The Bone Labyrinth

by James Rollins

  “Bandage up his incision,” she ordered the assistant surgeon, her voice growing meeker, more uncertain as her initial adrenaline surge began to wane.

  Still, the doctor obeyed and closed the wound with butterfly bandages, then taped gauze sponges over the site. By the time he was finished, the sirens had gone silent.

  In the quiet, the others looked at her, waiting for her next instruction.

  Maria faced them, overwhelmed by one question.

  What do I do from here?

  11:44 A.M.

  Major General Lau stood in the eye of the storm.

  Upon first hearing the alarms, she had followed protocol in the event of a security breach and proceeded directly to the communication room of the complex. Six men manned the curve of tables under a wall of video monitors. The largest screen glowed with a three-dimensional map of the facility’s four levels, encompassing miles of tunnels and hundreds of acres of research labs, office and storage spaces, living quarters, and countless other rooms and miscellaneous halls.

  The site of the breach was at the complex’s southern gate, where the facility merged with the old warren of bomb shelters and tunnels of the Underground City.

  “How many intruders are there?” Jiaying demanded of Chang Sun.

  “Unknown for the moment.” The lieutenant colonel cupped an earpiece as he monitored reports from the security teams closing in on that location. With his other hand, he pointed to a grid of monitors. “We’re pulling feed from the nearby cameras now.”

  On the indicated screens, images rolled in reverse. Finally, one of the technicians raised a hand.

  “Over here,” Chang said.

  She joined the lieutenant colonel at that station. The technician ran the footage from the moment of the breach. The feed came from a camera facing the loading dock. She watched a group barge inside and assault a worker at the threshold.

  Chang reached past the tech’s shoulder, froze the image, then tapped each of the faces on the screen. Blue boxes outlined them and zoomed into fuzzy close-ups.

  “Six of them,” he said, finally answering her earlier question. “One woman, five men. All wearing army uniforms.”

  Jiaying leaned closer. “Are they our people?”

  She did not dismiss the possibility that the Ministry of State Security had ordered a covert challenge to the base’s security. Still, she sensed this was no drill.

  Chang offered corroboration by pointing to one of the outlined faces. The man had removed a pair of sunglasses, revealing his foreign features. “They’re Americans,” he said, glancing over to her. “I’m sure of it.”

  Anger burned through her at such a trespass. “Where are they?”

  He sighed in exasperation. “After the breach, they moved beyond the surveillance net around the loading bay door. But they can’t stay out of sight for long. If another camera fails to pick them up, one of my teams will flush them out.”

  “How many security personnel do you have on the premises?”

  “Over a hundred.” Chang straightened. “And with all gates locked down and extra guards posted, they’re trapped inside. It’s only a matter of time before we find them.”

  She nodded, forcing her breath to slow. While she was perturbed at this assault, a part of her was relieved. She had suspected the Americans had sent operatives here, but until this moment that threat had been hypothetical, an unknown variable beyond her control. Now it had become quantifiable, a hazard she could eliminate, possibly even turn to her advantage.

  “Zhōngxiào Sun!” a technician called out sharply to Chang.

  Jiaying crossed with the lieutenant colonel to the new station, hoping the intruders had been spotted. But the screen revealed a view into the vivisection lab. She frowned at the sight of Maria Crandall holding a hostage at knifepoint, clearly interrupting the surgery.

  Jiaying shook her head sadly at the woman’s misguided efforts, clearly ignited by her compassion for her test subject.

  I expected better from a fellow scientist.

  Then again, too often Americans had proven themselves to be soft when they should be hard. They were too coddled, too certain of their superiority, too blind to the new millennium’s shift of global powers.

  Unlike in China, where hard lessons were taught at a young age.

  It seems your education is sorely lacking, Dr. Crandall.

  “Connect me to that lab,” she ordered.

  Chang instructed the tech, who tapped a few keys, then handed back a wireless microphone. “You’ll be able to hear any responses over the monitor’s speakers.”

