The Judas Strain (30 page)

Lisa…

L
ISA STRUGGLED TO
hold her breath, tangled within constricting arms.

Giant hooks bit into flesh, made painless by panic.

She kicked and writhed.

Eyes open.

Trailing flashes of light shot through the darkness.

This was how she would die.

9:06
P.M.

M
ONK ALLOWED HIMSELF
to be pulled farther into the jungle. He had no choice. There was nothing he could do.

Through a break in the foliage, he stared back toward the black water.

The pirates’ boat had slowed near the beach. Rifles bristled toward shore, searching. But Rakao stood braced in the bow, a dark silhouette with long spear in hand.

With a heave, the Maori hunter drove the length of steel into the lake.

Arcs of blue lightning sizzled outward from where it struck, brilliant in the darkness, lighting up the night and the depths of the lagoon. Waters hissed with a bubble of steam around the spear’s shaft.

What was he doing?

B
ARELY CONSCIOUS,
L
ISA
gasped the last of her trapped air. A painful shock clenched through her. The squid’s embrace locked harder, experiencing the same agony, possibly even more sensitive.

Then its arms released her with a final savage twist.

Seawater burned into her nose.

Her eyes open, she saw the creature streak down into the dark depths, an arrow of emerald fire. Others followed.

Buoyancy floated her up.

Then hands grabbed her, pulled by her hair.

They were too slow.

Lisa choked in water, mouth opening and closing like a fish, as darkness swallowed her away.

9:07
P.M.

F
ROM THE SHELTER
of a boulder and heavy jungle, Monk watched as Lisa was hauled from the water by her hair. Limp and boneless. Her head lolled back at an impossible angle.

Rakao tossed aside his spear.

“Some sort of cattle prod,” Ryder said. “Shocked the ink right out of the wankers.”

Rakao bent Lisa over the rail and pushed on her back. A wash of seawater splashed from nose and mouth.

One arm lifted and swatted at him.

Alive.

The pirate hauled her around and dumped her to the floor. He stared toward the jungle, then higher up the cliffs. Lightning crackled in a shattering display across the roof of the island. Winds gusted up with a whip of rain, sheeting over the lagoon.

Rakao lifted an arm and made a circling motion.

The speedboat swung around with a surge of wake, then sped back out, trailing a rooster tail of water. They were returning to the ship.

Taking Lisa with them.

But at least she was alive.

“Why are they leaving?” Susan mumbled.

Monk glanced over. In the darkness of the forest, the woman’s face and hands shone with a whispery glow, barely noticeable, but there. Like moonlight through thick clouds.

“Not like there’s exactly anywhere we can go,” Ryder said bitterly. “By morning, they’ll be hunting us.”

Monk pointed deeper into the forest. “Then we’d better get going.”

With Susan at his side, Monk headed into the higher jungle. He glanced one last time back to the lagoon. “What were those things?”

“Predatory squid,” Susan mumbled with some authority. “Some bioluminescent squids hunt in packs. Humboldt squids in the Pacific have attacked and killed people, swarming out of the deep. But larger specimens also exist. Like
Taningia danae
. The isolated lagoon here must be home to such a subspecies. Rising to feed. At night, when their luminescent communication and coordination work best.”

Monk remembered a story from one of the pirates, about the island, of witches and demons in the water. Here must be the source of the story. He also remembered another story of the island.

He craned up toward the jagged cliffs, framed against the dark sky. Heard past the rumble of thunder, drums pounded.

Cannibals.

“What now?” Ryder asked.

Monk led the way. “Time to meet the neighbors…see what’s cookin’.”

9:12
P.M.

S
UPPORTED ON THE
tender dock, Lisa hung from the arms of one of the pirates. She was too weak to fight, too tired to care. Sodden to bone, bleeding from a score of lacerations, she awaited her fate.

Rakao was in midargument with Devesh.

In Malay.

Beyond her comprehension.

But Lisa suspected the fight was about the tattooed pirate not pursuing Susan Tunis into the jungle. Lisa understood only one word.

Kanibals
.

Behind the men a robed Surina stood at the entrance to the boat, out of the rain, arms folded, back straight, patient. Her eyes were fixed on Lisa. Not cold—that implied some emotion. Surina’s eyes were a total void.

