The Demon Crown

  When he was done, a white origami lily rested on his desk.

  Miu’s favorite.

  He gently lifted it and placed it atop the block holding the last fragment of the Demon Crown. For him, a fractured piece of his wife’s heart.

  Flames now crested the windows, dancing brightly.

  It will not be long now.

  Smoke already choked his throat and lungs. His body would soon burn, becoming one last offering of incense to his beloved.

  Miu . . .

  The nineteenth-century words of Otagaki Rengetsu returned to him now, speaking to the wonders and mysteries of incense.

  A single line of

  Fragrant smoke

  From incense stick

  Trails off without a trace:

  Where does it go?

  He prayed now, dropping his eyes from the ferocity of the storm to the gently folded blossom, to what it represented.

  Please let me go there.

  1:43 P.M.

  Ken clutched a strap hanging from a rail overhead. As the car whisked through the frozen lava tube, the inside of the cab remained starkly divided. Valya’s group took up residence at the front, their team at the back. No one spoke; no one took their eyes off the others.

  The only noise was the rattle of the car and low whine of its electric engine. The sound grew grating after the first few minutes.

  He shouldn’t have complained.

  The car suddenly went dark, and the engine died.

  The sudden deceleration threw everyone forward, forcing the two parties together. After a moment of confusion and jostling, lights mounted on assault rifles flashed on, illuminating the dark cab.

  “What happened?” Palu asked, climbing to his feet.

  Gray craned around. “Someone must’ve shut us down.”

  “But who?” Seichan asked.

  Valya had a two-word answer. “Takashi Ito.”

  The car began to move again slowly—but backward. Without power, the car was sliding down the sloped tunnel toward the station.

  Gray had crossed to the door. “If we can pry this open, we could still hop out and go on foot.”

  “We’ll never make it,” Valya said, cocking her head. “Listen.”

  Ken strained to hear past the pounding of his heart. After a breathless moment, he heard a low rumbling coming from behind them. “What is that?” he whispered.

  Gray’s posture stiffened. “Water.”

  “Lake water,” Valya corrected.

  Earlier, Ken had imagined the path of this subterranean train, picturing it passing under Lake Kawaguchi.

  Valya scowled. “Ito must have drilled and planted charges along the lava tube. Right under the lake above our head. Engineered to flood the place in case of emergency, to wash away any evidence of his activities below the tower.”

  Including us, Ken thought.

  The car continued sliding toward certain doom.

  Gray ordered Valya’s men. “Help me with the door.” Then he turned to Aiko’s partners. “Hoga and Endo, how many demolition charges do you have left?”

  One held up four fingers, the other two.

  “It’ll have to do.”

  With Palu helping, Gray and the others forced the door open. Walls of ice glided past. Gray addressed the entire group. “Out. We’ll need everybody’s weight and strength to stop the cab while we still can.”

  No one argued.

  Ken followed everyone out. As the car slowly picked up speed, they all edged to the back of the car and hurried to positions behind the lower skates. As one, they shouldered into the car, bracing with their legs.

  Their boots slipped on the ice underfoot. They were like ants trying to halt a tantalizing morsel from rolling downhill. Even with the car mostly made of a lightweight plastic composite, it was still too heavy to stop.

  Then Ken had a thought.

  He fell out of position and dropped onto his back. He let the car roll over him, its large spiked wheels passing ominously to either side. He searched the undercarriage.

  C’mon . . .

  Then he saw it.

  A hatch near where he imagined the engine block was located.

  He quickly yanked the releases but hung from the door’s edge as the car continued to slide. As he had hoped, row after row of battery packs filled the compartment. With his free hand, he began prying them out, letting them drop to the ice, leaving a trail in the sliding car’s wake.

  Each weighed thirty pounds.

  By the time he had freed fifteen or so, lessening the cab’s weight by a quarter ton, the car began to slow—then finally stop.

  Sighing with relief, he shimmied back to the others. Palu grabbed his ankles and dragged him the rest of the way out, giving him a bear hug.

  “Quick thinking,” Gray acknowledged.

  “I . . . I own a Prius,” he said with a shrug. “Swear half its weight is batteries.”

  He glanced several yards back. Hoga and Endo were quickly planting their charges around the circumference of the tunnel. As the pair worked, Gray instructed Valya’s men to collect several of the abandoned battery packs and jam them against the rear wheels to hold the car in place.

  Once everything was ready, Gray waved. “Everyone back in!”

  He had to yell to be heard above the approach of rushing water. By now, the draining lake must have flooded the lower level of the tower and it was shooting toward them.

  Breathless with fear, Ken followed the others into the cab.

  As the doors closed, Gray pointed to Aiko’s partners. “Blow it.”

  A button on a detonator was pressed.

