The Doomsday Key
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The ring of stones, rimed in ice, looked like chunks of silver.
She pictured the two bodies buried in the center. For some reason, she thought back to the curator she had slain in Venice-or rather, to his wife and child. She pictured the two of them buried here instead. Knowing it was born out of guilt, she shook her head against such foolish sentimentality. She had a mission to complete.
But tonight her guilt had sharpened to an uncomfortable edge.
She stared down at her other hand. She held a steel thermos. It had kept her tea warm. The warmth also kept her biotoxin incubated. The group had talked at length about extremophiles after the revelation about the source of Dr. Boyle's funding. The source of the toxin supplied to her was a bacteria discovered in a volcanic vent in Chile. Frost sensitive, it had to be kept warm.
No one noticed that only Rachel drank the tea.
Seichan only pretended to sip at it.
Pocketing her cigarette, she crossed to a windblown bank of snow and set about filling the thermos with handfuls of snow. The cold would sterilize the thermos, killing any remaining bacteria. Once it was packed full, she screwed the top back on. Her fingers trembled. She wanted to blame it on the cold. She threaded the top on wrong, and it jammed. She fought it for a breath as anger flared hotly through her. Frustrated, she yanked her arm back and hurled the thermos into the forest.
For half a minute, she breathed heavily, steaming the air.
She didn't cry-and for some reason that helped center her.
A door cracked open in the other cabin. She shared her cabin with Rachel; the men shared the other. She stepped into the open to see who else was still up.
The large frame and lumbering gait identified the man readily enough. Kowalski spotted her and lifted an arm. He pointed a thumb toward the paddock.
"Going to see a man about a horse," he said and disappeared around the corner.
It took her a moment to realize he wasn't actually meeting someone by the ponies. She was that out of sorts. She heard him whistling back there as he relieved himself.
She checked her watch. It was a few minutes before midnight. The timetable was set. There was no going back. They'd had sufficient time to examine the site. The Guild would only allow so much latitude for Gray's team to track Father Giovanni's path, to discover the key before anyone else. She had argued for more time but had been slapped down. So be it. They would have to keep moving.
She glanced toward the other cabin. Kowalski had better not be too long. He wasn't. After a minute, he came lumbering back, still whistling under his breath.
"Can't sleep?" he asked as he joined her.
She fingered her cigarette out and lifted it as explanation enough.
"Those things'll kill you." He reached into a pocket, pulled out a stub of a cigar, and matched her gesture. "So you might as well get it over with quickly."
He clenched the chewed end between his molars, pulled out an old-fashioned box of wooden matchsticks, and deftly scratched two sticks across the fabric of the tent. Twin flames lit up. He passed one to her. He'd plainly done this before.
He spoke around the end of his cigar. "Gray just hit the sack. Spent like two hours trying to get more out of that old professor. I had to get the hell out of there, get some fresh air. That dog kept stinking up the place. And no wonder. Did you see what he feeds that damn mutt? Sausages and onions. What sort of dog chow is that?"
Seichan lit her cigarette. She let the guy ramble, grateful for the mindless chatter. Unfortunately, his chatter was apparently leading up to something-and not all that smoothly.
"So," he said, "what's up with you and Gray?"
Seichan choked as she inhaled.
"I mean, he's always eyeballing you. And you just stare right through him as if he were a ghost. Like two schoolkids with the hots for each other."
Seichan balked at the innuendo, ready to deny, uncomfortable with how close the man was to the truth. Luckily she was saved from responding.
As midnight struck, the valley exploded.
Throughout the forest, geysers of flame shot skyward, one after the other. They were accompanied by soft concussions, easy to miss unless you were listening for them. The incendiary charges, coupled with a rubidium thermal catalyst that turned water into an accelerant, had been planted deep into wet peat, timed to blow at midnight. The entire valley was meant to burn.
Closer at hand, three more explosions erupted from the center of the ring of stones. Fiery spirals twisted high into the sky.
Even across the distance, the heat burned her face.
People came running out of the cabins behind them. Kowalski cursed hotly next to her.
She didn't turn, hypnotized by the flames. Her heart pounded. The conflagration began to spread outward-quickly, too quickly-both here and out in the forest. The ignited charges were only supposed to chase Gray's team off-to light a fire under them literally and figuratively-while destroying all evidence in their wake.
She watched the flames grow.
Someone had miscalculated, underestimated the combustibility of the peat. For a moment, an oily flicker of distrust flashed. Had she been betrayed? Were they meant to die here?
Going coldly logical, she mentally snuffed out those doubts. There was no gain in their deaths. At least not at this time. It had to be an error of execution. The old fires, smoldering for years, must have weakened the stability of the peat beds, turning the entire valley into tinder for the right torch.
Still, the end result was the same.
As she stared, the fires closed in a circle around them.
They would never get out of here alive.
Chapter 15
October 12, 11:35 P.M.
Oslo, Norway
Monk strode briskly across the research park. Under his heavy coat, he wore a Viatus security uniform. At his side, John Creed was equally bundled against the cold, but he had a lab jacket folded over one arm.