The Demon Crown: A Sigma Force Novel

by James Rollins

  She remembered back at Sigma headquarters in D.C., how Monk had demonstrated his ability to remotely control his disarticulated limb. He clearly had some skill. His disembodied hand danced on its fingertips and drew closer behind the line of men.

  Elena also remembered the library museum in Tallinn.

  Monk whispered one word, “Boom.”

  On this signal, Kat leaped at Elena, while Monk flung himself at Slaski and Clara. The concussion of the explosion deafened her; the flash in the near-darkness blinded her. She landed hard on her side, shielded by Kat. Even before the blast echoed away, Kat’s weight rolled off her.

  Elena remained on the floor, blinking away the flare. Before her, Kat slid on a hip across the stone, scooping up a rifle from one of the armed men whose back was cratered and smoking. From the ground, she fired nearly point-blank at another, who was climbing to his feet. He sprawled backward.

  The farthest gunman, relatively unscathed, had only been knocked to his knees. He leveled his weapon at Kat—then his chest exploded, the point of a pick-axe protruding out his shattered rib cage. His body slumped forward, revealing Monk standing there, holding the handle of the salt-mummified miner’s axe.

  The other two members of the assault team, both closest to the explosion, were already dead.

  Monk hurriedly collected two rifles and shoved one at Slaski. “Do you know how to use this?”

  He backed up a step, shaking his head.

  Elena had gained her feet already and stepped forward. She took the weapon, did a quick check, then nodded. “Not a problem. I grew up in the barrio of East L.A.”

  Monk grinned at her. “You are a librarian of many skills.”

  Kat remained cold and serious. “Follow us out, but stay near the ramp.”

  “What are you going to do?” Elena asked.

  She nodded to her husband. “We’re going to work.”

  6:39 A.M.

  As the group exited the accursed cavern, Kat quickly changed tactics.

  The surrounding mine groaned around them. The ground trembled underfoot. Fragile stalactites of salt broke from the roof and shattered. The concussion of the blast must have destabilized this fragile corner of the mine. Half of the scallop shell had collapsed in the past, and now the rest threatened to do the same.

  Still, Kat paused at the bottom of the ramp long enough to check on Piotr, noting the blade imbedded in the back of the poor man’s neck. Monk drew Clara to the side, keeping her from the sight.

  Kat gritted her teeth as she stood. “Okay, new plan. We’re all getting out of here, but Monk and I’ll take the lead. You all follow but hang several yards back.”

  She didn’t wait for confirmation. She firmed her grip on the stolen rifle and set off down the passageway they had used before. She set a hard pace, knowing Sam and his men would’ve heard the explosion. But would they believe it was just their teammates blasting the cave opening, as Sam had ordered?

  She had no way of knowing, but she could not let that traitor escape with the treasure stolen from here. If there truly was an answer to be found preserved in that block of amber, they had to acquire it.

  As they traversed the quarter-mile-long tunnel, the quaking continued, jolting ever stronger. The blast must have set off a cascade effect, as one section undermined the next, spreading throughout the area. The air filled with fine salt crystals, shining like diamonds in the beams of their headlamps.

  The ground suddenly bolted violently under Kat’s feet, throwing her against the wall. The others suffered the same, but at least kept upright. A wash of smoke and more salt dust flowed over them from behind.

  The tunnel must have collapsed back there.

  “Faster,” Kat urged.

  They set off again at a near run. She sensed they must be nearing the exit—when the shine of her headlamp revealed a jumble of rock blocking the passageway ahead. It had already caved in.

  Monk drew alongside her as she stopped. “What now?”

  “I don’t . . .” She shook her head, despairing.

  He hooked his arm around her waist. “Use that big brain of yours to get us out of here.”

  She stared down at her toes—not out of defeat, but to note the flow of water running past. It was fast and heavy. Even as she watched, the flow increased.

  She glanced back, waving a trace of salt dust from her nose. The earlier jolt had clearly collapsed the tunnel behind them, but if water was continuing to flow . . .

  “Back,” she said. “We have to go back.”

