The Last Odyssey (Sigma Force #15) - James Rollins Page 0,137
closing that valve will do anything?” Maria asked.
Gray pointed under the valve wheel, to where a pile of bones rested against the back wall, amid scraps of cloth. “I’m guessing those are the remains of Abd Al-Qadir, the one who Hunayn said gave his life to save them all. The captain likely left the body as a warning to whoever dared follow.”
Seichan had her turn at the window. “But look to the left. Something looks welded to the wall. Near the valve.”
Gray turned his attention to where she indicated. The device shone brighter, not only newer, but made of gold. Even from here, Gray identified a two-foot circular disk, inscribed and decorated in a similar fashion to the astrolabe. The handiwork was easy enough to recognize, its purpose even easier to guess.
“Hunayn’s fail-safe,” Gray said. He turned to the group, surmising the Arab captain’s intent. “I imagine if we shut down that valve to send Tartarus back to sleep, it’ll activate the captain’s doomsday device.”
“In other words,” Kowalski said with a scowl, “we’re damned if we do and damned if we don’t.”
Gray turned to the vastness of the steaming cavern, burning with sulfurous brimstone and glowing with Promethean fire. He stared up at the towering Titans and pictured what lay waiting for his group out in the city. He considered all who had died to keep this secret, the many more who had suffered.
Hunayn had been right.
This must end here.
He turned back to the sealed door.
“No matter the risk,” he said, “we need to get over there.”
7:44 P.M.
With her arms crossed tightly, Maria stood well back as Joe dragged the thick bronze door open. He grunted with the effort but got it open a few inches.
Mac rushed forward and stuck the nose of his Geiger counter through the gap. The device erupted with fierce and rapid clicking. From steps away, she saw the counter’s meter flip all the way into the red zone. Illuminated numbers climbed in a blur, finally fluctuating between ninety and a hundred.
Mac yanked his arm back. “Close it! Close it now!”
Joe put his shoulder into the door and slammed it. “So how bad is it?” he asked.
Mac had paled. “Like I feared. The volume of oil, the concentration . . .”
Gray grabbed his arm. “Tell us.”
“I’m registering nearly one hundred sieverts.” When no one seemed to understand, Mac continued. “In the control room at Chernobyl, the staff was exposed to three hundred. They took in a lethal dose in under two minutes.”
Maria’s stomach gave a sickening lurch. She stared through the window toward the pile of bones. “Then we know how that poor fellow over there died. Radiation poisoning.”
Mac nodded. “It looks like the only way to close that shutoff valve is to swim across that pool and turn it manually. It’s a fatal swim, though. That’s if you can even make it across before succumbing.”
“Charon’s price,” Gray said, quoting Hunayn.
Mac looked grim. “You have to give up your life to save everyone else.”
The group debated various options—a makeshift boat, stringing a rope—but they all knew they were just marking time until the inevitable.
Joe lifted an arm. “Enough already. I’ll do it.”
Maria tried to pull his arm down. “Don’t be stupid.”
“I think that’s what I’m best known for.” Joe faced the group. “We all know someone’s got to do it. Gray and Seichan have a kid. Mac has a bad wing. Maria, you’re so tiny, you’ll burn up before you put your toe in.”
“I can do it,” Bailey said. He stood beside the large vat of black oil. “I think you’re supposed to dunk your whole body in here, as some sort of barrier to help you make the swim across.”
Joe joined him. “Padre, I appreciate the offer, but you aren’t much bigger than Maria. And I’m not about to send a priest in to do a man’s job.”
Bailey looked offended, but Joe guided him away from the door.
“Besides,” Joe said, “you know all about this mythology business. It’s all Greek to me.”
Gray stepped forward, looking ready to make his case.
Joe shut him down with a glare. “You know I’m right.”
Maria ran up and hugged him. “We could take our chances out there.”
“And go where?” he asked. “Even searching would probably get us all killed. Someone’s got to go in there and shut this place down.”
He freed himself from her and turned to the large vat of black oil, untucking his shirt, preparing to strip down for his dunking.
“Leave everything on,” Bailey warned. “The more Promethean