The West Wing corridor seemed to stretch on endlessly. James ran, his tie flapping, his legs pumping in an undignified, stumbling gait.
He reached what looked like the end of the line: a smooth, dead-end wall of grey stone. He pressed himself against the shelving, panting, desperately running his hands along the dusty wooden frames.
He was trapped. He could hear the men shouting now, the sound of tearing wood indicating the barricade was failing.
No visible exit. No window. Just the scrolls, he thought, his mind racing through escape plans ripped from countless spy novels. Climb? No, they're too brittle.Break through the stone? Impossible.
As his hands swept across the shelving, brushing past the fragile parchment, he noticed something odd about the central pillar of the shelf. It wasn't perfectly flush with the wall like the others. It was slightly recessed—perhaps an inch—and the corner where the wood met the stone was cleaner than the rest.
He pushed on it, tentatively at first. Nothing.
He pushed again, harder, putting his full weight into the central wooden pillar. The dust and camphor scent suddenly changed, replaced by a blast of cool, damp air that smelled of earth, moss, and deep, silent darkness.
With a soft, scraping sound, the central bookcase—a section about five feet wide and seven feet high—swung inwards like a heavy, well-oiled door.
It was a hidden passageway. A secret maintenance tunnel, perhaps, used by temple custodians or, more likely, smugglers and spies over the centuries.
James didn't hesitate. He looked back down the corridor. He could see the splintered wood of the forced doorway beginning to give way entirely.
He quickly wedged himself into the narrow gap. It was a tight fit, the entrance barely wide enough for his shoulders. He heard the final, sickening CRACK of the wooden chest giving way, followed by a loud, triumphant roar of his pursuers.
He squeezed through the gap just as the two large men burst into the West Wing. Their footsteps—heavy, immediate, and utterly terrifying—echoed in the scroll chamber.
James pulled the shelf door closed behind him. It clicked shut, plunging him into absolute, suffocating darkness.