The Bone Labyrinth Page 11

  Lena took him at his word and ducked until her helmet was even with the pontoon. Still, she spied ahead, refusing to look away.

  If I’m going to die here, I’m doing it with my eyes open.

  The Zodiac reached the headwaters of the river and shot into that torrent at breakneck speed. Momentum carried them through the mouth and into the tunnel, where the roaring amplified to a deafening din. The Zodiac vibrated and shook, bobbling in the current, quickly slowing under the river’s assault.

  She knew what lay behind them if they lost this fight, picturing the swirl of that massive whirlpool. But what lay ahead looked no better.

  Ten yards away, the river thrashed around a turn, churning with white water.

  Fredrik aimed for the inside edge of the curve, where the river was less turbulent. He wrestled the boat forward as their progress slowed to a desperate crawl. He cursed in Croatian, hunkered low, forcing them forward inch by inch around the turn.

  Lena stared up at the wall of raging waters that banked along the outer edge of the curve. Oh, God, oh, God . . .

  Then they were suddenly through, past the corner. The river still flowed heavily against them, trying to drive them back into that turn, but the current was not as wild.

  Still, a new danger presented itself.

  “Can we get through there?” Roland called out.

  “We’ll have to,” Fredrik answered.

  From here, the storm-flooded river filled the tunnel, rising to within a yard of the roof. To make matters worse, rocky pillars jutted down from above—stalactites, she realized.

  The pilot had to throttle back some of his speed to help guide the boat through that jagged maze.

  If we got hung up on one of those . . .

  But there were other dangers lurking under the water. A ripping sound drew her attention to the floor. A sharp spear of rock pierced the bottom of the Zodiac, tearing a hole.

  Fredrik jostled them free, but the damage was done. Water surged into the boat, swamping them.

  “Use your helmets to bail!” Gray ordered. “Quickly.”

  She yanked on her chin strap and tore off her headgear. Roland and Gerard did the same. They began a war with the river, scooping as fast as they could.

  But even she knew it was useless.

  Despite the scream of its overtaxed engine, the waterlogged Zodiac began to drift backward. She saw Gray share a look with Fredrik. The pilot gave a small shake of his head.

  Then a new noise rose in volume—a familiar noise—coming from ahead of them.

  The telltale throaty whine of a Jet Ski was unmistakable, echoing off the stone walls. A dark shape shot into view, led by a brilliant beam of light. The shadowy driver was ducked low, avoiding the roof, sweeping swiftly toward them.

  It seemed the enemy was not done with them.

  Swearing loudly, Gerard raised his rifle—but Gray pushed the barrel away.

  “Don’t shoot.”

  6:46 P.M.

  Seichan closed in on the foundering boat.

  She searched beyond it for any sign of pursuit, any sign of the two other Jet Skis. After watching the pair of enemy craft vanish into the tunnel earlier, she had scaled down the rope from the balcony to the dock, to where the abandoned third vehicle had crashed. Thankfully, the keys were still in the ignition and not tethered to the driver she had shot.

  She now raced forward aboard the commandeered Jet Ski toward the Zodiac. Once there, she skidded her craft sideways and around, drawing alongside the boat. She took stock of the situation in one glance: the water filling the boat, the sunken pontoon, the screaming engine that seemed to be doing little good.

  “Throw me a rope!” she ordered.

  Confused faces stared back at her, but at least Gray understood.

  He tossed her a mooring line. She caught it and wrapped it around a tow hook behind her seat. Gray twisted the other end of the rope in his gloved hands and braced his legs against the pontoons at the boat’s bow.

  She gave him a nod and sped upriver. Once the line snapped taut behind her, she added the horsepower of her Jet Ski to the engines of the Zodiac. At first they made no progress.

  C’mon, you piece of—

  Then slowly the two vessels started to fight the current together. The tethered pair began a painstaking slog upriver, grappling for each hard-won yard. Finally, after what seemed like an hour, the world brightened ahead.

