Read Online The Bone Labyrinth by James Rollins - Free Book Online
Authors: James Rollins
Tags: United States, thriller, Suspense, Literature & Fiction, Thrillers, Action & Adventure, Mystery, Military, War & Military, Mystery; Thriller & Suspense, Contemporary Fiction, Thrillers & Suspense, Thriller & Suspense
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who nodded. “I want the particulars about this research project by the time they land.”
Monk cracked the knuckles of one hand as he studied the various screens, taking it all in, clearly readying himself for the mission.
Painter placed a palm on Monk’s shoulder. “With your background in medicine and genetics, I thought you’d be best suited to communicate with Dr. Maria Crandall regarding her research. You’ll also be joined by a liaison from the National Science Foundation, a scientist who has oversight on the funding of the project.”
Painter then faced Kowalski. “And you . . .”
Kowalski frowned, unable to imagine how he could contribute beyond acting as a bodyguard.
“You’re best suited to communicate with Dr. Crandall’s test subject, the cornerstone and culmination of her research.”
“And why’s that?” Kowalski asked.
“Because you’re fluent in sign language.”
Kowalski furrowed his brows, surprised the director knew this detail about his past, but when it came to background searches, Sigma was thorough. So of course Sigma would know about his family background, about how he had been raised in the South Bronx, literally on the wrong side of the tracks. His grandparents had emigrated from Poland during the war. His father eventually started a small deli, but drank away most of the profits on the weekends. Kowalski had one sibling, a kid sister, Anne, who was born with Goldenhar syndrome, a birth defect that left her with a twisted back and severe hearing loss. After their mother was killed by a drunk driver, his father took this tragedy as a reason to drink even more heavily, leaving most of Anne’s care to fall upon Kowalski’s own young shoulders.
He took a deep breath, shying from those hard memories of the agony his sister suffered, both physical and emotional, before dying at only eleven years old. He found his fingers reaching to a pocket, to the cigar stashed there. He fingered the cellophane wrapper, wanting suddenly to smoke.
“I’m pretty rusty at it,” he mumbled.
“That’s not what I heard,” Painter said. “I heard you sometimes volunteer, working with at-risk deaf children at Georgetown Hospital.”
Monk glanced at him, lifting his eyebrows in surprise.
Kowalski silently cursed Sigma’s prying. “So who exactly am I supposed to be interrogating over there?”
Painter crossed his arms. “I think I’ll let you meet him in person before answering that. If we’re going to win over Dr. Crandall’s full cooperation, such fluency with her test subject may prove beneficial.”
Whatever . . .
Kowalski turned away, not bothering to hide his irritation.
“What about the other sister, the one in Croatia?” Monk asked behind him. “You’ve still heard no further word about the fate of that research team?”
Painter’s tone grew graver. “Nothing. The only news from the region is that they’re suffering through a series of small earthquakes. It’s left the whole mountain range rattling with aftershocks.”
Kat added, “And it’s likely only to get worse.”
5
April 29, 2:15 P . M . CEST
Karlovac County, Croatia
Shivering in the dark, Lena crouched on a lip of rock. Her helmet lamp shone across the black surface of the growing lake that filled the bottom of the cavern.
We need to get out of here . . .
In the past twenty minutes, the floodwaters had erased all evidence of the prehistoric encampment that once occupied this subterranean world, swamping over the calcite-crusted bones and the charred sites of old home fires. All that remained were the tops of stalagmites protruding from the lake and the cave paintings along the walls—only now those painted herds of deer and bison looked like they were drowning.
Despite her own terror, she mourned the destruction.
At her side, Father Novak shoved his cell phone back into his pack. He shook his head, having no better luck getting a signal than she had a moment ago. She had tried to reach her
Monk cracked the knuckles of one hand as he studied the various screens, taking it all in, clearly readying himself for the mission.
Painter placed a palm on Monk’s shoulder. “With your background in medicine and genetics, I thought you’d be best suited to communicate with Dr. Maria Crandall regarding her research. You’ll also be joined by a liaison from the National Science Foundation, a scientist who has oversight on the funding of the project.”
Painter then faced Kowalski. “And you . . .”
Kowalski frowned, unable to imagine how he could contribute beyond acting as a bodyguard.
“You’re best suited to communicate with Dr. Crandall’s test subject, the cornerstone and culmination of her research.”
“And why’s that?” Kowalski asked.
“Because you’re fluent in sign language.”
Kowalski furrowed his brows, surprised the director knew this detail about his past, but when it came to background searches, Sigma was thorough. So of course Sigma would know about his family background, about how he had been raised in the South Bronx, literally on the wrong side of the tracks. His grandparents had emigrated from Poland during the war. His father eventually started a small deli, but drank away most of the profits on the weekends. Kowalski had one sibling, a kid sister, Anne, who was born with Goldenhar syndrome, a birth defect that left her with a twisted back and severe hearing loss. After their mother was killed by a drunk driver, his father took this tragedy as a reason to drink even more heavily, leaving most of Anne’s care to fall upon Kowalski’s own young shoulders.
He took a deep breath, shying from those hard memories of the agony his sister suffered, both physical and emotional, before dying at only eleven years old. He found his fingers reaching to a pocket, to the cigar stashed there. He fingered the cellophane wrapper, wanting suddenly to smoke.
“I’m pretty rusty at it,” he mumbled.
“That’s not what I heard,” Painter said. “I heard you sometimes volunteer, working with at-risk deaf children at Georgetown Hospital.”
Monk glanced at him, lifting his eyebrows in surprise.
Kowalski silently cursed Sigma’s prying. “So who exactly am I supposed to be interrogating over there?”
Painter crossed his arms. “I think I’ll let you meet him in person before answering that. If we’re going to win over Dr. Crandall’s full cooperation, such fluency with her test subject may prove beneficial.”
Whatever . . .
Kowalski turned away, not bothering to hide his irritation.
“What about the other sister, the one in Croatia?” Monk asked behind him. “You’ve still heard no further word about the fate of that research team?”
Painter’s tone grew graver. “Nothing. The only news from the region is that they’re suffering through a series of small earthquakes. It’s left the whole mountain range rattling with aftershocks.”
Kat added, “And it’s likely only to get worse.”
5
April 29, 2:15 P . M . CEST
Karlovac County, Croatia
Shivering in the dark, Lena crouched on a lip of rock. Her helmet lamp shone across the black surface of the growing lake that filled the bottom of the cavern.
We need to get out of here . . .
In the past twenty minutes, the floodwaters had erased all evidence of the prehistoric encampment that once occupied this subterranean world, swamping over the calcite-crusted bones and the charred sites of old home fires. All that remained were the tops of stalagmites protruding from the lake and the cave paintings along the walls—only now those painted herds of deer and bison looked like they were drowning.
Despite her own terror, she mourned the destruction.
At her side, Father Novak shoved his cell phone back into his pack. He shook his head, having no better luck getting a signal than she had a moment ago. She had tried to reach her
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