Turning off their flashlights so as not to be easy targets, Matt, Sergeant Gupta, and Constable Spencer Sutcliffe slipped through the opening. They had no sooner entered than the stone-wall-door behind them slammed shut.
“That was unexpected,” complained Matt. “Is that likely to cause a problem for the others?”
“Not likely,” whispered Spencer. “Unless…”
“Unless what?” Matt asked, not hiding his sudden concern.
“Unless the people we’re following have locked it remotely,” rejoined Spencer.
“How do we override it if that’s the case?” Matt asked.
“We can’t,” Spencer replied, “without the base unit. And we don’t know if that’s the case, anyway. The soundproof nature behind these walls excludes contact with Josh to test it out. Be assured he’s already working on it.”
“Let’s get mov’in! We’ve lost too much time as it is!” The exasperation in Matt’s voice was unmistakable as he picked up his pace. “Use the wall on the right to alert you to contour changes along this corridor.”
Their initial pursuit felt like following alongside the circumference of a circular or elliptical track that slowly spiraled downwards until it finally flattened out along a straighter route. “Are you leaving a trail for the others,” he asked Sergeant Gupta in muted tones.
“Yes.”
Several steps later, Matt stopped abruptly. His back pressed against the wall, he pointed ahead to a long vertical slice of light. Voices filtered from it and slithered indecipherably through the darkness toward them.
Swish! Thud! The corridor was plunged into the uncomfortable solitude of murky blackness.
They did not move. Only the sounds of the slow, calculated intake of Matt’s breathing and those of his crew were heard.
Holding his flashlight along the barrel of his gun, his finger on its trigger, Matt drew in a deep breath and turned it on. Relief! Shapeless inkiness met his gaze except for something brightly green that shone into the corridor.
Briskly, they moved forward.
On the wall at that location was a raised pentacle with a small rectangular window at its centre and the number thirteen shining out from it. Below the pentacle were three evenly spaced square blank windows and below that a three-by-three keyboard panel with numbers one through nine and an ENTER button. Unexpectedly, the number thirteen turned to eleven.
“That can’t be good,” Matt said, startled by the sudden conversion.
“My bet is that the entry code changes each time this section of the wall opens and closes,” replied Spencer, scratching the side of his neck. “To occultists, numbers have significance. For example, the number eleven is the number of the Age of Aquarius, the eleventh sign of the Zodiac. It’s considered the most holy number.”
Matt peered at him. “Obviously that keyboard has something to do with that number,” he said, pointing at the eleven. “If I’m right, there’s only one attempt to get it right.” He felt consternation growing inside him. He peered at Spencer. “How do you know so much about this stuff? More importantly, do you think you can help here?”
“I spent my childhood in incense and mysticism,” Spencer replied with a chuckle. “If you know what I mean.” He held his fingers together to feign smoking a joint. “Anyway, my mom was into that stuff. Said it connected you to the universe…you know… to ancient myths and ideas. That’s when I took an interest.”
“So! Can you break the code?” asked Gupta.
Spencer nodded. “Have you heard of binary numbers? Oh…I can see your eyes have glazed over. It’s important to remember that numbers are incredibly important to occultists.” He took out his notebook and pen. “The binary representation for eleven is one-zero-one-one.” He wrote it down on the page. “It is made up of 1000 + 010 + 01. Now 1000=8, 010=2 and 01=1.”
“Okay…What order do I punch in the numbers?” Matt asked, skeptically.
Spencer drew in a deep breath and cleared his throat. “I’d say largest to smallest.”
“Here’s hoping you’re right,” replied Matt. He drew in a deep breath and quickly put in the number eight-two-one and hit ENTER and stepped back. Nothing. He was about to re-enter again when Spencer grabbed his hand.
“No! Be patient! Wait.”
The wall slid open, and the unconscious, tied and gagged bodies of Constables Smythe and Rowntree fell out.