“Go!” Kowalski bellowed, as he emptied the last of his magazine.
Gray burst to his feet and rushed low, following those rounds to the cross-corridor. He skidded through bones, paused at the threshold, and peeked his head around the corner. A bleeding body lay unmoving on the ground, riddled by the bombardment and ricocheting bullets. A second dark figure appeared down the side tunnel, silhouetted against the bright room behind him.
Having the momentary advantage, Gray aimed his SIG and squeezed off three shots, all aimed for center mass. The shadow fell, crumpling to the ground.
Though wounded, Monk sped behind Gray and took a position on the other side of the tunnel opening. He pointed his weapon and nodded.
Trusting Monk to cover him, Gray raced forward. He shimmied sideways, his back brushing along the left wall. He led with the SIG raised.
Another shadow.
Monk fired behind him. With a cry, the figure spun to the side—but not before Gray aimed for the source of that scream and pulled his trigger. The target’s head jacked back, and the body toppled.
Gray hurried to the end of the tunnel and risked a look into the next room.
His view was obscured by a forest of stone pillars holding up a low roof. Still, he spotted an array of computer equipment and open metal transport crates on the far side. Movement drew his attention to the left. A scrawny-looking man hauled a steel frame housing a glass-and-titanium sphere toward an exit.
Gray recognized the unique design.
Mara’s Xénese device.
Knowing he could not let it be taken, he exposed himself long enough to point his SIG. Before he could fire, another figure stepped forward, blocking his shot. The giant looked like Kowalski’s ugly brother. The man had a rifle at his shoulder.
Gazes locked over their respective weapons.
Recognizing the threat, Gray took one fast pot shot and jumped back toward the tunnel. He collided into Monk and tackled his friend farther down the tunnel.
“Back, back, back.”
Gray had spotted the grenade launch—
The blast threw them both to the ground. Shattered stone clattered all around, followed by a thick cloud of smoke and rock dust.
Deafened and dazed, Gray crawled on his hands and knees back to the entrance, which was miraculously still intact. Through the pall, he saw the room was empty. The enemy had fled—taking Mara’s device.
Swearing, he gained his feet.
Monk joined him; so did Kowalski.
Gray waved the big man to the far side, to keep watch on that other exit. He turned to Monk. A rip in the upper sleeve of the man’s flight jacket showed a puff of blood-soaked downy feathers.
“You okay?” he asked.
“Just a graze.” Monk’s eyes were on the room. One of the stone pillars had been blasted to smoking rubble. “We were lucky your shot threw off the guy’s aim. If that grenade had made it into the tunnel . . .”
The top stone of the pillar—still cemented to the roof—broke off and crashed down. Overhead, a crack skittered outward from the spot.
“Maybe it wasn’t an accident,” Gray said. “Maybe the bastard was attempting to collapse this room.”
And if so, why?
Concerned, Gray hurried to the opposite side. In the right corner, the spread of computer and electronic gear had been shielded by other pillars from the worst of the explosion. A knee-high server bank lay toppled on its side, blown over by the blast. It dangled cables. Gray pictured the stolen device attached there. One cord still ran to a laptop abandoned on a table.
Something bright drew him a few steps to another table. He righted a laptop, noting its screen glowing in the pall of rock dust. The image showed a sunlit forest with a woman standing in a flowery glade. Ignoring this for now, he leaned over the table’s edge, where something shimmered more brilliantly on the floor.
Flowing from hexagonal glass windows, a blue radiance revealed another sphere. It was identical to the other Gray had glimpsed.
A second Xénese device.
He looked over at the exit guarded by Kowalski.
Someone must’ve engineered a duplicate.
Still, Gray could not risk letting the enemy escape with even one such device. Monk hovered near the equipment, his face racked with concern, holding a wadded-up glove to his wound.
“What now?” Monk asked.
“You stay here.” Gray cut off any objection before it could be raised. “Guard all of this. We can’t risk it falling into the wrong hands.”
