The Last Odyssey (Sigma Force #15) - James Rollins Page 0,34

featureless world of windblown snow and blindingly white ice. She realized the earlier crash had been the sub cracking through the Arctic ice cap.

Not far from the sub, a turboprop plane sat on a makeshift runway scraped into the ice. After she and six members of the assault team had offloaded, the submarine quickly submerged, plainly not wanting to be spotted. She was transferred to the turboprop, which took them to a nondescript island. There she had been forced into this jet.

Movement drew her attention back to present. The assault team leader came down the cabin’s aisle. The jet’s interior was appointed in rich finishes of ash wood and blond leather. A bar at the back was lined with Baccarat crystal. She only knew that because of the fancy water goblet resting on the table between her and the seat facing her. Clearly the attack in Greenland had nothing to do with the value of the ancient map’s precious metals.

Something bigger was afoot.

The woman dropped into the seat opposite. Elena noted how drawn and silent the team leader had become. The caramel of her features had paled; her eyes looked haunted. After the rush of escaping Greenland, she clearly must have been dwelling on the events, digesting them more fully, trying to come to terms with the horrors unleashed from the ancient dhow’s hold.

“We will be landing soon,” the woman said.

Elena stared back at her, too curious to stay silent, willing to risk punishment, suspecting that now might be the time to get some answers. “Who are you?”

The leader answered with a stretch of silence, studying Elena, as if judging whether she was worthy of such knowledge. She finally spoke. “You can call me Bint Mūsā.”

Elena translated the name. “Daughter of Moses.”

She got a nod of confirmation. The woman absently traced a finger along the scar. “A title that is hard-earned.”

Elena swallowed, not doubting the woman. She also fought to keep her face expressionless. She was suddenly too conscious of the pressure at her lower back. So far, the others had not discovered what she had kept hidden. Apparently assuming she was no threat, they had only patted her down, making sure she had no weapons, and confiscated her phone before locking her up in the sub.

They had failed to find the small sealskin-wrapped package tucked in an inner pocket of her parka, the artifact she had taken from the ship captain’s corpse. While aboard the submarine, anxious and needing a distraction, she had risked examining the object. She cracked its wax seal, parted the old skin, and found two preserved chapbooks inside, with leather covers stitched together with thick cords.

She had been too afraid of damaging the brittle books to open them, but long ago their titles had been burned into the ancient leather and remained legible. Both were inscribed in cursive Arabic. The first was a single word—ملحمة—which meant Odyssey. At the time, she wondered if it could be a written translation of Homer’s epic poem, but she could not risk opening it to find out.

Especially as the second title was even more intriguing.

Even now that line of Arabic burned in her mind’s eye, along with its translation.

The Testament of the Fourth Son of Moses.

Elena had imagined it must be the dead captain’s log, an account of how his ship ended up in a sea cave along the coast of Greenland, why it had stayed there, and where it had come from to be carrying such horrific cargo. She had wanted to crack that journal open, but she feared damaging such a vital historical record, the final words of a Son of Moses.

She stared at the scarred woman across from her, who claimed the title of Daughter of Moses. What could be the connection? She had no doubt there was one. Her kidnappers certainly seemed to know far more about the dhow and the golden map than anyone else.

The pilot radioed back to the passenger compartment, speaking Turkish, which surprised Elena, considering everyone else spoke Arabic. “We’ll be landing in ten minutes. Fasten your seat belts.”

Elena had already done that, so she turned to the window and stared below. A coastline appeared ahead. If she was right about the blue waters below being the Aegean Sea, she guessed that the rocky shore ahead marked the coast of Turkey. To keep her fears in check, she tried to determine where along the coastline they were headed. She searched for landmarks, took account of the sun’s position, and felt a