“Do it,” Paul said. “Deploy it across all the districts. Upload the data to all our affiliates.”
He raced down the hall and burst into his nephew’s hospital room.
The boy lay still. He didn’t turn to face Paul. He was only semi-conscious.
But there was still time, Paul thought.
At the lobby that led to the Catacombs of St. Paul, Kate Warner leaned back from the table, wondering what else she could do.
The figure that flew out of the tunnel was a blur. Kate spun, but it was too fast. It bowled Kamau out of the chair. The assault rifle clanged to the ground as the two figures rolled across the floor, into one of the museum’s glass display cases. Kamau struck the figure, but Kate could see that he was disoriented, blind, bewildered. He would never make it.
Kate staggered forward and raised the handgun.
They writhed violently on the ground. Kate tried to get a lock on the other figure. Some part of her knew it was Shaw, but she didn’t want it to be true. She’d suffered betrayal by someone she’d trusted once before; she’d sworn she wouldn’t let that happen again. Shaw had saved her in Marbella. But…
The figure rose from Kamau, a knife in his hand. Blood flowed out onto the white marble floor. Kamau twitched a few times, then came to rest.
The figure turned to face Kate.
Shaw.
Kate squeezed the trigger. Nothing happened.
The gun felt like a solid block of steel. Why didn’t it fire? She glanced at it, but Shaw was upon her. He snatched the gun out of her hand.
“It’s not in you, Kate. Be glad of that. The safety saved you more than it did me.”
The door across the lobby opened. Dorian Sloane strolled through it. The four men that followed him ran in, taking up positions around the lobby, two flanking the entrance to the tunnel.
“Where the hell have you been?” Shaw demanded.
“Relax,” Dorian said casually. “Car trouble.” He scanned the room. “Vale?”
“In the tunnels,” Shaw said.
Dorian nodded to the soldiers flanking the entrance.
“No,” Shaw said. “There’s only one way out.” He took a small box from his pocket and clicked a button. Eruptions echoed from the tunnels, like rolling thunder growing closer. He looked up at Dorian. “Make that no way out.”
Dorian smiled. “It’s good to see you, little brother.”
David heard the explosions before he felt them at his back. The ceiling was coming down.
He could see Milo in his peripheral vision, lying there, lifeless. He dove for the boy, covering his body with his own.
The stones fell around him and on him. It was like before, twelve years ago, in New York, on that day—when she had died, when he had rushed in, when the buildings had collapsed, burying him.
But this was different. He was saving a life—Milo’s.
The stone fell around him, echoing in his ear. Milo’s body felt so fragile under his. Would Milo survive?
Another stone slammed into David’s body and he winced. And another—into his leg. The pain was complete, but he didn’t move. He remained, waiting for the end.
It came, but it was not what he expected. A dome of light, covering him, arching over, blocking the falling rock. Still, David didn’t move.
Kate glared at Dorian. “I won’t help you. We already have a cure.”
Dorian’s smile grew, like someone who knew a secret. “Oh, Kate, you don’t disappoint. I could care less about a cure. I’m here for the code in your head.”
“I don’t have—”
“You will. You will remember, and then we’ll have what we need.”
One of Dorian’s men grabbed her and dragged her out of the museum lobby.
CHAPTER 89
St. Paul’s Catacombs
Rabat, Malta
David felt a hand grip his shoulder and roll him over. The stone room was dark and quiet now. He still couldn’t see a thing.
Slowly, a yellow glow expanded out into the room.
The figure seemed to be lighting the room from the palm of his hand. He cupped something—a tiny cube that sparkled.
David stared into the face. Janus. He had shielded David from the falling stone with the cube.
“Who the hell are you?” David said, his voice hoarse.
“Language, Mr. Vale.”
“Seriously?”
Janus stood and spoke quietly. “I am one of two scientists who came here a very long time ago to study the hominins on this planet.”
David coughed. “An Atlantean.”
“What you call an Atlantean, yes.”
David studied Janus’s face. Yes, he knew it. He had seen Janus before. In Antarctica, days ago, when David had been in the tube, he had seen that face starting at him at the end of the chamber. Then the face had disappeared. “It was you—in Antarctica.”
“Yes, though not in person. What you saw in Antarctica was my avatar, a remotely controlled representation of me.”
David sat up. “You saved me. Why?”
“I’m afraid I need to be going, Mr. Vale.”
“Wait.” David stood and glanced at the rifle, considering whether to pick it up. No. Janus had incapacitated the soldiers with the cube. He could do the same to David. And Janus had saved his life—twice now. “The cure you sent to Continuity. It’s a fake, isn’t it?”
“It is quite real—”
“Does it cure us?”
“It cures what ails humanity.”
David didn’t like the sound of that, or Janus’s demeanor, which said: this conversation is over.
Janus focused on the cube in the palm of his hand. He stuck his other hand into the light that radiated outward from the cube and began wiggling his fingers. It was as if he was programming it.
David considered his situation. Someone had planted bombs and set them off down here; it wasn’t a bomb from above. During World War II, the Germans and Italians had dropped countless bombs on these catacombs and had not brought them down. Shaw. He closed the catacombs. And he would have Kate. Had he already delivered her to Dorian?
“Shaw has Kate,” David said.
“Yes, I imagine so.” Janus said, not looking up.
“She has your partner’s memories.”
“What?” Shock spread across Janus’s face—the first emotion David had seen him display.
“The memories started coming several days ago, first in her dreams, then when she was awake, as if she couldn’t stop them.”
“Impossible.”
“She said there was a third person that joined your expedition—a soldier. She colluded with him to change the genome. She said his name was Ares.”