The Devil Colony (Sigma Force 7)

“There are fourteen arrows on this drawing,” he said.

Heisman leaned over. “What?”

Gray pointed. “Count. There are fourteen arrows clutched by the eagle in this drawing. Not thirteen.”

The others stood and gathered closer around.

“He’s right,” Sharyn said.

“Surely this drawing is just a draft,” Heisman said. “An approximate representation of what was intended.”

Seichan crossed her arms. “Or maybe it’s not. Didn’t Franklin’s letter mention something about a fourteenth colony? What was he talking about?”

A thought formed as Gray stared at the eagle. “The letter also hints at some secret meeting between Thomas Jefferson and the Iroquois nation’s leaders.” He stared over at Heisman. “Could Jefferson and Franklin have been contemplating the formation of a new colony, a fourteenth one, one made up of Native Americans?”

“A Devil Colony,” Monk said, using the other name Franklin employed in the letter. “As in red devils.”

Gray nodded. “Maybe that extra arrow in this early drawing represents the colony that never was.”

Heisman’s eyes glazed a bit as he pondered that possibility. “If so, this may be the single most important historical letter unearthed in decades. But why is there no corroborating evidence?”

Gray put himself in the shoes of Franklin and Jefferson. “Because their efforts failed, and something frightened them badly enough to wipe out all record of the matter, leaving behind only a few clues.”

“But if you’re right, what were they hiding?”

Gray shook his head. “Any answers—or at least clues to the truth—may lie in further correspondence between Franklin and Fortescue. We need to start searching—”

The jangle of Gray’s cell phone cut him off. It was loud in the quiet space. He slipped the phone from his coat pocket and checked the caller ID. He sighed softly.

“I have to take this.” He stood and turned away.

As he answered the call, the frantic voice of his mother trembled out, distraught and full of fear. “Gray, I . . . I need your help!” A loud crash sounded in the background, followed by a bullish bellow.

Then the line went dead.

Chapter 10

May 30, 10:01 P.M.

High Uintas Wilderness

Utah

Major Ashley Ryan was guarding the gateway to hell.

Fifty yards from his command post, the site of the day’s explosion continued to rumble, belching out jets of boiling water and gobbets of bubbling mud. Steam turned the chasm into a burning, sulfurous sauna. In just half a day, the circumference of the blast zone had doubled in size, eroding into the neighboring mountainside. At sunset, a large slab of the neighboring cliff had broken away, like a glacier calving an iceberg. The boulder had crashed into the widening pit. Then as night fell, clouds hid the moon and stars, leaving the valley as dark as any cave.

Now a worrisome, ruddy glow shone from the heart of the pit.

Whatever was happening in there wasn’t over.

Because of the danger and instability of the site, the National Guard had cleared all nonessential personnel from the chasm, cordoning off the valley for a full three miles, with men patrolling on foot and a pair of military helicopters circling overhead. Ryan kept a small squad posted on the valley floor. The soldiers all had a background in firefighting and were turned out in yellow Nomex flame-retardant suits, equipped with helmets and rebreathing masks should the air get any worse down here.

Ryan faced the newcomer as he climbed into similar gear. “You think you can tell us what’s going on here?” he asked.

The geologist—who had brusquely introduced himself as Ronald Chin—straightened, cradling a helmet under one arm. “That’s why I’m here.”

Ryan eyed the scientist skeptically. The man had arrived fifteen minutes ago by helicopter, flown in from Washington, D.C. While Ryan had little respect for government bureaucrats who stuck their noses where they didn’t belong, he sensed there was more to this geologist. From the no-nonsense way the man carried himself, along with his shaved head, Ryan suspected the geologist had a military background. After reaching the chasm floor, the government scientist had taken in his surroundings with a single hard-edged glance and began donning firefighting gear even before Ryan could insist that he suit up.

“I should go in alone,” Chin warned, and collected a metal work case from the ground.

“Not a chance. While you’re here, you’re my responsibility.” Ryan had been ordered to give the geologist his full cooperation, but this was still his operation. He waved one of his men over. “Private Bellamy and I will escort you to the site and back.”

Chin nodded, accepting without argument, earning a tad more respect from Ryan.

“Then let’s get this over with.” Ryan led the way, thumbing on the LED flashlight mounted on his shoulder. The others followed his example, like a team about to explore an unknown cavern.

As they ventured into the dark woods, the air grew hotter with each step, stinging with sulfur. All three men quickly donned their helmets and masks. Still, the heat fought them like a physical wall. Steam condensed on their faceplates and clouded the view ahead. The canned air tasted metallic in his mouth, or maybe it was from his own fear. Stepping clear of the forest’s edge, Ryan drew them all to a stop. He hadn’t realized the deteriorating state of the blast zone.

Ahead, the valley floor dropped into a shallow declivity, roughly circular in shape, stretching thirty yards across and worn deep into the cliff face to the left. Closer by, the rocky edge still continued to crumble into gravel and coarse sand, slowly expanding the pit. Beyond the rim, the pit itself sloped downward, full of fine rock dust, until near the center it dropped precipitously into a deep, steaming hole.

Water boiled down that dark throat, aglow with subterranean fires. A tremor shook underfoot, and a geyser of superheated water and steam jetted into the night sky, accompanied by a sonorous roar. They all backed away warily.

Once the fountain died out, Chin crossed to within a yard of the crater. “The blast has definitely broken into the geothermal strata under our feet,” he said, his voice muffled by his mask. “This entire region sits atop a volcanic hotbed.”

Ryan followed with Bellamy to the rim of the pit. “Careful of the edge. It can give way.”

Chin nodded, stepped warily to the lip, then dropped to a knee and opened his portable case. Inside, meticulously organized, was a slew of scientific tools and chemicals, along with rock hammers, containers, brushes, and picks.