No one noticed that only Rachel drank the tea.
Seichan only pretended to sip at it.
Pocketing her cigarette, she crossed to a windblown bank of snow and set about filling the thermos with handfuls of snow. The cold would sterilize the thermos, killing any remaining bacteria. Once it was packed full, she screwed the top back on. Her fingers trembled. She wanted to blame it on the cold. She threaded the top on wrong, and it jammed. She fought it for a breath as anger flared hotly through her. Frustrated, she yanked her arm back and hurled the thermos into the forest.
For half a minute, she breathed heavily, steaming the air.
She didn't cry-and for some reason that helped center her.
A door cracked open in the other cabin. She shared her cabin with Rachel; the men shared the other. She stepped into the open to see who else was still up.
The large frame and lumbering gait identified the man readily enough. Kowalski spotted her and lifted an arm. He pointed a thumb toward the paddock.
"Going to see a man about a horse," he said and disappeared around the corner.
It took her a moment to realize he wasn't actually meeting someone by the ponies. She was that out of sorts. She heard him whistling back there as he relieved himself.
She checked her watch. It was a few minutes before midnight. The timetable was set. There was no going back. They'd had sufficient time to examine the site. The Guild would only allow so much latitude for Gray's team to track Father Giovanni's path, to discover the key before anyone else. She had argued for more time but had been slapped down. So be it. They would have to keep moving.
She glanced toward the other cabin. Kowalski had better not be too long. He wasn't. After a minute, he came lumbering back, still whistling under his breath.
"Can't sleep?" he asked as he joined her.
She fingered her cigarette out and lifted it as explanation enough.
"Those things'll kill you." He reached into a pocket, pulled out a stub of a cigar, and matched her gesture. "So you might as well get it over with quickly."
He clenched the chewed end between his molars, pulled out an old-fashioned box of wooden matchsticks, and deftly scratched two sticks across the fabric of the tent. Twin flames lit up. He passed one to her. He'd plainly done this before.
He spoke around the end of his cigar. "Gray just hit the sack. Spent like two hours trying to get more out of that old professor. I had to get the hell out of there, get some fresh air. That dog kept stinking up the place. And no wonder. Did you see what he feeds that damn mutt? Sausages and onions. What sort of dog chow is that?"
Seichan lit her cigarette. She let the guy ramble, grateful for the mindless chatter. Unfortunately, his chatter was apparently leading up to something-and not all that smoothly.
"So," he said, "what's up with you and Gray?"
Seichan choked as she inhaled.
"I mean, he's always eyeballing you. And you just stare right through him as if he were a ghost. Like two schoolkids with the hots for each other."
Seichan balked at the innuendo, ready to deny, uncomfortable with how close the man was to the truth. Luckily she was saved from responding.
As midnight struck, the valley exploded.
Throughout the forest, geysers of flame shot skyward, one after the other. They were accompanied by soft concussions, easy to miss unless you were listening for them. The incendiary charges, coupled with a rubidium thermal catalyst that turned water into an accelerant, had been planted deep into wet peat, timed to blow at midnight. The entire valley was meant to burn.
Closer at hand, three more explosions erupted from the center of the ring of stones. Fiery spirals twisted high into the sky.
Even across the distance, the heat burned her face.
People came running out of the cabins behind them. Kowalski cursed hotly next to her.
She didn't turn, hypnotized by the flames. Her heart pounded. The conflagration began to spread outward-quickly, too quickly-both here and out in the forest. The ignited charges were only supposed to chase Gray's team off-to light a fire under them literally and figuratively-while destroying all evidence in their wake.
She watched the flames grow.
Someone had miscalculated, underestimated the combustibility of the peat. For a moment, an oily flicker of distrust flashed. Had she been betrayed? Were they meant to die here?
Going coldly logical, she mentally snuffed out those doubts. There was no gain in their deaths. At least not at this time. It had to be an error of execution. The old fires, smoldering for years, must have weakened the stability of the peat beds, turning the entire valley into tinder for the right torch.
Still, the end result was the same.
As she stared, the fires closed in a circle around them.
They would never get out of here alive.
Chapter 15
October 12, 11:35 P.M.
Oslo, Norway
Monk strode briskly across the research park. Under his heavy coat, he wore a Viatus security uniform. At his side, John Creed was equally bundled against the cold, but he had a lab jacket folded over one arm.
They had no trouble driving through the main gates of the Viatus campus, flashing their false ID cards. They had parked their car in the employee parking lot and headed on foot across the grounds. Viatus had facilities around the world, but Oslo was home to their main facility. The place was spread over a hundred acres, with various divisions and office buildings dotting a parklike setting. All the structures were sleek and modern, plainly influenced by Scandinavian minimalism.
In the center of the campus rose a meeting hall, made entirely of glass. It shone like a diamond. Through the walls could be seen the sweeping hull of a Viking ship. It was not a model, but an authentic piece of history. The ship had been discovered frozen in ice somewhere up in the Arctic region of Norway. It had cost millions to salvage and preserve it, all financed by Ivar Karlsen.
It must be good to be so rich.
Monk continued across the campus. The Crop Biogenics Research Lab was in a remote corner, a long walk from the parking lot.
Monk pulled the hood of his parka farther over his head. "So, Doogie," he said, trying to distract himself from the cold, "what exactly did you do to wash out of the Corps and end up in Sigma, anyway?"
Creed made a dismissive noise and mumbled, "Don't ask." Plainly he didn't want to talk about it. And he was edgy.
Plus calling him Doogie probably didn't help.
Creed was not exactly the talkative type, but Monk had to admit the man was sharp. He had already acquired a smattering of Norwegian, even honing a decent accent. Monk knew only one person who was that quick. He pictured her smile, the curve of her backside, and the barely perceptible bump of her growing belly. Thinking of Kat helped keep him warm long enough to reach their destination.
The Crop Biogenics lab looked like a silver egg standing on end. It was all mirrored glass and reflected the grounds, giving the facility a surreal appearance, as if the building were in the process of warping into another dimension.
The lab building was a relatively new construction, completed only five years ago. It had been engineered with a sophisticated security system that required only a skeletal staff at night.
Not an obstacle for someone outfitted with DARPA's latest toys.
Monk carried a backpack over one shoulder and a Taser XREP pistol tucked under the other. The weapon discharged a small electrified dart that could knock out a target for five minutes. It was a precaution that he hoped they would not have to employ.