The Eye of God (43 page)

He nodded. It made theoretical sense. “And if you did that, the comet’s energy would no longer be attracted to the earth—and in turn, space-time around the planet would not warp toward it.”

“And the funnel would never form triggering the massive asteroid strike.”

Brilliant
,
Dr. Shaw.

“Two questions,” Duncan said. “
How
can you be so sure of this attraction between the comet and the cross? And
what
can you do to break that entanglement?”

“The answer to both is the same. To quote Einstein again,
God does not play dice with the world.
”

Jada read his baffled expression. “A moment ago,” she said, “you asked
why
did the satellite crash in Mongolia? That’s the best question anyone could ask.”

“Thanks . . . ?” he said tentatively.

“To answer it, I’ll ask you another question. Where do we currently believe the cross is hidden?”

“An island in Lake Baikal, about three hundred miles north . . .” Then he understood, his eyes widened. “From a global standpoint, practically in the
backyard
of where the satellite crashed.”

“And does that not strike you as wildly coincidental?”

He nodded.

And God does not play dice
.

He stared at her, wanted to kiss her—more than he usually did. “The satellite fell in that general vicinity because it was
drawn
there, pulled by the energy of the cross.”

“How could it not? It’s charged with the same dark energy of the comet.”

Duncan glanced again to that graph showing the nimbus of energy being sucked earthward. He pictured the satellite as a disembodied piece of that energy, imagining it being tugged out of orbit by the pull of the cross and dragged down to the planet’s surface.

If true, that definitely supported Jada’s theory of entanglement, but it didn’t answer his other question.

He turned back to her. “You said this fact would also answer
how
to break this entanglement.”

She smiled. “I thought it was obvious.”

“Not to me.”

“We have to finish what the satellite tried to do. We have to unite the energy of the Eye and the energy of the cross. Think of the pair as a positively charged particle and a negatively charged particle. While their opposite charges draw them together—”

“—when they unite, they cancel each other out.”

“Precisely. The energy equivalent of joining matter and antimatter together. The explosive annihilation of the two opposites should break that entanglement.”

It was beautifully theorized, but . . .

“Why are they
opposites
?” he asked. “What’s the difference between them?”

“Remember, time is a dimension, too. While both the cross and the Eye are charged with the same quantum of dark energy, they hold two different and distinct flavors of
time
. Opposite ends of the same axis. One from the past, one from the present. Quantum entanglement means they both want to be one.”

“Meaning they must annihilate each other.”

She nodded. “I believe that will break the entanglement and release the pull on the comet’s energies.”

“Still, that raises the bigger question,” Duncan said. “Where is the cross?”

“I don’t know, but—”

The computer chimed again, interrupting her, announcing the completed run of Dr. Shaw’s program. A number glowed within a blinking results box.

5.68 hrs

“But that’s how long we have to find it.” Jada turned to him. “You know what we have to do.”

He did.

Duncan climbed out of his seat, crossed over to Monk, and shook his partner awake.

“What . . . ?” Monk asked blearily. “Are we there?”

Duncan leaned over. “We need to turn this plane around.”

27

November 20, 6:42
A
.
M
. IRKST

Olkhon Island, Russia

With the sun still down, Gray woke to his limbs tangled with another’s, a warm cheek resting on his chest. The scent of their bodies, their passion, still hung in the air. His left hand clasped her shoulder, as if fearful she would slip between his fingers, turn into a ghost, a fevered dream.

She stretched, a languorous motion that was all soft skin and a hint of sinuous power stirring beneath. She made a contented noise that rumbled into his bones. Tilting her head, she opened her eyes, reflecting what little light there was in the room. She moved her leg lower, stirring him, waking him further.

He reached and touched a finger under her chin, drawing her up to him. Their lips brushed with a promise of—

His phone jangled loudly on the nightstand, breaking the spell, reminding them both of the world beyond this small knot of blankets and bed. He groaned between their lips, pulling her harder against him for a long moment, then let her go and rolled to the phone, keeping one hand on the curve of her hip.

