The Last Odyssey (Sigma Force #15) - James Rollins Page 0,122

captive, the riverboat’s captain, a young woman in coveralls and a cowboy hat. The stranger kept her arms crossed and a deep scowl fixed on her face.

They were both guarded by Kadir, who stood outside the door at the stern. He was dressed in black Kevlar armor, including a helmet, and carried a massive assault rifle, a weapon equipped with an under-barrel grenade launcher. He also had a machete strapped to his back.

In addition, another two soldiers of Mūsā—a Son and a Daughter—flanked the boat’s bow at the water’s edge, armed with submachine guns. Those two mostly kept watch on the nearby cliff, likely disappointed to be left behind during the coming assault.

Elena stared through the cabin’s front window, watching Nehir lead twenty or more soldiers toward the cliff, her entire battalion—except for those left to guard the prisoners.

And one other.

Monsignor Roe stood in the cabin doorway. He clutched the keys to the riverboat in one hand, which the other captive—a woman named Charlie Izem—kept a close eye on. Roe ignored the captain’s attention, his gaze focused on the cliff face. He was likely frustrated to be stuck in the rear, having to wait to see what was discovered.

Elena glared over at him, wanting an answer. “How did you know the others were here? Who signaled you?”

Roe sighed and faced the cabin. “Actually, we wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for you, Dr. Cargill.”

“Me?”

“You helped Joseph Kowalski escape.”

“I don’t understand, what does—?”

“A tracker was secretly implanted in his leg, when the medical crew tended to the burn in his thigh.” Roe gingerly touched the bandage under his thin shirt. “Trust me, with all that pain, he would not have noticed the injection of the implant. Probably thought it was antibiotics or pain relievers.”

Elena pictured the bandage around Joe’s thigh. She had thought herself so clever to hide the bronze rods in the folds of his wrap. But apparently, she wasn’t the only one who thought to use his injury to their secret benefit.

“We lost track of Mr. Kowalski when he ended up in the water, blocking the implant’s transmission. After that, he managed to flee beyond the tracker’s range. So, we temporarily lost him.” Roe turned again toward the cliffs. “Until now.”

Elena sank back against the bridge of the cabin.

If Joe hadn’t escaped . . .

Charlie filled the silence, “You are a priest, non,” she said. “Why is it you help these bâtards?”

Roe frowned at her, casting his gaze up and down, trying to judge if she was worthy of an answer. “I am not merely a priest, as you say. I serve the Thomas Church. We are those among the faithful who adhere to the adage seek and ye shall find. Which means we refuse to sit passively by. Instead, our members actively seek the path that God has chosen for us, as I did.”

“To end the world,” Elena said.

“To lay the fiery foundation for Christ’s return,” Roe corrected. “I have seen the atrocities man commits. To each other. To this planet. For decades, as an archaeologist, as a historian, as a prefect of the Church’s most secret library, I have observed and recorded mankind’s decline. I’ve watched it grow worse. The end is near. Can’t you feel it? The madness, the cruelties. I refuse to sit idly by and wait. I intend to live long enough to see Christ’s righteous return, when the world will be cleansed of impurity and depravity.”

Charlie crossed her arms, “Ah, oui, so you are impatient then. That is your answer.”

Elena had to cover her mouth to keep from laughing. She enjoyed the look of dismay on the monsignor’s face, which quickly grew to anger, forcing Roe to turn away with a huff.

Charlie mumbled under her breath. “It seems better to fight for humankind than to lie down and wait for God to save us.” She glanced to Elena. “N’est-ce pas?”

Elena nodded. That’s indeed so.

But others did not agree with this assessment.

Elena turned toward the cliff, noting small black figures ascending it. She prayed Joe and his friends found somewhere to hide, even if it meant venturing beyond the gates of Hell.

Because she knew one thing for certain.

They’re out of time.

6:18 P.M.

Seichan crouched low by one of the bronze doors, near the paw of a giant sculpted dog. Out in the cave, the altar’s basin had faded from a brilliant fiery rose to a dull bruise. Still, the gateway into Tartarus refused to budge. Earlier, she had tried forcing them closed, but the doors