The Blood Gospel (10 page)

“The concentration is too high in the gas residue to be just a contaminant,” Sanderson piped up.

“What else can you tell me about the ancient uses for cinnamon?” Jordan asked.

“If I’d known there would be a quiz, I’d have studied.” Erin offered a soft smile; its warmth caught him off guard. “Let’s see, they used it as a digestive aid. Stopping colds. As a mosquito repellent.”

“Research it,” Jordan ordered. He strode to stand behind Sanderson, as jazzed as if he’d downed a triple espresso.

Sanderson’s fingers flew across the keyboard. “On it.”

“What?” she asked. “What did I do?”

“Maybe solved part of my problem,” Jordan said. “Most mosquito repellents are around two chemical bonds away from nerve gas. The first nerve gas—”

The ground gave a violent shake. Erin’s chair rolled backward, threatening to topple. Jordan held it steady as the canvas lean-to swayed, and the metal of the scaffolding creaked in protest.

She tensed as if to jump out of her seat, but he pressed her back in place. “Safer if you ride the aftershock out here,” Jordan said.

He didn’t add that there was no safe place on the damaged plateau. It wouldn’t take much shaking to split the entire mesa in half. The shock died away. “All right, the time for window shopping is over.” He turned to Sanderson. “Are you sure there’s no active gas in that chamber?”

Sanderson bent over his console, and after a moment straightened. “None, sir. Not a single molecule.”

“Good. Fetch Cooper and McKay and alert Perlman. We gear up and head down in five.”

The doctor rose as if she expected to go, too. He shook his head. “I’m sorry. You’re going to have to stay topside until we secure the chamber.”

She scowled. “You pulled me away from my site to come here. I’m not going to—”

“I’m responsible for the four soldiers in my unit. That responsibility isn’t one I take lightly, Dr. Granger. There is a probable source of deadly nerve gas down there. I will not have a civilian casualty on my conscience as well.”

“Back to ‘Dr. Granger,’ are we?” Her enunciation was suddenly precise. She reminded him of his mother. “What exactly were your standing orders regarding me, Sergeant Stone?”

“As I told you before, to ensure the integrity of the site.” He kept his tone even and polite. He didn’t have time to deal with an angry academic who wanted to hurl herself into danger.

“How can I ensure that integrity from up here?”

“You already said the only thing in there was a sarcophagus—”

“I said that’s all I could see from up here. But what about what’s
inside
the sarcophagus, Sergeant Stone?”

Her tone was a couple degrees frostier than a minute before. He rallied. “I don’t much care what’s inside it, Doctor. I—”

“You should care. Because it’s open.”

He stepped back in surprise. “What?”

She tapped the screen with her fingernail, showing a spot on the picture relayed by the ROV. “Right there. That’s the lid. On its side next to the sarcophagus. Someone must have broken the seal and lifted it off.”

He wished she hadn’t seen that. It made his life a lot more complicated.

She lowered her voice. “We have no idea what might be in there. The body of a Jewish king. An intact copy of the Torah. Masada is a treasured historical site to the Jewish people. If anything gets damaged …”

He opened his mouth to protest. Instead he took a deep breath and let it out slowly. She was right. The Israelis would have his head if his team made the slightest mistake. Damn it. “There might be intact canisters of gas down there. If so, they could get broken open by an aftershock at any time. And we end up like the people you saw outside.”

She blanched, then straightened her back. “I understand the consequences, Sergeant.”

He doubted that she did. “Have you rappelled before?”

“Of course,” she said. “More times than I can count.”

He held her gaze. “I’m assuming you can count higher than one?”

She grinned. “I can count higher than that. Maybe even to a hundred.”

He relaxed. At least getting her down there wouldn’t be a problem. “As of now, you are under my command. When I say ‘jump’—”

She put on a serious face. “I ask how high. I got it.”

He touched his earpiece. “Sanderson, get Dr. Granger suited up in a harness. She’s going in with us.”

October 26, 4:42
P.M
., IST

Thirty miles from Masada, Israel

Bathory twitched the blackout curtains back into place, concealing the barren desert beyond the airport hangar, wondering if that would be the last she ever saw of the sun.

She took a moment to close her eyes, to center herself. She took a deep breath and pushed back the pain that continually ran through her blood, that dull ache, always there, never forgotten, a reminder of an oath she had taken when she was much younger. The pain marked her as steadfastly as the strangling black palm print tattooed upon her white throat; both had been born at the same time, binding a promise made in blood and sacrifice to serve Him.

Her fingers rose to her throat, to touch the source of pain and promise. It also served one other purpose:
for protection
. It marked her as one of His chosen, elevating her. None could touch her, and all obeyed her.

She forced her arm back down, knowing she must never show a shred of weakness, especially in front of the others.

She turned to face the cavernous dark hangar, lit dimly by pools of light from overhead fixtures in the steel rafters. Her team had already boarded the helicopter, waiting on her.

One of the flight crew clanged shut the rear cargo hatch. Something bumped hard against that closing door, knocking the man back a step, leaving him visibly shaken before he got the latch closed.

She allowed a small smile, reassured. The black mark on her throat was not her only protection.

Hush
, she sent forth to that rear hold,
you’ll be free soon enough
.

The message was not words, but a casting out of warmth and comfort.

She felt an echo back:
satisfaction, hunger, and a deep well of love.