  The explosion rocked the car forward a foot. Even through the insulation of the cab, the blast was deafening, pounding eardrums and chest. Ice and rock pelted the car’s stern and rattled past the windows.

  As it ended, Ken stared back. “I don’t understand. Will the cave-in be enough to dam all that water?”

  Gray shook his head. “Not a chance.”

  “Then what—?”

  “Think of a cork in a champagne bottle.”

  Before he could imagine it, the raging waters struck the blockage of ice and rock with a thunderous strike. The plug only held for a fraction of a second—then was blasted forward.

  The mass hit the rear of the car like a battering ram and drove them forward hard. The two groups tumbled to the back, tangled together.

  The force of the flood pushed the cab up the tunnel. Water splashed alongside the window, but so far, the car continued to race in front of the worst of the deluge.

  No one tried to get up, remaining on the floor.

  Finally, their flight slowed—as equilibrium was reached between the draining lake and the elevation of the tube. No longer propelled by the force of the water, the car came to a halt. Gray herded everyone out again. A hundred yards ahead, lights beckoned.

  They hurried in that direction, carrying the wounded.

  Even Gray had one arm around Seichan and the other around the waist of one of the enemy.

  The tunnel emptied into a long concrete-block warehouse. The other cars waited there, having arrived safely before the power was cut. They were all empty, abandoned by those fleeing.

  Their group headed outside into a sullen rain.

  The storm was dying down, rumbling with some final complaints. Off to the side, Gray conversed with Valya, their heads bowed together. He was likely exacting a promise from her, to keep her word.

  Her response reached Ken as she stepped away with her men. “This is not how I wished matters to end.” She cast a hard, pitying look at Seichan, who only glowered back. “Better it be a bullet. But at least, you’ll be able to say your goodbyes.”

  As they left, Gray hooked an arm around Seichan. She leaned her tired head on his shoulder. It seemed the two had already begun their long and painful road to that goodbye.

  Unable to watch, Ken wandered away. They were somewhere high up the slopes of Mount Fuji, which offered a panoramic view acr
oss Lake Kawaguchi. Its waters were now banded by wide, muddy banks as the lake drained below.

  Beyond its far shore, a fiery beacon glowed under low storm clouds.

  It was all that was left of the Ice Castle.

  As Ken stared at the burning structure, a suspicion nagged at him, growing slowly into a certainty.

  We missed something.

  And now it was too late.

  37

  May 9, 6:18 A.M. CEST

  Wieliczka, Poland

  Elena crouched with the others around the giant block of amber. Sam’s flashlight still rested atop it, setting the stone to glowing.

  “What is it?” she asked as she peered inside.

  Sam stalked around the group, as if physically seeking a solution to the mystery presented. “It’s a chrysalis,” he answered. “A cocoon.”

  Elena had already guessed as much. Preserved in the stone was a large, densely woven mass that was plainly a pupa of some sort. A darker halo of amber enclosed it, as if trying to hide the horror inside.

  From a rupture along one side of the chrysalis, a creature the size of a small dog pushed out. Long antennae lay curled atop its bowed head. Huge black faceted eyes stared out at the party gathered around. Long-veined wings, which looked damp, remained forever folded over its arched back. A pair of jointed front legs perched at the top of the chrysalis.

  Elena imagined it struggling to drag its body out of the cocoon before sap from some prehistoric pine trapped and consumed it.

  Clearly it had lost that struggle.

  Kat nodded to the monstrous beast. “Sam, I think Elena meant what’s emerging from that cocoon.”

  He glanced at them as if the answer should be obvious. “It’s clearly Odokuro. Look at the characteristic pattern along its abdomen. Black and crimson. Even the mandibles—which are as unique as fingerprints in the insect world—mark it as a member of that species. A genetic analysis would confirm it, but I’m already sure.”

  Monk rubbed his chin, loudly scratching his beard stubble on the plastic of his prosthesis. “I read Professor Matsui’s dossier on the Odokuro. He reported nothing like this.”

  “Because this incarnation never made an appearance in his lab.”

  “But what is it?” Elena pressed him again.

  Sam gave her an apologetic look. “Sorry. I think we’re looking at a never-before-seen Odokuro queen.”

  “Wait.” Monk frowned. “I thought Professor Matsui said the Odokuro had no queen.”

  “Not that he knew of. He had already determined that Odokuro were an intermediary species between ancient solitary wasps and their more social descendants, those who learned to swarm and evolved a variety of multipurpose drones.”

  Monk nodded. “But Professor Matsui believed the Odokuro’s breeding was based on the behavior of older solitary wasps. That the species propagated through a group of egg-laden female wasps, instead of a lone queen.”

  “But he must’ve been wrong,” Kat said.

