Celtic Empire - Clive Cussler Page 0,111

the side of a bridge nearly of their own accord.” He pointed to the Audi. “Well, they did nick us up a bit. But they’re sunk in a creek now, not even visible. It’ll look like an accident, when and if they’re ever found.”

Riki stared at him without speaking. She felt a surprising knot of emotions churning inside her. A prolonged silence was broken by the sound of her cell phone ringing. She saw it was her mother and answered.

The conversation was one-way. Riki listened for a minute, until her mother abruptly signed off. Putting away her phone, she turned to her companions with a pale face.

“We’re to meet my mother at dusk tonight at an airfield called Abbeyfeale,” Riki said in a low tone. “You can explain your actions then.”

60

Brophy joined Dirk in the hospital waiting room as Summer was taken into surgery. They sat impatiently as Summer’s operation was followed by a lengthy stint in the recovery room. Dirk used the time to email his father, after his phone call to him went unanswered, and to file a report with the town police. The ER surgeon eventually appeared, assuring Dirk that his sister was all right.

“She’s got two puncture wounds, one above her shoulder, the other through her triceps,” he explained. “Pretty lucky, actually, as there was no damage to her bones.” He gave Dirk an inquisitive look. “Gunshots, I presume?”

Dirk nodded. “Range accident. We’ve notified the police.”

“She’ll make a full recovery. You can see her now, but she might be asleep for a touch longer.”

He led them to a small single room where Summer was propped up in bed, asleep from her surgery medications. Dirk sat by her bedside for a short while, until his stomach started to rumble.

“Come along, lad, it’s almost suppertime,” Brophy said. “Let’s get you something to eat. She’s not going anywhere, and I spied an attractive pub just down the street.”

Dirk reluctantly agreed, allowing Brophy to drive them back into Cahersiveen. At a small pub decorated with dusty crab pots, they sampled the fish and chips, then returned to the hospital just after sunset. As they entered Summer’s room, Dirk was shocked to find Pitt, Loren, and Giordino standing by the bed talking with his sister.

“How did you get here?” he said, greeting the newcomers, then introducing Brophy.

“I caught your email midflight after we departed Inverness,” Pitt said. “We were just flying over Galway. Rudi had sent us a NUMA Gulfstream, so we diverted to Killarney and hopped a cab here.”

Dirk’s curiosity about the private jet waned when he saw Loren. Her eyes had a disoriented look, and she was unusually pale. He thought perhaps she should trade places with Summer, who was now alert and talkative in her hospital bed.

“What exactly happened to you two?” Pitt asked, eyeing Dirk’s bandaged head.

Dirk explained their search for Meritaten, the fire in the library, and the morning attack on the bridge.

“Sounds like everyone’s had their share of fun lately,” Giordino remarked.

“Troubles in Scotland?” Dirk asked.

Pitt nodded with a grim look, then described their discovery of the BioRem secret lab and the global dispersal of the waterborne plague. “Rudi said the CDC has confirmed what Dr. Perkins told us. The pathogen has the ability to alter the DNA in the cells of infected women so they will produce only female offspring. There’s also the possibility that the bacteria could continue to mutate, and it could grow much worse. This much we do know—as of this moment, there is no cure.”

“How many people have been infected?” Brophy asked.

“Potentially millions. They sent shiploads of the stuff around the world, distributing it into freshwater sources that are drawn for drinking. They staged accidents, in some cases, to access key locations. We believe they caused the tanker collision in Detroit, to release their pathogen into the city’s supply.”

“Mike Cruz was killed on account of it,” Giordino said. “He likely discovered that BioRem was feeding their product into the Detroit River intake.”

Summer frowned. “How could they have developed such an affliction?”

“It was derived from an ancient Egyptian plague extracted from mummies.” Giordino described the coffins they found in Scotland. “They call it the Evolution Plague.”

“Egyptian mummies?” Summer said.

Dirk pulled out his phone and retrieved Rod Zeibig’s photos from Egypt. He held up a shot of the tomb they discovered in Amarna. “Is this one of the coffins?”

Pitt and Giordino studied the photo and nodded. “There were several children’s mummies and coffins in the lab,” Pitt said. “That certainly could have

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