“The sample is a ninety-eight percent match for the atrox,” Carter said. “It’s going to be a lot harder to isolate the other contributing organism, but if we come up with another match from the Western Hemisphere, then I’d say it’s a slam-dunk.”
Pierce nodded, but his focus had already shifted. He checked his phone for missed calls or messages. Nothing, but there was a notification for new e-mails. He opened it and discovered two messages from Dourado.
He read the first and nearly exploded. “Damn it!”
Lazarus’s eyes fluttered open. “What’s wrong?”
“Cintia. I told her to keep a safe distance.”
Lazarus rose to his feet and moved to join Pierce and Carter. “Details. What’s happened?”
Pierce read the e-mail again, gripping the phone so tightly that the edges of the LCD screen began to darken from the pressure. “Cerberus had a helicopter waiting in Belem. Cintia decided to sneak aboard and stash her phone so that we could track the helicopter.”
“That’s good,” Lazarus pointed out.
“It’s not. Cintia’s a computer geek, not a spy. She’s going to get herself…” He trailed off. The message was almost two hours old. Cintia might already have been captured. He opened the second message.
“‘Only Gallo here,’” he read aloud, each word deepening his despair. “‘Hiding on helicopter. Will try to help her escape. Come find us.’ Damn her.” He hit the reply button.
“Stop.” Lazarus’s voice was barely louder than a whisper, but the command was as forceful as a punch to the gut.
“She’s going to get herself killed.”
“If she hasn’t been discovered yet, any attempt to contact her might put her in danger.”
“Well, what am I supposed to do? Cintia’s practically a shut in. She’s not up for this.”
“Is the tracker working?” Lazarus asked.
Pierce went back to the first e-mail and clicked on the hyperlink. After a few seconds, a map opened up and showed the location of Dourado’s satellite phone. He had to zoom out to establish the exact location, a spot near the Brazilian border with Venezuela and Guyana.
“It’s still transmitting,” Lazarus said, “so she probably hasn’t been discovered yet.”
Pierce felt a glimmer of hope, but it faded almost as quickly. “This is the middle of nowhere. It will take hours for us to get there. Days.”
Lazarus studied the tiny screen on the phone for a moment then shook his head. “Open that link on the computer. Let’s see what we’re dealing with.”
Carter made room at the table and a few minutes later, they were looking at a larger satellite photo of the same region. A yellow dot marked Dourado’s phone amid a background of green and brown. “It’s not moving,” Pierce said. “They must have reached wherever it is they were going.”
“Mount Roraima.” Carter tapped a nearby spot on the screen. “These plateaus — they’re called tepui—are some of the most isolated and pristine ecosystems in the world. They’re so remote that they may still support primeval life forms. Maybe that’s what Cerberus is after. Some unique organism that doesn’t exist anywhere else in the world.”
“There have been rumors of dinosaurs and other prehistoric creatures living there for more than a century,” Pierce added. “Mount Roraima was the inspiration for The Lost World by Edgar Rice Burroughs.”
“Conan Doyle wrote The Lost World,” Carter said, offhandedly. “You’re probably thinking of The Land That Time Forgot.”
He blinked at her. Ordinarily he would have let it slide, but he was tired and cranky. People that he loved were in danger, and his nerves were raw. “Burroughs,” he insisted. “It was my favorite book growing up.”
“If it was your favorite, I’m surprised you don’t know who wrote it.”
Lazarus cleared his throat, quashing the pointless debate before it could escalate into something uglier. “Gallo is an expert on Greek mythology, right? Why would Cerberus need to take her along to Roraima?”
“I don’t know.” Pierce closed his eyes, searching his memory. “Kenner is on the trail of our old friend Hercules. And we know Alexander traveled around much of the ancient world. It’s possible he came here, too.”
Thanks to his prior association with Jack Sigler, Lazarus knew all about Alexander, and he didn’t need Pierce to elaborate. “So it’s not just about rescuing your people. We also have to stop Kenner and Cerberus from getting their hands on whatever it is they’re after?”
“Pretty much.”
“What about Fiona?”
Pierce shook his head. “Cintia said they only had Gallo.”
“So we also need to find out where they’re keeping Fiona,” Lazarus said. “Now we just need a plan.” He studied the satellite imagery for several seconds. “No roads. The nearest airport is hundreds of miles away.”
“If we go in by helicopter, they’ll hear us coming from miles away.”
Lazarus stared at him thoughtfully. “You could get us a helo?”
“Sure.” Pierce recalled that Lazarus’s diverse skill set included knowing how to pilot a helicopter. “If there’s one available that is. Short notice might be a problem, but I can afford one if that’s what you’re asking.”
Lazarus considered this for a moment, but then he shook his head. “You’re right. A helicopter would make too much noise. There is another way for us to get there fast and undetected, but…” He cocked his jaw sideways. “I don’t know if we could pull it off.”
“We’ve got to get them back, no matter what. Tell me what you need, and I’ll write the check.”
Lazarus let out his breath in a sigh. “For what I’ve got in mind, money will be the least of our problems.”
31
Fiona jolted awake, and she was greeted by a spike of pain that threatened to split her skull. She reached up, probing the spot where the ache was most concentrated. There was a lump the size of a golf ball on the side of her head, and a rough crusty substance in her hair. Dried blood.
She managed to sit up, the pain nearly blinding her. Although the initial agony subsided after a moment, the assault on her vision continued without any let up. The room was nothing but white surfaces lit by intensely bright overhead lights. Across the room, she saw a pair of seated figures on what appeared to be examination tables — not like the padded and papered kind used in doctor’s offices, but the hard stainless steel kind used for autopsies. She shuddered at the thought, and the two people across the room shuddered, too.
A mirror, she realized. And I’ve got double-vision. Probably a concussion. Great.
She blinked several times until her focus returned and her eyes adjusted to the harsh light. The full length wall mirror created the illusion of a larger space, but in reality, the rectangular room was barely large enough to accommodate the table on which she sat. She surveyed the room in the mirror, noting that there were no doors, then she stared at her own reflection. The mirror had to be one-way glass, an observation window, which meant someone was probably watching her from the other side. She stared hard, squinting a little, as if by doing so, she might be able to see through the reflective surface and look her tormentor in the eyes. After clearing her throat to make sure her voice wouldn’t crack, she said. “Can I have my old room?” She managed her sweetest smile and added, “Please?”