The Last Odyssey (Sigma Force #15) - James Rollins Page 0,84
some long-dead sailor rising from the accursed depths.
He lifted a hand.
“Who has a goddamned cell phone?”
23
June 24, 11:58 P.M. CEST
Mediterranean Sea
From the stern of a large hydrofoil, Elena gripped a rail as the craft accelerated over the water. It slowly rose on twin wings and sped even faster. Behind the ship, a tiny fireball burst in the darkness and rolled into the night sky. The brightness briefly illuminated the blasted, smoking remains of the other yacht.
She felt a surge of hope at the sight.
If she had any doubts that Joe had escaped, the destruction of the yacht helped dispel them. An hour ago, the search had been suddenly called off. The yacht had raised anchor and sped away from Sardinia. It rendezvoused with the sleek hydrofoil, which flew like a silver bird up to them, then lowered alongside the ship. The transfer of gear and personnel had been swift, including the research library, which suggested Elena’s work here was not done.
The chains that now bound her ankles seemed to confirm this. She had expected worse punishment, but apparently Nehir still needed her.
Unfortunately, Elena had also gained a new shadow.
Kadir stood grimly behind her.
She ignored him and stared out to sea. It had fallen dark again, but her hope remained. Clearly her captors considered the yacht compromised, which would only happen if they believed Joe had survived.
Footsteps sounded behind her.
She turned as Nehir strode up to her.
“Kadir, take her below and keep her there until we reach the Morning Star.”
He nodded with a grunt and grabbed Elena’s arm. As he hauled her away, Nehir grabbed her other arm and stopped them. The woman’s eyes shone with a fury that scorched. Elena felt the waves of loathing emanating from her. It burned away Elena’s momentary glimmer of hope.
“You are lucky,” Nehir spat darkly. “But even luck runs out.”
Nehir let her go, waving Elena out of her sight.
Kadir dragged her off the deck and down to a small kitchen. He pushed her into a chair. She didn’t fight him, not that she could. She felt drained, despair sinking in. From Nehir’s words, they must be ferrying her to another ship, the Morning Star.
If true, how would anyone ever find her?
Despite the terror and anxiety, she soon found her head resting on the table, cradled in her arms, as hour after hour passed. She fell asleep at one point, only to be awoken by the blast of a ship’s horn.
She sat up abruptly, momentarily lost as to where she was. But a glance revealed Kadir’s solid presence, grounding her back to the danger. It looked like he hadn’t even moved.
Nehir clambered down and barked to her brother.
Elena stood on her own, knowing what was expected. Still, Kadir grabbed her arm and marched her out onto the deck. The seas had quieted to an eerie calmness, as if the world were holding its breath. The full span of the Milky Way arched overhead, reflected again in the black waters.
A large ship hung between, as if floating in space.
It was silvery white, ghostly in countenance, easily dwarfing the hydrofoil. It was twice the length of the previous yacht, stretching more than five hundred feet, a veritable floating city, with its superstructure climbing five stories above the main deck. But there was no bulkiness to its shape; it was sleek, with a palpable air of danger, like a dagger waiting to be used.
Elena swallowed, overwhelmed by the sheer size of it.
“The Morning Star,” Nehir whispered with awe.
The hydrofoil closed the last of the distance. Gangplanks were extended from the hydrofoil’s deck to hatches halfway up the hull of the superyacht.
“Come,” Nehir ordered.
The woman led her to the forward gangway. As Elena jangled across it, a thumping rose overhead. She stared up. The bright lights of a helicopter swept across the sea toward the ship.
Who’s coming?
Kadir shoved her from behind.
Elena stumbled forward, grabbing for the handrails to keep upright. She hurried after Nehir and ducked through the hatch into the other ship. Once inside, Nehir spoke to someone, who guided them to a stairwell. Elena climbed around and around, struggling under the weight of her chains, breathless by the time she reached the top.
A strong wind gusted through a nearby hatch, which led to the open bow. The source of the gale landed on a helipad out there. As the helicopter touched down, Elena was forced out onto the deck. She lifted an arm against the blast of rotor wash.
A two-man team ran forward, ducked under the blades,