“He’s fully cooperating,” Painter said. “Though he’s still not talking.”
Gray frowned, not understanding.
“I should say he’s still not able to talk. Kowalski clocked him good before they left China. Broke the man’s jaw and knocked out four front teeth. And that was only one punch. Monk pulled Kowalski off the guy before he could do any real damage. Still, Gao’s jaw was wired shut. He’ll be taking all of his meals through a straw for several weeks.”
The bastard deserved far worse.
“And what’s the word from Ecuador?” Gray asked.
“Father Novak gained permission from the Vatican to take up residence at the Church of María Auxiliadora in Cuenca. He’ll be overseeing the archaeological excavation of the lost city. The boy Jembe is helping him coordinate with the local Shuar tribes. He remains optimistic that they’ll be able to recover significant artifacts.”
Gray nodded. It sounded like Roland was on his way to assuming the role of Father Crespi, while continuing to follow the footsteps of Athanasius Kircher.
“It’s a shame we lost both sets of Neanderthal hybrids’ remains,” Painter added. “We could have learned much from the DNA of those bones.”
Gray wasn’t so sure.
Maybe it was for the best.
He pictured the massive sculpture of the moon suspended in the golden cavern. For the thousandth time, he wondered what had become of those ancient builders. Had they died off or had they found a new place to hide? Then again, maybe they had simply ventured forth and assimilated into the world at large, joining the rest of humanity on its journey into the future.
He considered the graves found in Croatia, the last remnant of those ancient Watchers on the European continent. Sigma may have failed to preserve those hybrid bones, but if Roland was successful, the discoveries out of Ecuador held the potential to alter our understanding of man’s place on this planet—and possibly beyond.
Gray ran through a handful of additional inquiries and questions with Painter, then headed home. He took the Metro, where he picked up his bicycle and sailed through the dark streets.
Overhead, the moon was no longer full, but the mysteries locked in its symmetries and dimensions still hung in the night sky, welcoming anyone to explore, to question, to look beyond the next horizon.
Gray reached his apartment complex and locked up his bike. He crossed the moonlit greensward to his front door, ready to set aside such mysteries for the night.
He opened the door and found the apartment empty and dark. For a panicked moment, he believed Seichan was gone. Lately he had sensed her unease in the quiet moments of their shared life, as if she wasn’t quite ready to accept it—or maybe believed she didn’t deserve it. She tried to hide such misgivings, thought perhaps she had fooled him, and he let her believe it.
Over time, he had grown to know her nature, respecting her hard upbringing, accepting her suspicions. In many ways, she was a feral creature, barely tamed, one that would not respond well to force or demand. So he simply let her have the space to work through the demons of her past, being there when she needed him and backing off when she didn’t.
He crossed the dark apartment, recognizing from the faint hint of warm candles that he was not alone after all.
He opened the master bath door to find Seichan draped in a steaming tub, her naked body barely hidden under a layer of bubbles. An iced bottle of champagne rested on the floor nearby, along with two crystal flutes. The only illumination came from a ring of tall candles.
He smiled, recognizing this scenario, remembering their time ensconced in a hotel room overlooking the Champs-Élysées.
Seichan lifted an eyebrow, as if reading his thoughts. “I believe we were rudely interrupted before.”
He began shedding his clothes, more than ready to be here for her now.
Who the hell needs Paris?
June 2, 10:05 A.M. WAT
Republic of Congo
Kowalski slapped a fat fly off his forearm, certain it was carrying some exotic disease.
What’s taking so long?
He glared up at the morning sun as it beat down like a hammer into the jungle glade. On the other side of the green meadow spread a row of raised platform tents, their accommodations for the past three days as the group acclimated to the weather and the challenges ahead. They had arrived in this rift valley, nestled between volcanic peaks, for a particular introduction.
“How much longer?” Kowalski groused to the girls.