“We’ve landed in Irkutsk,” Monk updated him. “Caught a good tailwind. Got here faster than expected.”

It was the second time his friend had interrupted them; the first time had been a couple of hours ago, informing Gray of his team’s intent to join them out there.

“Understood,” he said tersely. “That means you’re still about two hours out from us.”

The plan was for Seichan and Rachel to wait for Monk’s group at the inn. Gray would take the others, learn what they could from the shaman, and rendezvous back here to regroup.

He checked his watch. They had to depart in forty-five minutes if they wanted to catch the sunrise ceremony at the grotto by eight.

Gray quickly finished his call and dropped the phone on the floor next to his bed. He moved his hand to the small of her back and rolled her under him.

“Now where were we . . .”

Half an hour later, Gray stepped from the room, followed by Seichan, both freshly showered. She wore only a long shirt. To him, there was no reason for her to wear any more clothing—but the chill of the hallway was a reminder of the subzero temperatures awaiting them both. With her hand in his, he swung her forward and kissed her deeply, sealing a promise of more to come.

As he let her go, a door opened down the hall and Rachel stepped out, catching them as they broke apart. She seemed momentarily flustered, then simply ducked her head, embarrassed, but Gray noted the small smile. She already knew of his tentative relationship with Seichan, but apparently now she knew it wasn’t so
tentative
.

Rachel mumbled a good morning and headed downstairs, where the smell of cooking bacon and fresh-brewed coffee beckoned.

With a final peck, he sent Seichan back to her own room to change and headed below. In the communal space, the inn’s proprietors took the
breakfast
part of B&B seriously. A lavish spread had been set out: soft cheeses, toasted breads, blackberries, hard-boiled eggs, thick slabs of bacon, fat sausages, along with an assortment of grilled and pickled fish from the lake.

Vigor sat at the table with a cup of tea warming in his hands. He looked tired, pallid in color, but there was an air of contentment about him this morning. Rachel passed behind her uncle, kissed him on top of his head, and grabbed a plate.

Gray headed over to join them, earning a raised eyebrow of amusement from Rachel, as if to say
about time
. Apparently her initial shock and embarrassment was settling into good-natured teasing. He also thought he noted perhaps a wistful hint of regret. But maybe that was his own ego reading too much into her look.

Changing the subject—though no one had spoken—Gray asked, “Where’s Kowalski?”

“He’s already eaten.” Vigor nodded toward the door. “He went to check on our mode of transportation.”

Through a side window, Gray spotted his partner’s shaved head out in the dark, inspecting the ATVs parked next to the inn. They’d be taking the big-wheeled vehicles to a small grotto at the farthest point of the bay.

Gray tucked into a big plate of food, while Vigor checked on the duffel holding the cache of relics. Kowalski stamped back inside, bringing the cold with him. He looked anxious to get going.

“Are we ready?” Gray asked as he popped a final few blackberries into his mouth.

“Gassed up,” Kowalski said. “Can go anytime.”

By now, Seichan had returned. She touched Vigor on the shoulder as she slipped past him, her fingers squeezing with some unspoken understanding. The gesture seemed oddly intimate—not so much sympathy as silent support—as if she were acknowledging something that only she knew.

Gray glanced inquiringly at her as she sat down.

She gave a small shake of her head, indicating it was private.

Gray finally stood up, drawing Vigor to his feet, too. “We’ll leave you both to hold down the fort,” he told Seichan and Rachel. “Monk and the others should be here a little before nine, so be watching for them. We’re not going to have a whole lot of time to coordinate. According to Dr. Shaw, it looks like our timetable has shrunk yet again.”

He explained about the revised estimate, about the plan to unite the cross and the Eye.

“And all this must happen before
ten o’clock
?” Vigor asked, sounding outraged. “Sunrise is at eight. That gives us only a couple of hours to bring the Eye to the cross.”