Finally, Devesh turned and pointed an arm at Lisa. He spoke in English as a courtesy to their captive. “Shoot her. Now.”

Lisa straightened in the pirate’s arms. She coughed her voice to a hoarse mumble.

She offered the Guild scientist the only thing she could.

To save her life.

“Devesh,” she said firmly. “The Judas Strain. I know what the virus is doing.”

J
ULY
6, 1:55
P.M.

Istanbul

S
HOCK SLOWED THE SCENE
down to a breathless, silent stretch.

From a second-story window of Hagia Sophia, Gray watched the back of Balthazar Pinosso’s head explode in a spray of blood and bone. His body crumpled at the waist from the impact. His arms went wide to the side. His cell phone, at his ear a moment before, went flying from his fingertips, struck the pavement, and skittered away.

The large man’s body struck next.

Vigor gasped at Gray’s side, breaking the tableau. “Oh, my Lord…no…”

Sound crashed back: the echo of the gunshot, screams from the plaza.

Gray drew back, taking an extra breath to realize the implication.
If Balthazar was shot…

“Nasser knew about him,” Vigor said, finishing his own slow thought. Stunned, the monsignor caught himself on the ledge of the window. “Nasser knew Balthazar was here. The monster’s snipers killed him.”

Gray fared no better, dazed with incomprehension and guilt. He had sent the man out to a firing squad.

The screams and shouts grew worse outside, spreading inside. People ran—most fleeing to the nearest shelter, the sanctuary of Hagia Sophia.

Minutes ago, Gray and Vigor had climbed to the church’s second floor, where there was less traffic, keeping hidden. Before heading out, Balthazar had informed the museum curator that Gray and Vigor had already left, denying the need for an ambulance. They had come up here to make sure all went well.

“The police will swarm here,” Gray said. “We’ve got to hide.”

Vigor grabbed Gray’s sleeve. “Your mother and father…”

He shook his head. He had no time to consider that. Nasser had warned against any ruse. But once voiced aloud, Gray could not escape the terror. His breathing grew heavier; he became light-headed. Gray’s parents would also suffer for this mistake.

How had Nasser known about Balthazar?

Vigor continued to stare out the window. The monsignor’s fingers tightened on Gray’s arms. “Dear Lord…what’s she doing now?”

Gray turned his full attention back to the open plaza below the western facade. As people fled the square or crouched in fear, only one figure ran straight through all the confusion. She limped slightly, favoring her left side.

Seichan.

Why was she coming here?

Almost to the church, a chatter of sparks struck at her heels. Someone was shooting at her. Nasser’s men. But her sudden appearance had caught the snipers off guard. With orders to keep Gray and his companions from leaving the church, they hadn’t been expecting someone running
toward
the church.

Seichan sped faster, racing death.

1:58
P.M.

B
LINDSIDED,
S
EICHAN CURSED.
So Nasser did have a sniper or two positioned out here. She had missed picking them out earlier. Then again, the snipers had plenty of time to hide well. Seichan had not anticipated a traitor among their group. Balthazar had already been at Hagia Sophia all morning, setting up a snug snare.

She dashed through the Imperial Doors and ducked against the inside wall. Were gunmen in here, too?

She searched the cavernous length of the nave. People, frightened by the gunplay, cowered in corners or shifted in maddened tides of confusion and panic. She had to find Gray and Vigor.

Sirens sounded in the distance.

A hand snagged her shirt. Reflexively, she jabbed a pistol into ribs.

Her target didn’t flinch. “Seichan, what happened?”

It was Gray, his face drawn and pale.

“Gray…we have to get out of here. Now. Where’s the monsignor?”

He pointed toward a neighboring stairwell. Vigor kept half hidden at its entrance and watched the crowd.

Seichan herded Gray over to him.

The monsignor stared back at the arched doorway, his eyes wounded with grief. “Nasser shot him. Shot Balthazar.”

“No,” Seichan said, killing any misconception. “I did.”

Vigor backed up a step. Gray swung around.

“He was working with Nasser,” Seichan explained.

Vigor’s voice turned angry. “How can…?”

“I have photos from two years ago. Nasser and Balthazar together. Money changed hands.” She fixed Vigor with a hard stare. “He’s been working with him all along.”

