The Bone Labyrinth (10 page)

Before they could reach the door, footsteps pounded up behind Gray. Dag had returned, huffing, his eyes wide on the weapon in Gray’s hand.

Gray shoved the kid hard against the wall. Seichan scowled, dropping to a knee, keeping a bead on the bar’s door. The gunfire had ended inside, but yelling still rang out, sounding like demands shouted in Croatian. It appeared the assailants—whoever they were—had hostages in there.

What the hell is going on?

Dag had the answer. “I heard from the others,” he gasped out, still wide-eyed with terror. “Bunch of
razbojnici . . .
bandits burst into the pub. Demanded that Fredrik show himself. They fire at the roof. Shoot one man in the leg.”

Gray glanced at Dag, then to Seichan. So the gunmen must be after the same mountaineer.
This attack must be connected to the assault in the mountains
. Was someone cleaning house here, covering up their tracks, making sure anyone in town with knowledge of that secret site was eliminated?

“And Fredrik?” Gray asked.

Dag pointed to the bar.

“So he’s still in there.”

The young man nodded. “In the bathroom at the back. Only his friend knows he is there, I think.”

“Is there a window? A way to climb out?”

“Window, yes. But too small.”

So the guy is trapped in there.

Gray doubted Fredrik’s hiding place would remain secret for very much longer. He eyed Seichan, knowing she had heard everything. She nodded, already understanding what he needed. This wasn’t their first dance together. She dashed to his side and grabbed Dag by the collar.

“You’re coming with me,” she said coldly.

As she dragged him down the hall, Gray rushed to the doorway of the pub and hid to one side of the opening. From low to the ground, he took a fast glance into the bar, then slid back out of sight. With a snapshot fixed in his head, he assessed the threat: four armed men, wearing knit masks, all with pistols, no assault weapons. Two guarded a trio of patrons stuck in a red-cushioned booth. Another loomed over a man clenched in a ball on the floor. Blood seeped across the polished wood floor. The fourth maintained a wary watch, but luckily the mahogany bar had helped screen Gray’s low peek into the room.

Gray had also noted one other detail: one of the patrons in the booth had been pointing toward the back of the bar, likely toward the restrooms.

Time was up.

As if on cue, fresh gunfire erupted, accompanied by the shatter of glass. The noise rose from the rear of the pub, from the one of the restrooms. It was his signal to move. He rolled across the threshold, keeping somewhat shielded by the bar. The four gunmen had all turned toward the bathrooms, responding to the gunfire by aiming their weapons back there.

Gray squeezed off two rounds, both head shots. As the pair of men dropped, he aimed for the leg of the third, taking out his knee and sending him crashing next to the patron on the ground, who had been similarly wounded.

Karma’s a bitch.

The fourth gunman, the one farthest to the back, lunged for the only shelter available. He charged through the door into the women’s restroom, likely believing the gunshots came from his target, Fredrik, in the other bathroom. The attacker must have hoped the women’s restroom had a window through which he could make his escape.

But Gray remembered Dag’s earlier words.

Window, yes. But too small
.

A single gunshot rang out from there, again accompanied by a shatter of glass.

The fleeing assailant came falling back into the bar, crashing to his side, the back of his skull a cratered ruin.

Wanting answers, Gray quickly closed on the only man still alive on the floor, the one he had shot in the leg, but before he could reach him, the masked man raised a pistol to his own head—and fired. The blast was loud, drowning out Gray’s own curse.

Biting back his disappointment, Gray hurried to the men’s room and barged inside. He found Fredrik huddled in one of the stalls, his face ashen, his lanky salt-and-pepper hair disheveled. Despite the man’s raw fear, he glared at Gray, ready to face what was to come.

A voice rose from the shattered window on the far wall. “Fredrik!” Standing in the rain outside, Dag leaned his face near the broken glass, speaking rapidly in Croatian, his voice full of reassurance.

Gray also sought to calm the man, attempting the little bit of Croatian he had memorized en route here. “
Zovem se
Gray,” he introduced himself, holstering his pistol and lifting his palms.

