The Cerberus men walked her to the van in the lead, where Tyndareus was riding. The front row of passenger seats had been removed to accommodate his wheelchair, which was anchored to the floor with nylon tie-downs.
“This is as close to our destination as the road will take us,” he told her. “My men will move out on foot, looking for the signs that you promised we would find.”
“I don’t know if I would use the word promised.”
“What should they be looking for?” Tyndareus asked, ignoring the comment.
“Phaistos symbols, like on the map.”
“Where?”
She shrugged. “Carved on rocks. Like petroglyphs.”
Tyndareus turned to his nearest associate. “You heard her. Begin the search. Instruct the men to send photographs of anything they discover.”
“Am I going to have to go out there?” Fiona asked.
“I would prefer you remain here with me,” Tyndareus replied. “That way, you can verify anything my men discover.”
“Whatever.” Though she was somewhat relieved by the fact that she would not have to venture out into the alien landscape, hanging out with Tyndareus was not much better. But as she watched the Cerberus men — all but the two who had been assigned to watch over her — move out across the blasted terrain, she realized that she might never get a better chance to escape. All she would have to do was ditch Nurse Wretched and the two goons, and flag down a passing car. It would be that easy.
Except she knew that it wouldn’t. And there were other considerations as well. Tyndareus had made it clear that Gallo would pay dearly for any display of resistance.
He’s going to kill us both, she thought. Even if he gets what he wants.
She knew it was true, just as she knew that Gallo would never want her to cooperate with Tyndareus just to buy her a brief reprieve. Being part of the Herculean Society meant being willing to sacrifice everything to preserve those ancient secrets, to keep them out of the wrong hands. Fiona had already given Tyndareus too much, brought him too close. She couldn’t wait any longer.
One by one, the searchers disappeared into the roiling convection waves or dropped behind terrain features that eclipsed them from her view. She settled back into her chair, biding her time, counting the cars that passed by. Traffic was light, but she suspected that it would increase as the day progressed. Tyndareus might be willing to kill a lone Good Samaritan stopping to help a running girl, but she doubted he would do so in front of dozens of witnesses. He had not evaded capture for more than seventy years by being reckless.
A silver sedan passed the parked vehicles a few minutes later, slowing as if the driver was curious.
Too soon, she thought. But she could not afford to pass up an opportunity.
Without moving, she calculated the distance to the door, rehearsing the sequence of moves that would be required to unlock it, open it and hit the ground running. The guards would make a grab for her. She would have to be ready for that. Fiona shifted in her chair, stretching casually, as she readied herself.
On your mark…
The sedan stopped and pulled off the road, right in front of them.
Get set…
The door opened and the driver got out. It was Rohn.
As the big man strode along the roadside to the van, Fiona slumped back, her enthusiasm extinguished. She had come within a heartbeat of making a fatal mistake, one that would not only get her killed, but also…
She sat up again. “Where’s Aunt Gus?”
“In a secure place,” Tyndareus said, without looking at her. “Safe, as long as you continue to behave.”
The door opened and Rohn climbed in, taking a seat alongside Fiona. She shied away, as if his mere proximity was revolting to her, but he remained indifferent to her. Tyndareus did not overtly acknowledge Rohn’s presence, nor did Rohn seem to expect any greeting.
Only now did Fiona see the cuts on his face and hands, swollen flesh, exposed sutures stained with antiseptic, crusted with dried blood and oozing fluid. He looked like he’d gone toe-to-toe with a weed whacker and lost.
Did Aunt Gus do that? If so, good for her. No wonder Tyndareus is pissed.
As the initial shock of Rohn’s arrival wore off, she resumed plotting her escape. It would be harder with the big man right beside her, but she would have to find a way. If she did not make her move soon…
The electronic trilling of a cell phone broke her train of thought.
“Ah, good,” Tyndareus said. “We’ve found something.”
Damn.
The old man stared at the phone for several seconds, his eyes widening with undisguised excitement as he studied the image. “It would seem that we have found one of your road signs. I don’t believe it will need any translation however.”
He turned the phone, showing her the displayed image, a lump of sandstone jutting above the flat brown earth with a single glyph etched into its surface. Though the passage of time and centuries of wind and rain had worn away at it, the sign remained legible.
A circle crossed by two vertical lines. The sign of the Herculean Society.
She tore her gaze away from the image. “You know what that means, don’t you? The Society was already here. You won’t find anything.”
“Is that what it means? I think it is meant as a warning. ‘Keep out. No Trespassing.’” Tyndareus chuckled. “It is a warning I have no intention of heeding. I think we should see for ourselves what the Herculean Society has been protecting. Vigor, keep an eye on the child. Do not underestimate her. She is quite remarkable.”
Rohn grunted in assent, and then he took her wrist in his hand. She tried to pull free, but his grip was as unyielding as an iron manacle. He got out, dragging her with him, but was careful to keep her behind the van, shielded from the view of any passing cars. The other Cerberus men got out as well, and then proceeded to lift Tyndareus, wheelchair and all, out of the van.
“You’re going, too?” she said, making no real effort to hide her contempt. “I don’t think the trails around here are ADA approved. Or are you going to be carried the whole way like Yoda?”
Tyndareus returned a cryptic smile, then he tapped the joystick control and began rolling along the gravel shoulder until he reached the truck’s rear end. Rohn followed, pulling Fiona along. The other men had already rushed ahead to deploy the hydraulic liftgate and open the rollup door. Fiona did a double-take when she saw what was inside.
A familiar gray figure — man-shaped, but not a man — stood in the center of the cargo bay like a guardian statue.
It was the exosuit.
Tyndareus chuckled again. “It won’t be a problem.”
47
The men moved across the landscape like pawns on a chessboard, guided by an invisible hand. That’s probably exactly how Tyndareus sees them, Pierce thought. Disposable soldiers, sacrificed without a second thought. Why would anyone want to work for a guy like that?
“Cintia, can you get a head count? How many are we dealing with?”
“Eighteen,” Lazarus said. “One of them might be Fiona.”
“Yes, eighteen,” Dourado said, her tone faintly irritated. “Fortunately, I can do a lot better than just counting.”