As her head breaks the surface, she rips the mask from her face, gagging and choking.

“Are you okay? What happened?”

“You didn’t say anything about any goddam snakes! I hate snakes—”

“Were you bitten?”

“No, but I’m through. This isn’t diving, it’s more like swimming in liquid shit.” She unties the rope, her hands still shaking.

“Dom—”

“No, Mick, I’ve had it. My nerves are shot, and this water’s making my skin itch. Go on without me. Go find your secret passage, or whatever the hell you’re looking for. I’ll meet you up top.”

Mick gives her a worried look, then submerges.

“Hey, Ocelo! Toss down the rope.” Looking up, she waits impatiently for the elders to appear along the edge of the pit.

Nothing.

“Hey, are you guys listening? I said toss down the goddam rope!”

“Evening, Sunshine.” A chill shoots down her spine as Raymond moves into view, the luminescent red dot of his hunting rifle’s laser rangefinder appearing at the base of her throat.

White House,
Washington, DC

President Mailer feels as if someone has punched him in the stomach. He looks up from the DoD report at General Fecondo and Admiral Gordon, his pounding pulse causing his temples to throb. He is so weak that his body no longer has the strength to support himself upright in his chair.

Pierre Borgia bursts into the Oval Office, his red-rimmed eye blazing with hatred. “We just received an updated report. Twenty-one thousand dead in Sakha. Two million perished in Kunming. An entire city was wiped out in Turkmenistan. The press is already gathering downstairs.”

“The Russians and Chinese have wasted no time mobilizing their forces,” General Fecondo says. “The official response is that this is all part of their scheduled war games, but the numbers are far greater than what had been planned.”

The Chief of Naval Operations reads from his laptop. “Our latest satellite reconnaissance is tracking eighty-three nuclear subs, including all of the new Russian Borey-class. Each of these vessels carries eighteen SS-N-20 SLBMs.Add to that list another dozen Chinese ballistic-missile submarines and—”

“It’s not just submarines,” interrupts the general. “Both nations have placed their strategic forces into states of readiness. Darkstar reconnaissance is tracking the missile cruiser Peter the Great, which left its dock twenty minutes after the last detonation. We’re looking at a combined land and sea arsenal with a first-strike capability exceeding two thousand nuclear warheads.”

“Christ.” Mailer takes a deep breath, fighting the tightness in his chest. “Pierre, how much longer until the Security Council conference call?”

“Ten minutes, but the Secretary-General says that Grozny is addressing Parliament and refuses to participate if we’re on the line.” Borgia’s face is covered in perspiration. “Sir, we really need to move this operation to Mount Weather.”