Lena and Maria knelt on either side of Baako, preparing him for his first day. The twin sisters doted on the young gorilla, as if about to send their child off to kindergarten. Then again, Baako wore the same exasperated, frightened, and excited face of a typical kindergartner.
Tango sat in the grass nearby, panting, tongue lolling. Maria had brought the Queensland pup to help ease Baako’s transition.
After events in China a month ago, Maria had decided to begin the process of releasing Baako into the wild, choosing the protected gorilla reserve of the Virunga National Park for his home. She and her sister planned on spending the next six months in the Congo, helping with his transition. They were supported by a team of local zoologists who were familiar with such matters and who were also doing the same for the group of chimpanzees rescued from the lab. Most of them were still too young, but they were being cared for until they were old enough to make that leap into the wild.
Kowalski had come along, too, using up two weeks of vacation. He also planned on visiting a few times while Maria remained here. He remembered last night, sitting on his tent’s veranda, watching the night skies glow from the lava pooled in the cone of Mount Nyiragongo to the north. They had shared cold beers and remained together until dawn—but not always on the veranda. The beds were surprisingly nice.
Yeah, I’ll be coming back.
“Okay, I think we’re ready,” Maria said, straightening up with her hands on her hips. “Are you, Baako?”
The gorilla lifted both arms and clenched a pair of fists at his shoulder.
[Brave]
“I know you are,” Maria said.
She took him by the hand and guided him toward the forest’s edge, trailed by Tango. One of the local zoologists, Dr. Joseph Kyenge, waited in the shadows. Beyond him, the hulking forms of a small band of gorillas, maybe five or six, watched curiously from the fringes of the forest as their group approached.
A few hooted at them.
The plan was for the zoologist to help make some introductions. It was better that this was done by a stranger than either sister. It was the first step in breaking that bond so Baako could live free.
Kyenge dropped to a knee and offered encouragement. “Come, Baako, come.”
Maria let go of the young gorilla’s hand. Baako stood there a moment, then glanced back to Tango, chuffing toward his friend.
Maria spoke softly, while signing. “Baako, Tango can’t go with you. This isn’t his home.”
Baako looked to the forest, then retreated over to Kowalski, lifting both arms for a hug.
He dropped to his knees for a proper good-bye.
Baako nestled into his chest, making a soft, plaintive sound.
“Hey, bud, it’s going to be okay.” He ran a palm over the gorilla’s head, feeling the new growth of stubble from where he had been shaved, noting the healed scar there. “What’s wrong?”
Baako leaned back but continued to look down. He gave a sad shake of his head while thumbing his chin once, then repeated a one-handed version of his earlier sign.
[Not brave]
Kowalski felt his heart break a little. He took Baako by the shoulders and made him look at him. “You are the bravest kid I know,” he said, not bothering to sign, trusting Baako to understand well enough. He pointed to the gorillas in the jungle. “Any of them give you trouble, they’ll have to answer to me.”
Baako hugged him, pressing the top of his head into Kowalski’s chest. Though he trembled less, Baako
remained unsure.
Kowalski dropped to his rear in the wet grass, keeping the next conversation private. He patted his chest and lifted his thumb to his forehead, fingers high.
[I’m your papa]
Baako’s brows lifted hopefully.
Kowalski placed a palm on Baako’s chest, then saluted the same hand down to an arm cradled at his belly, resting it there and staring hard at Baako.
[You are my son]
Baako’s eyes widened. Then he lunged hard into Kowalski, knocking him back, rolling with him in the grass, and aggravating the taped section of ribs.
Wincing, Kowalski finally managed to sit up. “Okay, now that’s settled.” He waved brusquely toward the forest. “Go make some new friends.”
Baako bounded up and raced happily toward his new life.
May 15, 8:13 A.M. ECT
Andes Mountains, Ecuador
Shu Wei woke out of a fever dream—and into a nightmare.
