Vapor (12 page)

“I don’t see any buildings.” A gust of air struck our helicopter, causing it to shake violently. Graham waited for the tremors to die down before returning to the stack of large, colorful images. “When were these taken?”

“Eighteen months ago,” Beverly replied.

He arched an eyebrow.

“Those are the most recent ones available.” She shrugged. “According to my contacts, someone high up the food chain classified all recent satellite imagery of Pagan.”

“What for?”

“I assume it’s related to the land lease deal. After all, that’s when the U.S. government sealed off the island.”

A few days earlier, we’d returned to Jerusalem. We’d holed up in a small hotel. Immediately, Beverly had gone to work, studying soil samples from the excavation site with every tool at her disposal. Thanks to her former army contacts, she’d even managed to get some help from a well-equipped lab.

Meanwhile, Graham had studied the data he’d extracted from the drone. The aircraft had originated from Pagan, a small island situated in the Pacific Ocean. Coupled with what he’d seen via lip reading, we knew we were onto something.

Apparently, Pagan belonged to the Commonwealth of the Northern Mariana Islands. The Commonwealth, in turn, was one of four unincorporated organized territories overseen by the U.S. government.

Eighteen months earlier, the U.S. Department of the Interior had granted a four-year land lease for Pagan to a company named Eco-Trek. Much of the lease, including its exact terms, had been classified. But Graham was still able to gather a few facts.

Eco-Trek was a non-profit company, newly formed to take charge of the lease. Its mission, according to the few documents he’d been able to dig up, was listed as
weather and atmospheric research
.

A woman named Simona Wolcott, a well-known expert in the field of geocybernetics, was listed as its president and executive director. With a little research, I learned that geocybernetics dealt with interactions between the ecosphere and the anthroposphere. In other words, it attempted to study and control how humans interacted with the natural environment.

The land lease gave Eco-Trek the right to build a weather research station, including a hangar, on Pagan. It also allowed them to rebuild an old airstrip, which had first been constructed by the Japanese Navy in 1935. In order to preserve the integrity of the research station, the U.S. Department of the Interior had authorized a giant bubble surrounding the island in the form of no-sail and no-fly zones.

Another gust of air struck the chopper. My teeth chattered as we jolted up and down for a couple of seconds.

The helicopter jolted again, but I barely noticed it. Tilting my head backward, I stared at the ceiling. My mind churned as I tried to fit puzzle pieces together for the millionth time.

Lila had told me not to let the reliquary fall into
her
hands. By
her
, did she mean Simona? It made sense. At the very least, Simona was indirectly responsible for the deaths of Lila and God’s Judges. A big part of me wanted to find her, to make her pay for what she’d done. But recovering the reliquary outweighed my need for revenge.

I began to reconstruct events. Lila had located the reliquary and hired us to excavate it. For some reason, Simona wanted it as well. So, she’d directed one of her high-altitude weather research drones to the region, intending to suffocate us with chemtrails. A mop-up team, led by the Polynesian man, was sent to collect the reliquary and dispose of the evidence.

But God’s Judges had arrived on the scene. They’d probably figured the drone was under the control of the Israeli military. So, they’d shot it down. In the process, the chemtrails had killed them and Lila.

Afterward, we’d driven the reliquary to the wreck. The mop-up team had showed up. After we’d faked our deaths, they’d proceeded to take the reliquary and clean the scene.

Graham, situated in the far left seat, leaned forward. “I still can’t get a signal. Do you think Eco-Trek could be blocking it?”

I frowned. “If so, we’re in trouble.”

“Not necessarily,” Beverly said. “Obviously, someone is keeping a tight lid on Pagan. Maybe signal jamming is a regular thing around here.”

My take on the events felt right. But it also created more questions. How did Lila know Simona? Why did Simona want the reliquary? Was it truly dangerous? If so, how?

Get in. Get answers. Get out.

My plan was simple. First, we’d infiltrate Eco-Trek’s research station. Second, we’d determine why Simona had sought the reliquary. Third, we’d steal it back and escape the island.

Simple? Who am I kidding?

Even if the plan went off without a hitch, I still needed to make an important decision. If the reliquary were harmless, I’d take it back to Jerusalem. But if it wasn’t, well, that was a whole different matter.

I’d destroyed artifacts before. But even when I found it necessary, it still didn’t come easily. My entire professional life had been devoted to saving the past. Doing the opposite just felt wrong.

Graham passed the satellite images to me. Quickly, I flipped through them. Pagan actually consisted of two islands, topped by stratovolcanoes. A thin strip of land, less than half a mile thick, joined the islands together.

Everything about Pagan exceeded my imagination. Its hills rolled in all directions, like waves in the ocean. Its cliffs looked impossibly steep. Dense forests, colored a rich green, covered many parts of the island. It was truly a magnificent place.

