The Codex

70

The four brothers and their father rested in the shade along a shelf of rock to the side of the tomb door. They had eaten most of their food, and Tom passed around a canteen of water. There was so much Tom had wanted to say to his father, and he had no doubt his brothers felt the same way — and yet, after the initial outburst of talk, they had fallen silent. Somehow it was enough to be together. The canteen made the rounds, with a gurgle as each one drank, and ended up back with Tom. He screwed the top on and shoved it back in his small rucksack.

Finally Maxwell Broadbent spoke. “So Marcus Hauser is out there, looking to rob my tomb.” He shook his head. “What a world.”

“I’m sorry,” said Philip again.

“It was my fault,” said Broadbent. “No more apologies. Everything is my fault.”

This was something new, Tom thought: Maxwell Broadbent admitting he was wrong. He seemed to be the same gruff old man, but he had changed. Definitely, he had changed.

“There’s only one thing I want right now, and that’s for my four sons to get out of here alive. I’m going to be a drag on you. You leave me here and I’ll take care of myself. I’ll greet that man Hauser in a way that he’ll remember.”

“What!” Philip exclaimed. “After all we did to rescue you?” He was genuinely outraged.

“Come now. I’m going to be dead in a month or two anyway. Leave me to deal with Hauser while you escape.”

Philip rose up, furious. “Father, we didn’t come all this way to abandon you to Hauser.”

“I’m a sorry reason to risk your lives.”

“Without you, we no go,” Borabay said. “Wind come from east, bring storm tonight. We wait here till dark, then go. Get across bridge during storm.”

Broadbent exhaled and wiped his face.

Philip cleared his throat. “Father?”

“Yes, son?”

“I don’t mean to bring up an unwelcome subject, but what are we going to do about the stuff in your tomb?”

Tom immediately thought of the Codex. He had to bring it out, too — not only for himself, but for Sally and for the world.

Broadbent gazed at the ground for a moment before speaking. “I hadn’t thought about that. It just doesn’t seem important to me anymore. But I’m glad you brought it up, Philip. I suppose we should take the Lippi and anything else that’s easy to carry. At least we can keep a few things out of that greedy bastard’s hands. It kills me to think he’s going to get most of the stuff, but I guess it can’t be helped.”

“When we get out, we’ll report it to the FBI, Interpol—”

“Hauser’s going to get away with it, Philip, and you know it. Which reminds me. There was something odd about the boxes in the tomb, something that I’ve been wondering about. As much as I hate to go back in there, there’s something I’ve got to check out.”

“I’ll help you,” Philip said, springing to his feet.

“No. I need to go in there alone. Borabay, give me a light.”

Borabay lit a bundle of reeds and handed it to his father.

The old man disappeared through the doorway, and Tom could see the yellow halo moving about in the tomb among the crates and boxes. Maxwell Broadbent’s voice boomed out. “God knows why all this bloody crap was so important to me once.”

The light moved deeper into the darkness and vanished.

Philip stood up and walked a tight circle, stretching his legs. He lit his pipe. “I hate to think of Hauser getting his hands on the Lippi.”

A voice, cool and amused, came floating toward them:

“I say, did someone mention my name?”