  She got everyone retreating along the passageway.

  In less than a minute, they reached where the tunnel wall had collapsed. But rather than fully blocking the passageway, the break had cracked through into the tunnel that paralleled this one. Water flowed underfoot from that neighboring vein of the shell.

  “Go, go, go,” she urged.

  As she scrambled with the others into the next tunnel, she thanked the old miners for their engineering skills. Once together, they set off again. Their progress through the new tunnel was slowed by blockages of old salt formations, but the quaking had shattered enough of the brittle and delicate formations to allow them to move briskly.

  At last, they reached the pelvis of the shell. Kat proceeded cautiously, her rifle raised, fearing Sam might have left one of his men behind. But her search revealed no hidden sniper, only an empty cavern. Two bodies lay near the shoreline of the canal that led out to the lake.

  Gerik and Anton.

  Her fingers tightened on her weapon.

  The Jet Ski was still beached beside the bodies, but the Zodiac pontoon was gone, taken by Sam to transport his prize. She also noted a pile of discarded scuba tanks, knowing now how the assault team had made their silent approach to ambush Clara’s brothers.

  Kat waved the others out. “Elena, stay here with Clara and Dr. Slaski.” She nodded to the rifle in the librarian’s hand. “Stay hidden. If anyone besides us returns—”

  Elena hefted her weapon higher. “Oh, the bastards will regret it.”

  Good.

  Kat turned and headed to the Jet Ski. She silently apologized to Gerik as she unsnapped the watercraft’s keys from his vest. She and Monk then pushed the Jet Ski back into the dark water and quickly mounted it. Unable to pilot the craft with his missing prosthesis, Monk climbed in back. He cradled the SIG Sauer he had recovered from their captors in his other hand.

  Kat dropped behind the controls, resting her rifle across her knees.

  Monk leaned forward. “Hon—”

  “I know. We have no element of surprise.”

  Out in the open water, it would be an all-out assault.

  “No, I just wanted to say I love you.”

  “Oh.” She leaned back and pecked him on the cheek. “Me, too.”

  Monk settled back. “Now let’s go shoot us some bad guys.”

  She leaned down.

  That’s why I love you . . . we’re always of one mind.

  She ignited the engine, squeezed the throttle, and shot forward down the canal. She didn’t slow through the S-curve of the waterway. She gained speed with every turn. By the time she hit the lake, the craft flew across the water, all but skimming above the flat surface.

  Ahead, she spotted her target: a lone light racing across the black lake. She had already doused her helmet lamp and raced her craft dark toward her quarry. The others closed in on the far shore, but they appeared to be proceeding slowly, having to balance their cargo aboard their craft.

  Kat had no such disadvantage and sped faster, the needle of the speedometer cresting toward sixty. The pool of light ahead grew swiftly. Though she ran dark, there was no masking the scream of the Jet Ski’s engine.

  By the time the enemy decided the approaching watercraft might not be piloted by one of their own, the Jet Ski was nearly atop them. Rifle blasts pierced the engine’s roar, but Kat wove the ski back and forth, challenging their aim at the small craft.

  Monk returned fire, his SIG Sauer�
�s retort deafening in her ear. Luckily he had a much larger and brighter target. He dropped one sniper and drove the other down with the first volley of shots, emptying his weapon. He then reached around and took the rifle from her lap.

  He lifted it one-handed, balanced it across his other forearm, and sprayed a barrage of automatic fire—strafing the pontoon along one side, ripping it to shreds. The boat quickly foundered, spinning toward the damaged side.

  The second gunman tried to drive them off, but he lost his balance as the dragging pontoon suddenly sank, jolting the boat. As he toppled toward the water, Monk shifted his aim and plugged him twice in the chest, a parting gift before sending him to a watery grave.

  But the gunman wasn’t the only passenger to lose balance.

  Kat watched the block of amber teeter, then crash on its side. Momentum rolled it over the deflated pontoon. It vanished with a splash into the dark depths of the deep lake.

  Panicked at the loss, Monk shoved his rifle at her, then leaped off the back of the Jet Ski as it raced past the foundering boat.