“What’s the status of these volcanoes?” I asked, directing my question at the cockpit.

“The big one, Mount Pagan, is the more active of the two,” Milt Stevens replied in a southern drawl. “But they’ve both experienced mild eruptions over the last decade. There are quite a few solfataras—those are cracks in the crust that emit sulfurous gases—on the island. There’s also at least one boiling hot spring and several steam vents. So, more eruptions seem like a sure thing. I suppose that’s why no one lives there anymore.”

Stevens looked more like a fashionable professor than a seasoned pilot. A blue polo shirt and neatly pressed slacks covered his wiry frame. Keen green eyes stared out from behind a pair of thick glasses. His floppy black hair looked stylish, no matter what he did with it.

“Except for Eco-Trek employees,” Beverly said.

“I was referring to the locals,” he replied. “After the 1981 eruption, the islanders were evacuated to Saipan. A group of them—they call themselves Pagan Nation—has been trying to return for years. But the authorities won’t let them. Too dangerous, I suppose.”

“If that’s the case, why’d they allow Eco-Trek to build a research station on the island?”

“Beats the hell out of me. But from what I hear, the locals had no say in the matter. It was a federal decision.”

“When’d you last come here?” I asked.

“Honestly, I don’t remember.” Stevens shrugged. “Saipan gets its fair share of tourists, but most people want quick helicopter tours. They don’t want to spend all day flying over the ocean.”

Looking out my window, I stared over the waters. They appeared dark, forbidden. We were a long way from Saipan. Hell, we were a long way from pretty much anywhere.

From Jerusalem, we’d flown to Saipan. At roughly forty-four and a half square miles, it was the largest and most populated of the Northern Mariana Islands. After some searching, we’d met Stevens. He’d agreed to fly us some two hundred miles to Pagan—no questions asked—in exchange for a large sum of cash.

Now, we hovered in the air, high above the ocean. The two closest islands to Pagan, Alamagan and Agrihan, were each about forty miles away. Since they were also uninhabited, we—along with Eco-Trek’s employees—were the only people around for miles.

“I see it.” Shock filled Beverly’s voice. “It’s … it’s …”

“It’s ugly as hell,” Graham said.

A sharp breeze struck the helicopter. The chopper twisted in mid-air. Looking out my window, I saw a landmass. It was definitely the island depicted in the satellite images. It possessed the same rolling hills, the same steep cliffs. But Graham was right.

It was ugly as hell.

Leafless forests took up much of the island. Even from a distance, I could see the denuded tree trunks were thin and sickly. The grass, what little of it remained, was colored brown. Patches of plants, also brown, were sparse in number. Clearly, death and dirt had taken over the once-fertile island.

“Holy crap.” Stevens blinked. “What happened?”

“A drought,” Beverly said. “A severe one.”

“Are you sure you want to do this?”

“We’re sure,” I replied. “Take us close to shore. We’ll deploy our raft and make the jump. Then you can fly back to Saipan.”

“How will you get home?”

Graham grinned. “Don’t worry about us.”

I studied the island. It looked a little like a barbell. A large building rested on the northeastern half. An airstrip led away from it, crossing the thin strip of land toward the southwestern half.

A thin road circled the building. At the back, it veered northwest toward an area known as Pagan Bay. Several large boats filled the bay.

“Aircraft,” a soft, feminine voice buzzed from the helicopter’s radio. “This is Eco-Trek Research Station. You’ve entered restricted airspace. Please identify yourself. Over.”

“Crap.” Stevens gave me a nervous look. “What should I say?”

I racked my brain. “Tell her you’re leading a sight-seeing tour to Agrihan. Your instruments malfunctioned and you flew off-course. Tell her you need to land in order to fix them.”

“What if she doesn’t believe me?”

“She will. Just stick to the story.”

Stevens pressed a button on the dashboard. “Eco-Trek, this is Boomerang Eighty-Eight,” he said in a hurried tone. “Requesting permission to land. Over.”

While we waited for the woman to reply, I looked at Graham and Beverly. “While Milt works on the instruments, we’ll sneak into the research station. We’ll mix in, get lost in the crowd.”

“How are we going to find the reliquary?” Beverly asked.

“It won’t be hard. The station is a glorified airport hangar. I bet it’s wide open on the inside.”

“Don’t be too sure about that.” Graham pointed at the northeastern end of the station. “That looks like a loading bay.”

“So what?”

“So, an airport hangar doesn’t need a separate loading bay. In other words, that building is more than just a hangar. There might be offices, rooms, even laboratories.”

“Permission denied.” The feminine voice crackled over the radio. “Please exit this airspace immediately. Over.”

“We’re experiencing instrumental failures,” Stevens replied. “Must land now. Over.”

