The Last Odyssey (Sigma Force #15) - James Rollins Page 0,94
threw his hands high. “That’s it. End of story.”
Gray spent another ten minutes in silence, searching through his e-tablet. “I’m missing something.”
Maybe a few screws, if you think you’re going to solve this.
Gray turned to him.
Kowalski growled back. “If you ask me one more time . . .”
“No, that’s fine. But I think Dr. Cargill was on to something.” He pointed to his e-tablet. “I listed all the books you mentioned she used as references. By comparing the texts that she studied at the beginning to those she reviewed later, Elena had begun to make a notable change in her research.”
“How so?” Bailey asked.
Gray kept his eyes on Kowalski. “You mentioned that Elena had started looking at geology books.”
Kowalski shrugged. “So?”
“When you reached the island of Vulcano, you said she went on and on about the history of that island.”
“Mostly about the god Hephaestus.”
“But near the end, she made an offhand comment, mentioning how all of the volcanic activity that generated the mythology about Hephaestus was really due to tectonic activity.”
Maria nodded. “The science behind the myths.”
“But even then, Elena didn’t seek out any geology texts,” Gray said. “Only later, after the map was activated, carving a fiery line across the Mediterranean.” He stared hard at Kowalski. “Tell me again what she said at the time, try to remember exactly, every word.”
Kowalski closed his eyes. He pictured the blaze of the map, the golden flames. Elena had leaned closer to it, clearly awed by the display. “All I remember is her mumbling something about it being like a fiery version of tectonic plates banging together.”
Gray nodded. “And after that, she started asking for geology texts?”
“I guess so.”
Gray returned to his e-tablet. Kowalski stepped to look over his shoulder, to see what the guy was trying to figure out.
What difference did it make if Elena wanted to read geology books?
Kowalski watched Gray bring up a topographical map of the Mediterranean, very much like the golden version on the coffee table. He squinted at—
A thunderous blast jolted the entire length of the cruise ship. The liner’s stern shoved up, tilted high and rising. They were all thrown toward the bow.
The Steinway broke from its perch, rolled, and crashed into the window, breaking out several panes. Bottles and glassware flew from the bar, shattering and rolling after the piano.
The gathered group tumbled toward the balcony doors, which had been left ajar. Maria went flying through, landing and skidding across the deck. Kowalski lunged forward, sprawling on his stomach, and caught her ankle with one hand and grabbed the jamb of the door with the other, stopping her.
She stared at him, her eyes wide with terror.
I got you.
He glanced back over his shoulder, pulling her with him. He watched the gold map, teetering on the edge of the coffee table—then it toppled over with a spill of crushed lapis lazuli.
“Hang on!” Gray yelled.
What d’ya think I’m doing?
Before Kowalski could catch his breath, the stern fell back into the sea, slamming hard with a great splintering crash into the edge of the dock. They were all tossed the other way. The piano rolled from the broken window and barreled into the onyx bar with a resounding gong of its jolted strings.
As the ship rocked back again, Gray gained his footing and ran through the balcony doors. He had his satellite phone already out and pressed to his lips.
“What’s your status?” Gray yelled.
Kowalski frowned, not understanding. He helped Maria up and hurried after Gray. As Kowalski stepped out onto the balcony, the roar of engines deafened him. A huge plane swept low over the cruise ship. It sailed out over the bay and shot a line of objects from its undercarriage into the sea. A chain of muffled explosions followed, blasting huge fountains of water high into the air.
Depth charges.
Kowalski looked to the sky. The jet banked steeply over the bombardment and circled around for another run. He recognized the aircraft now, a Poseidon sub hunter. He could also guess who commanded it, picturing the same plane sitting on the tarmac of an Italian air base.
Out in the bay, a second volley of depth charges blasted the sea. Amid the roil and spray, a black steel whale lifted its tail high, then rolled and toppled sideways, sinking belly up into the sea.
Kowalski knew it had to be the same submarine that had carried Elena away from Greenland. Or another like it. Either way . . .
Kowalski stared upward.
Looks like Pullman finally caught his damned fish.