“Centuries of breeding and, yes, training have made them what they are today. Perhaps it was not in the nature of their ancestors, but it is their nature. It amounts to the same thing.”
“True,” Jacob said. “Let me know when you wish for me to press the button.”
They lapsed into a tense silence as they watched Richard move into the depths of the wood. Things were about to get very interesting.
A branch rustled somewhere behind him. Richard spun around, sending a new burst of pain shooting up his injured leg. He hadn’t taken a licking like that since school. The bitch must be some kind of soldier or spy or something. He’d be well shut of her and this damn forest.
He didn’t like it out here. He couldn’t properly say he knew anything about the outdoors, he was a city lad after all, but this place was all wrong. It felt unnatural. The trees weren’t planted in rows or anything, but it had an orderly feel to it, as if everything were laid out according to a plan. And there were no bird sounds, only the occasional rustle of something heavy moving through the treetops or scuffling along the ground.
He quickened his pace, not entirely certain where he was headed. The black fellow had told him to keep going straight ahead and he would find a gate that opened onto a path leading into town. Richard had been too out of sorts to ask the name of the town or how, exactly, he was to get back home, but he didn’t much care. He just wanted away from this place. And when he got home, he’d call one of those reporters who made their living exposing public figures, march right back to this place, and show the world what a nutter the woman was. He’d make her sorry she’d crossed him.
This time, the sound came from his left, and he saw a flash of movement. So there was something out there. Now he knew for certain he wasn’t imagining things, but he’d have preferred his own paranoia to what he had just seen. It wasn’t much— only a glimpse of a mottled hide of dark green and gold or orange, he couldn’t be sure, covered in a lattice-work pattern of raised ridges. What the bloody hell was it?
He veered off to his right and quickened his pace, hoping he would not lose his way. There were more sounds now, coming from every direction, and moving closer. He scanned the ground for a stick, a rock, anything he could use as a weapon, but the forest floor was clean; another thing that lent to its unnatural feel.
A noise right beside him made him jump. With a scrabbling and scratching like sharp claws on a wooden surface, something climbed the tree where he stood. The thick trunk blocked the thing from view, but he caught a glimpse of a scaled tail vanishing into the leaves up above.
So complete was his panic, he was scarcely aware of the warm, wet feeling as he soaked his boxers. Clutching a belt loop to keep his pants from sliding down and tripping him, he ran blindly. Limbs slapping his face, he bounded like a pinball from tree-to-tree.
From somewhere close by, he heard a low moan that he realized was coming from his own mouth. He’d heard that sound many times in his life, always from someone he’d robbed or beaten up. It was the sound someone made when they finally realized they were powerless to stop what was about to happen to them. Now, it was finally his turn.
He broke through a thick tangle of brush and suddenly he was flying. He cried out in shock and flailed his arms as he hurtled through the air and, with an icy shock, plunged into darkness. Down and down he went, certain this was the descent into hell.
Then his feet touched something solid, and he realized he had fallen into water. He pushed up, but his booted feet held fast in the soft muck. Panic, which had momentarily faded, rose anew, and he struggled to break free. He worked his way out of one boot, then the other, only to have his baggy jeans tangle around his knees. He tried to cry out and got a mouthful of water for his trouble. Choking and thrashing about, he opened his eyes and saw a glimmer of light up above. He’d never get there. It was too far.
Somehow, all the fear and panic washed away in the face of his inevitable demise, and he was able to think again. He stopped his flailing about, slipped out of his jeans, and swam for the surface. Light and blessed air seemed to dangle tantalizingly out of reach as he kicked and paddled with every drop of his remaining energy. He clenched his jaw and fought the impulse to breathe. Just a little farther.
And then he broke the surface and pulled in a loud, rasping breath. Sweet air filled his lungs, and even the overcast England afternoon seemed bright and sunny after the depths of the pond and the darkness of the forest. He struck out for the shore, which was only a few meters away, hauled himself up onto the steep bank, and rolled over onto his back. He was dead tired, but he was alive.
It was only after he’d caught his breath that he remembered why he’d run pell-mell into the water in the first place. What had happened to the things that had been following him? Were they still there?
He rolled over again and looked up to where the sloping bank met the edge of the wood. He saw naught but trees and scrub, and relaxed.
And then a gray green snout poked out the undergrowth. It was only there for a moment, but it was enough. Robert whimpered and scrambled crablike along the shore. He had to get away.
He had gone perhaps ten meters when a high pitched tone, almost above hearing, rang out. It hung in the air for the span of two heartbeats, and then… nothing.
He looked all around. Had it been a signal of some sort?
And then he raised his head.
Something detached itself from a treetop and drifted down toward him. As it drew closer, he realized just how big the thing was, and were those… wings? He was frozen in place, stupefied by the sight. It couldn’t be.
But it was.
And then the world exploded all around him, and he found his voice long enough for one bloodcurdling scream.
Chapter 10
“I’m afraid pumping the water out of the passageway isn’t going to work.” Charlie looked like he’d been sucking lemons. “We’ve been at it for hours and the water level hasn’t gotten much lower.”
“It’s not unexpected,” Dane said. “This island is like a sieve.”
“Somebody sealed that tunnel up once before, and all they had were primitive tools compared to what we’ve got. This is crap.”
“That was a long time ago, Charlie. New cracks could easily develop over two centuries.”
“You’re probably right,” Charlie agreed. “You know what? Screw the drilling! We’re going straight for the chamber and, when we break through, you diver boys can do your stuff.”
“We’re not certain of the location,” Dane said. “You have our best guess, and that’s it.”
“I’ll take your best guess every day of the week and twice on Sunday. Now, if it was Bones doing the guessing…” Charlie made a face.
Dane laughed. There were some significant differences between Bones and Charlie, but they both had a long sarcastic streak that he appreciated.
The old man gave him a wink and headed over to give his crew their new instructions.
Dane checked his watch. It was late afternoon, two days after the discovery of the underground chamber, and progress was stalled. He and the crew had continued surveying the shore, but they hadn’t found any more underwater tunnels like this one. One more day and boredom would set in in earnest.
No sooner had the thought crossed his mind than his phone vibrated. It was Avery.
“Maddock, I’ve got some weird news.”
“Okay.” What news could she have that would be of interest to him?
“Your father’s chest was stolen from the museum.”
“Seriously? When?”