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.She traced a finger aimlessly across the dusty keys,feeling useless.She should've taken some of those filesfrom the storage room.She didn't know that therewas much more to be learned from them, but at leastshe'd have something to read.She wasn't very good atsitting still, and having nothing to do only made itworse.You could practice, her mind suggested brightly, andRebecca smiled a little, gazing down at the keys.No,thanks.She'd suffered through four long years oflessons as a child before her mother had finally let herquit.She stood up, looking randomly around the silentroom for something to keep her occupied.She walkedto the bar and leaned over it, but saw only a fewshelves of glasses and a stack of napkins, all thinlycoated with dust.There were several liquor bottles,most of them empty, and a few unopened bottles ofexpensive-looking wine on the counter behind thebar.Rebecca dismissed the thought even as it occurredto her.She wasn't much of a drinker, and now wasn'texactly the best time to tie one on.Sighing, she turnedand surveyed the rest of the room.Besides the piano, there wasn't much to see.Therewas a single small painting of a woman on the wall toher left, a bland portrait in a dark frame; a slowlydying plant on the floor next to the piano, the leafykind she always saw in nice restaurants; a table that extended out from the wall with an overturned marti-ni glass on top.Considering what she had to workwith, the piano was starting to look pretty interest-ing.She walked past the baby grand and peered into thesmall opening to her right.There were two emptybookshelves pushed to one side, nothing interest-ing.Frowning, she stepped closer to the shelves.Thesmaller one on the outside was empty, but the onebehind it.She placed her hands on either side of the end pieceand pushed, sliding the outer shelf forward.It wasn'theavy and moved easily, leaving a track in the dust onthe wood floor.Rebecca scanned the hidden shelves, feeling disap-pointed.A dented old bugle, a dusty glass candy dish,a couple of knickknack vases-and some piano sheetmusic propped up on a tiny holder.She peered downat the title and felt a sudden rush of warm nostalgiafor when she used to play; it was Moonlight Sonata,one of her favorite pieces.She picked up the yellowing sheets, rememberingthe hours she'd put in trying to learn it when she wasten or eleven.In fact, it had been this very piece ofmusic that had made her realize she wasn't cut out tobe a pianist.It was a beautiful, delicate tune and she'dpretty much butchered it every time she took thebench.Still holding the composition, she walked backaround the corner and gazed at the piano thought-fully.It wasn't like she had anything better to do.And besides, maybe one of the other team memberswill hear it and come knocking, trying to track downthe source of the terrible noise.Grinning, she dusted the bench off and sat down,propping the sheets open on the music holder.Herfingers found the correct positions almost automati-cally as she read the opening notes, like she'd nevergiven it up.It was a comforting feeling, a welcomechange from the horrors inside the mansion.Slowly, hesitantly, she started to play.As the firstmelancholy sounds rose into the stillness, Rebeccafound herself relaxing, letting tension and fear slipaway.She still wasn't very good, her tempo as off asever-but she hit all the right notes, and the strengthof the melody more than made up for her lack offinesse.If only the keys weren't so stiff.Something moved behind her.Rebecca jumped up, knocking the bench over as she spun around, searching wildly for the attacker.Whatshe saw was so unexpected that she froze for a fewseconds, unable to comprehend what her senses weretelling her.The wall is moving.Even as the last notes lingered in the cool air, athree-foot panel of the bare wall to her right slidupwards into the ceiling, rumbling to a gentle halt.For a moment she didn't move, waiting for some-thing terrible to happen, but as the seconds tickedpast in silence, nothing else moved; the room was asquiet and non-threatening as before.Hidden sheet music.A strange stiffness to thekeys.like maybe they were connected to some kind ofa mechanism?The narrow opening revealed a hidden chamberabout the size of a walk-in closet, as softly lit as therest of the room.Except for a bust and pedestal in theback, it was empty.She stepped toward the opening and then paused,thoughts of death-traps and poison darts whirlingthrough her mind.What if she walked in and trig-gered some kind of a catastrophe? What if the doorclosed and she was trapped there, and Chris didn'tcome back?What if you were the only member of the S.T.A.R.S.who didn't accomplish jack-shit on this entire mission?Show some backbone.Rebecca steeled herself against the consequencesand stepped inside, looking around cautiously.Ifthere was a threat here, she didn't see it.The plainstucco walls were the color of coffee with cream, offsetby dark wood trim.The light in the small chamberwas provided by a window into a tiny greenhouse onher right, a handful of dying plants behind the dirtyglass.She moved closer to the pedestal at the back, notingthat the stone bust on top was of Beethoven; sherecognized the stern countenance and heavy brow ofthe Moonlight Sonata's composer.The pedestal itselfboasted a thick gold emblem shaped like a shield orcoat of arms, about the size of a dinner plate.Rebecca crouched down next to the simple pillar,gazing at the emblem.It looked solid and thick, with avaguely royal design in a paler gold set across the top
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