The Last Odyssey (Sigma Force #15) - James Rollins Page 0,138

Blood between you and the Medea’s Oil, all the better. I’d suggest you even soak a scarf and wrap your head entirely.”

“How’m I supposed to see?”

“You don’t,” Bailey said. “You swim blind. It’s a straight shot. If you don’t think you can do it—”

“I can do it,” Joe said.

Gray pulled a set of climbing gloves from his pack and passed them to Joe. “Cover your hands, too.”

Joe suited fully up and climbed into the big black vat, spilling oil across the floor. He ducked fully under and stayed there, jostling about, rubbing oil everywhere. The plan was to force the Promethean Blood into every pore, to soak his clothes, to fill his boots.

Maria held her breath while he was under. She wondered if fate was cursing her for her doubts about Joe, about all her second-guessing of their relationship.

Is God punishing me?

Bailey drew next to her. “He may be okay. While Hunayn’s sailor probably covered his body with oil, he may not have coated himself as thoroughly as Joe.”

Maria grasped at this hope.

“And know I’ll pray for him,” Bailey said.

I will, too.

Joe finally surfaced and climbed out, a silhouette in black. Bailey soaked a scarf and prepared to wrap his head like a mummy.

“Wait,” Gray said. He turned from his study of the washbasin of oil on the other side and pointed back at it. “Why’s this here? It’s too small to bathe more than a dog in it.”

Bailey frowned, unable to answer.

Gray eyed the priest. “One of your stories earlier. You said Medea protected the hero Jason before battle by making him drink her potion. That when imbibed, it granted him further protections, from even spears and arrows.”

Bailey’s eyes widened, and he turned to Joe. “That’s right! I doubt even Hunayn thought of that precaution.”

Joe looked confused. “What’re you getting at?”

Maria answered, hope growing brighter inside her. She pointed to the washbasin. “That’s a water fountain. You’re supposed to drink from it.”

“Shielding both your insides and out,” Bailey said.

Gray studied the oil. “Maybe it’s got some iodine-like properties that protect organs against radiation damage.”

Maria didn’t care how it worked—only that it did.

Joe looked less than thrilled as he stared down into the washbasin. “I’m having second thoughts about all of this.”

44

June 26, 7:58 P.M. WEST

High Atlas Mountains, Morocco

Where’s that Charon guy when you need him?

As Kowalski stumbled blindly ahead, he heard the door slam behind him, clanging with a note of finality. He reached forward, probing with one leg, then the other, as he crossed the bronze landing. The toe of his boot finally found the lip of the pool.

He breathed hard, sucking the soaked cloth into and out of his mouth, suddenly claustrophobic. He wanted to rip away the wraps, but he knew better. Even blindfolded like this, he kept his eyelids squeezed tight, trying to protect every tender part of him.

He drew closer to the pool’s edge. He swore he could feel the radiation emanating from that toxic sea, like waves of heat pressing against him.

His stomach churned, both from fear and from the long draughts of oil the others had forced him to drink. It had tasted like charcoal but weirdly sickly sweet. He had come close to losing his cookies right then and there. Still, he manned up and held it all down.

He sat at the pool’s edge and lowered his feet into the toxic soup. It was hot, uncomfortably so, worrisomely so.

If the radiation doesn’t get me, I may be parboiled before I get to the other side.

Still, he lowered himself in, careful to keep his head above water. He knew the longer he was in here, the greater his danger. He took another deep breath and kicked off the wall. He glided across the glowing sea, sweeping out with his arms in a breaststroke, frog-kicking his legs. It was harder than he had anticipated. His clothes weighed him down; his boots were anchors on his legs. But at least the oil seemed more buoyant than regular water.

I’m just a big fat water droplet floating on a lethal oil slick.

He continued across. After a minute, he had no sense of how far he’d traveled or how far he had to go. Fear made him suddenly feel sicker. A headache that had been there from the beginning pounded harder. As he continued, nausea rose up, bad enough to burn bile through his chest.

Don’t lose it here.

He swept his arms and kicked harder. A wave of dizziness swept through him, making his stomach flip, along with