Gray’s stomach muscles tightened.
Vigor came to his defense. “You’ve locked us up all this time. Surely you can’t expect us to have any further insight.”
Nasser cocked an eyebrow. “That’s not my concern. And Annishen grows impatient. She certainly needs something to entertain her.”
“Please,” Gray said. The word slipped out before he could stop it.
Nasser’s eyes sparked with amusement, allowing Gray to stew.
“Don’t be an ass, Amen,” Seichan said behind them. “If you’re going to do it, then do it.”
Gray’s fist squeezed. He had to resist swinging on her, to shut her up. He didn’t need Nasser antagonized. Not now.
The cool lines of Nasser’s brow had knotted up in anger. He raised his fingers and smoothed them out, refusing to rise to her bait. He turned away and headed back through his guards. He didn’t say a word.
“Nasser!” Gray called back to him, his voice cracking.
“If we skip this hour,” Nasser answered without turning, “I’ll expect even greater results once we penetrate the altar. Anything less, I’ll take more than a finger from your mother. It’s time we lit a larger fire under you, Commander Pierce.”
Nasser raised an arm, and the guards brought them out of the cell.
Seichan crossed past Gray, bumping his shoulder. Her words were low, barely discernible. “I was testing him.”
She continued past.
Gray, caught in her wake, followed — then edged next to her.
She spoke under her breath without looking at him. “He was bluffing…I could tell.”
Gray bit back an angry retort. She was risking his parents’ lives.
She glanced aside at him, perhaps sensing his anger. Even her words responded in kind, going harder. “What you must ask yourself, Gray, is
Gray relaxed his jaw. It was a good question. The back of her hand brushed his. He reached a finger toward her wrist, to acknowledge the merit. But she had already stepped beyond his reach.
Nasser led them back to the central sanctuary. The demolition team had been hard at work. Holes had been drilled into the massive, double slab of sandstone. Wires trailed out, winding together into a single braid. At the four exits, men stood with red fire extinguishers strapped to their backs.
Gray frowned. What did they expect to burn? It was all stone.
Nasser spoke to a dwarfish man wearing a vest full of tools and a coil of wire over one shoulder, plainly the demolition expert. Nasser got a nod from the man.
“We’re ready,” Nasser announced.
They were marched down the western exit and around the corner.
Vigor somewhat resisted. “An explosion could bring all this down on top of us.”
“We know that, Monsignor,” Nasser said, and lifted a radio to his lips. He gave the go order.
A moment later a sonorous thud as loud as a thunderclap thumped chest and ears. Once. Along with a fiery flash. Then a sharp acrid scent rolled over them, burning both nose and throat.
Vigor coughed. Gray waved a hand in front of his face.
“What the hell was that?” Kowalski asked, spitting into a corner to rid himself of the taste.
Nasser ignored him and led them forward.
He followed one of the men with the fire extinguishers. The man pulled down a face mask and triggered his hose. A foggy stream jetted out, spraying floors, walls, and ceilings. The narrow passageway filled with a cloud of fine powder, coating every surface.
Nasser led them back to the sanctuary.
Through the fog Gray noted other men with extinguishers converging on the chamber ahead. Under their combined spray, the view into the sanctuary momentarily clouded over. Gray could barely discern the four men spraying.
Nasser held them up.
After another half minute the spraying stopped, and the dust literally settled. The room, still foggy, reappeared. Sunlight streamed from the tower’s chimney.
Nasser took them forward. “Neutralizing base,” he explained, waving the residual dust from his face.
“Neutralizing what?” Gray asked.
“Acid. The demolition holds an incendiary charge paired with a corrosive acid. Engineered by the Chinese during the building of the Three Gorges Dam. Minimum concussion, maximum damage.”
Gray entered the chamber behind Nasser and gaped at the sight.
The walls were covered in white powder, but the change was dramatic. The four bodhisattva faces looked like someone had melted their features away. What once had been beatific visages were now ruins of slag. The floors were equally scoured, as if someone had taken a sandblaster to them.
The altar in the center, lit from above, was a cracked ruin. One corner section had fallen through into a lower chamber.
Some space was definitely under there.
Most of the slab still held.
Another demolition-team member stepped into the chamber, bearing aloft a sledge. Nasser signaled him forward. Another man followed, dragging a jackhammer.
Just in case.
The first man swung his sledge, smashing square in the center. Fiery sparks blasted out from around the hammer’s head, and the great mass of sandstone gave way.
The altar tumbled into the pit.
Susan screamed, arching up out of the backseat.
Lisa, strapped in the copilot’s seat, jarred around. She had been staring down at the expanse of the great inland lake as the
It was where Painter had told her to go into hiding. The fishing village lay twenty miles from Angkor. Out of harm’s way.
Lisa fumbled with her seat harness as Susan wailed. Freeing herself, she stumbled to the back of the plane.
Susan thrashed out of the fire blanket, gasping. “Too late! We’re too late!”
Lisa gathered the blanket and urged her to lie down. She had been sleeping quietly for the whole ride here. What had happened?
Susan clawed out a hand and grabbed Lisa’s forearm. The grip seared her skin, burning away the fine hairs.
Lisa yanked her arm away. “Susan, what’s wrong?”
Susan pulled herself up in the seat. The wildness in her eyes ebbed slightly, but she continued to quake all over. She swallowed hard.
“We must get there.” She mumbled her usual mantra.
“We’re landing now,” Lisa said, trying to calm her. She even felt the
“No!” Susan reached again for her, but then withdrew her hand, noting Lisa shying away. Her fingers curled and slipped back under the fire blanket. She took a shuddering breath. Her eyes rose to Lisa’s. “We’re too far. Lisa, I know how this sounds. But we have only minutes left. Ten or fifteen at most.”
“Left for what?”
Lisa remembered her earlier conversation with Painter, about the Christmas Island crabs, about chemically induced neurological changes, triggering manic migratory urges. But in the sophisticated mind of a human, what did those same chemicals do? What other changes were wrought? Could Susan’s urges be trusted?
“If I don’t get there…” Susan said, shaking her head as if trying to jar a memory loose. “They’ve opened something. I can feel the sunlight. Like fiery eyes burning into me. All I know…and I know it in my bones…if I’m not
