She wore a cotton, flower print dress of red and black. It fit like it was made for her. Her chestnut brown hair spilled over her shoulders in long, straight locks. He almost didn’t recognize her.
“Danielle?”
She turned.
“Look at you.”
She actually blushed slightly, then glanced toward the door as firecrackers went off outside at the party.
“You like it?”
It was so different. “I’ve never seen you like this.” He couldn’t stop smiling.
“I borrowed it from the woman who is taking care of Yuri,” she said.
“I just saw him,” Hawker said. “He’s enjoying himself.”
Her smile faded. “At least for now.”
“What’s wrong?”
“Moore thinks Yuri will die when the stones release their energy tomorrow.”
“What?” Hawker said, shocked. “Why?”
“Because the object buried in his cerebral cortex isn’t a medical device; it’s a shard from the Russian stone.”
She went on to explain what Moore had told her, what it meant. Hawker looked away. It was like they just couldn’t win.
Danielle turned back toward the altar. She took the candle she was holding, whispered a prayer, and placed it beside the others.
If ever there was a time for it.
“Maybe he doesn’t have to die,” Hawker said.
She looked over her shoulder at him.
“The wine cellar downstairs,” Hawker told her. “The one our mad scientist professor won’t leave until he’s found the secret formula. It’s twenty feet belowground. It might shield him, the way the temples in the Amazon and under the gulf shielded those stones. The same way the tunnel at Yucca Mountain is keeping that one from linking up with ours.”
She looked up at him.
“As someone reminded me awhile ago, this is a sanctuary,” he said. “So why not let it be one?”
Her eyes were locked on his, and he felt as if she were reaching out to him.
“I don’t know how you can say you have no hope,” she said. “Because you bring me hope whenever you’re around.”
The statement caught him off guard. The look in her eyes and the tone of her voice touched him deeper than he would normally allow. He thought instantly of the way his life had progressed, of lost friends, lost battles, some of which had been caused by his reckless, arrogant choices. He thought of the day Moore had come to meet him, when he’d been sitting in Devera’s church in Africa, unable to sleep or speak or think.
“The last time I was in a church, I was literally covered with blood,” he said. “I kind of felt like Pilate, you know? At some point it doesn’t come off.”
“Might be the only trait we share. I feel guilty for everything. For McCarter, for Yuri, for Marcus … for you.”
“Me?”
Her eyes tracked him. “I don’t know what it is that haunts you so deeply,” she said. “But that’s the past. And today I’ve come to realize that we can’t change that. No matter how hard we try. No matter what we have in our possession. Including these stones.”
There was something in her voice, a partial resolution of her own issues, he guessed.
“All we can do is fight for a better future,” she added.
“With the stones,” he said.
“With everything we have,” she replied. “For everyone we love.”
She continued to gaze at him and he again had a sense of her searching him, as if he were hiding something and she was unwilling to let him continue.
“What would you decide,” she said, finally, “if it was up to you?”
He held her gaze in the quiet of the church. He’d long since lost faith in most things: governments, churches, himself. The thought of having this decision rest on his shoulders had not weighed easy on him before. Since arriving in San Ignacio that feeling had grown worse.
“You’re the only one who hasn’t been affected,” she said.
“Let’s see what McCarter finds,” he said.
“I just spoke with him,” she said. “It’s not going well. And he didn’t look particularly good, either, so I don’t know how much we are going to get out of him.”
Hawker didn’t like the sound of that. Without McCarter’s translation they would be left with little more than guesswork.
“So if you have to decide,” she said, pressing him.
He felt more than a sense of ambivalence toward the stones; he felt anger. They were like some kind of blank piece of paper to him, letting everyone see what they wanted to see.
“Most of what I’ve seen from humanity is brutality, selfishness, and greed. You want me to trust in mankind?” He looked toward the crucifix, the image of Christ battered and bleeding. “This is what we do.”
He stared into her eyes. “Better hope McCarter figures something out, because if using those stones means harm to you, or him or Yuri …” He shook his head. “Then the hell with them. I’ll smash that stone into a thousand pieces. And if the world burns around us, so be it.”
Her eyes were locked on his. She didn’t blink or move or speak. She just stared at him in the silence. And he didn’t know if that was a good thing or a bad thing.
He looked around the church, feeling out of place, much as he had in the simple wooden building in Africa. “I should go,” he said.
“I’ll go with you,” she replied.
She looked back to the altar, crossing herself, and then turned and walked with Hawker to the church door. Together they stepped out into the cool night air.
For the briefest second, as they stepped outside, Hawker thought he heard the sound of a small plane. But he tilted his head and couldn’t pick it up. A moment later the musicians in the street began to play and Danielle led him off to where the town folk were dancing.
Three hundred miles away, at Kang’s command center in the warehouse, Kang’s men processed the incoming data. The foot patrol units with their networked cameras had scanned nearly two hundred thousand faces with no sign of the NRI team, while the aerial drones surveyed the terrain along the line that led into the mountains. They probed the jungle with a combination of infrared cameras, magnetometers, and a specialized receptor designed to pick up the faint signature of medical-grade radioactive material.
So far they’d found several parties of hikers, a crashed military trainer that had rusted to pieces in the trees, and three possible sites of undiscovered ruins. But there had been no sign of his quarry, at least until now.
One of the drone operators received an alarm. He sat facing a pair of large computer screens displaying what looked a great deal like a modern military cockpit. And indeed it was similar. The readouts on his screens were created by remote telemetry from the sensors and instruments in the drone. Three hundred miles away, sitting on the ground in Campeche, the “pilot” controlled the drone and he had taken this one to the very end of its range, before picking up a signal.
The strength of the signal faded rapidly and he decided to risk one more pass before turning the million-dollar machine for home. This time the signal came in stronger.
He pressed the intercom switch, which buzzed Kang’s office. “I report contact from drone number five. I repeat we have contact. I’m locking the location in now.” He typed the coordinates into the computer and hit ENTER.
The computer ran the sensor analysis and confirmed the signal.
“San Ignacio,” he said, looking at the map. “They’re hiding in San Ignacio.”
CHAPTER 56
Arnold Moore remained at Yucca Mountain deep into the night, running simulations on a program his technicians had put together. The simulation had confirmed Stecker’s theory. The stones and their energy waves were intrinsically linked to the weakening magnetic field, but no matter how Moore tinkered with the variables, the numbers did not match up. Close, but slightly off.