The Eye of God (Sigma Force 9)

When in Rome . . .

Sanjar spoke with their host in a native dialect. It involved much gesturing, some corrections. But the husband began nodding vigorously, pointing northeast.

Jada hoped it was a positive sign.

The talk continued for some time after that. She could only watch and eat. To the side, the children found Monk’s prosthesis fascinating. He had one boy on his lap, showing the child how the hand could be detached from his wrist, yet the fingers still wiggled.

Jada found it actually disconcerting.

The children were enthralled.

Finally, Sanjar grabbed his own bowl of soup and tucked in with a spoon. He explained while eating. “Our host, Chuluun, says he heard stories from someone passing through yesterday, coming from the north. The man spoke of a fireball in the sky. It supposedly crashed into a small lake at the snow line of the neighboring mountain and set the water to boiling.”

Monk frowned. “If the wreckage is underwater, no wonder it was never picked up by satellite.”

“Then how are we going to get to it?” Jada said.

They hadn’t thought to bring diving equipment, let alone a wet suit.

“We’ll have to cross that bridge when we get to it,” Monk said. “Let’s find this place, confirm the location, and we’ll ship in what we need from there.”

Sanjar had an additional precaution. “Be warned. It’s a treacherous trail to reach that location. We’ll never make it by car or truck. I’ve asked Chuluun if he would be willing to lend us four of his horses.”

Jada balked at that idea. She could ride, just not well.

Still, it’s not like I have much choice.

“Did he agree?” Monk asked.

“Yes, and he’ll even send one of his cousins to guide us there. With luck, we should be able to reach the lake before the sun sets.”

Monk stood up. “Then let’s go.”

Jada followed his example, bowing her thanks to their hosts. Chuluun led them outside and spoke to one of his children who ran off to a neighboring ger, likely to fetch the cousin.

Chuluun pointed past the neighboring sweep of meadows, patched with dense forests, to the next peak, its upper slopes white with snow.

That was clearly their destination. It looked no more than twenty miles away. With their goal so close, trepidation set in. Responsibility settled heavily on Jada’s shoulders. The world was looking to her for answers, for a way to avert the coming doomsday.

As if reading her intimidation, Duncan stepped to her side, answering her silent question.

This is how.

By working together.

A commotion drew them to the next ger. A young woman, no older than eighteen, came charging out, snapping together the collar of her sheepskin jacket snugly. She had a flag of black hair, loose to her midback. With a leather tie in hand, she magically bound her hair into a fast braid. Once done, she snatched a curved bow from beside the tent and shouldered a quiver of arrows. She also carried a rifle over her other shoulder.

Was this their guide?

She approached them in knee-high Mongol boots that looked well worn. “I am Khaidu,” she said in heavily accented English. “You wish to go to the Wolf Fang. I will take you. Good time to go.”

She looked to be in as much of a hurry to leave as they were.

An older man appeared at the door, calling over to her.

She harrumphed and stalked away.

Sanjar explained. “A suitor for her hand. Likely an arranged marriage.”

No wonder she wants to leave.

They all hurried to catch up as she headed for the paddock.

Monk smiled. “This trip just got a little brighter.”

“You’re married.” Duncan nudged him. “With kids.”

He scowled back. “You say that like I’m dead.”

Jada sighed.

Maybe I’m better off going alone after all.

3:33 P.M.

Duncan stared up at the Wolf Fang as they set off on horseback across the highland valley toward the snowy peak. The mountain did indeed look like a hooked fang, pointed up at the sky.

With the sun overhead, the day’s chill quickly warmed away. It was a pleasant afternoon for a ride, made more so by the rugged landscape they traversed. With a thunder of hooves, they raced across meadows of porcupine grass or skirted dense forests of white-barked birches, fringed with blueberry and blackberry bushes.

Jada clearly did not share his passion for this ride. He noticed how tentative she was with her horse, so he kept by her side.

Monk brought up the rear, while the fiery Khaidu rode ahead with Sanjar. But in the true lead was Heru.

It seemed the falcon had recovered from taking a hard knock yesterday. Set free, the bird soared high into a crisp blue sky, obeying the occasional whistled command from his handler.

Sanjar was plainly showing off for Khaidu, who kept close to his side. And it seemed to be working. She leaned over often to ask a question or point out some feature in the land.

Meanwhile, Jada’s attention was not on the skies, but on the ground zipping under her mount’s hooves.

Duncan tried to reassure her as they climbed a slippery slope of shale. He patted his stallion’s spotted neck. “Just trust your mount! They know what they’re doing. These are sturdy Mongol horses, descendants of those that Genghis himself once rode.”

“So in other words, they’re last year’s model.” She offered him a crooked smile, trying to put on a brave face.

A few minutes later, they reached a narrow path with a steep drop on one side. He drew abreast of her, putting himself between her and a long fall to the sharp rocks below. Now was not the time to panic. To distract her, he talked shop.

“What do you think really happened when that satellite crashed?” he asked. “About the image it shot?”

She glanced to him, clearly distracted but willing to talk. “Dark energy is the stuff of time and space. When we drew that much energy into the earth’s gravity well, the smooth curve of space-time around the planet wrinkled along that path.”

“And time skipped a beat,” he said. “You also mentioned to Painter that you believed the Eye of God might have become entangled at the quantum level with the comet.”

“If it absorbed enough dark energy, it’s a possibility. I’ll know better once we reach the wreck of the satellite.”

“Then let’s examine the converse.”

She glanced at him.

“The cross,” he explained. “Let’s say it’s a piece of the comet that fell to earth when it last appeared. Or maybe it’s some asteroid that passed too near the comet at that time, absorbed its energy like Genghis’s tissues did, and fell to earth as a meteor.”