Seichan pushed Dag aside and called to him through the window. “Everything’s clear out here.”

Gray pictured Seichan hightailing it around the hotel’s exterior and shooting through this window, creating the initial distraction. She must have also heard that last gunman crash into the neighboring bathroom, and from her position outside, eliminated that threat, too.

Fredrik gained his composure, revealing his fluency in English. “Wh-what is going on?”

Gray waved to the door. “Let’s discuss this somewhere more private. We can’t trust that these four didn’t have companions nearby.”

Fredrik needed little convincing to vacate the restroom. Gray led him through the pub and out a side exit of the hotel, avoiding the lobby. He met Seichan and Dag back out on the streets. They hurried to the parked BMW and climbed inside.

Before he could urge Dag to get moving, Gray’s satellite phone vibrated in his pocket. He answered it, immediately recognizing Kat’s voice.

“Gray, we’ve just picked up a ping off Dr. Crandall’s cell phone. It’s weak and intermittent. Not enough to connect a call, but we were able to roughly triangulate its location—but it makes no sense.”

“Where is it coming from?”

“I’ll transmit the GPS location to you.”

He lowered the phone and studied a map that appeared on his screen. The village was laid out in the shape of a horseshoe, as its streets and homes hugged around a deep river gorge which split halfway through the place, ending at a deep chasm that the neighboring castle overlooked.

A blinking dot marked the location of the detected ping on the map.

Frowning, Gray raised his head and stared toward the dark chasm at the end of the street. The signal seemed to come from down there.

That can’t be good.

6

April 29, 11:03
A
.
M
. EDT

Lawrenceville, Georgia

Why aren’t you answering?

Maria lowered her phone, pressing it nervously between her palms as she sat at the desk in her office. For the past two hours, she had repeatedly attempted to contact her sister, without success. Each unanswered call cranked her anxiety up another notch.

She had already reached out to her liaison at DARPA and learned that there was some trouble at the archaeological site in Croatia, but the details remained sketchy. She was instructed to sit tight and to keep trying to raise Lena. In the meantime, an investigative team was en route to Georgia from D.C.—both to interview her about the details of her research and to provide her with additional information about the current status of events out there.

She glanced at her phone to check the time.

They should be arriving at any moment.

She took in a deep breath, trying to stay calm, but unable to forget Baako’s anxiety this morning. She pictured him signing repeatedly: splaying his fingers and driving his open palm across his chest over and over again.

Afraid, afraid, afraid . . .

“So am I,” she whispered to the empty room.

She pictured Lena’s face. Her sister was only minutes older than her, but Lena had always taken on more of a maternal role in their relationship, assuming the mantle of those extra minutes of maturity. It was Lena who microwaved their dinner while their mother was at work. She made sure Maria finished her schoolwork before watching television. Such responsibilities had left Lena more serious, more cautious, while Maria had always been the more carefree of the two, bolder at facing new challenges.

But I’m not feeling bold now, only worried.

After another failed attempt to reach Lena, she heard low voices on the other side of the door. A firm knock sounded. She opened the door and found Leonard Trask standing there. Behind the director of the Yerkes National Primate Research Center stood two strangers and a woman she knew well, Amy Wu. Amy worked for the National Science Foundation and was one of the project managers for the White House’s BRAIN initiative. The woman had personally helped arrange the funding for Lena and Maria’s research. In addition, the three—all the same age, all women in a male-dominated profession—had developed a friendship over the years.

Amy pushed past Trask and gave Maria a firm hug. She smelled of a soft honeysuckle perfume. Her dark hair, trimmed in a boyish cut, tickled her ear. She pulled back to stare into Maria’s eyes.

“How are you holding up?” she asked, her concern genuine.

Maria appreciated the gesture, but at the moment, she wanted news about her sister. “Have you heard anything?”