Basking in that glow, she adjusted the Kevlar and leather that hugged her form, secured the holstered Sig Sauer in its shoulder harness, and headed across the wide hangar to join her team aboard the helicopter. The chopper’s engines were already whining up for liftoff, the noise deafening in the enclosed space.

Ducking under the whirling blades, she climbed into the cabin of the specially designed Eurocopter Panther and slammed the door closed behind her. Inside, it was dark and cool, insulated and whisper-quiet. The medium-size craft would carry ten passengers, along with the additional six hundred pounds of payload secured in the rear hold.

But it was no ordinary chopper. Stealth modifications made it run nearly invisibly, and sound-dampened engines made it run quietly. It had also been painted with Israeli colors, camouflaged to fit the region. Except for the cabin windows—which had been painted black, blinding them to the outside.

As she moved to her lone open seat, eyes tracked her. The nine were all seasoned hunters, well-blooded. She read the raw hunger in their eyes, recognizing the ferocity hidden behind their blank stares.

Ignoring them, she sat next to her second in command, Tarek. In the dim cabin, he was merely a darker shadow, and just as cold. She remembered Farid’s heat, the touch of his hot hand on her back. It seemed a distant memory now.

She fitted her headphones in place and radioed the pilot. In the blackened craft, he would be navigating by instruments alone, aided by flight-simulator software.

“What’s our status?” she asked.

His answer came back tersely. “I’ve already radioed the proper Israeli security code for access to the summit. They’re expecting a cargo helicopter. We’ll be skids down there in twenty-two minutes.”

She calculated in her head.
Seven minutes after sundown
.

Perfect.

The engines sped up with a muffled roar from outside. She pictured the hangar doors sweeping open overhead, blazing with sunlight. She felt the craft lurch up toward the sun and pictured their craft racing across the hot sands, a dark mote against a fiery sea.

“How many?” Tarek growled.

She knew what he was asking:
what force could they expect to meet them at Masada?
But she also heard the underlying lust in those two words. It cast a flash of excitement across the cabin, like a match dropped into a pool of gasoline.

She answered him, addressing both what was spoken and unspoken.

“Seventeen.”

Tarek’s face remained in shadows, but she sensed his hard smile, raising the small hairs on the back of her neck, an instinctive response to the presence of a hidden predator.

According to her intelligence, only a small force of soldiers still guarded the summit of the mountain. With the nine at her side and the advantage of surprise, she estimated it would take no more than a couple of minutes to secure the area.

After that, the book must be found.

Her hand tried to drift to her throat again, but she clutched her fingers in her lap.

She could not fail Him.

But there remained one unknown element as she remembered the warning that came with His note:

A Knight has been dispatched to retrieve it.

Let nothing stop you.

She told Tarek that, too.

“Be prepared. A Knight of Christ may also be present.”

Tarek stiffened, his shadow becoming a sculpture of black ice. His voice was a quiet hiss, using the ancient name for such a one like a curse.

“Sanguinist.”

October 26, 4:44
P.M
., IST

Masada, Israel

Erin looked furtively around the empty tent. Jordan had told her to wait inside until he came back. That gave her a few minutes alone. She drew out her cell and checked her messages.

A text from Nate.

“
Can’t reach the embassy. They’re swamped because of the quake. U ok?
”

Worried that Perlman might walk by, she texted back quickly.

“
I’m fine. It’s legit. News on Heinrich?
”

The screen stayed dark so long that she feared he was away from his phone.

“
Nate?
”

“
Can you call me?
”

The text message blurred, and she blinked. She couldn’t call him. Someone would hear. She had no doubt Perlman would destroy her phone if he caught her using it again.

“
No
,”

she texted back.

“
Tell me. Now.
”

Another pause, then,

“
Heinrich didn’t make it.
”

Erin collapsed into Sanderson’s chair. Heinrich, gone. He had died in a hospital thousands of miles from home because of her. She’d left him alone in the trench to fetch brushes she didn’t need just to spare herself an argument. What would she tell his parents? The smell of blood drifted over from the garbage can full of used gloves. She fought down an urge to retch.

“Doc?” Jordan stuck his blond head around the corner. “We’re ready for you if—”

He stepped into the tent. “Erin, are you okay?”

She raised her head to look at him. His voice sounded like it came from far away.

“Erin? Did something happen?” He crossed the tent in two quick steps.

She shook her head. If she told him about Heinrich’s death, she would break down right here in a tiny canvas tent in the middle of a field of bodies.

He gave her a concerned look.

Not able to match his gaze, she turned to her phone and texted back a response to Nate. She doubted Jordan would care.

“
Understood. I will call when I can.
”

Once done, she pocketed the phone. “It’s just my dig,” she said, preparing to believe her lie. “It’s been years of planning, and there was earthquake damage.”

“We’ll get you back soon.”

“I know.” He’d probably think she was crazy for being upset about some old bones buried in dirt. Still, she felt calmer being able to release even a tiny bit of the anguish about Heinrich. Either that or Jordan had a calming effect on her. How else would she have been able to walk through the death she had seen outside the tent? She took one last deep breath.

“I’m ready,” she said, standing up.

“Then step this way. We’ll get that harness on you.”

She followed him to the edge of the fissure, where he handed her a complicated mess of knots and straps. Military issue, it was nothing like what she was used to. She stared at it blankly.

He turned it around. “Step one leg in here. The other there.”

He stood behind her and helped her into the harness. His sure hands moved around her body, straightening straps and fastening clips. The harness was on, and her body temperature had risen by what felt like ten degrees. She quickly fastened the clips across her chest.