Solomon's Seal

by Skyla Dawn Cameron

  “Nothing...shady that I’ve turned up.”

  “Which doesn’t mean that there isn’t anything, just that you haven’t found anything?”

  “Right.”

  “Our mercs?”

  Sure enough, he had files on them too—the two guys and the chick with the guns. “They did a tour ten years ago in Afghanistan. All three abandoned the army and are just muscle for hire now. Came here from...” He clicked the mouse and drew up some screenshots of online articles. “...Venezuela. Where they turned a couple of FANB posts into craters, as you can see.”

  I could and I stifled a shudder at seeing the destruction; the Venezuelan military likely wasn’t happy about that. “So that’s what you were looking up at last night.”

  “Couldn’t sleep right away, so yeah.”

  “Moti?”

  “No idea but haven’t had a chance to dig yet. Local, maybe? Sorry.”

  I supposed that would have to do. I plucked my cell phone from where I’d stuffed it in my pocket and set it in front of him.

  Dawson glanced up, thick brows furrowing. “Um—”

  “On here, you’ll find the number for Prudence Cortez. If something happens, you call her. She’s my best friend and she’s taking care of my daughter.”

  He grasped the phone in his big hands, turning it over as he gazed down at it. “I didn’t know you had a kid.”

  “That didn’t show up on my Google results?”

  A blush bloomed on his cheeks. “Well. Okay, it did, but I didn’t go looking for details about your family.”

  “She’s six. And there’s a clause in my contract that specifies she’s paid a sum from Ashford in the event of my demise before I obtain the ring. Do remind him of that.” I collected my tech and turned to go.

  “Carlotta Ann-Marie Fabrini,” he spoke up.

  I glanced over my shoulder at him.

  He worried at his bottom lip. “Two Pines Nursing Home, in Austin. My grandma. I...I take jobs like this to help her.”

  I nodded in understanding. “Deal.”

  Hopefully it won’t come to that.

  ❇

  The mouth of Kadhim Cave yawned before us in the now-bright light of day

  In a word, it was stunning. I’d been caving, mostly in North America, but there were few places that could compare to this beauty. Limestone had been cut away over centuries by water, etching the walls in curves. Ankle-deep water ran along the center and widened outside the cave into a pond. It was startlingly blue, reflecting the sky above.

  I made a point to switch on Ashford’s cam that Dawson had me equipped with to scan the area and take it all in, before switching it off again to conserve power and recording time. I had a digital camera of my own—tiny and tough for trips like this—which I pulled out of a padded pocket in my gear belt so I could take a few photos too. It might give Em more to tease her classmates with.

  Curtis had been made to stay back at camp. I wasn’t sure why but perhaps Ashford felt it best to have someone guarding Dawson and the rest of the equipment. Brandon, Moti, and Mr. Rolph all carried rope bags and equipment, including drills and bolts for when rigging was needed. My own equipment bags were heavy on my back; the rule was a third of your body weight in a backpack, but I knew within half a day I’d be questioning the logic of it. I insisted on some of my krabs and hooks, too, and they hung on my belt to jangle at my hips while I walked. Laurel came up beside me, seeming tiny in her large hard hat and caving clothes, particularly petite without her high heels. She gazed at the expansive entrance, lips parted, but when she noticed me watching her she scowled and looked at her feet.

  Tucker pushed between all of us. His caving clothes were all camo-green, and I figured a gun was definitely stowed in his backpack. On his right hip sat a walkie-talkie, on the left a bowie knife.

  “There are three entrances,” Mr. Rolph said. “About four to five kilometers have been mapped from each one.” He unfolded a large map on special thick paper and we gathered around to look. There were details about the entrances and then a huge space of nothing representing the center. The thing looked hand drawn and the accompanying survey didn’t resemble the standard ones I’d seen most cavers use.

  “Locally made?” I asked.

  He nodded. “I’ve never been in the place but I came here last week to piece together information from residents in a village on the other side of the Shebelle River.”

