The sudden rush of light when the blindfold was removed felt like a hot knife stabbing through Liam Kenner’s skull. He winced, covering his eyes and blinking rapidly until the discomfort was manageable. He had the good sense not to complain, though.
The blindfold was a minor inconvenience compared to the sedative he had been required to take after boarding the Cerberus executive jet. Between the drug and the blindfold, he had absolutely no idea where on Earth he was.
Such ignorance was the price of admission into the Cerberus inner sanctum. Kenner considered it an investment in his future, and a bargain considering what he had been promised in exchange for the knowledge recovered from the Labyrinth.
The world came into focus around him. A laboratory. He did a slow turn, taking inventory of the varied apparatus arrayed on the tables. There were racks of glassware, microscopes and autoclaves, along with several computer workstations and a white board along one wall. His impression of the room was that it had been put together by someone whose idea of what a laboratory should look like came from watching too many movies. More a cliché than a work environment.
I hope they don’t actually expect me to accomplish anything here, he thought.
As if reading his thoughts, Rohn tapped him on the shoulder and pointed to a flat-screen television monitor mounted on the wall. It displayed the image of a wizened old man with wispy white hair clinging to a mostly bald and liver-spotted head.
“Mr. Tyndareus, I presume,” Kenner said.
A wheezy voice issued from the built-in speaker. “Dr. Kenner. Welcome. I realize that the facilities here may not be up to your standards. If you will provide Mr. Rohn with a list of the equipment you require, we will accommodate you.” There was the faintest hint of an accent. German, or perhaps Slavic. Definitely from Eastern Europe.
Kenner shook his head impatiently. “I tried to explain this to your man. It’s much too soon to be moving into the lab.”
Beneath his heavy brow, the old man’s gaze grew sharp. There was something disconcerting about those blue eyes. They did not quite match. The effect reminded Kenner of an old story he had once read long ago. Poe was it? He couldn’t recall. He had no patience for American Romanticists, and he couldn’t bear to meet Tyndareus’s stare long enough to figure out what it was about the man’s eyes that was so disturbing.
“Mr. Rohn led me to believe that you found what you were looking for in Crete.”
“Yes, I did. But what I was looking for was information about where to find the source. The original mutagen responsible for recombining animal DNA to create mythological creatures. Now that I have that information, the next step is to locate the source. What the ancients called the Well of Monsters.”
Tyndareus regarded him for several long seconds. He raised a gnarled hand and waggled a finger. “My time and patience are not infinite, Dr. Kenner. I trust you are not wasting either.”
“I’ve not yet had the opportunity to examine the information we recovered,” Kenner lied, careful not to sound defensive. “But the Well exists. Those creatures were real. We need only follow in the footsteps of Hercules, and we will find the mutagen. Once we accomplish that, the laboratory work should be simple and straightforward.”
Tyndareus did not appear completely satisfied with the promise, but he did not press the issue. “There’s something else you should know. My agents have reported that Pierce and his companion boarded their jet in Heraklion, shortly after your departure.”
The news surprised Kenner, though perhaps not in the way the old man expected. Pierce’s survival lifted an enormous burden of guilt from Kenner’s shoulders.
Rohn’s reaction, however, was sharp and immediate. There was a trace of fear in his tone. “I wanted to finish them,” he blurted. “This one told me they would not be able to escape.”
“Take responsibility for your own failures, Vigor.” Despite its wheezy high-pitched timbre, there was something dangerous in the old man’s voice. Kenner realized that Tyndareus was holding Rohn accountable for Pierce’s escape, not him.
“Does it matter?” Kenner asked. “Pierce can’t touch us now.”
“I dislike loose ends, Dr. Kenner. They have a way of unraveling the best laid plans. I cannot allow this particular enterprise to be jeopardized. Not with the goal in sight.”
“I will take care of Pierce,” Rohn promised.
The old man considered the statement for a moment. “We will monitor Pierce’s activities, but our first priority must be finding the source of the mutagen. Dr. Kenner…I expect results.” The screen went dark.
Rohn glowered but said nothing.