Rowe stopped his advance.
He motioned with the gun for Sagan and Alle to join Rowe and for all of them to step back. Clarke, too. He wanted them where he could see them.
“Mr. Simon, help me,” Rocha screamed. “Send one of them. They can get this far and pull me out.”
But he could not risk it. Not now. He had the situation under control and planned to keep it that way. Besides, he had a better way to get across.
Rocha sank fast, nothing to stop him, the mud now chest-high.
Clarke straightened himself up.
“Mr. Simon, help me,” Rocha screamed.
“You just going to let him die?” Sagan asked.
“That’s exactly what I’m going to do.”
“You really are a monster,” Alle said.
“A warrior. On a mission. Something you could not possibly understand.”
“Somebody. Please,” Rocha yelled.
“Stay still,” Sagan called out.
But that was surely easier said than done.
Too late.
Rocha disappeared.
Ripples disturbed the mirrored surface, which quickly receded, leaving no trace that anyone had ever been there. Everything assumed a strange quality of unreality.
“You are clearly not the Levite,” Clarke said.
Zachariah aimed the gun at Sagan. “You know the sixth number.”
No response.
“And you would never tell me. So your daughter will make the next trip across.”
“Like hell I will,” Alle said.
He cocked the gun, aimed, and fired.
CHAPTER SEVENTY-SIX
TOM CRINGED AS THE SHOT EXPLODED.
But Simon had readjusted his aim and fired at Alle’s feet, the bullet careening off the rock.
She’d leaped away in terror.
“The next bullet will not miss,” Simon said.
And Tom had no reason to doubt that. None of them meant a damn thing to him. Only what was on the other side of the lake. That’s what mattered and he’d do whatever was necessary to get there.
“Go,” Simon ordered Alle. “Into the water.”
She shook her head.
“I’ll go,” Tom said. “I’ll do it. You’re right, I know the way.”
Simon chuckled. “Which is exactly why she is going. I haven’t forgotten how we met. For all I know, you will go out there and finish what I interrupted at your father’s house. No. To be sure you will tell the truth, she will go.”
“I’ll do it—”
“She goes,” Simon yelled, “or I kill her and Bene can take her place.”
Tom stared at his daughter and, with no choice, said, “Do it.”
Her questioning look challenged the wisdom of that move.
“You’re going to have to trust me,” he said.
He spied no anger or resentment in her eyes.
Only fear.
And it tore his heart.
He stepped close to her. “The first stone is number 3.”
She did not move.
“We can do this. Together.”
She steeled herself and faced the challenge. Then she nodded, acknowledging the futility in arguing. He watched as she entered the water, only about a foot deep, on blank stones, settling her feet. He could see the first assemblage of numbered stones and was pleased when she found the one marked 3.
