an would be dead before he even opened his mouth。
The staircase spiraled down； down； corkscrewing endlessly into the earth。 The Surgeon descended slowly； treating each curve as a blind corner behind which Pendergast might be lying in wait。 At last he reached the bottom。 The stairs debouched into a dark； murky room； heavy with the smell of mildew； damp earth； and…what？ Ammonia； salts； benzene； the faint smell of chemicals。 There was a flurry of footprints； more drops of blood。 Pendergast had stopped here。 The Surgeon shone his light on the nearest wall： a row of old brass lanterns； hanging from wooden pegs。 One of the pegs was empty。
He took a step to one side； then…using the stone pillar of the staircase as cover…lifted his heavy flashlight and shone it into the gloom。
An astonishing sight met his eye。 A wall of jewels seemed to wink back at him： a thousand； ten thousand glittering reflections in myriad colors； like the reflective surface of a fly's eye under intense magnification。 Suppressing his surprise； he moved forward cautiously； gun at the ready。
He found himself in a narrow stone chamber； pillars rising toward a low； arched ceiling。 The walls were lined with countless glass bottles of identical shape and size。 They were stored on oaken shelving that rose from floor to ceiling； row upon row upon row； crowded densely together； shut up behind rippled glass。 He had never seen so many bottles in his life。 It looked； in fact； like a museum of liquids。
His breath came faster。 Here it was： Leng's final laboratory。 No doubt this was the place where he had perfected the arcanum； his formula for life prolongation。 This place must hold the secret for which he had unsuccessfully tortured Leng。 He remembered his feeling of disappointment； almost despair； when he'd discovered that Leng's heart had stopped beating…when he realized he had pushed a little too hard。 No matter now： the formula was right here； under his nose； just as Pendergast had said。
But then he remembered what else Pendergast had said： something about Leng working on something pletely different。 That was absurd； clearly a red herring。 What could be bigger than the prolongation of the human life span？ What else could this huge collection of chemicals be for； if not that？
He shook these speculations from his mind。 Once Pendergast was dealt with and the girl harvested； there would be plenty of time for exploration。
He raked the ground with his light。 There was more blood； along with a ragged set of footprints that headed straight through the corridor of bottles。 He had to be careful； exceedingly careful。 The last thing he wanted to do was begin shooting up these rows of precious liquids； destroying the very treasure he had strived so hard to find。 He raised his arm； aimed the handgun； applied pressure to the grip。 A small red dot appeared on the far wall。 Excellent。 Although the laser would not be sighted in precisely； it would nevertheless leave little margin for error。
Releasing his pressure on the laser grip； the Surgeon moved cautiously through the vast apothecary。 Each bottle； he could see now； had been meticulously labeled in a spidery script； with both a name and a chemical formula。 At the far end； he ducked beneath a low archway into an identical narrow room。 The bottles in the next room were full of solid chemicals…chunks of minerals； glittering crystals； ground powders； metal shavings。
It seemed that the arcanum； the formula； was far more plicated than he had envisioned。 Why else would Leng need all these chemicals？
He continued following Pendergast's trail。 The footsteps were no longer a single…minded beeline past the endless rows of glass。 Instead； the Surgeon began to notice quick detours in the footsteps toward a particular cabinet or other； almost as if the man was looking for something。
In another moment he had reached a Romanesque vault at the end of the forest of cabinets。 A hanging tapestry with a fringe of gold brocade covered the archway beyond。 He edged nearer； keeping his body once again behind a pillar； and parted the curtain with the gun barrel while shining his torch through the gap。 Another room met his eye： larger； broader； filled with oaken cases fronted by glass。 Pendergast's trail led right into the thick of them。
The Surgeon crept forward with infinite care。 Again； Pendergast's tracks seemed to explore the collection； stopping at occasional cases。 His tracks had begun to take on an irregular； weaving pattern。 It was the spoor of a gravely wounded animal。 The blood was not diminishing。 If anything； the bleeding was getting worse。 Almost certainly that meant a shot to the gut。 There was no need to hurry； to force a confrontation。 The longer he waited； the weaker Pendergast would bee。
He reached a spot where a larger pool of blood shone in the beam of his flashlight。 Clearly； Pendergast had stopped here。 He had been looking at something； and the Surgeon peered into the case to see what it was。 It wasn't more chemicals； as he had assumed。 Instead； the case was filled with thousands of mounted insects； all exactly alike。 It was an odd…looking bug with sharp horns on its iridescent head。 He moved to the next case。 Strange： this contained bottles housing only insect parts。 Here were bottles filled with gossamer dragonfly wings； while over there were others with what looked like curled…up abdomens of honeybees。 Yet others held innumerable tiny； dried…up white spiders。 He moved to the next case。 It contained desiccated salamanders and wrinkled frogs in a multitude of bright colors； a row of jars containing a variety of scorpion tails； other jars full of numberless evil…looking wasps。 In the next case were jars holding small dried fish； snails； and other insects the Surgeon had never seen before。 It was like some vast witch's cabinet for brewing potions and concocting spells。
It was quite strange that Leng had felt the need for such a vast collection of potions and chemicals。 Perhaps； like Isaac Newton； he had ended up wasting his life in alchemical experiments。 The 〃ultimate project〃 Pendergast mentioned might not be a red herring； after all。 It could very well have been some useless attempt to turn lead into gold； or similar fool's challenge。
Pendergast's trail led out of the cabinets and through another arched doorway。 The Surgeon followed； gun at the ready。 Beyond lay what looked like a series of smaller rooms…closer to individual stone crypts or vaults； actually…each containing a collection of some kind。 Pendergast's trail weaved back and forth between them。 More oaken cabinets； filled with what looked like bark and leaves and dried flowers。 He stopped a moment； staring around curiously。
Then he reminded himself that Pendergast was the pressing issue。 Judging from the weaving tracks； the man was now having trouble walking。
Of course； knowing Pendergast； it could be a ruse。 A new suspicion arose within him； and the Surgeon crouched beside the nearest scattering of crimson droplets； touching his fingers to one； rubbing them together。 Then he tasted it。 No doubt about it： human blood； and still warm。 There could be no way of faking that。 Pendergast was definitely wounded。 Gravely wounded。
He stood up； raised the gun again； and moved stealthily forward； his flashlight probing the velvety darkness ahead。
SIX
NORA STEPPED WARILY through the doorway。 After the darkness of the cell； the light was so bright that she shrank back into shadow； temporarily blinded。 Then she came forward again。
As her eyes adjusted； objects began to take form。 Metal tables； covered with gleaming instruments。 An empty gurney。 An open door； leading onto a descending staircase of rough…hewn stone。 And a figure； strapped facedown onto a stainless steel operating table。 Except the table was different from others she had seen。 Gutters ran down its sides into a collecting chamber； full now with blood and fluid。 It was the kind of table used for an autopsy； not an operation。
The head and torso of the figure； as well as the waist and legs； were covered by pale green sheets。 Only the lower back remained exposed。 As Nora came forward； she could see a ghastly wound： a red gash almost two feet long。 Metal retractors ha