The Last Odyssey (Sigma Force #15) - James Rollins Page 0,145

heard him, perhaps concentrating on their talk versus his pain. “According to a compass reading I took before, this cavern does angle toward the sea, but the ocean still has to be a mile off.”

Bailey frowned at Gray. “Then how do you propose to—?”

They reached the end of the gold stairs and Gray pointed to the circle of bronze fish around the lake. “We’ll take the Phaeacians’ subs.”

8:16 P.M.

He’s finally lost it . . .

Kowalski climbed off the last step and gaped at the huge ring of fish. There were hundreds, each tilted at an angle, as if ready to spray water and create a fountain worthy of Vegas.

Kowalski rushed after Gray. “Why do you think they’re submarines?”

“As we said before, the Phaeacians were no fools. They wouldn’t trap themselves down here without an escape route.”

Kowalski pointed to the massive whirlpool. “And you think that’s their escape route?”

“By necessity, it would have to be centrally located. And that’s as central as you can get.”

“But still . . .”

“Plus, the thrones,” Gray added. “Sculpted there in gold, you can see these same curl-tailed fish depicted, plying the seas alongside the Phaeacians’ ships.”

As proof, Gray took them to one of the bronze fish. It was the size of a minivan, but he found footholds down one flank and clambered up.

Movement drew Kowalski’s gaze higher.

Charybdis wasn’t the only Greek monster here.

On the far side of the lake, a six-headed crocodilian dragon swung all of its heads toward Gray. Drawn by the motion, their chatter, or maybe Gray’s trespass.

“I think you’re pissing someone off,” Kowalski warned. “And this time, it’s not me.”

Gray looked up as one of the massive heads dipped low and snaked over the surface toward him. “Everybody up here! Now!”

Kowalski got everyone moving.

But where then?

8:17 P.M.

Two minutes . . .

Perched on top of the bronze fish, Gray discovered a lever along its spine, the end pointing toward the tail. He grabbed it and hauled it around toward the nose. As he did so, he heard a pressure seal pop and the dorsal fin of the fish hinged open, revealing it to be a hatch. He shoved it up and over.

Mac climbed up behind him, his eyes wide.

“Get in,” Gray said.

Mac swung his legs to a ladder inside and slid down, landing with a pained groan. Maria followed behind. Then Bailey and Seichan, who still cradled Aggie.

“Move it!” Gray yelled down to Kowalski.

The big guy balanced his AA-12 on one shoulder and hopped his way up the bronze flank. When he reached the top, he looked over Gray’s shoulder, and his eyes snapped wide.

“Down!” Kowalski hollered and swung his weapon over.

Gray tried to stop him, but Kowalski fired a burst of rounds past Gray’s shoulder. The shells exploded behind him.

Cringing, he looked back.

One of Scylla’s heads sat low on the water, its lower jaw gone. Flames shot from cracks and seams. The neck spasmed and contorted, spraying more fire as it pulled the blasted head back across the lake.

“Get your ass in there!” Gray ordered.

Kowalski obeyed, obviously unaware of the damage he had wrought, and jumped inside.

Gray followed, pausing for a breath on the ladder.

Across the water, the five remaining heads of Scylla writhed in fury. Fire and smoke wreathed its form—then it began to climb into the lake.

Uh-oh.

Gray leaped down, pulling the hatch with him. As it clanked shut, he spun a bronze wheel on the door’s underside to seal it tight. The group quickly found seats along benches to either side.

Gray headed to the nose of the sub, glaring at Kowalski.

“What?” the big guy asked.

“Scylla’s a guardian,” Gray informed him. “Intended to protect the populace while they escape. As long as there’s no aggression toward it, it’ll leave you alone. But now . . .”

“How was I supposed to know that?”

Gray scowled. “Think before you shoot.”

Kowalski sulked. “Where’s the fun in that?”

Gray reached the front, where Bailey was seated in one of two bronze seats.

The priest twisted toward him. “According to Homer, the Phaeacians’ ships were self-guiding.” He pointed to a single control, an upright bronze hand crank. “I think this must—”

Despite his earlier words, now was not the time for thinking. Gray dropped into the other seat and hauled the crank down.

The entire fish rocked forward, the nose dropping, then slid off its perch and dove into the water. The impact with the lake jarred everyone, but they kept their seats.

Kowalski straightened. “That wasn’t so bad.”

Then lake water hit green oil. Fire exploded behind them, burning fuel and the