Blowback

“No sir,” replied Vaile. “There was one other thing.”

“What is it?”

“According to the transcript, the means by which Allah intends to decimate all but the most faithful followers of Islam has already arrived in America. It says that it’s only a matter of days before the bodies of our citizens begin piling up-overflowing our hospitals, morgues, and cemeteries.”

THIRTY-NINE

FRANCE

Carrying flashlights, Harvath and Alcott followed Marie out into the bitterly cold night and were led behind the hotel to a small barn at the far end of the property.

“You keep the artifacts in here and don’t even keep it locked?” Harvath asked as Marie pushed the door open.

“No one locks their doors here. If you do, you send a message that you have something worth stealing. Besides, how long do you think it would take if someone really wanted to get in here?”

The woman had a point.

Marie closed the door behind them and then used her flashlight to point to a stall in the middle of the structure. “In there.”

After moving several bales of hay and kicking away the loose pieces of straw, Harvath found the trapdoor. Drawing it back, he played his flashlight down a series of stone steps, which led into a large cellar.

Jillian joined him, and with Marie bringing up the rear, they descended the steps. The cellar was enormous. Marie found a box of matches and lit several of the lanterns hanging from the low ceiling. As the lanterns illuminated the room, Harvath heard Alcott draw a sharp intake of breath.

Perfectly arranged on clean sheets across the cellar floor were hundreds of artifacts contained in clear plastic bags. Jillian couldn’t help herself and she rushed over to get a closer look. “How were they able to transport all of this?”

“Strong backs, big packs, and many, many trips,” replied Marie.

Joining Jillian, Harvath carefully picked up one of the sealed bags and examined its contents. Inside was a weapon he recognized from his study of military history-a Celtic falcata. With its inward curving blade, legend had it that the powerful short sword could slice through a shield and helmet with just one blow. There was something else about it that interested Harvath, though. Stuck to the bag was a piece of masking tape with a string of numbers. Holding it up so Marie could see them, he asked, “Do you know what these are?”

“I have no idea,” said Marie, shaking her head sadly. “I took several of those pieces of tape to a friend of Bernard’s who is also a mountain guide. I hoped he would be able to decipher it. I thought it might be GPS or something like that. I thought maybe it would help us find Bernard and Maurice, but they seem to be just a bunch of numbers that do not make any sense.”

“Actually,” replied Jillian as she read the numbers along her bag, “they do make sense. They’re grid coordinates.”

“Like on a map?”

“Very similar. Ellyson must have established a grid system over the site where the artifacts were found. The first numbers are a reference point, maybe an outer corner or dead center in the middle of the site. The next set of numbers explains what part of the grid the item was found in.”

“What about this last set of numbers, the one with a degree marker after it?” asked Harvath. “That’s not a longitudinal or latitudinal designation?”

“No. It’s degree of elevation followed by a depth designation. I’d say Ellyson was dealing with a very steep surface and was cataloging not only at what point along the slope he was finding things but also how deeply embedded.”

“Embedded?”

“Yes, probably in ice. Call him what you will, but the man was thorough,” said Jillian.

“Thorough, but not to the point that these strings of numbers will tell us where the actual discovery was made.”

“No. They’re all in relation to that first set of numbers. Those are the anchor which all the others work off of. We’re missing one key piece of the puzzle-the Rosetta stone, if you will, which explains the overall message.”

Harvath turned to Marie and asked, “When Bernard failed to return home, did you call the police?”

“Of course,” replied Marie.

“What happened?”

“They came and asked the same questions they always ask when climbers have not returned.”

“What did you tell them?” asked Jillian. “Did you mention anything about the Hannibal connection?”

“I told the police basically everything I knew, that my husband was climbing the crevices somewhere near the Col de la Traversette and he had not come home.”

Harvath looked at Lavoine and asked, “The local police looked through all of your husband’s maps, charts, whatever they could find that might tell them exactly where he was climbing on the day he disappeared?”

“The police and his climbing friends. They looked through everything, but they found nothing. Doctor Ellyson was trying to keep his work a secret, so it is no surprise Bernard left no record.”

It was obviously painful for Marie to relive the experience. Nothing was said for several moments as Harvath set down the falcata and wandered among the rest of the artifacts.