Seichan read the continuing disbelief. She hardened her voice. “Monsignor, who called your attention to the inscription in the Tower of Wind?”

Vigor glanced toward the doors, toward the dead man out of sight.

“Before involving you both,” Seichan pressed, “Nasser and I were playing cat and mouse throughout Italy, searching for the first bits of the angelic puzzle. No one was supposed to discover my invisible mark in the Vatican until I called you, alerted you to search the tower’s closet with an ultraviolet light. Do you think your friend just
accidentally
stumbled upon it?”

“He said…one of his students…”

“He was lying. Nasser told him. The bastard followed the same trail I did. Used Balthazar to recruit you into solving the riddle.”

Vigor sank to the stairs, covering his face.

Seichan turned to Gray. He stood a step away, eyes glazed, reconfiguring all the morning’s events in light of the revelation. He must have sensed Seichan’s attention.

“Then Nasser knew we were trying to betray him,” Gray said. “He knew we had the first key. He knows everything.”

“Not necessarily.” Seichan pulled Vigor up by the shoulder and shoved Gray toward the church. “It was why I had to take him out. I don’t think he had the time to call Nasser after he left you. I took him out before he got the chance and made things worse.”

“Worse?” Gray stopped, refusing to move, his eyes furious. “You could have captured him. We could have used him against Nasser. There were a thousand options!”

“All of them too risky!” Seichan stepped closer, walking into the fire. “Get this through your thick skull, Gray. Nasser’s plan, our plans…they’re all screwed. It’s clean slate time here. And we have to act now.”

His face darkened as anger boiled up. Even his eyes turned stormy. “When the bastard finds out what you did…what we did…you just got my parents killed!”

She cut him off with a resounding slap to the face, knocking him back a step. Stunned, he lunged at her. She didn’t resist. He collared her. His other hand a fist.

She kept her voice calm against his storm. “With that bastard dead, we have a small window of confusion here. We must take advantage of it.”

“But my folks—”

She kept her voice even. “Gray, they’re already dead.”

The fist tangled in her shirt trembled. His face constricted tight, red and agonized. His eyes searched her, needing someone to blame.

“And if they’re not dead,” she continued, “if he’s keeping them alive as extra insurance, then we have only one hope here.”

Gray’s hand dropped from her throat but remained clenched.

“We’ll need a big bargaining chip,” she continued. “Equal to the weight of your parents’ lives.”

In his eyes, she could see the rage beginning to subside, the tide going out, the words finally sinking in. “And the second key alone won’t do it.”

She shook her head. “We need to go silent. Have Vigor pull his cell phone battery so that it’s not tracked.”

“But how will Nasser reach us?”

“It’s time we took that control from him.”

“But when he tries to call us…?”

“Nasser will be furious. He may hurt one or both of your folks, maybe even kill one. But until he finds us, he’ll keep one alive. He’s not a fool. And that is our only hope.”

Vigor’s phone began to ring. Everyone froze a breath. Then Vigor slipped it out of his pocket. He glanced to the caller ID, swallowed, and passed it to Gray.

He took it. “Nasser,” he confirmed.

“Speak of the devil,” Seichan hissed. “One of the snipers must have called him. Needing to get further instructions. It’s probably the only reason they haven’t stormed the place already. Killing Balthazar caught them off guard. This is the only window we have.”

Gray stared down at the phone.

Seichan waited.

How strong was this man?

2:04
P.M.

G
RAY’S FINGERS REFUSED
to move, clamped around the phone.

It vibrated and rang again.

He could almost feel the fury emanating out of it, an anger ready to be unleashed against his mother and father. He wanted desperately to answer it: to scream, to beg, to curse, to bargain.

But he had no leverage.

Not yet.

“Nasser must still be in midflight,” Gray finally mumbled to the phone.

“Due to touch down in five hours,” Seichan agreed.

Gray let a coldness wash through him, but his fingers tightened harder. “Up in the air, he’ll hesitate to make any major decisions. He’ll wait until his feet are on the ground before making a final assessment.”

“And if he hasn’t heard from you by then…”

Gray couldn’t say the words. He only nodded his confirmation. Nasser would kill his parents. He won’t wait any longer than that. He’ll punish Gray and move on to a new strategy.

Five hours
.

