Home > The Blood Gospel (The Order of the Sanguines #1)(18)

The Blood Gospel (The Order of the Sanguines #1)(18)
Author: James Rollins

But it was no ordinary chopper. Stealth modifications made it run nearly invisibly, and sound-dampened engines made it run quietly. It had also been painted with Israeli colors, camouflaged to fit the region. Except for the cabin windows—which had been painted black, blinding them to the outside.

As she moved to her lone open seat, eyes tracked her. The nine were all seasoned hunters, well-blooded. She read the raw hunger in their eyes, recognizing the ferocity hidden behind their blank stares.

Ignoring them, she sat next to her second in command, Tarek. In the dim cabin, he was merely a darker shadow, and just as cold. She remembered Farid’s heat, the touch of his hot hand on her back. It seemed a distant memory now.

She fitted her headphones in place and radioed the pilot. In the blackened craft, he would be navigating by instruments alone, aided by flight-simulator software.

“What’s our status?” she asked.

His answer came back tersely. “I’ve already radioed the proper Israeli security code for access to the summit. They’re expecting a cargo helicopter. We’ll be skids down there in twenty-two minutes.”

She calculated in her head. Seven minutes after sundown.

Perfect.

The engines sped up with a muffled roar from outside. She pictured the hangar doors sweeping open overhead, blazing with sunlight. She felt the craft lurch up toward the sun and pictured their craft racing across the hot sands, a dark mote against a fiery sea.

“How many?” Tarek growled.

She knew what he was asking: what force could they expect to meet them at Masada? But she also heard the underlying lust in those two words. It cast a flash of excitement across the cabin, like a match dropped into a pool of gasoline.

She answered him, addressing both what was spoken and unspoken.

“Seventeen.”

Tarek’s face remained in shadows, but she sensed his hard smile, raising the small hairs on the back of her neck, an instinctive response to the presence of a hidden predator.

According to her intelligence, only a small force of soldiers still guarded the summit of the mountain. With the nine at her side and the advantage of surprise, she estimated it would take no more than a couple of minutes to secure the area.

After that, the book must be found.

Her hand tried to drift to her throat again, but she clutched her fingers in her lap.

She could not fail Him.

But there remained one unknown element as she remembered the warning that came with His note:

A Knight has been dispatched to retrieve it.

Let nothing stop you.

She told Tarek that, too.

“Be prepared. A Knight of Christ may also be present.”

Tarek stiffened, his shadow becoming a sculpture of black ice. His voice was a quiet hiss, using the ancient name for such a one like a curse.

“Sanguinist.”

7

October 26, 4:44 P.M., IST

Masada, Israel

Erin looked furtively around the empty tent. Jordan had told her to wait inside until he came back. That gave her a few minutes alone. She drew out her cell and checked her messages.

A text from Nate.

“Can’t reach the embassy. They’re swamped because of the quake. U ok?”

Worried that Perlman might walk by, she texted back quickly.

“I’m fine. It’s legit. News on Heinrich?”

The screen stayed dark so long that she feared he was away from his phone.

“Nate?”

“Can you call me?”

The text message blurred, and she blinked. She couldn’t call him. Someone would hear. She had no doubt Perlman would destroy her phone if he caught her using it again.

“No,”

she texted back.

“Tell me. Now.”

Another pause, then,

“Heinrich didn’t make it.”

Erin collapsed into Sanderson’s chair. Heinrich, gone. He had died in a hospital thousands of miles from home because of her. She’d left him alone in the trench to fetch brushes she didn’t need just to spare herself an argument. What would she tell his parents? The smell of blood drifted over from the garbage can full of used gloves. She fought down an urge to retch.

“Doc?” Jordan stuck his blond head around the corner. “We’re ready for you if—”

He stepped into the tent. “Erin, are you okay?”

She raised her head to look at him. His voice sounded like it came from far away.

“Erin? Did something happen?” He crossed the tent in two quick steps.

She shook her head. If she told him about Heinrich’s death, she would break down right here in a tiny canvas tent in the middle of a field of bodies.

He gave her a concerned look.

Not able to match his gaze, she turned to her phone and texted back a response to Nate. She doubted Jordan would care.

“Understood. I will call when I can.”

Once done, she pocketed the phone. “It’s just my dig,” she said, preparing to believe her lie. “It’s been years of planning, and there was earthquake damage.”

“We’ll get you back soon.”

“I know.” He’d probably think she was crazy for being upset about some old bones buried in dirt. Still, she felt calmer being able to release even a tiny bit of the anguish about Heinrich. Either that or Jordan had a calming effect on her. How else would she have been able to walk through the death she had seen outside the tent? She took one last deep breath.

“I’m ready,” she said, standing up.

“Then step this way. We’ll get that harness on you.”

She followed him to the edge of the fissure, where he handed her a complicated mess of knots and straps. Military issue, it was nothing like what she was used to. She stared at it blankly.

He turned it around. “Step one leg in here. The other there.”

He stood behind her and helped her into the harness. His sure hands moved around her body, straightening straps and fastening clips. The harness was on, and her body temperature had risen by what felt like ten degrees. She quickly fastened the clips across her chest.

A helicopter lifted off. She glanced around the plateau. The teenager had gone, along with most of the crew and the body bags. It looked like only a dozen people worked in the lengthening shadows.

Jordan came around to her front. He reached down and tightened straps around her upper thighs in a way both by-the-book formal and incredibly personal. The webbing cinched against her, pulling her toward him. She looked up into his blue eyes, which were darkening as the sun set.

“If there’s anything I need to know before we go down there,” he said, “now is the time to tell me.”

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