The Judas Strain - James Rollins [173]
Once out into the night, Jack used an abandoned length of pipe to prop the door closed. It wouldn’t hold long. But it didn’t much matter. There were a half-dozen other roof access points. They couldn’t block them all.
“This way,” Jack said, and pointed. He had scouted the roof and discovered an old heating-and-air-conditioning unit, half gutted of equipment. There was enough room inside to hide two people.
But neither held out much hope.
The dogs would scent them out before too long.
They crossed the roof to the unit, circled it to put its bulk between them and the door. Both sank to the tar paper roof, remaining outside the HVAC unit for the moment. The stars shone above, along with a sliver of a moon. A plane passed by far overhead, winking lights.
Jack put his arm around Harriet and drew her close to him.
“I love you,” he said.
It was a rare admission, seldom spoken aloud. Not that Harriet ever doubted it. Even now, he said the words matter-of-factly. Like saying the earth was round. So simple a truth.
She leaned into him. “I love you, too, Jack.”
Harriet clung to him. She didn’t know how much time they had left. Eventually the search below would end. Annishen would turn her attention to the roof.
They waited together in silence, having spent a lifetime together, sharing joy and heartbreak, tragedies and victories. Though not a word was spoken, they both knew what they were doing, fingers entwined. They were saying good-bye to each other.
17
Where Angels Fear to Tread
JULY 7, 9:55 A.M.
Angkor Thom, Cambodia
GRAY LEANED AGAINST the brick wall of the cavelike cell.
Beyond the narrow opening, a half-dozen men stood guard. The closest had their weapons in plain sight. Nasser had ordered them in here while he set about arranging for munitions to blow the altar stone. Gray checked the illuminated dial of his dive watch.
They’d been here almost an hour.
He prayed Nasser was busy enough with his plans to skip his hourly threat against his parents. Something had certainly upset Nasser—beyond the delay in obtaining armaments. After sending them here, he had stormed off, phone to his ear. Gray had overheard the mention of a cruise ship. It had to concern the scientific leg of the Guild’s operation. Painter had related the story of the hijacked ship and the unknown whereabouts of Monk and Lisa.
Something had plainly gone wrong.
But was that good news or bad regarding the fate of his friends?
Gray shoved off the wall and paced the length of the cell. Seichan sat on a stone bench next to Vigor.
Kowalski leaned near the opening. One of the guards had a rifle pointed at his stomach, but he ignored it. He spoke as Gray neared. “I just saw some guy climb past with a jackhammer.”
“They must be about ready,” Vigor said, and stood up.
“What’s taking so long?” Gray asked.
Seichan answered, still seated. “Bribes take time.”
Gray glanced back to her.
She explained, “I heard some shouting in Khmer. Nasser’s men are clearing the ruins of tourists, chasing them off. It seems the Guild has rented the Bayon for the remainder of this private party. It’s a poor region. It wouldn’t take much to get the local officials to look the other way.”
Gray had already guessed as much. The guards were no longer making any effort to hide their weapons.
Vigor leaned a palm on a column near the door. “Nasser must have convinced the Guild of the value in investigating the historical trail a bit longer.”
Gray suspected it was something more than that. He remembered the agitation concerning the cruise ship. If something had befallen the scientific trail, the value of the historical trail would be that much more important.
He had confirmation a moment later.
Nasser shoved through the guards. The earlier fury of his manner had died back down to his usual cold cunning. “We’re ready to proceed. But before we continue,