  I checked the scale and compared it to what had been mapped. If that was almost five kilometers from each entrance, it would put the size at... “How big is this thing?”

  “Twenty-six kilometers long, approximately.”

  Jesus. “Vertically?”

  “Currently unknown.”

  “And we’re headed into no man’s land in the center?”

  “Yes.”

  I eyed the water again, not liking this. “Diving going to be necessary?”

  “Too much for you, beauty queen?” Brandon called over his shoulder with a grin.

  Well. Apparently I’d been googled ahead of time by someone besides Dawson. Some people were so judgmental about things pregnant, disowned teenage girls will do to pay the bills.

  “Perhaps,” Mr. Rolph answered my query and nodded as he folded the map again and slid it in his pack. He removed his glasses and rubbed spots from the lenses with his sleeve. “We have equipment for short dives on us.”

  Oh god. Do. Not. Want. I forced a smile and tried not to stress about it. I could make it through sumps—had made it through sumps—and despite my aversion to it, I was trained in scuba diving and had done cave dives before. I just really, really preferred not to. I didn’t see anyone carrying rebreathers, nor had I been briefed on special equipment usage, so hopefully this meant the chances were fairly slim that we’d run into deep water.

  Further, I didn’t particularly want to know why no one had mapped that center part, though I was starting to think we’d be better off bombing everything and then sifting through the rubble.

  Mr. Rolph glanced at me and smiled. “Nothing in the geography indicates water runs deep here.”

  He must’ve sensed my discomfort and I appreciated his reassurance. Without the glasses, he seemed much less standoffish, and I regretted my previous snap judgment regarding him. “Thanks.”

  Tucker moved ahead; Mr. Rolph seemed to know the area best but if the muscle wanted to jump in first, so be it. I walked a few steps behind him. Ashford had led me to believe I would be leading this expedition, but perhaps the others would ease back once we were underground and my own expertise came to light.

  With the mouth of the cave so wide, sunlight permeated fairly deep at first. We kept to the side, single file, to avoid the water as much as possible. Water resistant clothes are all well and good, but wet fabric is heavier, colder, and it’s something to avoid. Dank smells drifted up, of what, I didn’t know, but hoped to grow used to it soon. After making a left, when the cave narrowed considerably, darkness mouthed us and three of us flipped on our helmet lights—not all, to conserve energy—and I turned on my camera. White beams bobbed as we walked, cutting this way and that.

  Caves are alive. Not sentient-alive—though sometimes I wondered—but they have internal systems like living things do and they breathe. Depending on the size of the cave, it can be a small sigh or whimper, or a great, heaving roar with winds that can knock you off your feet. Kadhim opened with a long steady breath, promising deep, narrow depths within.

  A giddy thrill went through me, for a moment drowning out any worry. In these cases, danger was always balanced out by sheer beauty and wonder that was the locale before me. Though I enjoyed the idea of time off after this paycheck to look after my daughter, places like this would always call me back again, along with the adrenaline exploring them provided.

  When the water snaked off to the side and we had a bit more room, I fell back into step with Mr. Rolph. “So, scholar?”

  “Not officially, but working in that capacity,” he sa
id with a wry smile.

  “Out of curiosity, do you know if we are looking for a ring randomly on the ground, or is there something I’ve not been told yet?”

  “Manmade room somewhere near the middle.” His gaze remained focused straight ahead, not glancing to me once. “Allegedly.”

  Ten kilometers horizontally to the center, then. Not that bad. Maybe. But I said nothing and tried to ignore the twisting in my gut.

  ❇

  One of the things no amount of preparation will help you with in caving is how the complete darkness messes with your sense of time.

  Jetlag had already set my brain behind so the kilometers passed on foot—and via rebelays—alternated between feeling like both hours and minutes. There was little conversation between any of us, which didn’t bother me; the only person I thought I might talk to was Moti, who had a friendly, easy energy about him. Unfortunately, the odd time he spoke to Mr. Rolph, it wasn’t in a language I was familiar with. I’d learned a handful of Amharic phrases for travel but I didn’t think it was what he spoke, and my knowledge wouldn’t translate into an actual conversation, either. I mostly held my tongue and wished for music—I had a caving playlist that would’ve brightened my mood considerably.

