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She looked at the problem from Walter’s point of view. From the basics that she knew of computers from her time deactivating security systems and taking down cameras, a computer worked with a series of zeros and ones. Coded correctly, it functioned as a brain, figuring out complex problems and generally running daily life. But if the code was wrong, the back brain stopped working. She needed to find the system code.
Unfortunately, there were an infinite number of possibilities. Without the ability to hear the clicks of the vault, she didn’t know how she was supposed to solve it. She couldn’t just try at random. That would trip an alarm.
Her eyes roamed the carved marks. There had to be something different about them. Some of the wards were darker than others, as if they had been carved in harder. She didn’t know why that was. Why would he even set it up this way? Then she saw that there appeared to be something else in the whorls and swirls than what she had seen before. This was a different kind of ward. Possibly one he had invented himself.
Her finger stilled over the top ward. XII. Roman numerals. Her eyes drifted around in a circle. She shifted to the next one. I. And the next. II. And the next. III. The next was IIII, not the IV she had expected, but she still saw it for what it was.
It was a clock.
But why would only certain numbers be darker? Maybe they were used more often. She could see the numbers I, III, IIII, V, IX. Which only marginally narrowed it down.
Kierse slid the key card out of her boot. She ran it across the slot like at the checkpoints, but instead of it opening, a password punch code appeared below the card.
“Graves,” she called. “There’s a password on the wards. I can’t break them separately. I’m ninety-seven percent sure that will trigger an alarm. I have to know the password.”
“Great,” he growled in frustration. “What can I do?”
“You knew Walter. Think of what he would use as a password. A numerical password that includes one, three, four, five, and nine. I’m thinking tech related. Think code or math or something.”
“What if it’s Louis’s code?” Graves asked.
“Would you let Louis pick the code?”
“Of course not.”
“I doubt Walter would, either. It’s his system. It’s his code,” she said with more certainty than she felt.
She just thought of the person she had trailed through the market that day. Walter had so much pride in his work. It was obvious in every inch of his systems and the way he repaired them that day. She didn’t think he would give away any more control than he had to.
Graves looked at the keypad for a span of a few seconds, and then, without even running it by her, he punched in a series of numbers.
“What are you doing?” she gasped, waiting for an alarm to blare and for someone to come and stop them.
Then the system disarmed like magic. The door began to slowly slide open.
“How?” Kierse gasped in relief.
“Pi was Walter’s favorite number. He liked that it was a constant. 3.14159.”
“Thank god that you love knowledge,” she muttered. “I never in a million years would have guessed that. That could have been a disaster.”
Graves shrugged. “It felt like a solid gamble.”
He was fucking lucky he was right.
The door finally opened all the way, releasing with a soft hiss. Kierse’s breath caught at the sight before her. The gallery was even more beautiful than the ballroom, with black marble floors ingrained with gold. The walls were a silky-smooth red, and built-in white display shelves lined one wall, full of all manner of objects, including jewelry, gemstones, a large gold crown, and some very old-looking books. The other wall displayed what she assumed was priceless artwork. Kingston would kill to be in this room.
But her eyes came back to the item at the center.
A closed black box that contained the most valuable item—the spear.
Finally within her grasp.
Kierse still needed to break the wards just to be sure the system didn’t come back online while they were stuck inside. Now she could do that without setting off an alarm. Walter was smarter than Graves had given him credit for. This system was genius.
She carefully deactivated each of the wards, absorbing the golden glow into her, getting a brush of Walter’s magic—incense and rainstorms. She didn’t want someone to bring the system back up and lock Graves inside. This was her exit strategy for a room with only one exit.
“All right,” she said with a nod.
Then, with a held breath, she stepped into the trophy room. No alarm tripped. No sound went off. There was perfect silence.
“Graves, look at this place,” she said, turning to face him.
But he was still on the other side of the door.
