CHAPTER XVII

Empty Tomb

As the Hardys watched in horror as Dr. Jones was wheeled towards the sarcophagus, both Frank and Joe tried to reassure themselves that a rescue would transpire at any moment. But there was still no sign of the reinforcements from the sea. With each passing minute, hope in any eleventh hour liberation was dissipating.

Dr. Jones shot a wild-eyed, yet defiant glance in the direction of the fellow captives. "Bond," he managed to nod towards the British agent as orderlies disbanded the straps tying him to the gurney.

"Jones," Bond replied as he watched the proceedings. "Blofeld," he then sighed, "Will you show yourself so we can continue this lovely conversation?"

Though Drollinger was busy with overseeing the transferring of Jones from the gurney to the sarcophagus, he jerked his thumb towards Bond to an orderly who immediately gestured Muldoon, at attention behind Bond. A blow to the back of the head sent Bond spinning to the ground.

In the meantime, Frank and Joe surreptitiously tried to find any possible diversion. They couldn't see anything promising.

"Take me!" Chet then shouted instinctively.

"Chet, quiet!" Frank hissed.

"Morton, calm down," Leiter advised quietly.

Drollinger's eyes popped. "You would rather be the guinea pig for immortality? You would want to join a small group of leaders who will shape civilization separating the sheep from the goats, the righteous from the unrighteous, the precious few from the babbling ignorance of the general populace?"

"If you take me," Chet continued haltingly, feeling for his words. "I either incinerate, or I become transphysical, correct? Aren't you confident the procedure will work? Do you really want Dr. Jones, a man you'll never convert to your ways, living with you forever?"

During Chet's monologue, Frank continued to intently study the chapel. Why was Blofeld playing the role of man-behind-the-curtain? he asked himself. He looked around at the orderlies, all who appeared wholly devoted to the proceedings. That's when Frank noticed the demeanor of one of the men in the lab coats standing near a machine lever. He seemed worried, a look far different than the others around him.

"Kid, knock it off," Jones called to Chet. "Don't risk it. It's crazy!"

Drollinger became nervous upon hearing Chet out. "Send in the first guinea. We have to follow procedure. One must die before granted new life. Why don't we try one of our own?"

Chet and the Hardys breathed a sigh of relief.

"Fine," Blofeld called. "Select."

Drollinger looked around at those before him until his eyes settled on a meek-looking young man. "And you are?" Drollinger asked.

The man replied in a Greek accent, "Dmitri."

"Well, Dmitri, step up." With wobbly knees Dmitri obeyed. He was then injected unsuspectingly with poison, lost consciousness, and placed in the sarcophagus, which was then sealed. Chet, mouth agape, stared back at the Hardys in disbelief.

"Pull the lever!" Blofeld summoned.

"Lever!" Drollinger repeated.

One of the orderlies looked at the worried-looking man standing by the lever. "Lever, idiot!" he whispered urgently. "Lever!"

The man, confused, looked at the machine as if he had never seen it before in his life. Frustrated, the man next to him pushed the dumbstruck person aside and pulled the lever.

Nothing happened. All waited expectantly, mostly with bated breath. Then, a humming noise was heard, as if energy was gathering, gradually growing louder. Then, in less than a blink of an eye, the interior of the sarcophagus lit up and then immediately went dark again. A pop was heard, and then, nothing. Steam emerged from a machine.

Drollinger grinned. "Open sarcophagus," he muttered, gasping.

The orderlies obeyed. All eyes were on the sarcophagus as the orderlies first lifted with much strength the stone slab. As they moved it away, heads craned forward, no matter how far back they were, including Muldoon, the guards, and the Hardys. Nobody noticed an awake Bond, hitherto passed out on the ground, slide backwards along the smooth granite chapel ground and disappear out the narthex.

The sarcophagus was empty! "Empty?" Blofeld could be heard in mild confusion. "Where did he go?"

"Get ready for a fight," Franked warned in as low as possible to Joe.

"After all this time and this is the reaction you give?" Jones mocked. "You miscalculated the whole thing, Blofeld," he continued. "You're army of transhumanists taking over still needs some work, I should say. Maybe take into account the nature of a soul next time."

"Silence!" Drollinger shouted. "Get in there!"

Jones attempted to shrug away from the orderlies but they easily overpowered him. He was hoisted into the sarcophagus and the lid sealed.

"Pull the lever!" Blofeld demanded, his voice quivering in extreme anger.

"Lever!" Drollinger again repeated, this time with clear agitation.

"Lev—" the orderly said to the confused man. "Oh, I'll just do it." Before he could pull the lever, the man interrupted him, "You mean this one?"

Without waiting for an answer, the man then turned and pushed a blue button and pulled a lever upwards. He then randomly pressed any number of buttons he could. The machine malfunctioned, dangerous sparks flying in multiple directions.

"Now!" Frank ordered. The Hardys, unsure if the man was attempting to sabotage the machinery or truly did not know what he was doing, along with Leiter and Kaspar, dismantled the guards around them. Orderlies and agents, yelling and scattering in directions, charged the outnumbered youths and CIA agents. The clumsy man at the lever was also oppressed. But few if none of them were equipped for hand-to-hand combat. Frank and Joe valiantly fought their way through the onslaught.

The result of the malfunctioning machine was a dazzling multitude of lasers spewing in all directions.

A number of escaping agents threw their arms up in a frenzy in frantic escape only to be decked to the ground as agent 007 swooped in from the buttresses utilizing his grapple and rope.

When the lasers were not connecting with unlucky SPECTRE thugs, among them a misfortunate Muldoon, they were destroying the structure of the chapel. The building was gradually, and quickly, crumbling.

Drollinger, panicking, fled through a side sacristy door. Leiter, dodging from the lasers, called out, "We have to bail, everyone!"

"You're right, Mr. Leiter!" Chet called decking an agent. "Evacuate!" He waited for someone to echo him. "Someone say 'evacuate'!"

"Evacuate!" Bond retorted from behind Chet. The two flashed a grin at the other.

As Bond, the CIA agents, and the Bayporters dashed outside the crumbling edifice and malfunctioning equipment, the man who started the breakdown threw open with great strength the stone sarcophagus. Inside, Jones was gasping for breath, cramped and claustrophobic.

The man put his hand out. Jones complied, and the two darted across the unsafe chapel and dove out the side entrance as the vaulted ceiling crashed onto the sarcophagus and equipment.

In the courtyard SPECTRE agents were dashing in all directions, many hoping to flee to the boats at the dock. Yet they did not take into account an offensive being waged down at the water. Jones and his rescuer noticed the others darting past the old monastic rooms towards the coast.

The port that contained SPECTRE ships was the site of a firefight between SPECTRE guards and the ships of the just-arrived sea division led by Mr. Hardy!

"Where's Blofeld?!" Joe shouted amid the chaos.

"Something tells me he wasn't here at all," Bond said.

"James, we need to round up Drollinger at least," Jones snapped. "I know the way." He turned to his rescuer. "Do you have it?"

"Of course, Indy," the man replied, producing a whip from under his lab coat.

"You know this man?" Frank asked Jones as they followed the archaeologist towards the underground loading dock.

"You bet," Jones called out. He elbowed his portly buddy as they darted down the steps. "Aren't you going to introduce yourself?"

"Apologies," he answered. "My name is Sallah," he doffed an invisible fez. "At your service."