  They’d reached the tunnel’s end. Once free, she lifted her face to the pelting rain, while lightning crackled overhead. She was never happier to be out in foul weather. She dragged the Zodiac back to its riverside dock, and after some maneuvering, got everyone off-loaded.

  She then hopped off the Jet Ski—and into Gray’s arms.

  He hugged her hard. “I thought I ordered you to stay here,” he whispered in her ear.

  She leaned back, frowning at him. “And leave you all the fun?”

  7:12 P.M.

  Gray waited at the curb with the others. They huddled under a bower of trees that lined a small park. The dark bulk of Frankopan Castle shadowed the street. He wanted to be out of this damned village as quickly as possible. He didn’t know who the enemy was, but they were clearly paramilitary. This was no grab-and-snatch raid by thieves, but a well-orchestrated attack.

  And I’ve had enough with running blind.

  The rumble of an engine drew his attention to the street. A BMW shot wildly around the corner and braked hard to the curb. Dag sat behind the wheel, but it wasn’t the same sedan he had driven earlier. It was an SUV, a late-model X5.

  “Time to go,” Dag said through the rolled-down window. “Roads are open for now, but between the police still hunting for those pub raiders and the storm over the mountain passes, best to be out of here quickly.” He reached through the window and slapped the side of the vehicle. “Borrowed this from a friend. Might need four-wheel drive to get us over the mountains to Zagreb.”

  “You’re staying here,” Gray said, yanking open the driver’s door.

  Dag pulled it back shut. “Do you know these roads? Who knows what’s washed out up there?” He patted his chest. “I know all the ways up and over these mountains.”

  Fredrik offered some advice. “Kid’s right. You’ll want someone who knows the terrain.”

  Gray looked questioningly at the mountaineer.

  The man lifted both palms. “No offense, but I think I’m done playing tour guide for you all.”

  Gray couldn’t fault him and nodded.

  “Besides,” Fredrik said, “I’ll get Commandant Gerard the medical attention he needs.”

  Gray glanced to the Frenchman. The soldier had also declined accompanying them, committed instead to staying and discovering the fate of his men. Gray had understood, knowing he would choose the same if matters were reversed. Gerard offered one promise, though: to share any knowledge he gained from his search—about the enemy or about the two kidnapped professors. Gray had given the soldier a secure number to call.

  With matters settled, Gray got everyone off the street and into the waiting SUV. He took the front passenger seat, leaving the back to Seichan, Lena Crandall, and Father Novak. The plan was to head to Zagreb, where they would regroup.

  After Gray said his good-byes to the other two men, they set off out of town.

  Lena leaned forward from the backseat. She clutched a cell phone in her hand. Gray had already taken out the battery, fearful that the enemy might use it to locate her again.

  “When is it okay to call my sister?”

  “Not yet,” he warned. “For now, it’s better to let the enemy believe you’re dead.”

  She leaned back, looking dissatisfied with his answer and worried about her twin.

  He tried to reassure her. “Your sister is safe where she is.”

  Lena sighed. “That’s true, I suppose.”

  8

  April 29, 1:33 P.M. EDT

  Lawrenceville, Georgia

  Maria sat at the small table inside Baa
ko’s classroom. She stared down at the cell phone resting on the Formica top. After connecting briefly to Lena, she had immediately alerted Monk and Amy. The two were up in her office, fielding calls to D.C. for the past hour, but so far there had been no news relayed to her.

  Or at least nothing they’re telling me.

  She stared over to the large man waiting with her. Joe Kowalski had his own phone in hand, ready to answer it if his partner called with any update. He paced the room, striding back and forth like some caged beast. He seemed as anxious for any news as she. After making that brief connection to Lena, Maria had come close to collapsing, to losing it entirely, but he had held her, silently reassured her, and mumbled a promise that some colleague named Gray would find her sister.

  She appreciated his attempt at reassuring her and studied him as he made another round of the room. His face was craggy, traced with the ghosts of old scars, all underpinned by a square jaw. His nose fit his features, bearing a large knot, crooked from some old break. And while he was clearly a battle-hardened man, his ears stuck out, giving him a boyish quality.

