The lieutenant listened, then glanced askance at Turov.
The captain waved. “Let him go. He’s best out of the way as it is.”
Bragin nodded, agreeing with this judgment, and waved three of his men to follow the archpriest and his hulking aide.
Valya watched them leave. The five men pushed past the throne and vanished behind the ice curtain. After a few seconds, lights flared back there. Valya understood. As deep as that group would likely travel, it would be pitch dark—and night-vision required some ambient light to function, unless one employed special IR illuminators. But she knew Sychkin would only be satisfied with what he could see with his own eyes.
The glow slowly faded as the small group departed.
Turov returned. “We’re ready. We’ll be deploying a bombardment of grenades, to squeeze them into a narrowing net. Then we’ll hunt them down with thermal scopes.”
She nodded at this plan.
“I assume you’ll want to accompany us,” Turov said.
She smiled, showing too many teeth. “Try and stop me.”
She followed Turov toward the gathered team. Two men freed rocket launchers and fitted them with warheads.
As she waited, she stared over at the ice wall, momentarily curious.
What the hell is down there?
49
May 14, 5:38P.M. ANAT
East Siberian Sea
Elle paced around Jason’s body. She had to keep moving, if only to hold her panic at bay.
This can’t be happening again...
She flashed to the young Russian pilot, Fadd. His body had lain for hours inside the plane while they had flown here. Jason’s face had Fadd’s same bloodless complexion and blue lips, but at least his chest still moved. So, there had to be hope.
Anna knelt beside Jason and held his hand. “There must be something else you can try,” she pleaded with Harper.
The ship’s doctor knelt next to Jason on the floor. Omryn had carried his limp form into the lodestone chamber, draping him across the rune-lined trench in the floor. The Chukchi crewman now guarded the tunnel entrance.
“I’ve tried everything I could,” Harper explained, waving a hand over her open med pack. “This is little better than a first-aid kit when it comes to severe reactions like this. If this was an anaphylactic reaction, the EpiPen should have helped. Same with the corticosteroids. He needs fluids, a hospital, labs, a tox screen.”
Elle summarized her answer. “He needs to get out of here.”
Harper sighed and lifted her stethoscope, ending with her own terse conclusion. “He doesn’t have much time.”
Anna searched for another answer, her gaze falling on Elle. “Those plants. The Hyperboreans made that elixir out of them. The same species that poisoned Jason. Maybe the medicine could help him.”
Elle knew the nun was grasping at straws. Still, she stared over at the tall pots inside the room. “Even if there’s anything in those containers, they’re long past their expiration date by now.”
“What does it hurt to try?” Anna said. “He’s already dying.”
Elle conceded this point. She crossed to one of the jars and attempted to pry off its lid. It wouldn’t budge. The sealant had turned to cement over the passing centuries.
Omryn noted her effort and stepped over. He tried, too, but with no better luck. Rather than give up, he picked up a loose rock. It was twice the size of his fist. He lifted his arm, swung hard, and cracked the lip of the pot. Two more strikes, and Elle was able to pick the shattered pieces of the lid away.
Omryn pointed his flashlight into the jar’s depths.
A dark sludgy liquid filled the pot to three-quarters. It smelled far from medicinal, more like rancid fish oil that had been fermenting—in this case, over centuries.
