She examined the rear swing doors where she found the lock shafts engaged but not padlocked.

And why would they be? she thought. No one’s going to steal anything here.

She grabbed the lever handle and swung it out, rotating the long shaft. It popped free and she tugged on the door, swinging it open to reveal neat rows of boxes stacked floor to ceiling. The light wasn’t great and so it took her a moment to decipher the printing on the sides. She backed away when she realized what it was.

She called out to Donny. “Freeze-dried food!”

Donny had opened a spigot on the bottom of a tanker and clear liquid was gushing out. He stuck a hand into the flow and raised it to his lips.

“Water!”

She shivered. The air was colder here. But no matter, she had all she needed to know.

“Let’s get out of here!”

But as they hurried back to the Tahoe she noticed something that damn near stopped her heart. Donny obviously noticed it too as they both simultaneously skidded to a halt.

“Hey!” he said. “Where’s the opening?”

The passage they’d come through was gone. The dark cleft in the mountainside had closed over and they now faced a wall of solid, unbroken rock.

ERNST

Ernst found Slootjes in the lodge basement, hunched over his desk, fairly engulfed in books and scrolls. The loremaster squinted up at him through a pair of bifocals.

“I can tell by your expression you’ve read it,” he said.

Ernst nodded. “It’s…harrowing.”

Indeed. Charles Atkinson—if such a person truly existed—told his tale in a plain-spoken, matter-of-fact tone that compelled belief. Ernst looked for a place to drop the envelope with the damning memoir but every horizontal surface was occupied.

“Just drop it on the floor,” Slootjes said.

Ernst did that, then leaned over the desk.

“Tell me you’ve debunked this travesty.”

Ernst wanted nothing more than to hear a resounding Yes. Instead, Slootjes gave his head a slow, sad shake.

“Just the opposite, I’m afraid.” He indicated a loose-leaf binder. “I checked with your grandfather’s reports to the Council and he often mentions a ‘Charles’ as being close to Tesla.”

“Anyone working with Tesla at the time might have known of this Charles and impersonated him.”

“True. But Atkinson’s dates regarding the Order’s takeover of the financing of the tower experiments jibe with the Council’s financial records.”

“But—”

“The Council kept its involvement secret, Ernst, and we know Tesla never went public with it. The records show they spent a considerable amount of money to keep Tesla going—to the tune of one hundred and twenty-five thousand dollars. Which sounds like a pittance these days, but when you adjust for inflation it comes to three and a half million. That’s what the Council poured into the Wardenclyffe project.”

“So that part’s true,” Ernst said. “How did they justify the expense?”

“According to the minutes of the Council meetings in 1903 and thereabouts, the members had read newspaper reports of strange occurrences that sounded like intrusions of Otherness in the Shoreham area along Long Island’s North Shore. They investigated and found good reason to believe that Tesla’s tower was not only transmitting wireless energy, but thinning the Veil as well. That was why they put up the money.”