  A familiar oof-oof drew her attention to the room’s other occupant.

  Baako stood before the classroom’s whiteboard. He had an erasable marker clutched in his left fist. He had scrawled four large letters on the board.

  Maria scooted to her feet in amazement. She and Lena had taught Baako the rudiments of spelling, a necessary part of sign language. They had used a set of plastic alphabet blocks as an educational tool, teaching him simple words, like cat and dog, along with the names of a few people who worked here: his caretaker Jack, his furry friend Tango, and of course, Maria and Lena.

  Kowalski stopped next to her, looking as dumbfounded as she felt. “He can write?”

  “He likes to draw, even paint, but he’s never written words like this before.”

  Baako noted their attention, his dark eyes large, staring between them, hooting slightly, as if unsure this was okay.

  It’s more than okay.

  “What a smart boy,” Maria cooed softly.

  Baako tapped a finger of his right hand to his chest, then gestured with his fingers, repeating the sign a few times. [Love, love, love . . . ] He ended by tapping the tip of his marker under each letter on the board, then staring again at Maria.

  She smiled. “I love Lena, too.”

  Baako must have overheard their recent conversations over the phone, recognized all the concern about the fate of Lena, and had internalized it. Perhaps sensing Maria’s distress, he had reached deep inside to show how he felt, to demonstrate this latent talent, one that lay hidden until now.

  She felt tears threatening, both of astonishment and love. She wiped at her eyes.

  Lena should be here to see this.

  Baako dropped his marker to the floor and came over to her. He hugged an arm around her waist.

  “You’re such a good boy,” she murmured.

  “Penmanship could be better,” Kowalski commented.

  She glanced over and saw a teasing smile on his face, belying how his eyes shone with a measure of awe as he stared at the board.

  After another moment, she slipped loose of Baako’s embrace. “I think we can all use some fresh air,” she said, checking the time, then turning to Kowalski. “I normally take this furry fellow for a midday walk, and it looks like we’re overdue.”

  The big man glanced to the observation window. “Where do you take him?”

  “The primate center sits on over a hundred acres of woodlands. We have a regular trail we use.” She patted Baako. “He loves it.”

  She felt a twinge of guilt, knowing in her heart how much he truly came alive when outdoors, free of this place. He belonged in the open air, not trapped down here. But she also knew that he was much more than a simple gorilla. Only here, properly taught and nurtured, could he achieve his full potential.

  She sighed, not entirely convincing herself of this.

  But just keep telling yourself that.

  Maria cleared her throat and faced Kowalski. “You don’t have to come,” she offered. “If you want to join your partner up in my office . . .”

  He shrugged. “I could use some fresh air.”

  She doubted if this was true; more likely he had been ordered to stay with her. Either way, she needed to get out of here, to escape the cloud of anxiety that had grown to fill this space over the past hour.

  Better to be moving than sitting here wringing my hands.

  She crossed back to the table and retrieved her cell phone, not wanting to miss any call about Lena. Baako watched her, pouncing a bit on his knuckles, plainly anticipating what was to come.

  “Ready for a walk, Baako?” she asked.

  He leaped high, hooting loudly, then charged alongside her as she headed toward the security cage that framed the exit door.

  Kowalski trailed them. “I’d take that as a yes.”

  As she unlatched the cage, Baako stared back. She felt the tension vibrating through the young gorilla’s body—both from excitement and from irritation that Kowalski appeared to be coming with them.

  She sought to distract Baako. “How about we collect Tango from the kennels? Bet he’d like a walk, too.”

  At the mention of the Queensland Terrier pup’s name, Baako forgot all about Kowalski. He took Maria’s hand and dragged her toward the exit. She laughed and unlocked the way with her key.

  Once through the door, Baako shifted closer to her. He still kept hold of her hand, something drilled into him whenever they left his domicile. He lifted his other arm and waited for the other safeguard to be implemented. She removed a pair of GPS trackers from a hook next to the door and fastened the magnetic bands around each of his wrists.

