Stunned at Yakov’s shot, Turcotte finally reacted, sending a dart at Aspasia’s Shadow, ripping a gouge through the robes and along his side, drawing blood. The cherubim fired again, hitting Turcotte square in the chest, staggering him back. Yakov was their next target, the red eyes centering on him.
Acting out of instinct, Turcotte dove to the side, grabbing the Russian and pulling him to the floor, taking the impact of the blasts on the back of the TASC-suit.
“Rear view,” he ordered.
Aspasia’s Shadow had opened the Ark and had the Grail in his hand. He was carrying it and dragging Duncan with his other hand, blood pouring from the wound on her chest up the side of the bouncer toward the hatch.
Turcotte rolled to his knees, aiming the MK-98. He fired and the dart hit Aspasia’s Shadow in the wrist, the sheer force ripping the hand from the body. The severed hand and Duncan slid down the side of the bouncer to the floor.
As Turcotte waited for the cylinder to rotate with the next round, Aspasia’s Shadow dove over the edge of hatch, the Grail with him, leaving a trail of blood.
The hatch shut with a clang. Turcotte fired, knowing it was fruitless, the dart clanging off the side of the bouncer. A crack appeared in the ceiling of the chamber, rapidly growing wider. The cherubim were no longer firing, the light gone from the red eyes now that the Grail was out.
Turcotte ran forward and fired again as the bouncer lifted. It was out of the opening and racing away as he reached Duncan.
Turcotte looked down. Her eyes were opening and her lips were moving, but he couldn’t hear anything.
“Suit open,” Turcotte ordered. The front half swung open and he stepped out, drenched in sweat. He knelt next to Duncan and cradled her head in his arms. “Lisa.”
Her eyes shifted, locking onto his. A half-smile, interrupted by a trickle of blood, graced her lips. “I knew you’d come. I’m sorry. I’ve screwed it all up.”
Then the life went out of her eyes and her body went slack in his arms.
CHAPTER 23
The bouncer flight to Area 51 was made in absolute silence. Duncan’s body was laid out on the floor, covered with a poncho. Yakov sat cross-legged, a bottle of vodka between his knees.
The Ark was with Sherev. Turcotte had neither the inclination nor the effort to fight the Israeli’s claim to it. Given the losses his unit had taken to try to get the Grail and Ark, Turcotte could understand the Israeli’s position.
Yakov. The Russian was on the other side of the bouncer, not meeting Turcotte’s eyes and not saying anything.
As soon as the pilots regained enough composure, they repowered the bouncer for the trip home.
Through the floor of the alien craft Turcotte could see ocean. They were somewhere over the Atlantic. He’d refused the pilot’s offer of a headset. He knew Aspasia’s Shadow was gone with the Grail — where, he would find out soon enough.
For now all he could do was try to accept the immediate reality. “My friend—” Yakov broke the silence, but Turcotte cut him off.
“I don’t want to hear anything you have to say.”
“I had to try to stop him,” Yakov said. “You know that.”
“Take out your chess set,” Turcotte said.
Yakov pulled the small kit from one of his many pockets. “Open it and take out a pawn,” Turcotte continued.
Yakov did as instructed.
“That’s you,” Turcotte said. “And me. And her,” he indicated the body.
The coastline of the United States appeared and they were zooming across the countryside.
“I’m done with it,” Turcotte said. “You took her off the board, well, I’m off the board, too.”
CHAPTER 24
The first convoy of mech-robots reached the two-and-a-half-mile-high escarpment that surrounded Mons Olympus. They didn’t pause, but began tearing into the rocky Martian soil, preparing a graded path through the escarpment. The peak of the volcano towered over them on the horizon, one hundred and seventy miles directly ahead and fifteen miles higher.
Back at Cydonia, the remaining mech-robots continued taking apart the remains of the black grid system, loading the parts onto carriers which headed in the direction of Mons Olympus.
Two hundred Airlia stood in two rows of eighty, from the last black tube to the exit of the burial chamber. They held gleaming spears or swords in their six-fingered hands, out from their chests in a salute.
In the same singsong language that the hologram in the tunnel had spoken in, Artad asked something of Ts’ang. The Chinese man replied. Without noting the presence of the human-Airlia clones on the floor, Artad strode out of the burial cavern toward the chamber holding the guardian computer. As he passed, each pair of Airlia turned in military precision and followed until only Lexina, Coridan, and Elek were left. Belatedly, they got to their feet and followed like children at an adult function.
The Washington and Stennis, two supercarriers, steamed in tandem toward Easter Island. Also at the center of the fleet was the Jahre Viking. Around them, the escort ships of Task Forces 78 and 79 also were underway. All were under the control of the Easter Island guardian.
The bouncer touched down and a solemn group waited inside Hangar One. Major Quinn, Che Lu, Larry Kincaid, and Professor Mualama stood silently as Turcotte and Yakov carefully carried Duncan’s covered body out of the bouncer and onto the gurney that had been wheeled up next to the craft.
“I am most sorry,” Che Lu said, taking Turcotte’s hand in her small ones. Turcotte simply nodded, not knowing what to say. Yakov leaned close to Quinn and asked him something. Quinn whispered an answer.
“I will take her to the morgue,” Yakov said. He pushed the gurney toward the hangar doors.
“Don’t touch her.” Turcotte stepped toward the Russian.
Mualama stepped between them. “I will take care of it,” he said. “You neither,” Turcotte snapped. “Larry, you do it.”
Kincaid nodded and took hold of the gurney.
Turcotte numbly allowed Che Lu to lead him along, the others following as they went to the elevator. The trip to the Cube was made in silence. As the doors slid open, Major Quinn spoke. “We’re tracking Aspasia’s Shadow’s bouncer. It’s heading directly toward Easter Island. We—”
Turcotte raised a weary hand. “I don’t want to hear it.”
“But, sir—” Quinn shut up as Che Lu shook her head. She led him into the same quarters where the two had last spoken, shutting the door on the others.
Che Lu had not let go of his hand. “My friend—” She paused as the phone buzzed. She ignored it. “My friend, I know you feel—” The phone continued to buzz insistently. Reluctantly, Che Lu went over to it and picked it up. Turcotte took the opportunity to lie down on the bunk and close his eyes. He couldn’t shake the image of Duncan looking up at him as life faded from her eyes.
He remembered when he first saw her at Dulles International when she had met him on his way to the security force at Area 51. She’d given him his covert mission which had resulted in the cover being blown off Majestic-12 and Area 51. But that was quickly erased by his favorite memory, being with her in her house in Colorado. Watching the sun come up over the high plains to the east. He wondered who would tell her son she was dead, then realized it was his responsibility.
“Mike—” Che Lu gently tapped his arm. “Mike.”