  “Very good.” She lifted the microphone to her lips. “Dr. Crandall, if I could have your attention.”

  On the screen, Maria backed a step, dragging the surgeon with her. She glanced toward the ceiling speakers.

  “I see you appear panicked, but let me assure you that the sirens are merely a drill,” she said, using the lie to smother any hope of rescue. “Still, I should inform you, as a matter of protocol, all rooms are locked down.”

  This last was not a lie.

  There was nowhere Maria could go.

  “You and your test subject will be fine, Dr. Crandall. Unfortunately the same cannot be said for your companion.”

  Maria glanced back toward the wall of windows behind her.

  “You were given ample warning,” Jiaying said.

  Now it’s time to learn your lesson.

  11:55 A.M.

  Kowalski kept to his feet inside the small cage, unnerved by the sudden silence after the blaring sirens. He had been penned in here for nearly three hours, coming to view his prison as nothing more than a vending machine for the beasts outside. When the sirens first erupted, he had been certain it was the dinner bell being rung, marking his end.

  And he wasn’t the only one bothered by the noise.

  The klaxon—echoing loudly across the cavernous habitat—had roiled up the massive gorilla hybrids. Some retreated for the shelter of the caves, their heads bowed away from the noise. Others shifted closer, tightening around their leader. The half-ton silverback continued to squat outside the cage door, clearly unperturbed by the ruckus. The only sign that the beast had heard anything was when it had glanced over a shoulder and glared toward the windows.

  Even Kowalski had stared up toward the curve of glass, hoping to catch sight of Maria, wondering the same thing over and over again.

  What’s going on up there?

  By now he feared the surgeons had finished with Baako’s operation. He wished he could console Maria, to offer her his support, as meager as it might be. He also tried not to think about Baako’s fate, which only served to tighten the knot of anger in his gut.

  Motion drew his attention back to the furry mountain at the door. The silverback had begun to rock slowly on its haunches. Kowalski met its dark gaze, which never left his face.

  It’s like the bugger knows something.

  Kowalski pressed his back more firmly against the solid steel behind him, wishing he could melt through it. Then a loud grind of gears erupted above him—and the cage door began to trundle slowly upward along its tracks.

  Oh, shit . . .

  20

  April 30, 11:02 P.M. ECT

  Andes Mountains, Ecuador

  In the copilot’s seat, Gray searched the jungle below their rental helicopter as it swept higher into the mountains. Though it was an hour shy of midnight, the brilliance of the full moon glistened off the dark green canopy, which was woven through by swaths of silvery mists. The terrain below looked untouched by man, broken into deep crevices and pierced by jagged outcroppings of granite.

  He glanced at the aircraft’s altimeter. The small town of Cuenca, from which they’d departed, lay at the eight-thousand-foot level. Where they were headed now—some forty miles due south of the town—was even higher in the Ecuadorian Andes.

  Lena’s voice reached him through the radio built into his headphones. “It’s hard to believe anyone would build a city w
ay out here.”

  “It’s not that implausible,” Roland argued. “During my research, I discovered Ecuador has many attractive qualities. First, its soil is exceptionally fertile due to the amount of volcanic activity, which makes it perfect for farming. The region’s also the site of four ancient migration routes through the Andes, connecting the Amazon rain forest to the Pacific Ocean. It’s the literal crossroads of this continent. Even the Inca empire settled on Cuenca as their northern capital.”

  “Sounds like a popular place,” Seichan mumbled with thick sarcasm.

  Roland ignored her and continued, “More significant, Ecuador is the only source of balsa wood in the world.”

  “Balsa?” Lena asked.

  “The lightweight material was used to construct the old seafaring boats of this region, going back millennia. So if someone was looking for a temperate place to make their home and possibly serve as the launching pad for a migratory culture, Ecuador would suit them perfectly.”

  Gray took this all in, picturing such a lost civilization, remembering the book Lena had shown him, full of photos of Father Crespi’s collection, antiquities that seemed to have come from all corners of the world.

