Free The Last Oracle by James Rollins Page A

near the exit. Under the klaxon of the evacuation alarm, they were searching each worker and staff member who sought to exit in that direction.
    A narrow-shouldered man in a blue suit oversaw it from a few steps away. He was plainly someone high up the food chain.
    Gray forced her back down the hallway. He hefted his shoulder bag higher. It bore the museum logo and carried the strange skull her father had hidden in the museum’s storage room. At the thought of her father, a dull ache in her chest threatened to melt into sobbing tears. She held it back. She would address her loss at a quieter moment.
    Down the hall, in the opposite direction of the docks, a shout echoed out the stairwell ahead, a call to search every room. Boots pounded down the stairs.
    Gray stopped and turned to her. “Is there another way out of here?”
    She nodded. “The service tunnels. Over this way.”
    As she led them back again, Gray fixed her with those stormy eyes, questioning her knowledge.
    “Some of the staff take their smoking breaks down there.” She glanced to him guiltily. She really needed to quit. Still, the habit had allowed her to bond with a few of the other researchers. A secret smokers’ club. And all it cost was the risk of emphysema and lung cancer. “We’re not supposed to smoke within the museum, of course. Fire danger, but it’s all stone and steam pipes down there.”
    She led them to an unmarked door and keyed open the electronic lock with her card. The stairs on the far side were stained cement with a steel railing along one side. It led down in sharp turns.
    Before they could enter, a low growl drew all their eyes back to the docks. A low shape slunk into view of the hallway. Thirty yards away. AGerman shepherd. It was outfitted with a black vest and was tethered to a man still out of view.
    Elizabeth froze.
    The dog spotted them and lunged forward, straining against his leash.
    “Go,” Gray urged and pushed her through the open stairwell door and followed. His beefy partner crowded in behind them. It was hot and close. The museum’s air-conditioning did not extend here. The only light was a caged emergency bulb.
    Gray closed the door with the barest click of the lock engaging. The alarm klaxon muffled. He waved them down the tight stairs and squeezed up to join her. “Do you know where the tunnels lead?”
    She shook her head. “Not sure. I never went any farther than I had to. It’s a maze down there, branching in every direction. Rumors say even under the White House. But surely there must be a street exit somewhere.”
    Behind them, something heavy hit the door above, followed by deep barks. Shouts echoed, chasing them down the stairs.
    “Could it be a bomb-sniffing dog?” Elizabeth asked. “Maybe the threat is real.”
    Gray’s partner, Kowalski, snorted. “Only around Pierce is a real bomb threat considered a good thing.”
    At the bottom of the stairs, they hit a barred gate. Gray cranked the locking bar aside and creaked the gate open. The tunnels stretched in both directions, pitch-black, sweltering, smelling of wet cement and whispering with trickles of water.
    “I hope someone brought the flashlight,” Kowalski commented.
    Gray swore softly under his breath. He’d left the light back in the storeroom.
    Elizabeth fished in her pocket and produced her cigarette lighter. It was an antique silver Dunhill. She flipped it open and rasped a small flame into existence. With practiced skill, she adjusted the flame.
    “Nice,” Kowalski said. “I wish I’d brought one of my cigars.”
    “Me, too,” Elizabeth mumbled back.

    Kowalski did a double take in her direction.
    Before he could say anything, light flooded down the stairs behind them. The alarm klaxon rang louder. Their pursuers had gotten through the upper door.
    “Hurry.” Gray headed to the right. “Stay close.”
    Elizabeth kept to Gray’s shoulder with Kowalski behind her. She held her lighter high. The flickering glow extended only