“Seth. Hurry. The door.”

Seth shot a panicked look at the door, then looked back at the contents of the box spread out on the floor, a bolt of cloth and ancient yellowed pages. If he left now, all of the dying would be for nothing. And the killing would continue.

Fighting the panic that swirled in his chest, Seth dropped to his knees and scrambled for the contents of the box. He put them in the box and closed the lid.

“Get out now,” he yelled to Zoe as he lunged toward the door. It was inches wide. Zoe slipped through easily.

“Here,” he shouted as he jammed the box through the opening. She took it. Seth jammed himself in sideways as the gap continued to narrow.

He couldn’t fit through! He could feel the steel edges of the door closing on him, pressing his back into the frame. Panic consumed him now. He felt like screaming. Not this close, he wanted to yell. It’s not fair. He fought the panic and shoved with all his strength against the edge of the door. He seemed motionless for a moment, then finally slipped through the opening, falling face first onto the salty floor.

THIRTY-FIVE

“Hand me the box.”

Stratton’s voice was arrogant and demanding. Zoe ignored him as she knelt beside Seth on the hard gritty floor of the salt chamber. He was winded and shaken from his narrow escape, slipping out with the Sophia Passion just instants before the massive vault door slammed shut. He tumbled out head over heels, half a heartbeat away from being crushed like an insect and landed facedown beside the fully uniformed skeleton of a long-dead SS trooper.

He fell on top of the box, panting from the exertion, from the pain, and from the horror of seeing Gunther pinned to the wall, not once, but twice. He would always remember the way the old Austrian’s eyes bulged open even after he died, and the way his right arm continued to twitch.

“Give me the box now!” Stratton ordered.

“Piss off, Stratton!” Zoe snapped back as she leaned over Seth.

Tears of relief and gratitude shimmered in both their eyes.

“Thank God you’re safe.”

“The box! Now!” Stratton’s voice was strident.

Zoe turned, furious, but her angry words died in her throat when she saw the muzzle of his gun pointed at her. In his other hand he held a flashlight, which he pointed into her face. She squinted into the glaring light.

“What—?” She could not comprehend what she saw.

“Hand me the box,” Stratton repeated himself. “Now!”

In the darkness, they heard a scraping sound, shoes against the salt floor.

“You, Father!” Stratton pointed the flashlight at Morgen. “Hold still or I’ll shoot her.” Morgen stopped.

Seth sat up.

“Hold it!” Stratton commanded. “Don’t do anything foolish.”

Seth looked up, dazed for a moment, but the new threat rapidly cleared his head.

“Now,” Stratton said with the impatience of a man trying to sound patient. “Hand me the box.”