“Magnificent,” whispered Hall, entering. He was just as enthralled as Alyssa.
“Let’s not lose our perspective,” said Aussie. “Remember — we’re not alone ‘ere.” Aussie and Butcher Boy quickly scouted the area, their weapons raised to eye level, their heads on a swivel, aiming, searching. And then: “Clear!” Aussie lowered his weapon, but kept his senses keen and alert.
Hall took the time to run a hand over the crystal hide of the bull, could feel its perfection. His mind was working as to where upon the Seafarer he could display such a remarkable piece. “Amazing,” he whispered.
Savage walked the periphery of the chamber looking for imminent danger rather than at the bull, the difference between a soldier and a scientist.
In the room’s center, Carroll leaned his brother against the plinth, the man growing sicker and weaker, the toxin of the creature’s bite coursing through his system. “Butch!”
Butcher Boy joined his side by getting on a bended knee and placing the back of his hand against Red’s forehead.
“Not feeling too good, Cap,” Red whispered. “I’m on fire. I can tell.”
“Yeah, you are,” he said, lowering his hand. And then over his shoulder: “Ms. Moore.”
She saw the soldiers gathering around Red and took sudden note of the waxy glow of his face, and the deadly dark rings that surrounded his eyes. She took up position in front of him as Butcher Boy surrendered space to her. “We got antibiotics in our packs,” said Butcher Boy. But it was apparent to them that the situation was grave. The man’s life was bleeding out.
Alyssa felt his temperature and measured the rate of his pulse, which beat at the pace of a drum roll. “This man needs to be in a hospital,” she told him. “He’s burning up.”
“We know that,” said Butcher Boy. “But that’s obviously not an option at this point.”
“Then what do you expect me to do?”
“How long can antibiotics carry him through?”
She reached over and peeled back the torn fabric of his shirt that was stuck to the wound, causing Red to whistle in pain through gritted teeth. The skin had greened and soured, the smell of the injury was in the beginning stage of decay. “I’m going to say this again. He needs to be in a hospital.”
“And again, that’s not an option.”
“The toxin is fast-acting,” she told him. “Antibiotics won’t even put a dent in this. If you don’t get this man help, then he will die.”
Red squirmed in obvious pain. Looking for a quick solution to Red’s condition, Butcher Boy turned to Aussie and saw the blankness of his expression. Carroll held the same look. No one had an answer. He stood up and ran a hand over his military crop of hair. And then he rested that hand on Carroll’s forearm. It was an act of sorrow. “Give him the antibiotics anyway,” he said sadly. “It’s better than nothing.”
Carroll closed his eyes, choking back his emotions. Butcher Boy stepped away, beckoning Alyssa to join him in counsel. “What?”
“These — things,” he said. “How deadly are they? What are we up against?”
“These types of lizards, like the Komodo dragon and the Gila monster, excrete bacterial saliva with its bite which enters the wound upon the moment of mauling. Now the bite of the Komodo has been known to kill small children. But this creature is much larger. I can only assume, given the condition of your man there—”
“His name is Red,” he cut in curtly.
“Red, then… I can only assume, given the condition of Red, and after seeing the wound, that the toxin is extremely virulent and fast moving. Given the rapid pace of its spread, he’ll most likely be dead within the hour.”
“He just got bit.”
“Hey, you wanted my professional opinion, I gave it to you. But you’re more than welcome to seek a second opinion.” She waved her hand indicating the inhabitants within the room.
He shook his head in revulsion. Not much to choose from, he realized. “So a single bite is fatal?”
“Obviously.”
He turned to Red. The man was fading quickly. It would be better to put him out of his misery, he considered, a quick shot to the head, quick and painless, but not in front of his brother.
“We need to leave here,” Alyssa said. “The cost is already too high.”
“No, Ms. Moore.” Obsidian Hall joined their little conversation. His hands were clasped behind the small of his back. “Professional soldiers do not run from adversity, which is why they were hired. Losing lives in the battlefield is a way of life. These people have been trained to live under such conditions. They bury their emotions and move on. Yes, Mr. Red’s situation is unfortunate. But it’s the nature of the game — something they have come to expect.”
“We don’t stand a chance,” she said heatedly. “Can’t you see that?”
“What I see, Ms. Moore, is a team of professionals learning from Mr. Red’s mishap. It won’t happen again. They’re seasoned and know what to expect.”
She shook her head. “Why are you even here?” she asked. “Do I need to ask?”
He smiled. “For this,” he said, opening his arms wide at the bull in invitation. “Treasures, ancient relics — it’s all here for the taking,” he said. He lowered his arms and pointed his finger at the floor, indicating the levels below. “And the best is yet to come.”
She wanted to say ‘I won’t help you.’ But she looked over at Eser and Harika, two young people who didn’t deserve this. Two people who wanted to be a part of history, not buried by it. She walked away defeated.
He smiled, licked the tip of his forefinger, and scored the air as if writing the number one against an imaginary tablet, chalking a win for him and a loss for her.
Chaching!
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
They made camp for the evening inside the Chamber of the Bull. Hall slept within the shadow of the sculpture and Alyssa was forced to congregate with Savage, Eser and Harika. Aussie and Butcher Boy watched the entryway; lamps were everywhere, providing a false sense of security within the light.
No one could sleep.
With Eser and Harika holding each other tightly, Alyssa tried to strike up a conversation. But they didn’t understand English and her Turkish was minimal. Noah had been the bridge between them, interpreting and bringing them together. Tears began to cloud her vision. How she missed him.
“Are you all right?” asked Savage.
“What do you care? You want me dead, remember?”
“Actually, I don’t.”
“Yeah — whatever.”
“Ms. Moore, I took the mission because I was a soldier acting without question. That’s the way I was trained.”
“So that justifies what you were going to do?”
“Of course not,” he said. “But the truth is we need each other now.”
She looked at him incredulously. “Are you serious?”
“Very.” And then: “What do you think they’re going to do to us after we serve their purposes? Have you thought about that?” She hadn’t. “They’re going to kill us,” he said bluntly.
She looked at the soldiers, at Hall, and then to the young Turks who seemed to agree with his assessment. Although they couldn’t speak the language, they must have sensed the reality of the situation.
“The moment they find out whatever it is this place holds, whatever it is the pontiff wants to keep pent up, we’re dead people.”
Alyssa’s mind moved at a slow crawl, trying to absorb what the Turks sitting across her already knew, what Savage knew. Hall had been in charge from the very beginning, using Noah as the conduit by preying on his desperation for funding, and then waiting for the opportunity to avail itself. He was here for the relics, she knew that. She also knew that he was a man who placed more value on ancient artifacts than he did on human life.