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

Again, he recognized the same oily, unnatural feel to the energy, but as his tips drew to within a hairbreadth of the cross, he noted a subtle difference. With this unadulterated power wafting off the meteoric metal, he recognized that this energy—while much the same—had a different flavor to it.

Or color .

It couldn’t be described any other way.

While he had gripped the Eye, he sensed a blackness to it, like the darkness between stars, beautiful in its own right.

Here, he could only express this energy as white .

Jada had said the two items—the cross and the Eye—were opposites, different quantum spins from each other, separate poles on an axis of time.

But there was another fundamental difference.

With the Eye, he found its touch repellent.

Here, he had to restrain himself against grabbing that cross. It was nearly irresistible. Despite the warning from Jada, the tip of his index finger brushed the surface.

As contact was made, that whiteness enveloped him, blinding him.

From his background in physics, he knew black holes sucked all light into themselves, while theoretical white holes cast it all back out.

He felt that way now, cast out, thrust somewhere else, possibly sometime else. Through the brilliance, a figure approached, all in shadows. Like a dark mirror of himself, this shape reached to his outstretched hand, as if going for the cross, too.

As their fingertips touched, Duncan found himself blasted away.

The room returned, snapping so suddenly back he stumbled to the side, clenching and unclenching his hand.

“What’s wrong?” Jada asked.

He shook his head.

“What about the cross?”

“It’s . . . it’s got energy.”

He retreated from the pillar, but not before noting again the skull on the floor, picturing the shadowy figure in the light.

Could it be . . . ?

Not wanting to think about such a possibility, he reached Jada’s side. “What do we have to do?”

“I think just touch the Eye to the cross. Bringing their opposite energies together should trigger an annihilation, thus breaking that quantum entanglement.”

Duncan pictured that field snuffing out.

“Okay,” he said, holding out his hand for the Eye. “Let’s do this.”

Jada lifted the sphere, but she pulled it away from him.

“What?”

She glanced around. “I think we need this room sealed when it happens. Gold is one of the most nonreactive metals. Pure gold won’t even tarnish.”

“Like silver and iron will,” Duncan said.

“Maybe the ancients knew something. Felt such insulation was important.” Jada stood up. “Either way, I feel it would be safer if everyone else was outside this vault after it’s sealed. It could be dangerous to be in here when those two forces annihilate.”

“Then you and Vigor head out and close the door.”

“Maybe I’d better perform this,” Jada argued. “I’m less sensitive to these energies than you.”

Duncan could not let her risk it.

The stalemate was decided by another.

Vigor surged to his feet and snatched the Eye. He strode toward the ancient boxes. Duncan stepped after him, but the monsignor shoved an arm up, pointing a finger at him, his tone both commanding and grief-stricken.

“Go!”

Duncan recognized that Vigor would not relent.

Jada checked her watch and tugged Duncan’s sleeve toward the door. “Someone has to do it. And we’re out of time.”

With a heavy heart, he fled with Jada for the threshold. As they stepped out and began closing the doors, he watched Vigor step before the pillar, his shoulders slumped, weighted down by grief.

No matter the outcome . . . thank you , old man.

Duncan closed the door and latched it tight.

9:59 A.M.

Vigor stood before the reliquary of St. Thomas, cradling in his palms a crystal sphere holding the very fires of the universe. Within the triple chests lay a cross forged among the stars and carried by a saint. He should have felt exultant, elated to be allowed this hallowed moment at the end of his life.

Instead, he felt only loss.

He had made accommodation for his death, happy that Rachel would live on in his stead. Maybe part of his inner peace was selfish pride, knowing he would be remembered, that she would tell her sons and daughters, even her grandchildren, about her uncle Vigor and the adventures they had shared together.

He wanted to curse God—but as he stared at the cross, he felt a measure of comfort. He knew he would see Rachel again. He was certain of it.

“I have no doubt,” he whispered.

He followed it with a short, silent prayer.

He had time for no more.

But was that not the lament upon every deathbed? Regret about what could never be, the finality of death, the great destroyer of possibilities.

Sighing, he pictured all his friends, old and new.

Gray and Monk, Kat and Painter, Duncan and Jada.

Rachel had sacrificed everything to keep them safe, to allow them the fullness of their lives, though hers was cut short.

Could I do any less?

Vigor raised the Eye and placed it where the relic of St. Thomas had rested for millennia. It came to fit perfectly upon the small gold pillars that had supported the skull . . . as if the Eye were always meant to be there.

Only when the sphere touched the cross—

10:00 A.M.

Duncan gasped, stumbling back as if struck in the face by a fierce gust of wind—only he never really stumbled .

Instead, his consciousness blew out of the back of his skull. For a moment, he found himself staring at his body from behind, standing next to Jada, both of them facing the doors.

Then he snapped back, so hard he actually fell forward and hit the door. He caught himself with a palm on the jamb.

Jada stared at him. “Are you okay?”

“I’m suddenly glad I wasn’t in there.”

“What happened?”

He attempted to explain his out-of-body experience.

Instead of being incredulous, she nodded. “The blast from the annihilation of energies likely created a local quantum bubble, bursting outward. And for a sensitive like yourself, where your consciousness is highly attuned to quantum fields, it had a physical effect.”

“And what about someone in that room? At ground zero?”

10:01 A.M.

It was a good question, Jada thought.

And one that frightened her.

Especially after hearing what Duncan had experienced.

“I don’t know,” she admitted in regard to Vigor’s fate. “Nothing or everything. A flip of the coin.”

She realized Vigor was like Schrödinger’s cat. As long as the door remained closed, he was both alive and dead. Only once they opened it would his fate be decided one way or the other.

She pictured the universe splitting, depending on that answer.

Duncan reached for the door to collapse that potential, but before he could do so, a commotion drew their attention behind them. From the tunnel by the pond, Gray crawled into view, spotted them, and rushed up the stairs.

He quickly took in the situation and noted who was missing.

“Where’s Vigor?” he asked.

Jada turned to the sealed door. “He agreed to take the Eye in there, to join it with the cross.”

“Did he do it?”

“Yes,” Jada said.

Gray frowned at the closed door. “How can you be certain?”

Duncan rubbed the back of his head, as if making sure it was still there. “We’re sure.”

Gray stepped to the door. “Then let’s get in there.”

Jada put her hand over the latch, suddenly feeling foolish, as if stopping Gray could truly leave Vigor’s fate undecided.