From the air, the site looked like little more than an enormous dirt mound, devoid of human habitation or activity. But no sooner had the Catalina ground to a halt in the shallows than a young boy, wearing only the common dhoti garment, appeared to greet them.
Hobbs was even more pensive than usual as he followed the young boy to the ruins and seemed dismayed to learn that the archaeological excavation being conducted was also something of a tourist attraction, not unlike the Qutab Complex. "The tour starts on the hour sahibs," their young guide told them in heavily accented English. "But I can show you many things until the bus arrives."
"Bus?" Winterbourne snorted derisively. "You know, this place does resemble the land Nightjar described in his vision, but if there's aught to be seen here, it's either already been found or won't be dug up for another hundred years."
Hobbs glanced around anxiously then dismissed the boy with a word of thanks and an anna coin.
"End of the road?" Hurley asked.
"I'm not sure," the priest answered. Molly couldn't recall every having heard her father express uncertainty and the statement left them all a little shaken. He had been their navigator, the guardian of their faith and trust and now he was telling them that he didn't know what to do next.
Had the entire errand and all their sacrifices, been an exercise in futility?
Molly tried to put on a brave face. "We've come all this way; might as well have a look around."
For a moment, her companions' stares made her want to seek shelter under a rock, but then she realized that there was gratitude in their eyes. She had, by simply refusing to admit defeat, buoyed them up at a critical moment. Even Hobbs met her gaze with a rare, if subdued, smile and then to her complete amazement, put an arm around her.
"I'm sorry," he said. "I've been so… distracted."
She sorted through a list of replies, ranging from conciliatory to sarcastic, but finally could only manage to say, "Yes, you have."
He sighed. "Did you ever wonder why I chose to raise you as my own daughter? Unusual behavior for a man of the cloth, don't you think? I was told… I was ordered by the archdiocese to ship you off to the orphanage in Stanleyville, but I refused. Have you ever wondered why?"
She had of course and had taken comfort in the belief that he had been motivated by the desires common to the human species: the wish to love and be loved, to protect the helpless, to raise and shape and mold the next generation of life on the planet and maybe leave the world a better place. But the very fact of his asking challenged that delicate web of assumptions.
"The truth is that we are very much alike. I too was orphaned and raised in a house of God by a man of great faith." He took a deep breath before continuing. "And it happened right here, in India, not far from here."
"I thought you were born in America."
"The priest who raised me told me that I was. He said that my parents were lay missionaries, from the United States who had died of cholera when I was only an infant. I never knew them.
"Throughout my childhood, I was given to believe that there was but one path, the service of God. Although I studied at the seminary and took my vows, I was restless, hungry for answers about my origins and so I traveled, eventually making my way to America. But there were no answers; no long-lost family waiting to claim me as their kin." He paused, as if not quite sure what to say next and when he finally did speak again, it was evident from his expression that he was still holding back. "This whole affair has brought back many painful memories. It's been a reminder that I really don't know who I am."
"You're my father. You're Brian's friend. Isn't that enough?"
A pained smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. "It should be."
She knew there was more he wanted to say, but before he could find the words, Hurricane rushed over to them, his eyes dancing with excitement. "Molly girl, what did you wish for at the Pillar yesterday?"
His enthusiasm was so contagious that she couldn't help but laugh. "I can't tell you that. If you tell someone your wishes, they won't come true."
"Well, girl, I think this one may have. Look."
She followed his pointing finger to a reception area on the east side of the site. While she and her father had been conversing, a battered red open-air bus had arrived in a cloud of dust. Several passengers had already disembarked — an even mixture of European and Indian tourists — and it took a moment for her to realize why Hurricane was so excited. When she finally did, she couldn't decide whether to faint or run. She chose the latter, sprinting toward the bus, throwing her arms around the one man that she wanted to see more than anyone else in the world.
"My God," Hobbs whispered. "It's Dodge."
In the joyous reunion that followed, none of them noticed a group of people, wearing voluminous robes, faces hidden beneath turbans, also exiting the bus.
But the new arrivals were watching them very closely.
They begged off from the tour and gathered under the shade of an awning that extended out from the edge of the dig site office. A friendly argument ensued over who would be first in recounting their adventures. Molly felt like she was going to explode from the pressure of unanswered questions, but Dalton's argument won out. "You'd better let me go last, because once you hear what I've got to say, nothing else will matter."
Hurricane, always something of a natural storyteller, took charge of the tale, but the Padre and Molly broke in often with their personal accounts. Winterbourne listened quietly, since much of the tale was new to him as well. Dalton interrupted only once, when they were describing what had happened in London Underground.
"It came alive? What caused that to happen?"
She could see her father on the verge of saying something, but Hurricane pushed on with the narrative. "God only knows. It just happened."
When he had finally brought their tale to the present, Dalton said, "Well, a lot of things make sense now. Like, for example how Jocasta Palmer came to have the Staff." He began recounting his own tale, beginning with his abduction from in front of the Clarion Building in New York and ending with the escape from Antarctica. "The Outpost and everything in it was destroyed."
"How did you find us?"
"Miss Palmer's contacts alerted us to the fact that you had been in London and then gone on to India. I just missed you in Delhi."
"Where's Doc Newton?" Hurricane inquired, using his nickname for the scientist.
"And the dragon lady?" Molly added, using her own pet name for Jocasta.
"Both returned home. There wasn't anything more than Dr. Newcombe could accomplish and I don't think he was especially fond of travel. As for Miss Palmer, I believe she may have feared prosecution for her illegal activities."
"Why did you come to us?"
"This Skull character is looking for the ancient civilization that built the Outpost. With the Staff in his possession, he'll be able to unlock all of its secrets and rule the world. He believes that you may have the knowledge of where to find the ancient city, so it's only logical that he'll be hunting you. We need to find the city first in order to make our stand against him."
"That's exactly the way we figured it," Hurricane said. "Except for one small detail."
"We don't know where the ancient city is," Molly supplied.
Dalton's gaze darted from one face to another. "Then why are you here?"
"Following breadcrumbs," Winterbourne muttered.
Dalton ignored him. "You must surely be on the right track. The pillar you found in London can't be one of a kind. And the Pillar in Delhi has to be a rough copy, made by a later civilization in an attempt — probably a failed attempt — to harness that same power. It stands to reason that if the Iron Pillar was fashioned here, then the original column that it copied must be here as well."