  “And last of all,” Roland said, “in the ancient Amerindian tongue, the phrase Old Andes translates as Atl Antis.”

  “Atlantis?” Lena said, her voice a mix of shock and doubt.

  Even Gray looked over his shoulder to search Roland’s face for any sign that he was joking.

  Roland merely shrugged. “That’s what I read.”

  The pilot cut in, his English thickly accented by Spanish. “That clearing up ahead, señor, is as close as I can get to the coordinates you gave me.”

  Gray returned his attention to the mist-shrouded forest. He spotted no break in the canopy ahead. The terrain looked as inhospitable as ever. Then he made out a tiny pit within that tumultuous dark green sea.

  He couldn’t possibly mean—

  “You can land this bird there?” Seichan asked, clearly incredulous.

  “Sí, no problem.”

  The pilot dove the small aircraft toward the small glade. It was open to the sky, but surrounded by towering trees. Mists filled the clearing, erasing any sign of the ground.

  Gray clutched a handgrip as the pilot swung the helicopter around, bringing it to hover above the opening. He then swiftly descended. The rotor wash whipped the surrounding branches, which appeared to be only inches from the whirling blades. The pilot looked unperturbed as he continued down, sinking the aircraft into the mists.

  Blind now, Gray held his breath, waiting for the rotors to dice into the trees and send them plunging to a fiery crash. Instead, after a stomach-sinking drop, the skids safely kissed the ground.

  The pilot looked toward him and repeated. “No problem.”

  Easy for you to say . . .

  Relieved, he clapped the pilot on the shoulder, silently thanking him, then turned to the others. “Everybody out.” He checked his watch. “Our guides should be here soon.”

  I hope.

  While en route, Roland had made contact with Father Pelham, the priest at the Church of María Auxiliadora in Cuenca, the man who took Father Crespi’s place at the mission. Like Crespi, the current father was well regarded and loved by the local Shuar tribes. With the support of the Vatican behind him, Roland was able to get Father Pelham to contact a nearby Shuar centro, a village of some twenty families not far from where they wanted to go.

  If anyone knew this terrain and its secrets, it would be the local Shuar.

  But gaining their cooperation from here might prove to be a challenge. The tribes were notoriously suspicious of foreigners. People still vanished within these forests, succumbing to predators, poisonous snakes, or disease. But no one denied that a few of those travelers likely met their ends at the hands of the tribesmen in the darkest corners of the jungles, where headhunting and cannibalism continued. Even the occasional tsantsa, or shrunken head, made its way to the black market from these shadowy forests.

  As they all unloaded, Lena pulled deeper into her jacket. “It’s so cold.”

  Roland agreed with her. “Certainly not the steamy jungle I expected.”

  “It’s the elevation,” Gray explained, waving an arm toward the towering canopy shrouded in mists. “At this height in the mountains, the jungle turns into a cloud forest.”

  The air was also incredibly thin, forcing him to breathe harder.

  Stepping away, Seichan stared off into the darkness beyond the reach of the helicopter’s lights. “It’s like another world.”

  Gray unsnapped a flashlight from his belt and shone the beam into the forest. It illuminated the heart of a lush green landscape. Cloud forests were notorious for their damp abundance, and this was no exception. The trunks, branches, and vines were covered in feathery crusts of mosses. Orchids grew on every surface in myriad shades and subtle curves of petals. Ferns sprouted not only from the ground but also from branches overhead. Even the leaves dripped with algae.

  And throughout it all, wisps of mist and shreds of heavier fog hung in the air or gently snaked through the branches and canopy. The air here was exceptionally thin, making his lungs strain and his heart beat faster. Still, the soft breezes easily carried forth the rich scent of loam underfoot, interlaced with the flowery perfume of night-blooming flowers.

  It was another world.

  To enter here felt like trespassing.

  As the helicopter’s engines quieted down to cooling ticks, the forest came alive with the burring buzz of insects, the brittle knock of branches in the canopy as something fled their arrival, and the occasional spirited call of a bird. It was a reminder that it was not only green life that thrived here. These forests were home to large predators, like jaguars and anacondas, but also tapirs, sloths, peccaries, and all manner of monkeys.

