Static and interference whined for a few seconds, then… “Philip? It’s not Sam. It’s Norman.”
Philip glanced over the radio to the others, brows raised. Henry understood the Harvard student’s shock. From Sam’s last radio message, Norman had been at risk of being sacrificed last night. Thank God, he was still alive!
Norman continued, speaking rapidly. “When do you expect the helicopters? We need them up here now!” Panic etched his voice.
“They’re right here!” Philip yelled back. “As a matter of fact, Professor Conklin’s with me.” Philip held out the walkie-talkie.
Henry took it, but not before noticing the narrowing of Abbot Ruiz’s eyes. A warning against any slip of the tongue. Henry raised the radio. “Norman, it’s Henry. What’s going on up there?”
“Denal’s in danger! Sam and Maggie have gone to rescue him. But we need help up here ASAP. Within the hour, several signal fires should be blazing near the cone’s western ridge. They should be visible through the mists. Hurry!”
Henry eyed the Abbot. He was already waving some of his men back toward the helicopter. They had thought to have a few hours until Sam called, but clearly Abbot Ruiz was more than happy to accelerate the schedule, especially with Norman’s next words.
“There’s something strange up here… borders on the miraculous, Professor. Must see to…” The static was growing worse, eating away words.
The abbot met Henry’s gaze, his eyes bright with religious hope. Ruiz nodded for Henry to question the photographer.
“Does it have anything to do with a strange type of gold?” Henry asked.
Norman seemed not to have heard, cutting in and out, “… a temple. I don’t know how… heals… no children though.”
The choppy transmission was clouding any clear meaning. Henry gripped the walkie-talkie firmly and pressed it closer to his lips. If he had any hope of warning Sam and the others, it would have to be now. “Norman, sit tight! We’re coming! But tell Sam not to do anything rash. He knows I don’t trust him to act on his own.”
Beside him, Philip startled at his words. Henry prayed Norman would be as equally shocked by such a statement. The entire team knew Henry held his nephew in the highest esteem and would never disparage Sam or any of them in this manner, but Abbot Ruiz didn’t know that. Henry pressed the receiver again. “I mean it. Do nothing. I don’t trust Sam’s judgment.”
“Professor?” Norman’s voice was full of confusion. Static raged from the unit. Any further words dissolved away.
Henry fiddled with the radio but only got more static. He thumbed it off. “Batteries must have died,” Henry said morosely. He prayed Norman had understood his veiled warning, but if not, at least no harm had been done. Abbot Ruiz seemed oblivious of Henry’s attempt at a secret message. He handed the radio back to Philip.
Philip returned the walkie-talkie to a pocket, then opened his mouth. “What do you mean you don’t trust Sam, Professor. Since when?”
Henry took a step forward, trying to signal the Harvard grad to shut up.
But Abbot Ruiz had already heard. He swung back to Henry and Philip. “What’s all this about?” he asked, his face narrowed with suspicion.
“Nothing,” Henry answered quickly. “Mr. Sykes here and my nephew have an ongoing rivalry. He’s always thought I favored Sam over him.”
“I never thought that, Professor!” Philip said loudly. “You trusted all of us!”
“Did you now?” Ruiz asked, stalking up to them. “Trust seems to be something that all of us are losing at this moment.”
The abbot waved a hand, and Friar Otera appeared behind Philip with a bared blade.
“No!” Henry yelled.
The thin man grabbed a handful of the student’s hair and yanked Philip’s head back, exposing his throat.
Philip squawked but grew silent when he saw the blade. He stiffened when the knife touched his throat.
“Is another lesson in order so soon?” the abbot asked.
“Leave the boy be,” Henry begged. “He doesn’t know what he’s saying.”
The abbot stepped beside Philip, but his words were for Henry. “Were you trying to pass a warning up there? A secret signal perhaps?”
Henry stared Ruiz full in the face. “No. Philip just mis-spoke.”
Ruiz turned to the terrified student. “Is that so?”
Philip just moaned, closing his eyes.
The abbot leaned and spoke in Philip’s ear. “If you wish to live, I expect the truth.”
The student’s voice cracked. “I… I don’t know what you’re asking.”
“A simple question. Does Professor Conklin trust his nephew?”
Philip’s eyes flicked toward Henry, then away again. “I… I guess.”
The abbot’s face grew grim, clearly dissatisfied by the vague answer. “Philip,” he intoned menacingly.
The student cringed. “Yes!” he gasped out. “Professor Conklin trusts Sam more than any of us. He always has!”
The abbot nodded, and the knife left the student’s throat. “Thank you for your candor.” Ruiz turned to Henry. “It seems a further lesson is needed to convince you of the value of cooperation.”
Henry felt ice enter his veins.
“For your deception against the path of God, a severe punishment is in order. But who should it be exacted upon?” The abbot seemed to ponder the question for a moment, then spoke. “I think I shall leave this up to you, Professor Conklin.”
“What do you mean?”
“You get a choice on who will bear the burden of your sins: Philip or Dr. Engel?”
“If you’re going to punish anyone,” Henry said, “then punish me.”
“We can’t do that, Professor Conklin. We need you alive. And making this choice is punishment enough, I imagine.”
Henry blanched, his knees weakening.
“We have no need for two hostages. Whoever you choose—Philip or Dr. Engel—will be killed. It is your choice.”
Henry found Philip’s eyes upon him, begging him for his life. What was he to do?
“Make your decision in the next ten seconds or both will die.”
Henry closed his eyes. He pictured Joan’s face, laughing and smiling over their dinner in Baltimore, candlelight glowing on her cheeks. He loved her. He could no longer deny it, but he could also not dismiss his responsibility here. Though Philip was often a thoughtless ass, he was still one of his students, his responsibility. Henry bit his lips, tears welling. He remembered Joan’s lips at his ear, her breath on his neck, the scent of her hair.