  Brandon and Tucker stuck close to one another, body language confirming Dawson’s implication of familiarity; the former didn’t have the Southern drawl so I nixed the possibility of brothers, but perhaps only by blood. As Dawson said, they’d worked together in difficult situations and once upon a time in the military, and that bond could be as close as a familial one. Both eyed me frequently and exchanged glances—it was the, “We’ve heard rumors she’s an ex-rich girl—what’s she doing here?” look. My reputation, as usual, proceeded me. It typically took having to accomplish some dangerous task for people to believe I knew what I was doing. There was a reason I most frequently worked alone when I could.

  Tucker gestured for us rest when we reached an open pocket of the cave. Mr. Rolph immediately pulled out the map to confer with him and I caught the words, “about to hit a lead” before their voices dropped too low for me to hear. So that would mean we’d gone roughly the five kilometers if not slightly farther, with no man’s land ahead.

  Lovely.

  Moti hummed cheerily, something that sounded like a pop song but not one I knew. Laurel was silent, still completely out of her element. When we reached a place to stop for a bit, she sat first and leaned against the limestone wall, head tipped back and eyes closed. Tension hovered around her, prickling the air as if she might go off on anyone who got too close. At least she wasn’t wearing heels she could’ve stabbed me with.

  I eased myself onto the cave floor, only noticing just how sore I was when I sat. I slipped off my packs and pulled out an energy bar. It had been, what, maybe four hours or so since we left? Five? Six or seven? There had been several awkward passages and some slow going that took a while to pass, so I couldn’t say for sure. With the time zone difference, Em might still be asleep, it being Sunday morning. I could all but picture her sprawled on Denny’s living floor surrounded by a pillow fort, plate of chocolate cake crumbs to the side, TV on the menu for some Disney movie she’d fallen asleep during. Denny would be passed out as well but on the couch, sleeping with his mouth open and snoring horribly.

  I blinked and shoved the thought away, focusing on opening the wrapper of my energy bar. Odds were that we’d have to camp out in the cave over a few nights and there was no sense stressing about my daughter in the meantime when I couldn’t reach her.

  I took a long drink from my canteen next. It only held so much but I had a backup in my pack, and we had tablets for purifying flowing water we might find.

  Everyone took turns heading just outside the cavern into an alcove to squat and do their business in a makeshift pit dug in a sandier spot we found. One of the rare occasions I disliked being a girl was during such an act, though thankfully there were items that made outside urination much easier. Brandon was the last to take his turn and I didn’t particularly want to think about the smell back there given how his lips got even twitchier, but such is the luck of drawing the proverbial short straw. Though I couldn’t speak for the others, I chose to keep my camera off for this act.

  While the others packed up, I moved toward the opening at the end of the room, supposedly the path we’d be taking. The air was damp to breathe but we’d climbed a recent incline and there was very little water to encounter now even if I still felt it everywhere. The cave walls often stretched up, up, dozens of meters high to a ceiling barely visible with my headlamp. City skyscrapers are one thing, but nothing ever made me feel quite as small the way nature does.

  The light on my helmet cast a strip of white over more limestone walls and rough ground. I tilted my head, glancing deeper where the light faded at the back. Some more tight squeezes to go.

  I pulled my compass out of my pocket. “North, right?” I called.

  “Yes,” Mr. Rolph returned.

  Then this was definitely the path. The others were gathering at my back but no one pushed past me, so I headed into the unknown area first, hoping like hell Rolph was mapping the route so we could find our way back; rigging remained where we’d been climbing but, turned around after a few days of being down here, getting back could be confusing The slight sound of scratches on the wall came as a relief initially until I thought about it and glanced back. “Isn’t that a rather big no-no?”

  He stood next to a white arrow, pale against the limestone, and dusted his hands off on his coveralls. “These caves aren’t a big tourist spot like Sof Omar. Safety over cave integrity on this trip.”

