James Rollins - The Eye of God - A Sigma Force Novel

Vigor mumbled, “You’re right. I didn’t even make that correlation.”

“Sometimes a little bit of madness is a good thing. In my manic phase, I ended up here. Only later did I realize why . That I was supposed to be here .”

“Why?” Vigor pressed.

“I think there are more relics. Not just these two.”

“Like more bread crumbs,” Rachel said.

“In Hungary, Genghis’s son left the relics from his father’s head, marking the westernmost reach of his son’s empire, an empire he had inherited from his father. But why just those objects there? It didn’t feel right. Over time, I came to a different theory, one I think is right. I believe Genghis had instructed his son to turn the entire known world into his grave, to spread his spiritual reach from one end of the Mongol Empire to the other.”

“That sounds like Genghis,” Vigor agreed. “So he had his head set at one end . . .”

“In Hungary, in the tomb of Attila,” Josip said with a nod. “But where next?”

“Here?” Jada asked.

The priest nodded. “The region around the Aral Sea was the westernmost reach of the Mongol Empire during Genghis’s reign . A place of significance. So it seemed a natural place to begin searching.”

Vigor turned, looking around the chamber. “You’ve been exploring for these lost relics all this time?”

“It’s a huge expanse. And the terrain was drastically altered after the seas dried up.” Josip stepped away and returned with a chart that he unfurled across the tabletop. “This is a map of how the Aral Sea once looked.”

Duncan shifted straighter and stared at the huge body of water—then returned his attention to the book, noting something odd.

“The Aral Sea means Sea of Islands, ” the priest explained. “At one time, there were over fifteen hundred islands dotting the water. I assumed Genghis’s next relic would have been on one of them.”

“So you’ve been searching one by one?” Vigor asked.

“With help.” Josip nodded to Sanjar.

“And how have you paid for all this?” Monk asked.

It was a good question.

The priest looked down at his toes. Plainly it wasn’t a question he wanted to answer.

He was saved by the monsignor, who had figured it out. “You mentioned the Hungarian bishop had found a calling card left behind at Attila’s tomb, one with the name Genghis Khan written on it. A gold wrist cuff with images of a phoenix and demons.”

Josip slumped in on himself. “I sold it. To a buyer in Mongolia. Someone with a great deal of wealth who bought it for his personal collection. At the very least, I know that piece of history will be preserved.”

Rachel frowned deeply. Her work with the Italian police dealt specifically with the black market sale of antiquities. “Whom did you sell it to?”

The priest balked at answering.

Vigor didn’t press him. “Right now it doesn’t matter.”

Still, Josip explained, “Please, do not hold this buyer at fault. It was my choice to sell it, and he only bought it to preserve his own country’s history.”

Monk returned the discussion back to the problem at hand. “If you’re right that the next bread crumb is here, I don’t see us discovering it in time to do any good. It’ll be like trying to find a needle in a very dry haystack.”

“I waited too long,” Josip conceded.

“Then maybe we should just continue on to Mongolia,” Jada said, sounding not overly displeased at the prospect.

As the banter waned toward defeat, Duncan ran his hands over the surface of the book one more time, just to be sure, before speaking.

Satisfied, he hovered a finger over a spot on the surface. “Monsignor Verona . . . I mean Vigor . . . is this the location of the eye you mentioned?”

Vigor stepped closer and looked over his shoulder. “It is indeed. I know it’s hard to see. I only found it myself with the aid of a magnifying loupe.”

Duncan ran his fingertip over the book, tracing the surface of the energy field. As he reached the spot near the eye, his finger raised up, then down again after he passed it. “I don’t know if this is significant, but the energy is stronger over the eye. I can feel the upwelling of its field. It’s very distinct.”

Vigor crinkled his brow. “Why would that be?”

Jada moved to his other shoulder, bringing with her a waft of apple blossoms. “Duncan, you said the skull had a significantly stronger field than the skin. Which I assumed was a reflection of mass. More mass, more energy.”

Duncan nodded, loving when she talked science. “That must mean this spot on the cover has more mass than the rest of the surface.”

Vigor frowned. “What are you both saying?”

Duncan turned to the monsignor. “There’s something else hidden under this eye.”

Father Josip gasped. “I never thought to look. I had the book X-rayed, but nothing abnormal showed up.”

Jada shrugged. “If it’s soft tissue, like the skin, it could easily have been missed by X-rays.”

Monk pointed. “We have to open that eye.”

Vigor turned to Father Josip.

“I’ll get my tools,” he said and dashed off.

Vigor shook his head. “I should have considered that. The essential core message of St. Thomas’s gospel is that the path to God is open to anyone who looks. Seek and you shall find.”

“All you have to do is open your eyes,” Rachel added.

Josip ran back with a pointed X-Acto knife, tweezers, and forceps, ready to do some ophthalmological surgery.

Duncan moved aside to make room for Vigor and Josip. The two archaeologists set to work snipping tiny cords that bound the eye closed ages ago. The lids were too dried to peel open, so with great care they excised a circle around the eye and teased the leather up and to the side.

Awe filled Vigor’s voice. “Get me a—”

Josip passed him a magnifying lens.

“Thank you.”

The monsignor leaned closer to the hole they’d created in the cover. “I see what appears to be the desiccated remains of papillae on the surface. I think the hidden tissue is a thin slice of mummified tongue.”

“Oh, great,” Jada groaned, moving back. It seemed there were limits to her scientific curiosity.

“They tattooed the surface,” Josip commented. “Come see.”

Duncan leaned closer, while Vigor held the lens. On the surface of the leathery tissue was a distinct picture inked in black.

“It’s a map, ” Duncan realized aloud, recognizing the resemblance to Josip’s earlier chart. “A map of the Aral Sea.”

Rachel looked no happier than Jada. “Preserved on his tongue?”

Josip glanced at her, feverish excitement shining from his face. “Genghis is telling us where to go.”

Vigor confirmed this. “One of the islands is tattooed in red with the word equus inked beneath it. Latin for horse .”

“Horses were extremely prized by the Mongols,” Josip said. “They were literally the life’s blood of their riders. Warriors would often drink their mounts’ blood while on long journeys or ferment mare’s milk to produce araq, a potent alcoholic drink. Without horses—”

A noise at the door drew all their attentions around.

Josip visibly tensed, but when the tall figure bowed into the room, he relaxed, breaking into a broad smile of greeting. “You’re back! And what timing. We have fantastic news!”

The priest hurried over and hugged the young man, who could be Sanjar’s brother, what with his similar taste in sheepskin and loose pants. Only this one must have left his falcon at home.

Josip led the stranger back to the table. “Everyone, this is my good friend and the leader of my excavation crew.” He clapped him on the shoulder. “His name is Arslan.”