I stayed as close to Mike as I could get while he moved the light over the dirt, then up and down among the coffins, looking for names of the dead and numbers of their vaults.

We had passed the forties, seen the markers for Deys and Cruikshanks, Wetmores and Wheelocks-adults and far too many infants, typical of the mortality rates of that century.

As we came to the intersection that marked the divide between the vaults numbered in the fifties from those in the sixties, Mike’s flashlight framed a woman’s face.

Minerva Hunt was seated on the ground, her hands tied behind her with a length of rope. A silk scarf-probably her own-served as a gag between her teeth, wrapped around the back of her head.

Next to her, Travis Forbes was holding a taxidermist’s skife-the sharp tool designed to skin dead animals.

“Forget it, Forbes,” Mike said.

“No, you forget it.” He pressed the edge of the blade to Minerva’s slender neck and the first drops of blood spurted out. “I can end it for her much faster than you can shoot.”

“I have no doubt you can. I’ve seen your work.”

I could picture the deep, gaping wound in Tina Barr’s neck.

Minerva Hunt’s eyes were opened wide with fear, flitting between Travis Forbes’s hand and something behind me.

I turned to look but saw only the massive outlines of stone caskets and slate shelves.

Travis pulled at Minerva’s arm to get her to her feet. “Give me the gun, Detective, or I’ll cut her throat.”

“Did you get what you wanted?” Mike asked. “Can’t kill her before she lays the golden egg, can you?”

Again Minerva Hunt’s eyes darted from Forbes to the staircase through which we had entered. I glanced back, hoping to see Mercer and the cops he had summoned, but no one was there.

“Make yourselves comfortable, Mr. Chapman,” Forbes said, positioning the terrified woman between himself and Mike. If Mike had considered firing his gun at Forbes, he had missed his brief opportunity.

“Ms. Hunt and I have to go,” Forbes said, pushing Minerva to take baby steps forward. “We haven’t finished our conversation. Pick yourself out a slab and get some rest while we find a less crowded place to talk.”

Minerva looked to the staircase again, then jerked back her head, just as I heard the hatch crash to a close.

This time, Mike flashed his light in that direction. Against the blackness of the wall, it caught Alger Herrick’s shiny chrome hook.

FORTY-SIX

“There’s a shaft at the other end, Forbes,” Alger Herrick said, coming down the steps. “You’ve got to take her that way. There’s another detective outside here.”

Forbes was focused on Mike’s gun. He tried to move Minerva around and drag her away from where we stood. Strapped to him was a backpack, open at the top, which appeared to have a large book-the size of a double folio-sticking out of it.

“Hurry, Forbes.”

“I want his gun.”

“We can do better than that,” Herrick said, coming up directly behind me. “We’ll take his girl.”

Mike pointed his pistol at Herrick, but it was too late. The man was upon me, the cold steel of his prosthesis gripping my forearm.

“Let go of me. I’ll walk,” I said, trying to shake myself loose.

He held me tight, angling so that I was always between him and Mike, and led me around the central burial chambers to an earthen path parallel to the one on which Mike stood, inches away from Minerva Hunt and Travis Forbes.

“Shoot, Mike!” I yelled. “Shoot Forbes.”

The stark confines of this dungeonlike underground chamber smelled of death.

Forbes responded with a laugh, a loud, guttural laugh. What was Mercer doing up above that he couldn’t hear us? Probably helping to load the injured man into an ambulance.

Hunt tried to speak-or maybe she was crying. All that emerged from behind the gag was a muffled noise.

Herrick turned the corner, and for the first time I could see that the fieldstone cap had been removed from vault 65, marked with the name Jasper Hunt II. Books were strewn about, no doubt the result of this unusual break-in undertaken by Herrick and Forbes. The old eccentric had in fact gone to his grave-the first time-with some of his beloved treasures.

Minerva Hunt had played right into their hands, trusting Travis Forbes to help her search for the missing panels of the great map. She’d fallen prey to the same double cross that had proven lethal to Tina Barr.

“In fact, Detective, why don’t you come over here?” Herrick said, pushing me faster, understanding the urgency with which he had to escape before more police arrived. “There’s a vacancy. Several of them, to be honest.”

Mike wasn’t giving up his gun, and Herrick seemed confident he wouldn’t find a way to use it, with both Minerva and me serving as human shields.

“Drag her, if you can’t pick her up,” Herrick shouted to Forbes. “If he kills her, just run. Let’s get out of here with what we have.”

Herrick was ready to sacrifice Minerva Hunt, confident perhaps that she had nothing more of value to give to him.

“Minerva is your sister,” I screamed as loud as I could. “Let her be, dammit. She’s your blood sister.”

Alger Herrick froze at my words, reflexively tightening his grip on my arm. I winced at the pain, but knew I had shocked him.

“Her father is your father,” I said, listening as he took deep breaths, startled by the information. His chest heaved against my back. “You’re a Hunt, too. We’ve got the DNA to prove it.”

Mike steadied his gun with both hands, aiming at the spot where Forbes was moving with Minerva. “You’re entitled to the damn map. You didn’t have to kill to get it.”

This was no time to correct Mike on the fine points of the law. I didn’t think Alger Herrick would expect to go to court now to collect on the Hunt fortune.

“I never murdered anyone, you fool,” Herrick said. “He did. He’s your killer.”

Herrick pulled at me again, moving me farther into the darkness, farther away from Mike.

Now I could hear pounding from the direction of the entrance shaft. Mercer and the backup team must be trying to get to us, but Herrick had found a way to secure the hatch from within.

“I’ll give you three seconds to let Minerva go,” Mike said, moving in toward Travis Forbes and his hostage. “Kill her, and you die, too.”

Alger Herrick heard the commotion. “Drop her, Forbes. Run as fast as you can go to the other end. There’s a staircase just like the one we came in. Beat them out of here with the book-they’ll think you’re an officer, too. You’ll walk right through them.”

Forbes’s fake-or stolen-uniform might serve him well in the confusing mix of cops responding to a call for help. I didn’t care if it did. I didn’t care about the missing panels of the rare map and whether they were lost forever. I wanted to get out of this hellhole, with Mike, alive.

Travis Forbes was beginning to fidget like a caged animal. Herrick would give him up as Tina and Karla’s killer, claiming not to have known his young accomplice was going to use violence. It would make no difference to a jury, but Herrick must have thought it would save his neck.

Mike was gaining on him. “You wanna cut somebody? Cut yourself, Forbes. Slice your own throat.”

Over my shoulder, I thought I saw a sliver of light in the farthest remove of the room. I looked again down the dirt corridor of death, but all was darkness.

Had there been movement, or was my mind frozen with fright? It was getting harder to breathe in the dank, airless space. I knew there was a chance that none of us would make it out alive.

Suddenly, I heard a loud grunt from Travis Forbes. He lifted Minerva Hunt off the ground and threw her at Mike. She couldn’t even brace herself for the fall, her hands still bound behind her.