  “There you go,” she said. “All set.”

  He huffed quietly.

  She led Baako and Kowalski toward the rear of the building. Baako hugged close to her, especially when they moved past the other labs that ran various research projects. Though the doors were sealed, he must have still smelled or sensed the presence of the other animals, mostly primates like him: rhesus monkeys involved in a hormone replacement study, sooty mangabeys used to evaluate the evolution of growth, squirrel and cynomolgus monkeys employed in various vaccine and neuroscience programs. The screech of a chimpanzee from behind one closed door pushed Baako tight to her side.

  “It’s okay,” she consoled.

  But was it? How disconcerting was this for him?

  She finally hurried through to the kennels, where a familiar lanky form greeted them.

  “Taking the big guy out?” Jack asked with a wide smile, leaning on a broom.

  “Tango, too.” She nodded toward a nearby room of kennels.

  “I’ll go fetch him,” the student said. “But you should know that it’s drizzling out there, and after last night’s downpour, the trails are getting pretty dang muddy. Might want to pull on a set of rubber boots.”

  “I’ll be fine.” Maria turned to Kowalski, eyeing his suit and a surprisingly fashionable set of wing tips. “But maybe you’d prefer to wait here after all.”

  He stared down at his shoes, looking mournful. “These are hand-stitched Brunello Cucinellis.”

  Jack offered a suggestion. “I have an extra set of boots and coveralls. You’re welcome to use them. Might be a little small, but should do.”

  Kowalski shrugged. “Works for me.”

  Maria waited as Jack led the man into the nearby locker room. She stared toward the rear loading dock that offered access to the back acres of the primate center. This delay allowed her worries to settle more heavily over her shoulders.

  C’mon, Lena . . . be all right.

  Warm fingers tightened on her hand.

  She turned to find Baako gazing up at her. The anguished squint of those caramel eyes was easy to read.

  Seems I’m not the only one worried.

  11:57 A.M.

  What I do for Sigma . . .

  Alone in the changing room
, Kowalski neatly folded his pants and draped them over the wing tips resting at the bottom of the metal locker. His shirt and suit jacket already hung from a hook inside. Standing in his boxers and socks, he lifted the set of borrowed coveralls. The kid who left them was almost as tall as Kowalski but as skinny as a beanpole. Luckily, the student preferred to wear his coveralls loose and boxy.

  Sighing, Kowalski tugged into the borrowed set of work clothes. He had to inhale deeply to zip the front over his belly and chest.

  That’ll do, I guess.

  From a bench, he lifted up the strap of his shoulder holster, weighted down by his sidearm. No way he could wear this under the coveralls, and he wasn’t sure the geneticist would appreciate him carrying it openly. Monk had warned him to be discreet. So with a sorry shake of his head, he hooked the holster next to his suit jacket.

  “Not like anyone’s gonna let me shoot that gorilla anyway,” he mumbled.

  Still, his hand hovered over the butt of his weapon—a newly purchased Heckler & Koch .45. He gritted his teeth, unable to abandon it.

  You belong with me, baby.

  He pulled the gun from the holster and shoved it into a deep back pocket of his coveralls. The bulge was far from discreet, but what was a guy to do?

  He slammed the locker closed, locked it, and pushed his feet into a cold set of rubber boots. Ready now, he headed back out to Maria. He arrived at the same time the student returned from the kennels with an exuberant gray-and-black-mottled young dog dancing at his side.

  “Tango,” Maria introduced the pup with a smile.

  The gorilla chuffed in greeting, lifting his eyebrows high, waving his free arm.

  Jack unhooked the leash and let Tango go bounding up to his friend, the pup’s back end wagging as much as his tail.

  “Ready?” Maria asked.

  “Let’s get this over with,” Kowalski grumbled, following after the gorilla and dog.

  Guess I’m Sigma’s official pet walker now, too.

  They headed to the open door of a rear loading dock. Outside, a light drizzle fell from a low gray sky. Still, the air smelled clean and inviting, free of the musky odors of animals and the ammonia scent of cleaning products.