The Doomsday Key

Or it's the cure, Gray thought.

With their skill in agriculture, the Egyptians must have discovered some type of fungal parasite that could wreak havoc and lay waste to a village. A form of biowarfare. But did they also possess the counteragent?

Gray cradled the jar, gripped the hawk's head, and tugged the lid off. He cringed inwardly, not knowing what to expect.

Curse or cure?

Wallace held a flashlight steady as Gray tipped it over.

From inside, a snow-white powder spilled out, so fine it poured like water. He remembered the story of Bernard and the Lactation Miracle, how the Black Madonna wept milk and cured him.

Gray knew what pooled in his palm. "It's the cure," he said, knowing it to be true. "This is the key."

He poured the powder back into the canopic jar and sealed it tight.

"You might want to see this," Seichan coughed out. She had moved to another of the caskets and opened it.

They joined her.

She pointed her light into the glass casket. A body lay wrapped in cloths, wearing a simple white robe with a cowl. His hands were also folded, clutching a small leather-bound book.

But it was the body's face on which Seichan focused her light. The man looked as if he could have died yesterday. His skin, while slightly sunken, was unblemished, his lips red, his eyes closed as if in slumber. His brown hair looked freshly combed and trimmed straight across his brow.

"He's not decayed at all," Seichan said.

Rachel placed a hand to her throat. "The bodies of saints are said to be incorruptible. They don't decay. This has to be Saint Malachy"-she glanced at the third coffin where a vague outline of another body could be seen-"or Saint Bernard."

Wallace had another thought on the miraculous nature of the body's incorruptibility. He stared over at the jar in Gray's arms, then back to the remains.

"Canopic jars didn't always hold embalmed organs." He nodded toward the jug. "Sometimes they just stored embalming compounds. Oils, unguents, powders."

Gray understood. "If the key was a curative, specifically against the fungal scourge, the powder must possess strong antifungal properties...possibly antibacterial, too." He stared at the face of the saint. "And the main sources of bodily decay are fungi and bacteria. Embalm a corpse with such a compound, seal the coffin tight, and it would appear incorruptible."

He also remembered the unusual health and longevity attributed to the monks of Bardsey Island. Such a powerful curative would have protected the monks against the usual pathogens that swept through the Middle Ages. No wonder the island had a reputation for healing.

Wallace's eyes widened. "So the key..."

"It must originally have been an embalming compound. Perhaps one brought from Egypt or discovered in their new land. Either way, its medicinal use must have quickly been recognized. Back in those times, such a cure must have seemed miraculous."

Wallace nodded. "And when paired with a deadly pathogen, it was a powerful combination. A bioweapon and its counteragent."

"And the knowledge passed from the Egyptians, to the Celts, to the early Church. Where it was eventually bottled up and hidden here."

"But that wasn't the only knowledge passed along that historical line." Wallace turned to face the Celtic cross. "For the longest time, archaeologists have debated how the Egyptians built the pyramids with such precision, such alignment. They would have needed a powerful surveying tool."

Gray studied the cross with new eyes. Could this have been it?

Behind him, Rachel let out a small gasp of surprise. She had remained at the casket. She and Seichan were bent over the body. They had opened the book held in the saint's hand.

"The name inside," Seichan said grimly. "Mael Maedoc."

"Saint Malachy," Rachel concurred. She flipped pages of the book. "It's his journal. Look at these numbers and the scribbled bits of Latin..."

She glanced back at Gray. "This is Malachy's original prophecy of the popes. In his own handwriting." Her voice grew even sharper. "But there's more written! Pages and pages of it. I think the journal contains hundreds of additional prophecies. Divinations never reported by the Church."

And maybe rightly so, Gray thought. The Church must have been frightened enough by the prophecy of the popes, of predictions about the end of the world. No wonder the journal was hidden away.

Before Rachel could explore the writings in more depth, Seichan reached to the book and flipped back to the front page. A symbol was drawn there. It was Egyptian. She glanced over at Gray. He recognized it. They had all seen it before.

He now knew why the Guild had grown so excited. The group had always been fixated on the roots of ancient knowledge, especially Egyptian. Father Giovanni must have suspected an Egyptian connection and let it leak out, sparking the Guild's sudden interest.

He stared down at the symbol, one they'd encountered before while dealing with the Guild years ago: conical depictions of a sacred meal.

The symbol represented what was called shrewbread, or the bread of the gods. It was fed to the pharaohs to open their minds to divinity. Had the dark queen Meritaten brought more than just a miraculous embalming compound from Egypt? Had she carried forth some of the shrewbread? Had Malachy consumed it, touched the divine, and experienced his visions?

Gray stared down at the symbol drawn in the front of the book.

Before any of them could explore it further, a blast rocked down from above. This explosion was louder. It stung his ears. Smoke and rock dust swept out of the tunnel and into the chamber.

"They're through," Seichan said.

Gray swung to Kowalski. "Get your rifle and-"

But before the big man could move, Wallace deftly plucked the weapon out of Kowalski's hands. The professor swung the rifle at them. He backed in a shuffle of steps toward the tunnel.

"I don't think so," Wallace said.

From the passageway, six soldiers rushed into the chamber, followed by a tall woman with a Sig Sauer pistol held in her hand.

Wallace glanced back. "'Bout time you got down here, lassie."

Chapter 32

October 14, 4:15 P.M.

Clairvaux, France

Krista appreciated the shocked looks on their faces. Especially the Eurasian woman's. Even through the blood, her fury shone back at Krista like an open flame. The anger only warmed Krista further. After all the hardships in getting here, this moment was almost worth it.