  Interesting. Not something I’d argue with.

  I moved forward, glancing around. The space was narrow but tall, walls rising at least twenty feet over my head. I twisted around so I could squeeze past the narrowest part, keeping my head turned and watching where I was stepping. Mr. Rolph followed after me with Tucker after him—Tucker was the largest, after all, so with new things to encounter, it was best to have him in the center in case he got stuck and needed help. I cursed my chest—as usual—and sucked in a breath as I got past the narrowest spot. My braid caught on limestone, tugging at my scalp, and helmet echoed on the rock it hit, but I made it through and took a deep breath as I stepped into a new area.

  Another cavern opened up, cool air brushing my face. I called to the others and minutes later Mr. Rolph joined me.

  This cavern branched off in three directions. “Suggestions?”

  Mr. Rolph had a lighter and went to the opening on the far left to measure the air flow. I held back and looked at the other two openings, finding both looked pretty much the—

  Something caught my eye.

  The others were piling into the cavern with grumbles and curses, so I left them to slip through the middle archway, frowning and staring at something pale on the ground. The lamp on my helmet compensated and brightened to fill the larger space.

  “Ms. Talbot,” Rolph called, but I waved him off, still focused on whatever it was on the ground. I moved close and fell into a crouch, peering at the thing wedged between two boulders. White, stripped down and smooth.

  Bone.

  “We’re waiting,” Laurel snapped.

  Better take a seat, then. I ground my teeth in irritation, but focused on my find instead of her grating tone.

  I grasped the end of the bone and wiggled it free. The weight of people behind me pressed down, so I raised it for them to see as I stood.

  Tucker barely gave it a passing glance. “Plenty of animals come down here to die.” He turned to Mr. Rolph. “Which way?”

  “It’s down this path,” he replied, but hadn’t taken his gaze off the bone. I figured, like me, he had at the very least noticed we hadn’t encountered a single sign of so much as a bat or bug during the last several hours. I also assumed he wasn’t a serial killer but had taken some anatomy classes and knew we were looking at a human femur bone.

  One that had b
een gnawed upon.

  8

  Not Alone in the Dark

  Little else was said among my companions as we moved on but a chill had settled deep in my bones and I couldn’t shake it, no matter the exhilarating fun of our activities. These were not men—or men-plus-a-woman—to take my instinct seriously, I suspected. “Female’s intuition” still got batted around like nonsense among many in this line of work, so I saw no cause to speak up.

  Yet.

  Still, Dawson’s joke of flesh-eating, subterranean cave-dwellers remained in my head.

  Besides the utter darkness, the silence worked on my nerves, stretching them taut until I was jittery, as if I’d had five shots of espresso and Red Bull for breakfast. I moved ahead of the group once again, leading the party while Mr. Rolph marked our path, and the unfamiliarity between everyone left me extra tense.

  You can hallucinate in caves. There’s a partial sensory deprivation quality to being down there, and it is easy to believe you hear or see something that isn’t real. I kept my focus, shifting my head and blinking often to give my eyes a rest, listened. I caught the occasional drip—water, somewhere, steadily tapping. Steps and scrapes sounded behind me, my companions moving. Any muttered curses were amplified by the cave acoustics. All normal sounds, thankfully—I’d never forgive myself if I was the one to be compromised on this mission.

  We reached a dead end with a hole in the wall about halfway up—one that would require some maneuvering for the broad-shouldered men in our party. Mr. Rolph moved past me, presumably to check the air flow, though there were no other exits in the area so obviously it was the place to try.

  “It’s this way,” he confirmed and looked at me, awaiting direction.

  Right, I was officially in charge, then. I turned to the others. “Single file. Laurel, you’re the only newbie here, yes?”

  She glared at me so harshly I half-expected one of those grimoire poltergeists to pop out of her head. “New to caving. Not to keeping an eye on things, so keep in mind that I’ll be the one delivering your paycheck later.”