The Devil's Bones by Steve Berry vs. James Rollins

Author:Steve Berry vs. James Rollins
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Simon & Schuster
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

PIERCE STARED ACROSS THE RUINS of the dining hall, studying what lay beyond a gash in the walls. “So you lost him.”

“Not much I could do,” Malone said, on his knees, searching among a tumble of chairs and tossed tables. “Especially after the boat ran aground.”

Trask’s cabin had come up empty. But Pierce now knew that the doctor had the sample hidden on him. He’d also listened as Malone reported everything else Trask had said.

Malone reached under a tablecloth and came up with the pistol he’d lost earlier. “Lot of good it does me now. What’s our next move?”

“You don’t have to stay on this. You’re retired. Go back to your lady in Buenos Aires.”

“I wish I could. But Stephanie Nelle would have my ass. I’m afraid you’re stuck with me. I’ll try, though, not to get in the way.”

He caught the sarcasm.

So far, this brief partnership between Justice and Defense had proved fruitless. But with Trask on the run and captured by a guerrilla force, as much as he hated to admit it Pierce could use the help.

Malone picked his way across the dining hall to the demolished wall of the ship. Pierce watched as the former agent bent down and examined something. All of the other passengers were gone, being offloaded to other boats.

“Got a blood trail here that leads outside.”

He hustled over.

“Has to be Trask,” Malone said. “He broke his nose when the ship crashed. It was bleeding badly.”

“Then we follow it.”

“I saw a patrol boat earlier. They could have offloaded him by the river.”

“I spotted that craft, too, from the cabin. But it took off shortly after we went aground. The attack, the fire, the crash—it’s drawn lots of river traffic.”

“You think the ground team and the boat are planning a rendezvous farther along the Amazon? Where there are fewer eyes to see them?”

“It makes sense. And that gives us a window of opportunity.”

“A small one, which is shrinking fast.” Malone pointed to the drops of blood, scuffed by the boot of one of the guerrillas. “Once in the jungle, it’ll be hard to track in the dark.”

“But they’re in a hurry,” Pierce said. “Not expecting anyone to follow. And they’ll have to stay close to the riverbank, waiting for their ride. With four men and a prisoner in tow, they should leave an easy trail.”

· · ·

Which proved true.

Minutes later, slogging across the muddy bank, Pierce saw that it wasn’t difficult to spot where the guerrillas had pushed into the forest. He glanced back at the beached riverboat, its bulk angled in the river, the stern still billowing black smoke into the twilight sky. Other watercraft had now come to its rescue. Passengers were being ferried away as the fires aboard spread.

He turned from the smoking ruins of the MV Fawcett.

The boat had surely been named after the doomed British explorer Percy Fawcett, who vanished in the Amazon searching for a mythical lost city. Pierce faced the jungle, hoping the same fate didn’t await them.

“Let’s go,” he said, leading the way.

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