“Then we’d better get that witch doctor talking fast,” Kowalski said.

“He’s right,” Gray conceded. “But the island isn’t that large. As long as the location is not too remote, it might be doable.”

It
must
be doable, he silently corrected.

7:44
A
.
M
.

Buried in his parka against the frigid cold, Vigor rode the all-terrain vehicle down a sandy tract through a coastal forest of larch trees, the ground littered with fallen, brown needles, leaving the branches above bare against the brightening sky. Though the sun had not yet risen above the horizon, dawn glowed to the east.

Their path ended up at a curved stretch of beach, dusted with snow and fringed by ice that swept out a good ways into the bay. Sections had been shattered by past wave action, turning into knee-high shards of blue glass.

Beyond the frozen border, the early sheen of the day cast the waters an indigo blue. The water was so clear it could be drunk without fear of intestinal upset. In fact, if you swam in it, local legends claimed, it would add five years to your life.

If only that were true,
Vigor thought,
I’d dive in despite the cold
.

Still, he was glad that he’d finally told Rachel the truth about his cancer. He had words that needed to be spoken, and he was glad that he had the time to share them. He did not fear death so much as he did the loss of the years he would have with Rachel: to see her grow, get married, have kids, to see them flourish.

So much he would miss.

But at least he got to tell her how much she meant to him.

Thank you
,
Lord
,
for that small blessing.

Ahead, Kowalski swerved and skidded his all-terrain vehicle, seemingly determined to test its limits against rolling over. Only the young were convinced of their own immortality, willing to challenge death with such abandon. Age eventually wore down that confidence, but the best of us still kept tilting at windmills despite that knowledge—or maybe even because of it, appreciating each day, living to the fullest, knowing one day there would be no more.

As they hit the beach, Gray slowed to ride alongside Vigor, drawing him out of his cold reverie. He pointed ahead toward a tall rock jutting out from the ice field and rising high and pointing at the sky.

“That’s Burkhan Cape?” Gray asked.

It was also called Shaman’s Rock, home to the gods of the Buryats, known as
tengrii
. The site was considered one of Asia’s ten most sacred places.

Vigor nodded, shouting into the wind blowing off the lake. “The ceremonial grotto is on the far side, facing the water. That’s where the shaman will meet us. At the end of this beach, there should be a narrow isthmus that runs out from the shore to the cape.”

Gray nodded and sped up. He reined Kowalski in, and they swept around the curve and onto a thin strip of land that extended across the ice to a rise of craggy white cliffs, frosted with red moss.

A small figure stood at the end of the isthmus, guarding passage onto the promontory. He was a skinny young man in a long sheepskin jacket over a blue belted robe. He carried a hide drum slung over one shoulder. He waved for them to stop and turn off their engines, not looking happy about the racket. Vigor knew that in the past visitors used to cover the hooves of their horses with leather, so as not to disturb the gods of the cape.

“My name is Temur,” he said in strained English, bowing slightly. “I am to take you to Elder Bayan. He is awaiting you.”

Kowalski manhandled the duffel from the back of Vigor’s bike and they set off after the young man along a narrow path through the broken rock and up some icy hand-hewn steps in the rock face. A large cave mouth opened above them, facing the lake.

Vigor found himself wheezing by the time they had scaled the cliff and entered the cavern grotto. Flanking the entrance were two stone cairns, wrapped in colorful scarves and flags that flapped in the steady wind off the water. Between them knelt a wizened old man of indeterminate age. He could be sixty or maybe a hundred. He was similarly attired as the younger man, only with the addition of a tall peaked hat. On his knees, he was attending a fire, tossing in dried juniper branches, casting forth an indolent smoke that swirled about the cavern.

Farther back, a tunnel led deeper into the promontory, but Vigor doubted even his Vatican credentials would gain them access back there.

“Elder Bayan wishes you to kneel to either side of him and turn your faces to the lake.”

Gray waved them forward to obey.