  A flock of parrots took wing from the forest edge and spiraled across the glade, calling down their complaints before vanishing again.

  Lena tracked them, then stared over to Gray. “It’s beautiful.”

  “And dangerous,” Seichan warned her, clearly trying to dampen the geneticist’s enthusiasm, to keep her focused. “Such beauty is nature’s way of luring you into a trap.”

  Lena looked aghast.

  Gray hid a smile as he sidled next to Seichan. “Maybe ease up a bit. Remember we need the others’ help.”

  She slipped her hand into his, leaning closer. “We also need them alive.” She raised her lips to his ear, her breath warm on his neck. “Besides, I was being easy. I didn’t even mention the snake tangled in the branch above her head.”

  Gray looked up and searched until he spotted an emerald length spiraled along a limb. “Poisonous?” he asked.

  “From its triangular head, some sort of pit viper.” She nestled closer as he tried to pull away and warn Lena. “Don’t worry. It’s too cold at the moment to be a threat.”

  Gray was not entirely convinced. Doubts weighed on him. “Maybe it would be better to wait until morning before traipsing into the jungle with some headhunters.”

  Seichan pulled back and stared at him. “No, you were right before. We’ve spent ten hours getting here and shouldn’t waste any more time. Besides, if we discover this lost cavern system, it won’t matter if it’s day or night once we’re underground.”

  True, but first we have to find that place.

  “We’ve got company,” Roland said, moving closer to the two of them, drawing Lena with him.

  To their right, two figures stood quietly at the forest’s edge. Gray could not say how long they had been there. It was as if they had suddenly materialized out of the shadows.

  Wary, he signaled the others to stay put and advanced toward the pair.

  The taller appeared to be a Shuar elder. His face was pocked with tribal scars and traced with geometric tattoos across his cheeks, chin, and forehead. His gray hair was braided behind his gaunt shoulders. He stood bare-chested, except for an elaborate neckpiec
e of feathers, seedpods, and what appeared to be bones.

  Next to him was a smaller figure, a boy of twelve or thirteen. His dark hair was shaggy and unkempt. Though barefoot like the older man, he wore baggy shorts and a green T-shirt with a Notre Dame leprechaun on it. He offered Gray a wide, enthusiastic smile, a counterpoint to the grave countenance of the elder.

  “Hello,” Gray said and introduced himself. “Do you speak English?”

  The boy nodded. “I am Jembe.” He waved to the older man. “This is Chakikui. I will speak for him, tell him what you say.”

  “Thank you,” Gray said, glad to have a translator. “Do you know Father Pelham at the Church of María Auxiliadora?”

  The boy’s grin grew even larger. “I like him very much. He taught me English and Spanish at the mission school.”

  Good. A personal connection might help.

  “Father Pelham told us that you might be able to guide us to some caves in this area.”

  Jembe nodded his head vigorously. “Caves, yes. Many caves under the mountains.”

  The elder interrupted, speaking dourly, never taking his eyes off Gray.

  Jembe listened, then translated. “Uncle Chakikui says he knows the caves you seek.”

  Gray let out a breath, reassured.

  “But he will not take you,” the boy added, looking stricken. “If you try to go there, our tribe will kill you.”

  With his message given, Chakikui turned and headed back into the forest, drawing Jembe with him, who cast an apologetic look back toward Gray.

  He watched the pair vanish into the darkness.

  So much for that personal connection.

  11:22 P.M.

  “Wait!” Roland yelled. He rushed forward upon hearing the elder’s declaration and warning. “Please!”

  He joined Gray, who stopped him from plunging into the forest after the pair.

  “Careful,” Gray warned. “Those two may not have come alone. If you spook them, you could get an arrow in the chest.”

  Roland refused to relent, stepping in front of Gray. “I am Father Novak,” he called out into the darkness. “I’ve come a long way. Please!”