  She didn’t have time to tell him it was a wasted effort.

  Instead, she hunkered down and continued toward shore. At the start of the attack, she had spotted a splash near the bow of the boat. A rat leaving a sinking ship. From the corner of her eye, she had followed Sam’s path as he swam for safety.

  By now, he had already reached the far shore and clambered out. He sprinted for the tunnel leading out. She sped toward him, but he had the wherewithal to douse his helmet lamp. His figure was a slightly darker mote against the inky darkness.

  Once he reached the tunnels, it would be nearly impossible to catch him.

  The Jet Ski struck the sloped bank at near-top speed. She rode it far across the rock, keeping her seat by squeezing her thighs. She lifted the rifle and emptied her weapon in a final barrage—but she didn’t bother aiming for such a small target.

  Instead, she fired at the huge array of salt stalactites hanging along the roof near the opening to the cavern. The formations rained down in a wide swath of sharp spears.

  A sharp, startled scream followed.

  As the Jet Ski slowed, she hurtled off the seat and ran toward the source. She kept her own lights doused, knowing Sam was armed. She ran low, trying to discern where he was. Her boots crunched through sharp shards of broken salt.

  Then a sharper cry erupted ahead, agonizing and tortured.

  She easily followed it to a body writhing on the ground. She flicked on her light. Sam struggled with a broken lance of salt through his neck, another pierced his shoulder, a third impaled his upper left thigh. His struggles weakened as blood pulsed from his wounded throat—but the pain plainly grew worse.

  His agonized screams echoed across the cavern.

  She knew what tortured him—something beyond the certainty of his impending death.

  Salt in the wounds.

  She turned her back and let him scream. By the time she reached the lake, the last of his strangled cries died away.

  Good riddance.

  Out in the dark water, she saw Monk paddling back and forth near the half-sunk boat. He noted her approach and hollered.

  “I can’t find the block! We’ll need divers.”

  She cupped her mouth and called over to him. “Just wait!”

  “For what?”

  She searched the lake. After another breath, a large object burst to the surface, startling her husband. It rocked in place beside him.

  She shouted across the water. “Amber floats!”

  Its density was less than salt water. It was why so much amber was found along the Baltic coastlines, where waves washed floating bits to its sandy shores.

  “Now you tell me,” Monk groused.

  He swam to the block and began pushing it toward her.

  She sighed with her hands on her hips. They had secured the prize, but what had they truly accomplished? She pictured the queen frozen in amber.

  What did it mean?

  38

  May 9, 4:18 P.M. JST

  Tokyo, Japan

  Two hours after escaping the destruction of the Ice Castle, Gray paced the length of a conference room at the Public Security Intelligence Agency. Their headquarters was located in central Tokyo, in the Chiyoda ward, the city’s equivalent to the U.S. National Mall. Out the window was a commanding view of the Imperial Palace. Elsewhere in the same ward stood their Supreme Court and the prime minister’s official residence.

  He awaited a videoconference call with Painter Crowe. Earlier, Gray had updated the director on all that had happened. Now there was this sudden new request. He feared the worst. Prior to this summons, he had been working with Aiko and a cadre of her inner circle. Shortly after arriving in Tokyo, Valya had fulfilled her promise, transmitting the code to unlock the thumb drive. Aiko had sent a military force to secure the identified warehouse, discovering a vast stockpile of the pesticide developed by Fenikkusu Laboratories.

  An airlift of those canisters—accompanied by a Japanese squadron of tanker planes to distribute the pesticide—was already en route to Hawaii. Though the chemical should eradicate the adult populations of the colonized wasps, it promised no relief for those already parasitized: human, animal, or insect.

  Aiko had also translated some of the corporation’s feasibility studies and toxicology reports found in the documents they’d recovered. According to the findings, the pesticide was highly carcinogenic and toxic to a wide spectrum of other arthropods. Use of the chemical would wreak havoc on the island’s delicate ecosystem. But worst of all, the Hawaiian chain would be forever contaminated, needing constant monitoring and retreatment as the larval stages rose again and again.