A few seconds passed. “Negative, Boomerang Eighty-Eight. Eco-Trek is a high-security facility. Absolutely no one is allowed on the premises. Reroute and shoot for Alamagan. Over.”

Stevens frowned. “Now, see here—”

Static erupted from the radio.

“That little jerk.” Stevens exhaled deeply. “Well, I guess that settles it. I’ll just swing—”

“Hold it,” I said.

Stevens gave me a look. “You heard the lady. That’s a high security facility down there. We can’t land.”

“It’s a research station. What’s the worst they can do to us?”

Stevens relaxed his hands. The helicopter hovered for a few seconds while he mulled over my words.

Dark clouds appeared overhead. The wind started to rush. A bolt of lightning shot across the sky. Others soon followed it. Thunder rumbled in the distance.

Rain started to fall, slapping the helicopter’s metallic sides. Peering out the front window, I watched the life-giving raindrops head for Pagan. But curiously enough, the soil and brown vegetation remained dry.

“What the hell?” Graham muttered under his breath. “The water … it’s not hitting the ground.”

“The air must be too dry,” Beverly whispered. “It’s absorbing the rain, turning it into vapor.”

I leaned forward. “Does anyone see that?”

A shadowy figure crested over a hill, roughly halfway between the station and the northeastern volcano.

“It looks like …” Graham frowned. “Hell, I don’t know what that is.”

Another bolt of lightning appeared. It seemed to materialize from the island itself, before stretching through the air.

I squinted. “Is that lightning?”

“I don’t think so.” Beverly leaned forward. “I think that’s … oh, my God … look out!”

Stevens yanked the cyclic stick. The helicopter jerked to the west.

A loud bang filled my ears. I felt an enormous jolt. A large cloud of black smoke appeared. Then a white light blazed through the smoke.

I held my breath. So did everyone else. The helicopter hovered for another second.

And then it started to fall.

The helicopter swerved and started to circle the ocean. Clenching my jaw, I fought off a wave of dizziness.

Stevens maneuvered the stick. The helicopter slipped out of the spiraling motion and shot north across the island. But it continued to fall at a fast clip.

They’ve got missiles?

I shouldn’t have been surprised. After all, it was a high security facility. Still, why did a weather research station need missiles? What other defensive technologies did Eco-Trek possess?

“Brace yourselves.” Stevens fought the controls. “This is going to—”

My body jolted again as the helicopter struck water. My chest slammed against the seatbelt. My teeth chattered.

Blades chopped at the ocean and snapped into pieces. Metal chunks shot in all directions.

With a loud groan, I unbuckled my seatbelt. My chest hurt. My legs ached. My brain felt fuzzy. “Everyone okay?”

“Oh yeah.” Graham rubbed a dark mark on his forehead. “Just great.”

I looked outside. Dark ocean waters surrounded us. Waves swept in our direction with ever-increasing ferocity.

I glanced over my shoulder. The rear right side of the chopper had been torn away. There was no sign of our inflatable raft or our gear.

“How’s the radio?” I called out.

A sharp wave struck the chopper. Stevens reached to the dashboard and began fiddling with the controls. “Broken,” he said. “If I had a little time, I could probably—”

“Forget it. We’ve got to swim for shore.”

I stood up. More waves rocked the cabin and it took me a moment to get my sea legs. Grabbing my satchel and machete, I approached the door.

Swiftly, I removed my boots. As I tied them to my satchel, the chopper shifted beneath me, sliding another few inches into the dark, swirling water.

Beverly followed me to the door. Peering outside, she sighted the island. “We’re at least a mile away. The water’s probably ice cold.”

I gave her a half-smile. “Scared?”

“Hardly.” She tied her hair into a bun. “Care to make this interesting?”

“I thought you’d never ask.”

“Bottle of Hamron’s to the winner.”

“Are you sure you can afford that?”

“I won’t have to.”

I pushed the latch and threw my shoulder against the door. It opened a couple of inches. Salt water rushed into the cabin. It felt like ice against my sock-covered feet.

I pushed again. The door opened a few more inches. Another rush of water splashed into the cabin. It quickly rose above my thighs.

Beverly joined me for a third push. The door groaned open.

Taking a deep breath, Graham dove into the water. Stevens was next. He climbed out of the cockpit and leapt into the ocean. Using powerful strokes, the two men swam toward the island.

With a casual dive, Beverly hit the water. Her stroke was strong and graceful. She quickly passed Stevens and caught up to Graham.

I took one last look at the island. Questions abounded inside my head. What was Eco-Trek really doing on Pagan? And what did it have to do with the reliquary?

The chopper sank faster into the swirling water. I took a few deep breaths, filling my lungs. As I dove into the ocean, I realized only one thing was certain. There was more to Eco-Trek than met the eye.

Lots more.