The Last Odyssey (Sigma Force #15) - James Rollins Page 0,32
center, buried under the Smithsonian Castle on the National Mall, buzzed with activity. Even Kat down the hall had only waved to him as he passed Sigma’s intelligence nest. She had been bent over a monitor with her second-in-command.
Something definitely has everyone stirred up.
Envy and irritation flickered through him. Before going on paternity leave, he had always been in the thick of things, one of Sigma’s top field operatives. Now he felt like someone stumbling into the middle of a story. Not only was he out of the loop, but he felt out of step with the rhythm here.
He didn’t like it.
As Painter crossed toward his desk, Gray noted the flat-screen that the director had been studying. It showed a topographic map of Greenland’s eastern coast. A pattern of red Vs crisscrossed the neighboring sea. Call signs next to them suggested they were military planes.
“Take a seat,” Painter said. “Kat will join us in a moment after she loops in a video call.”
Gray sank into a chair, as the director settled behind his desk. Though more than a decade older, Painter kept his frame trim and muscular. There was never any waste to the man. The only notable change was that he’d grown his jet-black hair longer, nearly to his collar. His face was more deeply tanned, highlighting his Native American heritage.
Gray knew the source for these physical changes. Monk had told him that Painter had spent a break with his wife, Lisa, on a horse trek through Arizona, such was the carefree life of a married couple without kids.
I remember such times . . .
Though it felt like a lifetime ago.
Director Crowe had returned last week—apparently arriving in time to deal with this crisis. Before Painter spoke, he combed a single snowy lock behind one ear, like tucking in an eagle’s feather, and sized Gray up.
“Fatherhood seems to agree with you,” he finally said.
“You should’ve seen me a couple months ago.” Gray rubbed the dark stubble on his chin. He remembered the beard he’d briefly sported. For a while, he’d been too exhausted to shave, his hygiene routine intermittent at best. Even now, he wore a pair of black jeans pulled from the hamper and a hooded gray sweatshirt.
Painter nodded. “Still, thanks for interrupting your leave.”
“What’s going on?”
“Apparently a situation in Greenland has blown up in our faces. A few days ago, we got word of the discovery of a shipwreck buried within the heart of a glacier.”
Painter picked up a remote and swiveled his chair. He pointed to the flat-screen monitor to his left. A poor, pixelated image appeared on the screen, showing a broken-masted ship half trapped in ice.
“A pair of researchers up there—a climatologist and geologist—discovered it by accident. Along with a treasure inside.”
Painter clicked the remote and showed a photo of a gold map in a dark box with a spherical object imbedded in it.
Gray stood up and crossed over to get a better look. “I don’t understand. Why does this discovery concern Sigma?”
“I’ll get to that in a moment. Just know we needed to confirm the discovery’s authenticity and secure it quickly. After a few inquiries, I learned that Maria Crandall knew a colleague, a nautical archaeologist working in Egypt, who we convinced to investigate the ship.”
“Maria? Kowalski’s girlfriend?”
“That’s right. Those two were already in Africa. I had them follow behind the archaeologist, so that if what was discovered was authenticated, they’d be able to secure it and extract it.”
Gray began to suspect why this situation in Greenland had blown up, as Painter described.
If Kowalski was involved . . .
Painter continued, sharing a tale of a deadly ambush, the theft of a map, and the kidnapping of an archaeologist. But the story also told of something unleashed from the hold of the ship, something horrific and impossible.
“Details are still coming in,” Painter admitted. “A brutal storm made communication with Greenland sketchy. Now that the weather’s let up, we have five Poseidons flying a search grid, hunting for that submarine.”
Gray glanced over to the Greenland map with its crimson Vs moving slowly over the Arctic Ocean. He pointed to one veering away from the others. “Did they pick up a trail?”
Painter glanced back. “No. A set of sonobuoys detected the sub as it headed north along the coast. It traveled beyond the buoys’ range, but from the trajectory and speed, we suspect it sought the cover of the Arctic ice cap.”
“From under there, it can travel anywhere without being seen.”