Nevertheless, she couldn’t help but think about what Pierce had said in the Labyrinth.
Where there’s life, there’s hope.
She was still alive, and that was good, because it meant there was still hope. The funny thing was that she no longer hoped for rescue or a chance to escape.
She wanted payback.
35
The noise of the shot startled Gallo, causing her hand to slip off the ropes. She clutched at them, trying to stop her downward plunge, but it was already too late. There was a flare of pain as the ropes burned through the skin of her palm, but that would be nothing compared to what would come when she reached the line’s end.
Her descent stopped as abruptly as it had begun, with a hand reaching out to seize hold of her belay line, jerking her to a sudden, and thankfully premature, stop. She swung forward, colliding with the rock face. The impact stunned her but not enough to override her instinct for self-preservation. She grabbed hold of the ropes again, clinging to them for dear life.
“Remember what I showed you,” rumbled a low voice from beside her. “Reach back and hold the ropes with your brake hand.”
Gallo glanced toward the stern, unsympathetic visage of her savior, Vigor Rohn, and then she did as instructed. When she had the lines gripped in her right fist, locked in place against the small of her back, Rohn simply let go and resumed his own descent.
She felt no gratitude toward him, nor did she sense that he expected any. She was still a prisoner, still a hostage who, for the moment at least, was more useful alive.
After her recapture, and a brief interval to allow for Kenner’s recovery, Rohn had given her and Dourado a quick course in rappelling techniques. She had no choice but to go along with them now. Dourado’s noble attempt to liberate her had given Rohn and Kenner the leverage to compel her cooperation. Rohn did not even need to make the threat explicit; if she resisted, Dourado would suffer. Yet, despite the dire situation, Gallo felt a glimmer of optimism.
Although she had not been allowed to speak to Dourado, Gallo assumed that the young woman had snuck aboard the helicopter during the transfer at Belem — Dourado’s hometown. Clearly, stowing away had been an impulsive decision, but the fact that Dourado had been able to track the movements of the Cerberus group to her own hometown meant that Pierce was looking for her, and might already know where she was.
It was a slim hope, but reason enough to hang on, both figuratively and literally.
Below her, Rohn had finished his descent. She could hear him growling at his men. “What were you shooting at?”
She took a breath to gather her wits. Then she relaxed her brake hand and resumed her cautious rappel down the wall. When she finally reached the bottom, she sagged against the wall in exhaustion.
The sheer cliff wall disappeared into a mound of rubble. Chunks of limestone, some larger than passenger cars, had crumbled from the top of the sinkhole and accumulated into a gentle slope, or more accurately, a beach that disappeared into a vast body of water. Gallo could see trees in the distance, suggesting a shallow wetland rather than a lake.
The Cerberus men had gathered near the water’s edge, sweeping their lights through the darkness in every direction, aiming with their pistols. Rohn stood next to one of them, gazing down at a large glistening gray-green shape.
“You shot a frog?” There was a hint of disgust in Rohn’s voice.
“It was attacking,” the man protested. “Look at it.”
“Attacking? It’s a frog.”
Gallo craned her head around for a better look at the fallen creature. From a distance, she could not make out any details, but even a glimpse was enough to reveal why the Cerberus goon had reacted so violently. The frog, or whatever it was, was huge. If not for the slick skin, she would have assumed that it was a small alligator.
The corpse suddenly came alive in a flurry of movement. Rohn leapt back, narrowly avoiding the swipe of a long black tentacle.
It’s a tail, Gallo thought.
The other man was not quite fast enough. The creature’s tail knocked his feet out from under him, and he crashed onto the shore in a heap. There was a sharp hissing noise, like a forceful exhalation, and then the beast splashed back into the water and vanished.
Rohn spat a disgusted oath at the unlucky man. “You can’t even kill a frog? Let’s hope we don’t face anything more dangerous than that.”
The fallen man raised a hand, as if reaching out for assistance, then his fingers curled into a claw. He collapsed back in the throes of a seizure. Rohn’s eyes widened in alarm, and he retreated several steps.
Kenner hastened forward but stopped at Rohn’s side. “Good god. What was that?”
The stricken man’s back arched, his limbs going rigid, and then his struggles ceased. He let out a tortured rasping breath, but did not draw another. Gallo pressed tighter against the rock face. She looked over at Dourado, who was similarly paralyzed by the horror they had just witnessed.
“Poison,” Rohn muttered, then turned away as if he had lost interest. He addressed the rest of the group. “Prepare the rafts.”
Kenner continued to stare at the dead man. “Some species of toad secrete deadly neurotoxins. But that was something else. A giant salamander, perhaps.”
He rounded on Gallo. “Salamanders can regrow lost limbs. An amphibious creature with extraordinary regenerative abilities and poisonous breath. Does that sound familiar to you, Augustina?”
Unfortunately, it did. Kenner had just described the Lernean Hydra. “A man just died, Liam.”
“That creature tells me the source of the mutagen is here. The Amazons must have been protecting it.” Kenner balled his fists. “We’re close. I can feel it.”
Gallo felt it, too. The Cerberus group, it seemed, was now the least of her worries.
36
Pierce stared toward the distant glow for nearly a full minute. No more shots were fired, but he was now acutely aware that the strange world at the bottom of the sinkhole was anything but silent. The air was filled with the noise of insects and a creaking sound that he hoped was just tree boughs rubbing together.
Lazarus finally broke the spell. He unzipped his thermal coveralls, revealing the tactical body-armor vest underneath, which was festooned with pouches for extra ammunition magazines, grenades and a variety of combat equipment. He discarded the jumpsuit into the water.
Carter gave Pierce what he took to be an encouraging nod. “It could mean anything,” she said. “I’m sure they’re fine.”
Pierce was not reassured, but staying where he was would not ease his concerns — or confirm his worst fears. He peeled off his wet jumpsuit and turned to Lazarus. “Oversized ex-Special Ops first. Lead the way, big guy.” Lazarus stepped into the swamp, followed by Carter and Pierce.
Pierce tried to picture the area as he had seen it during the last few seconds of the descent. He had noticed dozens of isolated stands of trees scattered across the submerged floor of the sinkhole. Getting around them would mean taking a circuitous, time consuming path, but less so than trying to blaze a trail through the densely clustered boughs. Lazarus kept close to the trees, venturing out across open water only when it was necessary to hopscotch to the next wooded patch.