Graham turned the key, igniting the engine. Then he pressed the accelerator and the truck shot forward.
I frowned. “You’re going the wrong way.”
“No, I’m not,” he replied. “We’re going back to the dig site.”
“Why?”
“To look for survivors.”
A light wind whipped across the barren landscape as we drove back to the dig site. A few dirt particles danced in front of the windshield. The dust storm no longer blotted out the sky. But it was dark out, thanks to the rapidly setting sun.
Graham flicked on the headlights. The barn came into view. He drove a little farther before parking the vehicle. Hesitantly, he reached for the door.
“Wait.” I took a deep breath. “I’ll go.”
His hand lingered on the latch. Then he lowered it to his lap and gave me a nod.
Holding my breath, I climbed out of the cab. A few particles of dirt whipped at me, striking my cheeks. The hot air burned my skin.
I took a small breath. The air tasted dirty and foul. But at least I could breathe it.
Pulling on my goggles, I activated the night-vision. The landscape lit up in multiple shades of green. Then I waved at the others.
Beverly climbed out of the cab. A curious expression crossed her face. Pulling off her shoulder bag, she started to rummage inside it.
Graham joined me. We hiked in silence, passing over chunks of rock and metal debris. Misshapen masses appeared at the edge of my vision. But it was a closer one that caught my eye.
My gaze hardened as I stared at Lila’s corpse. Her flowing white shirt and green slacks were smudged with dirt. Her hair clips had come loose, causing her hair to flutter freely with the wind. Her lifeless eyes stared at everything and nothing, all at the same time.
I felt for a pulse, more as a formality than anything else. Then I closed her eyelids. Just a little while ago, she’d been in good health. Now, she was dead, a victim of the noxious contrails.
I stood up. Angling away from Lila, we walked east. A blistering wind ripped into my cheeks. It brought the stench of death to my nostrils. Resisting the urge to gag, I walked to another body.
It belonged to the gaunt man. His fingers gripped the woman’s hand, one final act of love in a harsh world.
Steeling my heart, I swept my gaze down his torso. Then I used my machete blade to lift his shirt a few inches. “He’s got sores. Lots of them.”
“Pretty gruesome.” Graham pointed at the man’s head. “Check out his eyes. They’re bloodshot.”
“Bloodshot and petrified. He died cowering from fear.”
“Can’t say I blame him. Asphyxiation is a hell of a way to go.” He glanced at the woman’s body. “Looks like she’s got the same symptoms. Sores and bloodshot eyes.”
“So, they were sick.” I frowned. “It seems like a lot of people are sick these days.”
“Chalk it up to the famines and droughts. Weak people are more susceptible to viruses. Anyway there’s nothing we can do for these two.” Lifting his gaze, he searched the landscape. “There’s nothing we can do for any of them.”
Standing up again, I glanced at our truck. The ancient reliquary peered over the top of it. When I’d accepted Lila’s proposal, the job had seemed so easy. We merely needed to salvage the reliquary and load it safely into her pick-up truck.
Now, she was dead. We were in possession of a potentially dangerous artifact. And someone — a mysterious woman — was after it.
I glanced at other bodies. Sooner or later, someone would come looking for them. And something told me I didn’t want to be anywhere near the area when that happened.
We walked back to Beverly. As we drew close, she stowed some items in her bag. I recognized one of them. It was her mass spectrometer, which she used to analyze material samples. Normally, one needed large, expensive machines to perform mass spectrometry. But one of her colleagues had produced a handheld version last year. Since then, he’d upgraded it with several firmware updates.
I nodded at her bag. “Testing skin samples?”
“Soil samples, actually,” she replied.
“Find anything interesting?”
“Not yet.”
“Are you ready?” Graham glanced at the horizon. “We’ve got a long drive to Jerusalem.”
My mental scales tipped back and forth as I thought about our next move. On one hand, the reliquary was safe and I intended to keep it that way. The smart move was to head for Jerusalem, to turn it over to some of Lila’s colleagues. Let the Israeli authorities deal with the bodies and the airplane wreckage.
But something stopped me. Maybe it was what Lila had told me. Maybe it was the questions surrounding the reliquary. Maybe it was the desire to know more about the plane, about why Lila had feared it so much. Or maybe it was something else altogether, something I couldn’t even fathom.
I turned west. “We’ve got a stop to make.”
Graham followed my gaze. “No one could’ve survived that crash.”
“I’m not interested in survivors.” In the distance, a thin column of dark green smoke rose into the green-tinted night. “I’m interested in answers.”
Chapter 16
“Your presence here is a waste of time.” Simona Wolcott’s tone turned frosty. “The model is fine. There’s nothing wrong with it.”
“So, you’ve told me. Repeatedly.” Alan Briggs sat back in a stiff, leather-wrapped seat. “Regardless, I’m not leaving until I’ve checked every last aspect of it.”
Simona stared hard at the scientist. Briggs held the gaze without flinching. His presence annoyed her to no end. For months, she’d been able to operate her facility with zero oversight. But now, that had changed. And that meant one thing.
The Separative was growing uneasy.
At first glance, Briggs looked like a stereotypical nerd, albeit not one of the smart ones. He was in his mid-forties, but looked younger than that. His black hair was thick and uncombed. He wore spectacles and ill-fitting, wrinkled clothes.
Simona suspected that Briggs had received more than his fair share of tormenting over the years. It had hardened and focused the man, turning him into an icy-veined scientist and later, one of the world’s foremost modeling experts. Even so, she could see Briggs was deeply uncertain about himself. He craved outside validation. But since few people respected him outright, he tried to inspire fear instead.
But for all his shortcomings, or perhaps because of them, Briggs was a diligent researcher with a penchant for sniffing out problems. He was the kind of guy who’d ask too many questions and dig too deeply.
In short, he was the worst possible visitor at the worst possible moment.
Simona leaned over her sleek aluminum desk. “Fine,” she replied with an exaggerated sigh. “What do you need?”
“Your model is far too complicated for an ordinary inspection. I need a detailed breakdown of its structure.”
“I’ll ask Tessie to give you the necessary documents.”
Briggs crossed his legs. “Thank you.”
“Is there anything else?” She folded her smooth hands on top of the desk’s lacquered white surface. “I’d love to chat, but I’ve got a busy day ahead of me.”
“I also need to inspect the facilities. Not just the hangar, but the production and storage areas as well.”
Her eyes tightened imperceptibly. “I’m afraid that’s impossible. Access is strictly limited to a handful of people.”
“Let me put it this way.” Steepling his fingers, Briggs rested his elbows on the glimmering steel arms of his chair. “Either I inspect them or I shut you down. It’s your choice.”
“Be reasonable.”
“This isn’t a request. It’s an order. And it’s not my order either. My employer wishes to—”