Instead of sparing her, Tyndareus had just turned up the heat, literally. The room was nearly sauna hot. The lights seemed brighter, too, so brilliant, in fact, that she had to shade her eyes and squint.
“Interesting,” the old man said after a few more minutes. “When the temperature increases to above ninety-five degrees Fahrenheit, the organism stops seeking out new victims and simply begins growing like an ordinary plant. That explains the failure of the field test. Not a failure at all, really. Simply a different outcome than expected.”
He tapped the screen again, and the lights dimmed perceptibly. “I would hear more about the map, child.”
Despite the heat, Fiona felt a chill shoot down her back. She did not know if Tyndareus had chosen to curtail his experiment because of what she had said, or if he was merely playing some kind of sick game with her—like an evil child torturing ants with a magnifying glass. She regretted now having revealed the truth about the map, even if she had kept the part about the Mother Tongue to herself. Her death would have all but ensured that Kenner would never unlock the real secret of the map. Now, Tyndareus would not stop until she had revealed everything.
Nevertheless, she couldn’t help but think about what Pierce had said in the Labyrinth.
Where there’s life, there’s hope.
She was still alive, and that was good, because it meant there was still hope. The funny thing was that she no longer hoped for rescue or a chance to escape.
She wanted payback.
35
Roraima, Brazil
The noise of the shot startled Gallo, causing her hand to slip off the ropes. She clutched at them, trying to stop her downward plunge, but it was already too late. There was a flare of pain as the ropes burned through the skin of her palm, but that would be nothing compared to what would come when she reached the line’s end.
Her descent stopped as abruptly as it had begun, with a hand reaching out to seize hold of her belay line, jerking her to a sudden, and thankfully premature, stop. She swung forward, colliding with the rock face. The impact stunned her but not enough to override her instinct for self-preservation. She grabbed hold of the ropes again, clinging to them for dear life.
“Remember what I showed you,” rumbled a low voice from beside her. “Reach back and hold the ropes with your brake hand.”
Gallo glanced toward the stern, unsympathetic visage of her savior, Vigor Rohn, and then she did as instructed. When she had the lines gripped in her right fist, locked in place against the small of her back, Rohn simply let go and resumed his own descent.
She felt no gratitude toward him, nor did she sense that he expected any. She was still a prisoner, still a hostage who, for the moment at least, was more useful alive.
After her recapture, and a brief interval to allow for Kenner’s recovery, Rohn had given her and Dourado a quick course in rappelling techniques. She had no choice but to go along with them now. Dourado’s noble attempt to liberate her had given Rohn and Kenner the leverage to compel her cooperation. Rohn did not even need to make the threat explicit; if she resisted, Dourado would suffer. Yet, despite the dire situation, Gallo felt a glimmer of optimism.
Although she had not been allowed to speak to Dourado, Gallo assumed that the young woman had snuck aboard the helicopter during the transfer at Belem—Dourado’s hometown. Clearly, stowing away had been an impulsive decision, but the fact that Dourado had been able to track the movements of the Cerberus group to her own hometown meant that Pierce was looking for her, and might already know where she was.
It was a slim hope, but reason enough to hang on, both figuratively and literally.
Below her, Rohn had finished his descent. She could hear him growling at his men. “What were you shooting at?”
She took a breath to gather her wits. Then she relaxed her brake hand and resumed her cautious rappel down the wall. When she finally reached the bottom, she sagged against the wall in exhaustion.
The sheer cliff wall disappeared into a mound of rubble. Chunks of limestone, some larger than passenger cars, had crumbled from the top of the sinkhole and accumulated into a gentle slope, or more accurately, a beach that disappeared into a vast body of water. Gallo could see trees in the distance, suggesting a shallow wetland rather than a lake.
The Cerberus men had gathered near the water’s edge, sweeping their lights through the darkness in every direction, aiming with their pistols. Rohn stood next to one of them, gazing down at a large glistening gray-green shape.
“You shot a frog?” There was a hint of disgust in Rohn’s voice.
“It was attacking,” the man protested. “Look at it.”
“Attacking? It’s a frog.”