The Judas Strain - James Rollins [136]
“No worries,” he said. “With Rakao and his men already hunting the island, we’ll soon have Susan Tunis and the others back. But with that matter settled—”
Devesh turned to Lisa. “It’s now time to discuss your punishment.”
As if on cue, a figure stepped forward, carrying a doctor’s satchel in her hands.
Her long black hair had been retied into a braid.
Surina.
3:14 A.M.
MONK CLIMBED THE steep switchback, following the naked rear end of one of the cannibals. Another dozen tribesmen scaled the crooked trail in the rock ahead of him. Behind Monk, more followed, another forty strong.
His cannibal army.
Rain poured out of the dark skies. But at least the winds had mostly died down, snapping with only occasional gusts across the jagged peaks. Monk had purposefully timed this ascent, waiting for the eye of the storm to crest over the island. It had been an agonizing delay, but his patience had opened a small window of opportunity.
He continued on. Though the path they climbed was sheltered, cut deep into the rock, the downpour made the rocks slippery, treacherous, requiring crawling at times on hands and knees.
Monk glanced behind him.
Ryder and Jessie had his back. Strung out behind them, a line of tribesmen followed, dressed in feathers, shells, bark, bird claws, and bones.
Lots of bones.
The improvised strike team bore short spears, sapling bows, and sharpened clubs. But half of them also carried rifles and a smattering of old assault weapons—Russian AK-47s, United States M16s—along with bandoliers strapped with extra magazines and cartridges. It seemed the cannibals had been trading for more than just two-legged meat with the pirates that shared their cove.
From this height, Monk had a wide view of the dark lake. The cruise ship glowed like a sodden wedding cake in the middle. It was the goal of the cannibal strike team.
It seemed whatever Rangda, the witch queen, wanted, the mesmerized cannibals would make sure she got.
And Rangda wanted that cruise ship.
Her wishes and orders were translated by the young Jessie. He spoke Malay, and as it was the official trading language of the pirates, most of the cannibals understood it, too. They were much in awe of the young nurse, that he should understand the language of their queen and was able to pass on Rangda’s desires. She even bestowed a kiss on her interpreter’s cheek, blessing the young nurse.
No one dared disobey him.
But while Jessie had been integral in organizing the assault, the plan here was all Monk’s.
He turned his back on the cruise ship. With the waters surely watched, they’d never manage an assault by boat. And swimming was certainly not an option. Even from this height, Monk noted the occasional flashes streaking through the lagoon far below. The storm had the denizens stirred up and hunting the shallows.
So it had left only one choice.
Monk climbed higher, all the way to the roof of the world. They had finally reached the giant steel support posts and massive cabling that anchored this section of the island’s net.
Monk stared out across the net’s underside.
Rain poured from it, soaking through all the camouflaging vegetation woven into the web’s upper side. Someone had to be maintaining that illusion. And Monk guessed it wasn’t just the pirates.
Proving this, one of the cannibals scurried up the nearest cable, his bare feet frogging his lithe form up the span. He vanished through the netting. A rope ladder cascaded back down.
Others began scaling up.
Monk turned to Jessie. “You can still go back down, join Susan at the beach. We can pick you both up there.”
Jessie swept rain-soaked hair out of his eyes. “I’m going. Otherwise, who’s going to translate for you?” Before Monk could argue, the nurse grabbed the ladder and scurried up.
Ryder followed next, clapping Monk on the shoulder as he passed.