Her senses returned in bits and pieces. She smelled forest, her own blood. Mucus dripped down to her lips, stinging. The world swirled in hues of green leaf and blue sky. Her stomach ached, rising bile in her throat. She had no sense of time, remembering the past days fitfully.
Where am I?
She recalled Kwan falling, of her body being lifted and held. She remembered the arrow striking her in the stomach. She tried to stare down, but she could not move her head. She felt a stiff board under her back and tried to shift her limbs, but failed in this effort, too.
Why am I tied down?
She remembered being dragged through water, then passing out. When last she had woken, her body had been racked with fever, her body burning brightly. She vaguely recalled a bare-breasted woman applying a mud-colored salve across her stomach. It hurt so much she had passed out again.
Now I’m awake . . . still alive.
She took deep breaths through her nose, unable to speak as her mouth was bound. Still, a moan escaped her.
Then a familiar face rose into view.
It was the old tribesman again. He spoke to someone out of view. Shadows fell over her body as more gathered around.
She struggled, thrashing.
Let me go.
The natives ignored her. The old man lifted a curved bone needle that trailed a length of sinew. She kept hearing one word over and over again.
Tsantsa.
She struggled to understand. If the tribe had healed her, what did they want now?
Another familiar face leaned over her and seemed to recognize her confusion. It was the boy. He lifted an object into view. At first she thought it was a wizened and leathery piece of native fruit, but then she spotted the sewn lips and eyelids, the fall of dark hair. It was a shrunken head.
But not any head.
The face bore a unique pattern of scars.
Kwan.
The savages had turned the Black Crow into a trophy.
The boy lifted the shrunken head higher and named the object in his hand, smiling brightly. “Tsantsa.”
Understanding dawned on her. She tried to scream, feeling the sting across her lips. She stared at Kwan’s sewn mouth and knew the same had been done to her.
But the natives were not finished.
The old man leaned over her, lifting his thick needle—and reached for her eyelids.
EPILOGUE
TEN YEARS LATER
Σ
September 18, 5:32 P.M. WAT
Republic of Congo
“Dr. Crandall, the sun will soon set,” Kyenge warned in his musical Congolese accent. “You must not be out here alone, and I must return to my missus.”
Maria patted the dog at her side as she sat in the meadow. “I’m not alone. I have Tango.”
“Of course you do. And I don’t mean to disparage such a glorious companion, but he is very old and sick.”
She sighed sadly at this truth.
Hepatocellular carcinoma.
It was inoperable and malignant.
Tango had only a few weeks left.
It was one of the reasons she had come to the gorilla preserve at the Virunga National Park, hoping to glimpse Baako, hoping the presence of Tango might lure him from the forest.
If only so he could say good-bye.
Maria owed them both that much. But she had not seen Baako for over five years, which was actually a good sign. He had acclimated and seemed happy. She knew he was still alive, as the rangers occasionally caught sight of him and his troop.
She listened to the forest as it settled from the day and woke for the night. Bats swooped through the trees and out into the open, casting out ultrasonic nets. Insects buzzed, burred, and whined. Birds sang to the setting sun or rising moon. Monkeys hollered their constant complaints.
“Dr. Crandall, perhaps you can try again tomorrow.”
She sighed and creaked her way to her feet, stretching kinks. She had been here since the early morning. And this was her third day. She had to accept the truth and get Tango back home.
“I think it’s time for me to return to the States,” she admitted.
Kyenge looked sadly upon her. “I’m sorry.”
Then she heard a heavy chuff, the note deeper than she remembered, but familiar.
Smiling, Kyenge stepped back, allowing Maria to move closer to the forest.
“Baako?”
The thick wall of leaves parted, and a large shape bulled into view, leaning on the knuckles of one arm. Dark eyes stared at her. The wide rump was saddled with silver fur, marking his maturity.
A hand rose and thumbed that wide chin.
[Mama]
She cried and ran forward, trailed by Tango, who came more slowly.
