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Sayyid set the tip of the blade to the plaster—and then drew it down, scoring a deep line through the length of the doorway. Dust trickled over his shoes.
He offered the machete back to Adam. “You keep your blade sharp,” he commented sadly.
Adam silently took the knife back.
“The crowbar.” Sayyid held out his hand.
Constance passed it to him with uncharacteristic reverence.
He pushed the iron hook into the slender gap revealed by the scored plaster. He held it there for a moment, leaning forward and closing his eyes.
A dua for forgiveness fell from his lips, and he wrenched the iron back.
The scrape of stone echoed up the passageway. Plaster popped around the top and sides of the panel, spurting out little clouds of white powder.
Sayyid set down the crowbar and gripped the exposed edge of the door. “Mr. Bates?” he prompted.
Adam joined him and hauled back against the stone. It pivoted on another concealed hinge, opening onto a steep, narrow staircase. Lamplight spilled over the first few steps. The rest descended into darkness.
“Who should go first?” Ellie eyed the shadowy tunnel with both excitement and trepidation.
“Whoever it is, they had best watch for booby traps,” Constance piped in helpfully, rising up onto the toes of her boots to peer over Ellie’s shoulder.
“There is no such thing as booby traps,” Neil countered impatiently. “They’re a ludicrous invention of adventure novelists.”
“That’s not entirely accurate,” Ellie countered. “There are contemporary documents that indicate the First Qin Emperor of China was entombed in an enormous mausoleum threaded through with rivers of mercury and crossbows that would shoot at anyone who stepped in the wrong place.”
“But no one has ever excavated the tomb of Qin Shi Huang!” Neil complained. “That’s just propaganda to deter thieves!”
“Ancient Egyptians used curses to protect their tombs,” Sayyid offered. “Promises of untold pain and eternal suffering that would be inflicted on anyone who violated their rest.”
The rest of the group regarded him with various degrees of unease.
“But not—ah—booby traps,” he finished uncomfortably.
“I’ll go,” Neil declared irritably and stalked out onto the first stair.
The rock promptly gave way beneath his shoe, and Neil dropped like a stone.
Sayyid was a step ahead of Adam. He dove as Neil plummeted, throwing his arms around Neil’s chest and catching him just before he disappeared through the collapse.
Sayyid slid across the floor as Neil’s weight dragged him down.
Adam threw himself across Sayyid’s legs. Grasping him by the ankles, he pivoted, slamming his boots up against the stone to either side of the door.
“Fiddlesticks!” Ellie burst out.
Behind her, Zeinab took one look at the scene and raced up the hallway. Adam could hear her shouting through the fissure to the women above.
“You are heavier than you look,” Sayyid complained, his voice tight with strain.
“I’m not trying to be!” Neil called back in a panic.
He’d fallen completely through the hole in the stairs. Only Sayyid’s tenacious grip kept him from plummeting down to whatever lay below.
Hopefully not a pit full of razors, Adam thought ruefully.
“Neither of you are a piece of cake,” Adam bit out, adjusting his sliding grip on Sayyid’s feet.
