the chapel. There was no turning back, no second-guessing.
“Kokejin’s tomb must be here,” Gray insisted.
Vigor sighed. “Then that leaves us the ceiling.”
Gray assigned Kowalski to help boost the monsignor up. He stepped over to Seichan’s side.
“Man, I got the raw end of this deal,” Kowalski griped.
Ignoring him, Vigor pointed to the walls. “We’ll start along the outer edges. You two do the middle.”
Seichan climbed onto the altar. “I can reach the ones above here by myself.”
As she stood, a cross of sunlight lit her back. She had stripped out of her vest and only wore a black T-shirt. Gray noted her curves as she reached up, the stretch of cotton over breast. Despite all his worries, a part of him was still male enough to appreciate it…yet he was still man enough to feel guilty about it.
Now wasn’t the time…
“I think I see a possibility…” Seichan mumbled, extending to her toes, stretching higher.
Then she winced and came down on her heels. Her hand cupped her left side. She had strained her wound.
Gray climbed up next to her. “Let me help you.”
He offered her a leg up, lacing his hands together into a stirrup.
She picked up the silver crucifix, then stepped into his hands.
As he straightened and lifted her, she balanced one hand atop his head and reached the crucifix toward the ceiling. Her left buttock was pressed against his cheek.
Oh, yeah, he was going to hell.
“I think…I think…” Seichan whispered. “It fits! This mark’s carved deep, and the crucifix snugs right into it. A perfect match!”
Gray craned up, but all he could see were the underside of her breasts.
“Can you tell what Christ is staring at?” he asked, remembering Hagia Sophia.
“Down at the altar,” she answered, but she seemed distracted. “The crucifix is seated in a circular block of stone. When I pushed the crucifix in there, I thought I felt something click. And the stone almost seems loose. With the crucifix in place, I think I can turn it. Maybe loosen it free.”
“I don’t think you should—”
He heard a scrape of stone. A loud clank sounded, but it came not from above. Gray stared down between his toes.
The altar dropped from under his feet, falling straight through the floor, taking Gray with it.
Seichan tumbled into his arms, hugging tight to his neck.
The stone slab hit the ground with a jarring impact, dropping Gray to one knee. Dust flumed up. One of the floor bricks broke away, smashed into the altar, and bounced away into the darkness that lay ahead.
Gray stared up. Though it had scared the breath out of him, they had fallen only four feet. Vigor and Kowalski stared down at them.
“I think you found something, Indiana,” Kowalski said with a smirk. He passed over a flashlight.
Gray rolled his eyes, but he accepted the flashlight. Seichan climbed off him, dusting herself off. Crouching, Gray pointed his light into the chamber revealed under the chapel. A dark archway beckoned.
He slid off the altar stone to the floor, Seichan at his shoulder.
Vigor and Kowalski climbed down to follow.
Two crossed arches formed the roof of a small chamber, half the size of the upper chapel. Lit by his flashlight, a low niche was cut into the back wall, framed in another archway.
“A loculi,” Vigor said. “A tomb.”
Within the niche, a body lay stretched across the bare stone,