Baako eyed the dog and let out a soft wheeze, his version of laughter. Tango sniffed toward him, then began wriggling his backside as if he were a pup again, recognizing the scent of his big friend.
Maria reached Baako and did her best to hug her arms around his beefy neck, but her limbs barely reached. He hugged his free arm around her, leaning on her, almost crushing her under his weight.
Tango joined them, letting out an impatient bark.
Baako let go of Maria and settled to his rump, legs out. Tango leaped up and climbed into that furry lap. Baako let out a long sigh of contentment.
His gaze searched the meadow, then touched a thumb to his forehead.
[Papa]
Maria pushed closer, not sure what to say. She signed to him hoping he would understand.
[Let me tell you a story . . . ]
Over the next hour, she told him the truth—but not all of it. Some parts were too painful for her to speak, even with her hands. When she was done, Baako had sagged his head, crouched over Tango, rocking very gently.
Giving him a moment, she stared down at the diamond glinting on her ring finger. She knew she should remove it, set it aside along with the mix of pain and joy it represented.
But not yet . . .
She wasn’t ready. Instead, she rose and crossed over to Baako. She came over and nestled with him in the dark, under a full moon. They remained together that way for a long time, until finally a soft hoot rose from the forest. Baako grunted back and motioned with one arm.
From the edge of the forest, a smaller shape revealed herself, a female gorilla with a child cradled to her breast. The female pointed toward Baako, then motioned to her chest. She followed this by cupping her palm and sliding it along the arm that held the infant ape.
Maria’s eyes widened with amazement, recognizing the gesture and what it implied
He taught his mate to sign . . .
The female repeated the same combination, only more imperatively this time.
[Come . . . night]
Maria grinned, realizing Baako was being scolded for staying so late. Maria’s gaze dropped to the child, whose small eyes shone back at her.
She turned and signed to Baako.
[You are a papa now]
He grunted his acknowledgment, then reached over
and brushed his knuckles along Maria’s cheek, clearly saying good-bye. He rose to his feet, making plain that it was time for him to return to the forest, to his troop, to his family.
Maria backed away, having to let him go.
Tango followed after his friend, still wagging his short tail.
Baako looked from the dog back to Maria.
She signed to him, though she suspected Baako’s sharper senses had already discerned the sad truth.
[He is old. He is sick]
Baako shook his head and pinched fingers to his cheek, drew it to his ear, then back again. He corrected her one last time.
[He is home]
Baako turned away and shambled into the forest with Tango, the two friends determined to be there together at the end.
She watched them go, knowing she would never see the two again.
Neither glanced back.
This broke her heart—and made her immensely happy.
Deep into the night, Baako sits with his troop gathered in the forest. All are asleep. Even Tango lies curled against his side. He balances his boy between his folded legs, then gently takes those tiny fingers and molds them through a series of letters. The little one is too young to understand, but he will as he grows older.
It is the name he has given the child.
In honor of another.
He repeats those letters again.
[J-O-E]
Finally, small eyes drift closed, and Baako takes the child to his chest. As he rocks gently, he stares up through the crowd of dark leaves to the shining face of the moon, at the beauty of the stars . . . and wonders about everything.
AUTHOR’S NOTE TO READERS:
TRUTH OR FICTION
Once again we are at that moment when I will do my best to extract the truth buried within the story. I thought I’d also use the following pages to answer the one harrowing question that all authors fear: Where do your ideas come from? To that end, I’ll attempt to explain the genesis of this story, along with sharing how I stumbled upon the basic ideas.
Here we go.
First, this novel started out as an exploration into the origins of human intelligence, basically seeking to discover where we came from and where we are headed next. This line of inquiry led to the discovery of an intriguing anthropological mystery. For the past 200,000 years, human brains have been roughly the same size and shape, but for some inexplicable reason, roughly 50,000 years ago, there was an explosion in art, ingenuity, and civilization. Why? No one knows. This conundrum has been given the name the Great Leap Forward and has baffled both anthropologists and philosophers.