Closer at hand, movement caught his attention. A line of eight men rose from the boulder line and stalked across the meadow, staying low, moving stealthily from outcropping to outcropping. They were armed with rifles, scopes sparking in the sunlight. Here were the hunters who had been described by Captain Huld.
Only apparently the true hunt was just beginning.
Jun Yoshida must have fallen asleep at his desk. The knock on the door startled him awake. Even before he could compose himself, Riku Tanaka came rushing inside, drawing Janice Cooper in his wake.
“You must see this,” Tanaka said, and slapped a fistful of papers on his desk.
“What? Has there been another neutrino burst?” Jun tilted straighter in his chair, earning a twinge from his aching back. He’d left the main lab below three hours ago to finish some paperwork in his office, which still lay untouched on his desk.
“No… well, yes… not really,” Tanaka stammered, clearly agitated, and waved the question aside in exasperation. “Some minor ongoing blips. I’ve been tracking them, but they don’t appear to be important.”
Dr. Cooper cut him off. “That’s not why we rushed up here, Dr. Yoshida.” She turned to Tanaka. “Show him.”
Tanaka came around his desk, invading his personal space. He shoved aside the pile of paperwork, replacing it with his own printouts. “We’ve been monitoring the surge in Iceland. Graphing the results. Look at how the neutrino spikes radiating from that island have grown steadily more frequent.”
“You noted that before.”
“Yes. I know.” Tanaka’s face reddened. Clearly he did not like to be interrupted.
Jun allowed himself a flicker of satisfaction. “Then what’s this sudden invasion of my office all about?”
Tanaka traced the graph. “Over the past hour, I’ve been noting how the double beat of the Icelandic signature has been changing. The smaller bursts have been growing stronger, while the taller spikes have been getting weaker.”
Dr. Cooper explained, “The changes have been slow. It took hours to recognize what was happening.”
Tanaka set two graphs side by side. “This first graph is from four hours ago. The second one was taken within the last half hour.”
Jun picked up his reading glasses, secured them in place, and leaned over to see. Tanaka’s assessment appeared to be correct. On the older graph, the paired bursts of neutrinos were of distinctly different amplitudes. In the latest readings, the pairings were nearly equal in size.
“But what does that mean?” Jun took off his glasses and rubbed his tired eyes.
Tanaka looked to Dr. Cooper, who nodded encouragement. It was rare for the man to show such insecurity. That small fact spoke to how truly upset Tanaka must be. Something had the man scared.
“I believe,” Tanaka said, “that what we’re witnessing is an approach toward critical mass. Once those two amplitudes match and come into alignment, it will trigger a massive chain reaction within the substrate that’s radiating these subatomic particles.”
“Like a nuclear reactor melting down,” Dr. Cooper said. “Riku and I believe the escalating frequency and changes in amplitude are acting like a natural timer, counting down until the unknown substance in Iceland goes critical.”
Jun’s chest tightened. “There’s going to be another explosion…?”
“Only this time a hundredfold larger,” Tanaka added.
“When?”
“I’ve performed my calculations over and over, extrapolating the time when the paired emissions will align.”
“Just tell me when?” Jun pressed.
Dr. Cooper answered. “Within the hour.”
Tanaka clarified, demonstrating his usual distaste for generalities. “To be precise, fifty-two minutes.”
Seichan stood guard by a window. She kept out of direct sight, fearful of the telescopic scopes on the enemies’ rifles. Their adversaries had the look of mercenary soldiers, definitely military trained. The eight men had set up a perimeter across the front of the lodge, staying sheltered behind rocky outcroppings. She guessed they were awaiting orders as their superiors tried to identify the newcomers to the island. Someone must be trying to decide whether to kill or capture them.
Not that Gray’s team had much say in the matter.
She clutched a pistol in both hands, holding the weapon at her knees, ready to shatter the window and defend their base. But she was under no illusions. They were outmanned, outgunned, and outpositioned. With the cadre of soldiers guarding the front of the lodge, the only safe exit was out the back. Then what? They would be exposed if they made a run for the cliff’s edge. Even if they reached it, all that would earn them was a swift death on the rocks below the cliffs.
They were trapped.
Gray took up a position on the far side of the door by another window. He clutched a black SIG Sauer in one hand and held a cell phone to his ear in the other. He had managed to reach Sigma command, but the island was too remote for an immediate rescue. They were on their own until help arrived. Seichan could feel acid burning in her stomach, not so much at their predicament, but at Gray’s reaction a moment ago when he’d realized they’d been ambushed. She had seen the flash of suspicion. He tried his best to quell it, to damp it down, but it had still been there.
She stared out the window. What did she have to do to prove herself to him? Dying might do it. Then again, maybe not.
She heard Monk talking in low whispers to the caretaker. He’d used smelling salts to revive the man enough to get him on his feet. Once free of the chair, the tough old codger rallied. Swearing a litany that came close to making her blush, he pulled a shotgun down from above the fireplace, ready to exact some revenge.
Gray’s voice grew sharper as he spoke on the phone to Sigma command. “Forty minutes? That’s how long we have to get clear of the island?”
Frowning, she stared out the window. What was that about? Any answer would have to wait. She watched the soldiers begin to move, shifting out of hiding. They must have received their orders. Whatever fate awaited them — capture or death — it had been decided.
Seichan lifted her pistol. “Here they come!”
Chapter 19
Kai crept into the small guest bedroom at the rear of the pueblo. She found Hank Kanosh crouched over an open laptop, but he wasn’t staring at the screen. He sat with his palms over his face, his posture one of grief. She felt horrible for intruding, considered stepping back out, but her uncle had sent her here.
“Professor Kanosh…”
He jerked in the seat, startled, and quickly lowered his hands. He stared at his palms as if he was surprised to find them there.
“I’m sorry for disturbing you,” she said.
He reached and closed the laptop. She caught a glimpse of an open e-mail, something with strange writing inscribed in the body of the text, very much like the script she had seen on the gold tablets. He had obviously been trying to work, to keep himself busy.
Painter had allowed them access to the Internet, scrambled over an encrypted satellite feed. They could check their e-mail, peruse the news, but they were forbidden to reach out. No sending e-mail, no Facebooking. Though the prohibition on the latter of those two was directed more at her than the professor.