The Last Odyssey (Sigma Force #15) - James Rollins Page 0,117

the ruby imbedded in the gold map.

As they flew into the mountains, her heart pounded in her chest. She remembered holding little Huri—my little angel—before the child was ripped away. She had just given birth, still in pain, her body covered in sweat, but what joy she had felt when her baby was placed on her chest. Huri had been a hot ember that warmed her all the way down to her heart. She closed her eyes, again hearing her angel wail as she was taken from her arms—until that cry was cut off by the sharp edge of a knife. The same blade that would forever disfigure Nehir. But it was not that scar that pained her the most.

She opened her eyes with a cold promise.

I will hold you again, Huri . . . and my little boy.

The pilot came over the private channel on her helmet’s radio. “There’s a boat ahead. Beached at the side of the river.”

Nehir focused her attention.

Could it be them?

The helicopter swept high. Through her binoculars, Nehir got a good look at a small aluminum cruiser with a tiny cabin. She spotted a woman at the stern, who glanced up, shading her eyes—then returned her attention to an outboard motor. It didn’t appear anyone else was aboard.

“Just a local,” Nehir radioed back. “Keep heading up.”

She continued to search the landscape below. Monsignor Roe did the same on his side. They were searching for any evidence of ancient habitation: a crumble of walls, a broken tower, a bit of foundation. Anything that might hint at the presence of a lost civilization. The plan was to run the length of the gorge by air, then do a more thorough search on foot. The team had access to ground-penetrating radar scans of the region, pointing to possible locations to look, though there were many. She hoped an aerial survey would help narrow the team’s search area.

A commotion drew her attention from the passing scenery.

She lowered her binoculars and looked past her brother to the helicopter’s cockpit. The copilot leaned back into the cabin and excitedly waved an arm back the way they’d come. His radioed words reached her, full of excitement.

It set her own heart to pounding harder.

“Find a place to land,” she ordered. She pictured the little cruiser at the side of the river. “Radio the other aircraft to head back. To land south of that aluminum boat.”

She wanted the enemy pinned down between her two forces.

She turned and faced Elena, enjoying the frightened look on the woman’s face.

Now it comes to an end.

5:55 P.M.

From the excited chatter between Nehir and the cockpit crew, Elena knew something had drastically changed. But the low roar of the engines drowned out whatever was exchanged. Still, from the savage gleam in Nehir’s eyes as she faced the cabin, it was not good.

Elena wasn’t the only one to notice this.

Across from her, Monsignor Roe turned from the window and called over to Nehir. “What is it?”

Nehir’s gaze remained fixed on Elena. “We just picked up a signal!” she yelled back. “The Americans are already here.”

A signal?

Roe stiffened. “How? Where are they?”

Nehir pointed back the way they’d come. “It looks like they’ve found something.”

Elena sank back into her seat, her mouth going dry. She stared across the cabin at Roe. It seemed the monsignor wasn’t the only traitor.

Someone else in Joe’s group was also a spy.

35

June 26, 5:58 P.M. WEST

High Atlas Mountains, Morocco

Kowalski zipped up and headed back into the cave. He was followed shortly by Mac and Father Bailey.

Much better . . .

“I’m ready,” he announced to the others.

Maria shook her head as she and Seichan readied their gear, clicking on flashlights. “What is it about men who feel the need to pee off anything higher than a ladder?”

Kowalski resented her words. “Charlie’s little boat didn’t have a bathroom. A guy can hold it for only so long.”

Across the cave, Gray stood at the open gate and shone his beam into the depths of Hell. “Look at this,” he called back.

The group gathered their packs, picked up flashlights, and joined him.

Behind them, the altar still danced high with golden flames, but their combined beams revealed a sight flanking both sides of the open gateway. They moved past the threshold to get a closer look. Two hulking bronze shapes, twice Kowalski’s height, sat on massive haunches, their fronts balanced atop turkey-platter-sized paws armed with silver scythes for claws. Far above, snouted heads hung low, their muzzles resting on their chests, as