Monk frowned but nodded, clearly recognizing the importance of what was here.
Gray headed over to Kowalski. “We’re going after that bastard. Try to stop him before he gets away with that other device.”
“Be careful,” Monk called after them.
As Gray started to leave with Kowalski, the crack along the roof widened with a groaning complaint of stressed rock. He turned and caught Monk’s eye.
You be careful, too.
22
December 26, 1:43 A.M. CET
Paris, France
This is all my fault.
Mara stared out the back window of the emergency helicopter. The rotors churned through the smoke, stirring it enough to open fleeting views of the burning city, brief glimpses into hell. Flames raged everywhere. Buildings burned, cars packed roadways, small dark figures darted wildly, seeking any refuge.
Behind them, the headquarters of Orange S.A. had become a fiery torch. A ring of flames slowly climbed its length, consuming floor after floor, leaving behind a gutted, smoky ruin.
Minutes ago, the air ambulance had been dispatched to Orange S.A., landing on the rooftop helipad. It had been summoned after Jason’s frantic satellite call to his boss. He had shared how they were trapped and about Eve’s next target.
The Nogent Nuclear Power Plant.
Unfortunately, this last was not news to his boss. The plant had already put out an alert about the cyberattack, warning of an imminent meltdown. The facility and surrounding town were being evacuated. She imagined the terrifying blare of sirens, the panicked populace fleeing into the night.
Mara had briefly spoken with Director Crowe, told him that the only hope of wresting control of the facility in time would be to use her AI—to use Eve—to countermand the damage wrought at the plant. Even if they couldn’t stop the meltdown, they might be able to at least mitigate the damage.
Apparently, this slim hope was enough to warrant their immediate rescue.
Still, none of it mattered if they didn’t secure her device.
“There!” Jason called from the front seat next to the pilot and pointed ahead.
Mara leaned against the glass to get a better look. The walled-off cemetery stretched ahead of them. So far, Montparnasse had been spared, with the exception of a lone tree that burned amid the tombs and crypts, a candle in this unholy night.
But it would not remain untouched for long.
Beyond the far wall, the entire world was flame. From a mile away, the heat bobbled the helicopter, lashing the craft with thermals. Even with her ears covered in headphones and deafened by the aircraft’s engines, she could hear the ungodly roar of that conflagration.
Still, they had no choice but to head straight toward that inferno.
Carly clutched her hand, squeezing tighter with each drop and roll of the helicopter. In her other arm, she hugged the titanium case of hard drives, as if it were a life preserver. When the air ambulance had first dropped down to the smoke-shrouded roof of the telecom building, Carly looked as if she were seriously weighing whether to get on board or take her chances with the flames.
Her friend had also looked enviously after they dropped off Father Bailey and Sister Beatrice in a park below the telecom building. The priest had a lead with French intelligence, who awaited the pair of Vatican spies with some sort of urban assault vehicle. As the helicopter lifted off again, the vehicle was already racing away, lights flashing, using empty sidewalks as roads.
Mara stared below as they reached the cemetery. The aircraft made a sharp turn, throwing Mara against Carly. As the helicopter dropped precipitously, the pilot struggled to hold the helicopter steady in the buffeting winds.
Carly stiffened in her seat, her fingers clamped in a viselike grip on Mara’s hand. Mara pulled her friend closer.
Hang on, we’re almost down.
Through the radio, Mara eavesdropped on the pilot’s communication with Jason. “Où? Where do you want me to land?”
Jason checked the satellite phone on his lap, comparing its GPS to the last known location of Commander Pierce before his signal vanished. Jason pointed to the southeast. “Over there. Not far from the wall.”
The helicopter tilted and rolled toward that spot. A tiny swath of open grass amid the tight press of crypts offered the best landing pad. Still, the pilot fought his controls to get into position over such a tiny target.
The aircraft hovered, spun, dipped.
Carly groaned next to her. “Either land or crash. I don’t care which. Just get it over with.”