The Eye of God (Sigma Force 9)

Like a girl from Congress Heights becoming an astrophysicist.

“I wish I could be with you, too, Mom.” She checked the time. “Hey, you’d better get going if you’re going to make your morning shift at the Holiday Mart.”

“You’re right, you’re right . . . I should be going.”

Pride rang through the line, traveling halfway around the world to reach her.

“I love you, Mom.”

“I love you, too, honey.”

As the connection ended, Jada felt a twinge of sorrow, feeling suddenly selfish and guilty that she got to live this life.

Blinking back tears, she returned to her work. She rewound the meteor shower footage once again. Over at the SMC, they were still trying to determine if this showy display was simply a coincidence or if it had something to do with the passage of Comet IKON through the solar system.

She had texted with a tech buddy, learning the latest conjectures. The current belief was that the passage of the comet might have disturbed the Kuiper belt, a region of icy asteroids past the orbit of Neptune, drawing an entourage of rocks in its wake and splashing them across the earth. The Kuiper belt contained over thirty thousand asteroids larger than a hundred kilometers in diameter, along with being the home to many short-period comets like the famous Halley’s comet.

The most exciting news, though, was the growing belief that IKON came from the much more distant Oort cloud, a spherical cloud of debris that circled one-fifth of the way toward our closest star. It was home to long-period comets, those rare visitors, like Hale-Bopp, that traipsed by only once every forty-two hundred years.

The latest calculations suggested that the last time IKON passed through the inner solar system was twenty-eight hundred years ago, definitely an ancient visitor. If true, it was an exciting proposition, as objects out in the Oort cloud were untouched remnants of the original nebula from which the entire solar system formed, making IKON a blazing herald from that most distant time, potentially carrying with it the keys to the universe.

Including perhaps the mystery of dark energy.

A loud rumble shook the helicopter’s cabin, followed by a low roar. The rotors overhead began a slow sweep.

What . . . ?

She sat up straighter.

The copilot hopped out, came around, and opened the side door. The noise grew deafening.

The pilot leaned back, yelling to her, “Strap in! Just heard word! Got an order to prep for a fast takeoff!”

Her heart thudded harder as she snapped closed her laptop. She glanced out the open hatch as the copilot dashed about performing a final preflight check. In the distance, an angry column of black smoke climbed into the blue sky above the center of town.

Moments later, a taxi came racing into view, coming straight at them. She spotted Monk’s face in the front seat. But he and Duncan had left here in a black Mercedes SUV.

She clutched the edge of the door.

What is going on?

The taxi braked with a squeal, and doors popped open all around. She spotted Duncan climbing out the back. Out the other rear door came an older man in a light jacket and a black V-neck sweater, revealing the Roman collar of a priest. He was helped out by a young, petite woman with a pixie-bob of a haircut.

Vigor and Rachel Verona.

Neither looked happy.

Duncan had crossed to the trunk and retrieved their luggage: a single roller bag suitcase. Was that all their gear?

Monk was bent half through the passenger door, settling with the driver. When he straightened, she saw the blood covering his face and gasped. Her gaze flicked to that rising smoke signal above the town, knowing the two were connected.

The group hurried to the waiting helicopter.

Rachel’s scowl deepened with every step, as if reluctant to climb aboard. At the hatch, she finally stopped.

“We should stay here!” she yelled, clutching the priest’s arm. “Head back to Rome!”

Jada hoped that would be their decision. It would mean they could leave Kazakhstan immediately and head straight to the mountains of Mongolia to start their hunt for the crashed satellite.

Monk shook his head. “Rachel, you’ve already got a target on your back. Whoever planned this is more resourceful than we first imagined. They’ll try again.”

Duncan agreed with his partner. “That Father Josip got you all into this mess. He’s the best chance to get you out.”

Rachel clearly recognized the practical wisdom of that. She freed her uncle’s arm, and they both climbed in. Jada made room, nodding to the pair as they strapped in across from her, delaying any formal introduction until they were in the air.

Duncan found a spot next to Jada. She appreciated his physical presence, his solidity, even the warmth of his body as he breathed deeply, still running high on adrenaline.

As Monk strapped in, he leaned over and touched Jada’s knee. “Sorry for the rush. We didn’t want to be trapped on the ground if Kazakh law enforcement shuts down airspace because of the bombing.”

Jada stared around the cabin.

What the hell have I got myself into?

3:07 P.M.

As the Eurocopter reached its cruising altitude, Duncan looked below at the passing scenery. With a roar of its rotors, the chopper rushed away from the expanse of blue sea and out over a desert landscape of rust-colored sand, patches of scrub, salt-white mesas, and wind-carved rock. The territory below could pass for sections of New Mexico, except for the scatter of camels and the occasional lone yurt, the white tent standing out starkly against the darker terrain.

A tug on his sleeve drew his attention back to the cabin.

Monsignor Verona pointed to the suitcase on the seat next to Duncan. “Scusa, Sergeant Wren, could you open my bag? I’d like to make sure everything is still intact after the commotion.”

Only a priest would describe what happened as a commotion.

“Monsignor, you can call me Duncan.”

“Only if you call me Vigor.”

“Done.”

Duncan bent and hauled the case up with one arm and dropped it across his knees. He unzipped it and folded back the top. He found some clothing packed around two objects insulated in black foam.

“I’m mostly concerned about the larger of the two,” Vigor said. “It’s the most fragile.”

The monsignor waved for Duncan to strip back the foam to expose what was inside.

Duncan could guess what concerned the older man, so he knew what to expect. As he removed the top half of the padding, the crown of a skull appeared, its empty eye sockets staring up at him.

“Can you remove it and pass it over so I can examine it for damage, please?”