The Lucifer Sanction Read Free Page A

hypothesizing. An opening appeared on the
metallic surface and the doctor clutched it, pulled, pulled,
and could feel it give a little. He gestured to Mateo who
quickly slid the handle of a pick into the narrow opening.
    Fellini
positioned
the
camera
high
above
Drummond’s head, angling for the best shot. The Scot
threw a look of irritation at Fellini, causing the Blick man
to grin anxiously and plead his case. “Please, Doctor, for
posterity . . . after all, history is being made here.”
    Drummond grumbled at the cameraman and applied
more leverage. “Just a little more, just a . . .”
The opening widened. He held a hand upward as
those around him scrambled back in a feverish effort to
move away. Mateo used a foot to push a large rock into the
crack to prevent it closing.
Drummond glanced back, reached for a pebble and
flipped it through the opening, listening as it rattled on the
metallic floor. It echoed for a while, then silence. He placed
a hand on the edge of the opening and guardedly peaked
inside, a one eyed observation; edgy, ready to pull back.
He half-stepped through with one leg, then his entire left
side while maintaining his balance in readiness for a quick
withdrawal. He held this position for six tense seconds,
seven, eight, and then, letting out an unsteady breath –
stepped on in.
Fellini held back, fearful Drummond would
evaporate in a flash of light. Nothing happened. Drummond
moved deeper inside the sphere followed by Fellini, his
three journalists and Mateo.
One of the journalists, Ansell Portman, an American
student attending the University of Zurich, stood alongside
Fellini and called aloud, “Hello!” His shout reverberated.
“Hello, hello, hello, hello, hello.”
Fellini lurched to one side as Drummond twirled
about and angrily jabbed a finger at Portman. “When
will you comprehend who’s in charge here? That kind of
foolishness can be dangerous, who knows what’s further
inside this...”
“I’m sorry, Doc,” Portman said. “My eagerness got
the better of me.”
“It’s getting late in the day,” Drummond said
squinting at his watch. “The surface light’s dwindling.”
“Wha’dya think?” Portman whispered to Mateo.
“Think it’s a UFO?”
Mateo made a nervous face and scanned about,
wide-eyed. “I think we should call it a day,” he said, “that’s
what I think.”
Portman: “Maybe we should come back tomorrow.”
“You’re joking of course,” Fellini mocked in a tone
of disbelief. He paced nearer the doctor. “Doctor, this is the
find of all time. We have to move onward.”
“Don’t lose sight of who’s in charge here,”
Drummond snapped.
The Blick man felt his pulse quicken as he addressed
the two tentative young men. “Aren’t you excited to
discover whatever might be deeper inside?”
Drummond smirked, turned and considered the
look on Fellini’s face. He placed a gentle hand on top of
the camera and lowered it. “Sounds like a journalist with
Pulitzer Prize aspirations,” the Scot said. “You prepared
to risk the lives of all of us to chase that prize? Are you
hopeful of bagging wee green men in this camera?”
The reporter returned the grin. “Maybe we’ll run
into Klingons,” and he looked about for backing from those
behind him. They remained silent.
Moments later they inched along the passageway
until they reached a large metal door. It had no visible
handle, no means of gaining access. Fellini reached forward,
placed a hand on the metal. “Ice-cold,” he muttered. “Feel
this, it’s chilled.”
The door made a slow grating sound as it fractionally
slid open, allowing chilled air to hiss through the narrow
gap. Drummond took a tentative step into an illuminated
frosty atmosphere. A half-minute later he turned and
beckoned the others to follow. They moved forward and
caught sight of two transparent chest-like objects spread a
few feet apart, each partially filled with a white