The Last Odyssey (Sigma Force #15) - James Rollins Page 0,104

a bay more than a river.”

In the cabin, Gray glanced over at Seichan.

Even from the stern, Kowalski knew what the guy was thinking.

11:17 A.M.

Making it a perfect harbor for a seafaring people.

As the cruiser rumbled up the river, Gray imagined this whole valley flooded with water, mixing snowmelt with salty sea. He pictured a massive fleet anchored here, waiting to lay siege upon the Mediterranean.

In addition to the wide bay, each tributary cascading out of the mountains was likely its own river back then. He examined a stream they passed, leading up to a gorge lined by towering limestone cliffs. The sheer rock walls were set well back from the current flow, suggesting that the chasm had been cut ages ago by waterways much wider and stronger than today.

He checked the e-tablet in his hand, which glowed with a detailed chart of the Sous River system. He had done his best to estimate which tributary led into the mountains closest to the ruby marked on the gold map. He held it out toward Charlie.

“Do you know where this side channel is?”

Charlie took the tablet in one hand.

On her other side, Seichan offered an olive to Aggie. The monkey jumped to Seichan’s shoulder to take it, then set about delicately peeling the skin off the fruit and nibbling the flesh around the pit.

Seichan hid an amused smile.

Quickly finished with the olive and spitting the pit aside, Aggie climbed down from his perch and clambered across Seichan’s chest. He paused to sniff at one of her breasts, likely noting the slight whiff of milk, even though Seichan had pumped this morning.

Seichan’s smile turned into a scolding frown. “No, you don’t.” She lifted the monkey up and returned the little guy to Charlie’s shoulder. “That bar is closed for now.”

Charlie passed back the tablet and gave Aggie, who looked deeply wounded, a small squeeze. “It’s okay, mon ami. I’ll get you a proper meal in a bit.” She turned to Seichan. “Sorry about that. He’s still barely out of his infancy. In macaque troops, the entire group raises their kids. Multiple females will even nurse the same baby.”

“Not this wet nurse,” Seichan said.

Aggie seemed to sense this rejection and tucked his face against Charlie’s neck.

The captain turned to Gray. “That side river you marked. Oui, I know it. It is not far, another two miles up. It cuts far into the mountains, but my boat can only motor a mile into the ravine, maybe a bit farther if the snowmelt is strong.”

He nodded.

Hopefully that’ll be far enough.

Gray stepped out of the cabin to check in with Commander Pullman, letting him know their status. He also double-checked the ground-penetrating radar data from the last satellite pass. He zoomed in on the river gorge they were approaching. Like much of the mountains around here, the peaks and jagged massifs bordering the chasm were riddled with pockets. He picked out a couple of promising spots, but ultimately there was only one way to know for sure.

Go out there and have a look.

He stared at the river, again imagining this valley full of water, creating a massive bay and transforming these landlocked mountains into coastal ranges. If the channel marked on the map had been larger back then, too, it would have made for easy access to the sea.

Finally, Seichan called and waved him back.

He returned to the cabin. Ahead a wide, inflowing waterway entered the green expanse of the Sous. “Is that the one?” he asked.

Charlie nodded and expertly swung the cruiser around and aimed the bow into the mouth of the channel. The current in the narrower tributary proved stronger than the sluggish Sous. The outboard engine rumbled louder; the boat bobbled then straightened. Moments later, they were motoring up the side channel.

Gray leaned down to get a better view of the lay of the land ahead. Cliffs were set well back from either bank, suggesting the channel had indeed once been much wider. Past the band of farmland closest to the Sous, a surprisingly dense cedar forest climbed and spread across the floor of the shadowy gorge.

“Does this tributary have a name?” Seichan asked.

Charlie shrugged. “Nothing that’s marked on any maps, but we Berbers have lived here for thousands of years. We have older names for every peak, valley, and rock around here.” She nodded ahead. “This is called Assif Azbar.”

“Which means what?”

“Roughly River of Sorrow.” She glanced over. “For centuries, there have been stories of people vanishing up there. Place is considered to