  Maybe it would be better if the place was simply nuked, Gray thought grimly.

  And he wasn’t the only one advocating this.

  Aiko had shared some confidential communications between the U.S. military and various intelligence agencies. While the pesticide put a thumb in this proverbial dike, the threat of the contagion breaking loose and spreading remained. For many countries, this was still too much of a risk.

  And now this sudden call from Painter.

  Gray studied those gathered in the room. The director had asked for Professor Matsui to be present, along with Seichan and Palu. The Hawaiian still looked shell-shocked upon learning the grim future of his native lands. Seichan sat stoically, but from her haunted eyes and tight lips, she knew she was mere hours at best until the pain returned tenfold, marking when the third instars would begin ravaging her body. Ken kept glancing her way, as if trying to read her every twitch and breath for some warning of the end.

  Finally, the large screen on the wall before the table bloomed to life, drawing everyone’s attention. Gray stiffened, surprised. He had expected to find the director staring back at him. Instead, the crystal-clear image revealed a slim figure leaning against what appeared to be a table in a small laboratory.

  “Kat?” Gray stepped closer. “Where are you? What’s this about?”

  “I’m in Krakow, at a small amber museum. Painter arranged this call, knowing the urgency.”

  “Why?”

  “We found something out here. Something that makes no sense. But it’s beyond any of our expertise. The only man who could’ve helped . . . well, I killed him. So I was hoping Professor Matsui might offer some insight.”

  Gray scrunched his brow. “What did you find?”

  Kat quickly explained the events in Poland, about a salt mine, a vast amber deposit, and a block of stone holding a unique specimen. “Let me show you.” She waved to the video operator. “Monk, bring the camera over to the table.”

  The image jiggled as the view swept high, then lowered to a wide table holding a giant cube of glowing amber. It was lit from multiple angles to reveal what was frozen inside.

  A chair crashed behind Gray.

  “My god . . .” Ken rushed around the table to join him before the screen. He leaned closer, his hands rising as if w
anting to grab the object. “That’s a prehistoric chrysalis. Captured in the process of hatching.”

  Kat returned to the edge of the screen. “Professor Matsui, could this be the birth of an Odokuro queen?”

  “What? No. There’s no such—” He stepped closer again. “Wait.”

  He studied the image for a long breath, then asked Monk for different angles, for the lights to be shifted.

  “Ken,” Gray pressed, needing him to reach a conclusion. “Is it or isn’t it?”

  The man licked his lips, his voice hushed. “Yes . . . yes, it must be.” He searched the screen and found Kat. “Tell me again in more detail about what you saw, about the state of the dead wasps.”

  She repeated her story, answering questions from Ken along the way. “Sam thought they had bled out,” she finished. “Or at least something had oozed out of their bodies.”

  “Dissolved from the inside out,” Ken mumbled to himself.

  Kat heard him. “That sounds about right.”

  Ken retreated and fell heavily into a seat. “I was wrong. Wrong all along.”

  “About there being an Odokuro queen?” Gray asked.

  He nodded. “That certainly, but I suspect such a queen would never appear in a laboratory setting. She would rise only within an established swarm, one in a natural environment.”

  “But why?” Kat asked. “What does it mean?”

  He stared at her. “It means I was also wrong about Gamma Team’s research. They had the answer all along. The lock, but not the key.”

  “What are you talking about?” Gray asked. “What team’s research?”

  “One of Fenikkusu’s drug groups was investigating a series of genes for a missing protein, what they named a ghost peptide. They called it a ghost, because they found the genes, but never the protein it coded for. Analysis of the sequence suggested it was a strong biolytic agent capable of dissolving a prey’s tissue.”

  Kat glanced to the block of amber. “From the inside out.”

  Ken nodded. “I thought it was a piece of old code, ancestral junk from a time when the Odokuro killed their hosts. I believed, once the wasps evolved out of this behavior, they had set aside this toxic peptide, locking it away with a bunch of epigenetic markers. I thought Gamma Team had been wasting their time, that they’d never in a million years find the key to that lock.”