Shaw spoke quickly with the guards, something to the effect of “little too much cough syrup,” and “be right as rain tomorrow.”
To Kate’s relief, they passed the checkpoint with ease and fell into the throngs of people climbing the ramp. At the top, they exited into a corridor that was closed on both sides, but open to the moonlight above. It felt like a cattle stall at a state fair or a rodeo. They weaved endlessly, toward the center of the ship, Shaw leading the way. Twice they had to stop to let Martin catch his breath, standing against the wall as the flow of people snaked around them and filled the hallway beyond. There were doors that led to square compartments along the hallway, and people filled each room as they went.
“We need to get below, to a cabin. The topside compartments will get toasty by morning, like an oven.” He motioned to Martin. “He won’t fare well.”
At the end of the hall, they descended the stairwell several flights, then worked their way through another set of corridors until they found an empty room. “Stay here, be quiet, and keep the door shut. I’ll knock in three sets of three when I return,” Shaw said.
“Where are you going?”
“For supplies,” he said and pulled the door shut before Kate could reply. She slid the latch, locking the door.
The compartment was completely dark. Kate felt around for a switch but found none. She took the light bar from the backpack and bathed the small space in light. Martin lay against the wall, panting. Kate helped him into the bottom of one of the bunks. This was clearly one of the crew quarters: two bunkbeds and a small closet in the center of the room.
She took the satellite phone out and checked the display. No Service. She needed to go topside to finish her phone call. She needed answers. Her talk with Martin had been less than helpful. The genetic turning points. The answers… dead and buried. What did it mean?
Kate was utterly exhausted. She stretched out on the bunk opposite Martin. She would close her eyes and rest, just for a moment, just to help her think.
Periodically, she heard Martin cough. She didn’t know how much time passed, but she thought she felt the massive ship move. Sleep took her sometime later.
Kate was barefoot and her feet barely made a sound on the marble floor. Ahead of her, the arched wooden door stood at the end of the long hall. On her right, the same two doors loomed. The first was open: the door where she had seen David. She peered in. Empty. She walked to the second door on the right and pushed it open. The circular room was bathed with light from windows that had been swung open and glass doors that opened onto a terrace. A blue sea spread out below, but there were no boats, just a peninsula of tree-covered mountains and water beyond, as far as she could see.
The room was sparse, save for a steel and oak-topped drafting table. David sat behind it, on an old iron stool.
“What are you drawing?” Kate asked.
“A plan,” he answered without looking up.
“For what?”
“Taking a city. Saving lives.” He held up an elaborate drawing of a horse made of wood.
“You can take over a city with a wooden horse?”
David set the drawing down and continued working on it. “Happened before…”
Kate smiled. “Yeah, right.”
“Happened in Troy.”
“Oh yeah. I thought Brad Pitt was great in that.”
He shook his head. He erased a few lines on the drawing. “Like other epic tales, they thought it was just a story until they found scientific evidence of its existence.” He made a few last strokes with his pencil, sat back, and scrutinized the drawing. “I’m mad at you, by the way.”
“Me?”
“You left me. In Gibraltar. You didn’t trust me. I could have saved you.”
“I didn’t have a choice. You were injured—”
“You should have trusted me. You underestimated me.”
CHAPTER 49
Immari Operations Base at Ceuta
Northern Morocco
Major Rukin poured himself a tall glass of whiskey, drank it down, and collapsed into a chair at the round table just beyond his bed. Slowly, he unbuttoned his tunic, and when it fell free, he poured himself another drink, just as high as the last. It had been a long day, but hopefully it would be his last dealing with those wretched barbarian tribesmen beyond the walls. Good riddance. Killing them all was ideal; killing a few and capturing the rest, just as good. The base was always woefully short of servant staff. And for that matter… where was she? It had been a very long, very stressful day.
He peeled his sweat-soaked tunic off and shimmied his arms out, letting the tunic fall back to wrap around the chair. He poured a third drink with less care this time, splashing brown liquid onto the table, drank it down, and bent to untie his boots. His feet throbbed, but the sensation had faded as the drinks had taken effect.
A loud knock echoed from the door.
“What?”
“It’s Kamau.”