The Source - Michael Cordy [110]
As his hands closed over a sizeable shard of rock crystal, a sound made him look up. The nymphs were emerging from the shadows at the back of the antechamber. In the half-light they appeared threatening, until his friend with the red flowers in its frond-like hair began to chant the James Bond theme Ross had taught it on their first encounter. Ross smiled and responded. The nymph emitted a staccato burst of laughter-like chatter and approached closer. The others followed until they surrounded him. As he edged closer to the exit, the nymph with the red flowers reached for the crystal in his hand. Instinctively, Ross clasped it tighter. The creature made another chattering sound, went into the tunnel, selected a larger, even more iridescent shard from the stream and presented it to him. Ross put down his sample and took the gift. 'Thank you.'
The nymph copied his words, making Ross smile again. He glanced up the tunnel one last time, mesmerized by the light coming from the source – whatever it was. He considered how the lake water had failed to save Weber and wondered how its power compared with that of Father Orlando's el origen. What if the crystal in his hand failed to save Lauren? What if the injuries to her brain and spine needed something even more powerful? The question was academic, of course. Even if he could negotiate the rock worms there was no time to explore the tunnel. He must go now before the guards realized they were gone.
He turned to leave and a piercing sound silenced the nymphs. The high-pitched whine of an alarm.
Shit.
As the nymphs skittered nervously around him, he pushed past them and peered out of the antechamber into the rain. Figures were spilling from the tents and moving through the rain towards where the others had made their escape – or tried to. The soldiers must have installed a trip alarm by the entrance to the garden.
Shit.
Two figures stopped, turned and headed for the forbidden caves – towards Ross.
Shit. Shit. Shit.
He was trapped. Unless . . .
He pushed through the nymphs towards the dark recesses of the antechamber. There was another way out: the exit across the magma pool, via the broken bridge. It was dangerous and he would have no supplies in the jungle, but he had the crystal to sustain him. There was one other route, of course. He could try his luck up the tunnel of blood. He stopped, torn with indecision.
'Dr Kelly!'
He glanced over his shoulder. Torino stood in the entrance to the antechamber, waterproof dripping with rain, two-way radio in his hand. Bazin stood beside him, peering down the sights of a rifle.
The radio crackled and Torino held it to his ear. 'Excellent, Feldwebel. If they give you any more trouble shoot them.' He smiled. 'The others are being rounded up, Dr Kelly. The great escape is over.'
Bazin spoke next: 'My rifle is aimed at your heart. Drop the crystal, raise your hands and walk back here.'
'You're going to shoot me, Marco? How does your God justify killing an unarmed, innocent man who wants only to save his wife?'
'No one's innocent, Dr Kelly,' said Torino, 'and this place is bigger than your wife. I can't let you leave with the crystal. Not till I've decided what to do with the garden.'
As the nymphs swarmed round Ross, pushing him back into the shadowy recesses of the cave, he tried to keep Torino talking. 'But you've already decided what to do with the garden, Father General. I've seen the yellow parcels. I know what they are.' Ross saw Bazin glance uncertainly at Torino. 'But I don't care about your plans. If you want to rewrite history or evolution, if you want to change the truth to fit your beliefs, then go ahead. I only want to save my wife.' He pointed up the tunnel. 'Once you've done what you want to do and gained control of el origen, or the radix or whatever's up there, you needn't worry about me – or any of us.'
'That crystal in your hand is now the property of Rome,' Torino said. 'Only the Holy Mother Church can dispense miracles. Not you.' More nymphs