Amy glanced to the two men who accompanied her; the pair looked like bouncers at a biker bar. They wore suits, but the muscular bulk beneath their clothing was unmistakable. From their shaved heads and stiff demeanor, she guessed they were military. The shorter of the two men nodded at her, offering her a small smile that was reassuring.

Amy made introductions. “These two men are from DARPA. This is Monk Kokkalis. And his partner, Joseph Kowalski.”

“Joe,” the other man corrected as he stepped inside, having to duck his head slightly to enter. He studied the room, his face hard, his manner guarded.

Trask began to follow them inside, but Amy held up a hand and stopped him at the threshold. “I’m afraid this conversation has become a matter of national security. I’m sure you understand, Leonard.”

Amy shut the door in his face, but not before Trask cast a scathing look at Maria.

She knew she’d pay for that later, but for now, nothing else mattered but finding out about Lena. Maria didn’t have to inquire further. As soon as the door was closed, Amy spoke.

“I know you’re concerned about Lena. And we’ll be as honest and forthcoming as we can be, but many variables are up in the air. We’re still trying to discover exactly what happened up in those mountains.”

“What do you know so far?”

“Only that the site was under some form of attack and that we’ve lost communication with the French military team who were running security.”

Maria looked down at the cell still in her hand. Each word felt like a blow to the gut. She found herself dropping heavily into her office chair. “And Lena?”

“Let’s not fear the worst. Like I said, we’ve failed to make any contact. Right now there’s a fierce storm raging in those mountains, and the region has been hit by a series of small quakes. DARPA has dispatched a team to search the area, and hopefully we’ll have additional news soon. But we do have one hopeful sign.”

Amy turned to Monk Kokkalis.

He cleared his throat and explained. “As you can imagine, we’ve been continually attempting to make contact, and just a few minutes ago, while we were on our way here from the airport, we learned that our communication team was able to get a ping off Lena’s cell phone. It was weak, but detected well
away
from the coordinates of the dig site.”

Amy took Maria’s hand. “Which suggests your sister is on the move, possibly heading out of the mountains.”

Maria felt tears welling, both from relief and a residual measure of fear. “But you don’t know if she’s alone or not? Maybe kidnapped or injured?”

“That’s right,” Monk admitted. “But I know the man who was sent out there. He’ll find her.”

Maria heard the firm certainty in his deep voice and wanted to believe him.

He continued, “If this assault was more than just some group trying to raid the dig site, the best hope for your sister and the rest of the research team is to discover what might have motivated the attack. That’s why we’re here. To gather as much intelligence about the nature of your research as we can.”

“I’ll answer anything I can. But I don’t see how our research would motivate any attack.”

“It may not have,” Monk admitted, “but we’re trying to cover all leads.”

She swallowed hard. “What do you want to know?”

“I’ve been debriefed on the big talking points of your research.” He nodded to Amy. “But I wanted to hear from you personally, if you’ll bear with me.”

Maria nodded.

“I understand that the purpose of your research is to explore the origins of human intelligence. Could you elaborate about your methodology and the hypothesis you are pursuing?”

She sighed loudly, not knowing where to begin or even if this military guy would understand, but she straightened in her chair, wanting to cooperate. “My sister and I have been investigating a moment in mankind’s history known as the Great Leap Forward. That point in cognitive development, some fifty thousand years ago, when there was an inexplicable burst of art and innovation.”

Monk nodded. “The Big Bang of human consciousness.”

She stared harder at him, realizing maybe there was more behind that pugilist exterior. In the glint of his eyes, she read both amusement and a sharp intelligence.

Okay, then let’s step this up a notch.

“Modern man first appeared on the scene some two hundred thousand years ago,” Maria explained. “Back then, our rise from our hominin ancestors happened rapidly. According to recent research done by a trio of geneticists at the University of Chicago, this sudden appearance of
Homo sapiens
is attributable to the rapid mutation of
only
seventeen brain-building genes. A scant few, really. But from those few changes, there was a cascade effect—a snowballing, if you will—that resulted in hundreds of changes to thousands of genes in a relatively short period of time.”