“We’ll need more than the second key we found here,” he said. “More than even the third key.”

Seichan nodded.

Gray stared up at Seichan. “We’ll need to have solved the obelisk’s riddle. We’ll need Marco’s map.”

Seichan simply stared, waiting.

Gray knew what he had to do. He flipped the phone over. With fingers numb and uncooperative, he fumbled with the battery in back.

Vigor stepped up and covered his palm over Gray’s fingers. “Are you sure, Gray?”

He lifted his eyes. “No…I’m not. I’m not sure of a damn thing.” He slipped his hands free of the monsignor’s and peeled the battery off the phone, cutting the last ring in half. “But that doesn’t mean I won’t act.”

Gray turned to Seichan. “What now?”

“You’ve just thrown down the gauntlet. Nasser will be calling his henchmen. We’ve got maybe a minute or two.” She pointed into the depths of the church. “This way. Kowalski’s got a car. He’ll meet us out at the east exit.”

She led them down the nave. People milled, unsure, voices echoed. Sirens closed down upon their location. Seichan fished something out of her pocket.

“Nasser must have snipers at that exit, too,” Gray said, striding up to her.

Seichan held out her palm. “Concussive grenade. A flash-bang. We’ll detonate it in the center. As everyone goes rushing out the exits…out we’ll go, too.”

Gray frowned.

Vigor voiced his concern as they circled past a crowd of schoolchildren, all wide-eyed and fearful, clutched in a group. “If the snipers see any of us, they’ll open fire. On the crowd.”

“No other way.” Seichan sped faster. “We’ll have to take the chance. Nasser’s men may already be coming—”

A gunshot cracked loudly in the church.

Gray felt something whine past his ear. A bit of wall mosaic blasted in a shower of gold.

The crowd panicked, fleeing in all directions.

Vigor was knocked to a knee. Gray dragged him up as a second shot sparked against a marble column. The blast echoed.

Staying low, the trio fled to the side and down the length of the nave. As they reached the center, Seichan prepared to pull the pin on the grenade.

Gray grabbed her hand, restraining her. “No.”

“It’s the only way. There could be more shooters ahead of us. We’ll need to trample with them to reach the exit.”

And if we’re spotted amid the crowd,
he thought,
how many innocent people will be killed?

He pointed. “There’s another way.”

Still holding his hand clamped to hers, he led them all to the south side, toward the wall of scaffolding he had scaled earlier.

“Up!” he said.

However, there remained one obstacle.

The scaffolding guard had not fled his post. He remained crouched behind a wooden barrier, his rifle up, ready to shoot.

Gray snatched the grenade out of Seichan’s fingers, pulled the pin, and tossed the bomb behind the barrier. “Close your eyes!” he yelled at Vigor, pulling the monsignor down. “Cover your ears.”

Seichan crouched, her head wrapped in her arms.

The explosion felt like a kick to the gut. A sonic boom trapped in stone. A flash seared through Gray’s lids, even with his head turned away.

Then it was over.

Gray yanked Vigor up. Screams echoed, sounding muffled through the residual ring in his ears. He rushed toward the massive scaffolding. The crowds parted, fleeing toward the east and west exits.

But they weren’t going with them.

At the scaffolding, the guard was down, dazed on his back, moaning.

He’d have a bad headache, but he’d live.

Gray took his rifle and waved Seichan and Vigor up the scaffolding staircase. They’d have to move fast. The stampede would slow the shooters, but only for so long.

He clambered up after Seichan and Vigor.

“Where are we going?” Seichan called down. “We’ll be sitting ducks up here!”

“Go!” Gray said. “Get your asses up there!”

They fled around and around, leaping steps.

They reached the halfway point when a spray of automatic fire rang off the bracings, wildly shot, but effective enough to chase them off the outer stairs and into the heart of the scaffolding. They pounded along the planked flooring of this level.

Gray pushed ahead of the others. “This way!”

Running in a half crouch, Gray raced toward the nearest wall.

They were at the level where the dome rested atop the church. A row of arched windows, the same windows that both Gray and Marco had marveled over, ringed the dome’s bottom.

Gray lifted his rifle and strafed the window that lay at the end of the level. Glass shattered out. He did not slow. He reached the window, used the butt of his rifle to clear more glass.