JAMES ROLLINS - SANDSTORM

Omaha stepped to her side. He placed a hand on her shoulder. “Saff, Cassandra is going to be coming down here, guns blazing. I’d personally rather take my chances with this iron lady than with that steel-hearted bitch.”

Safia sighed. He felt her relax under his palm, surrendering.

“Hold on,” she whispered. She reached out and touched the shoulder of the iron statue, the way Omaha was touching her. As her palm made contact, Omaha felt a slight electric tingle shiver through him. Safia seemed unaware.

Nothing happened.

“I don’t think I’m the one to-”

“No,” Omaha said, cutting her off. “Hold firm.”

He felt a gentle tremble underfoot, as if the waters under the ship had begun to boil. Ever so slowly the boat began to move forward.

He swung around. “Free the ropes!” he called to the others.

The Rahim moved swiftly, loosening ropes and ties.

“What’s happening?” Safia asked, keeping her palm in place.

“Barak, you got the tiller?”

Near the stern, the man acknowledged this with a wave of an arm.

Coral and Danny hurried forward. The tall woman lugged a large case.

The boat’s speed gently increased. Barak aimed them toward the open mouth of the flooded tunnel. Omaha raised his flashlight and clicked it on. The beam was lost in the darkness.

How far did it go? Where did it go?

There was only one way to find out.

Safia trembled under his palm. He stepped closer, his body next to her. She didn’t object, leaning back slightly. Omaha could read her thoughts. The boat hadn’t blown up. They were still okay.

Coral and Danny were bent over the side of the boat again, their flashlights shining. “Can you smell the ozone?” she said to Omaha’s brother.

“Yeah.”

“Look how the water’s steaming where the iron meets it.”

Curiosity drew all their eyes.

“What are you guys doing?” Omaha asked.

Danny pushed back up, face flushed. “Research.”

Omaha rolled his eyes. His brother was forever a science geek.

Coral straightened. “There’s some catalytic reaction going on in the water. I believe it was triggered by the iron maiden. It’s generating some propulsive force.” She leaned over the rail again. “I want to test this water.”

Danny nodded, a puppy wagging his tail. “I’ll get a bucket.”

Omaha left them to their science project. Right now, all he cared about was where they were going. He noted Kara eyeing him…no, him and Safia.

Caught staring, Kara glanced away, toward the dark tunnel.

Omaha noted the hodja doing the same. “Do you know where this is taking us?” he asked the old woman.

She shrugged. “To the true heart of Ubar.”

A silence settled over the boat as they continued down the long, dark throat. Omaha stared up, half expecting a night sky. But not here.

Here they sailed hundreds of feet under the sand.

PAINTER WOKEwith a start, gasping, choking, eyes burning.

He attempted to sit up but was shoved back down. His head rang like a struck bell. Light burned icily. The room shuddered. He rolled to the side and vomited over the edge of a cot. His stomach clenched again and again.

“Awake, I see.”

The voice chilled the feverish pain from his body. Despite the glare and pain of the sharp lights, he faced the woman at the foot of his bed. “Cassandra.”

She was dressed in dun-colored fatigues with a knee-length poncho, belted at the waist. A hat hung by a cord behind her, a scarf around her neck. Her skin glowed in the light, her eyes shining even brighter.

He struggled to sit up. Two men held his shoulders.

Cassandra waved them off.

Painter slowly sat up. Guns pointed at him.

“We’ve got some business to discuss.” Cassandra dropped to one knee. “That little stunt of yours cost me most of my electronics. Though we were able to salvage a few things, like my laptop.” She pointed to the computer resting on a folding chair. It displayed a SeaWiFS satellite map of the region, with live feed of the sandstorm.

Painter noted the scrolling weather data. The coastal high-pressure system off the Arabian Sea had finally crossed the mountains. It was due to collide with the sandstorm in the next two hours. A megastorm of sea and sand.

But none of that mattered now.

“There’s no way I’m telling you anything,” he croaked out.

“I don’t remember asking you anything.”

He sneered at her. Even that hurt.

She shifted to the laptop and touched a few keys. The screen contained an overlay of the area: town, ruins, desert. It was monochrome, except for a small blue ring, slowly spinning, a quarter inch in diameter. Below it, coordinates along the X-, Y-, and Z-axes changed. A live feed. He knew what he was looking at. It was a signal from a microtransceiver, a system designed by his own hand.

“What have you done?”

“We implanted Dr. al-Maaz. We dared not lose track of her.”

“The transmission…underground…” He had a hard time making his tongue work.

“There was enough of a gap in the wreckage to lower a weighted thread antenna. It seems once we spooled enough wire we were able to pick up her signal. There must be good acoustics down there. We’ve lowered booster transmitters. We can track her anywhere.”

“Why are you telling me all this?”

Cassandra returned to his bed. She had a small transmitter in her hand. “To inform you of a small modification in your design. It seems with a bit more battery, you can ignite a pellet of C4. I can show you the schematics.”

Painter’s flesh went cold. “Cassandra, what have you done?” He pictured Safia’s face, her shy smile.

“There’s just enough C4 to blow out someone’s spine.”

“You didn’t…”

She raised one eyebrow, a gesture that used to excite, quicken his heart. Now it terrified him.

Painter clenched fistfuls of sheets. “I’ll tell you what you want to know.”

“How cooperative. But again, Painter, I don’t remember asking you any questions.” She held up the transmitter and glanced to the screen. “It’s time to punish you for your little stunt today.”

She pressed the button.

“No!”

His scream was lost in a monstrous explosion. It felt as if his heart had detonated. It took him a breath to understand.

Cassandra smiled down at him, deliciously satisfied.

Laughter rose raw, with little true humor, from the men in the room.

She held up the device. “Sorry, I guess that was the wrong transmitter. This one controlled the charges placed in the tractor’s debris. My demolitions experts have promised me the explosives will clear a path to the tunnel. All it requires now is a little cleanup. We’ll be moving in within the next half hour.”

Painter’s heart still ached, thudding in his throat.

Cassandra pulled out a second transmitter. “This is the real one. Keyed to Safia’s transceiver. Shall we try that again?”

Painter simply hung his head. She would do it. Ubar was open. Cassandra had no further need for Safia’s expertise.

Cassandra knelt closer. “Now that I have your full attention, maybe we can have that little chat.”

SAFIA LOUNGED,one hand on the iron figurehead, her hip leaning against the ship’s rail. How could she be so terrified, yet so tired at the same time? It had been a half hour since they all heard the explosion, coming from the direction of the spiral ramp.

“Sounds like Cassandra’s come knocking,” Omaha had said.

By that time, their boat had sailed far down the tunnel. Still, tensions had escalated. Many flashlights pointed backward. Nothing came. Safia could only imagine Cassandra’s frustration at finding them gone and faced with a flooded tunnel.