  “Maybe not entirely.” Sam continued to circle the amber block, examining the creature from every angle. “Professor Matsui was right that this species does share characteristics of both solitary and social wasps. He just never thought there was a version of a swarm queen in their lineage. Maybe such a creature only arises in a natural environment, versus a lab.”

  “But why?” Elena pressed. “What’s its role with the swarm?”

  “I don’t know, but it must be important. Maybe the answer to everything.”

  Elena thought so, too. She straightened from her crouch, too anxious to remain so still. Her knees complained, and she almost lost her balance.

  But Sam was there, catching her hand, steadying her.

  She turned to him. “Thanks for—”

  He yanked her before him, startling her. He hooked an arm around her waist and pressed the cold barrel of a pistol against her neck. “No one move.”

  He tilted his head and spoke rapidly in Japanese.

  Behind them, lights flared. Dark shadows rushed into the cavern. Boots pounded on rocks. Thin red beams pierced the darkness, rising from laser sights mounted atop assault rifles. The crimson spears danced wildly, then quickly settled upon the group standing stunned beside the block of amber.

  “Down on your knees,” Sam ordered. “Hands on your head.”

  Elena gaped at the arriving force, then back to the others. One by one, they dropped to the floor, empty hands rising and clasping the backs of their head.

  Kat was last, glaring menacingly at Sam, murder in her eyes.

  Then she, too, lowered slowly to the stone floor.

  6:22 A.M.

  “Why?” Kat asked after her weapons had been stripped from her.

  I’ll at least know that.

  She had already figured out the seven-man assault team must have hidden themselves among the parishioners at the midnight mass, sent there in advance by this traitor as their group had reviewed the old maps at the history museum. From the way Sam cocked his head and ordered the force in here, he must have a sophisticated radio buried deep in the canal of his right ear, advanced enough to both communicate and allow him to be tracked.

  “Why?” Sam asked, focusing on her, stalking through his men. With the assault force now guarding them, he had shoved Elena forward to join them. “I call it payback. Against a government that would rip away the heritage of a hardworking American. Between inheritance taxes and a backlog of property taxes, the ranch owned by my family in Montana for four generations was about to be foreclosed upon by a bank—a bank that when they were in crisis was bailed out with my tax dollars. So what do I owe such a government?”

  Off to the side, two men lifted the block of amber. It seemed an impossible feat of strength, until Kat remembered how light the low-density stone actually was. The pair began to haul it across the cavern, intending to leave with the treasure.

  She frowned after them.

  It seemed the dead miner on the floor wasn’t the only thief here.

  Sam noted her attention. “Fenikkusu Laboratories came calling after Matsui emailed me about his discovery in Brazil. They were already keeping tabs on him. There is very little that escapes Takashi Ito’s attention or reach. He cleared all my debt for no more commitment than keeping his corporation abreast of any developments in Matsui’s work.” He shrugged. “Then you all called me, and the offer became much more lucrative.”

  Kat nodded toward the block of amber. “What do you hope to gain there?”

  “Considering what Takashi Ito is planning, to be in his good graces when this is all over will be payment enough.”

  “What is he planning?” Kat pressed.

  Sam laughed, retreating step by step, following after the two men and his prize. “Oh, trust me, you’ll be happy for a quick death.” He turned to one of the other five men and spoke rapidly in Japanese, clearly fluent—but so was Kat. “Once we’re clear, shoot them and blow the entrance on your way out. We don’t want their bodies found too soon—not that it will matter shortly.”

  The leader of the assault force nodded. “Hai.”

  Kat cursed herself for not vetting the entomologist more thoroughly before including him on this mission. In her haste to leave, pressured by the time constraints, she had put too much trust in a scientist working for the National Zoo, a part of the Smithsonian Institution.

  She watched Sam exit with the two men carrying the prize. As their lamps illuminated the ramp out of here, Kat spotted a body sprawled at the foot of it.

  Piotr . . .

  She feared the same fate had befallen Gerik and Anton at the shore of the lake.

  Kat glanced to Clara, who had also spotted her brother. The woman was shaking, her eyes shining with tears. Slaski’s normally dour face had purpled with fury. Elena simply looked stunned and shell-shocked, both at the situation and at the betrayal. Kat knew the librarian had warmed up to the duplicitous entomologist.

  Her eyes finally settled on Monk.

  She nodded
, signaling him.

  Sam may have fooled her prior to the expedition, but a moment ago he had inadvertently given himself away, letting his mask slip at the shock of the discovery of an Odokuro queen. Professor Matsui was wrong . . . everyone was wrong. His choice of words had struck her as odd. Who was this everyone? Sam had only been in contact with Ken about this species.

  Still, she couldn’t be sure, so she had stayed silent, hoping to lean on his expertise regarding this discovery before challenging him. She knew this never-before-seen incarnation of the species had to be significant. Though, in hindsight, perhaps she should’ve been more cautious. She hadn’t expected the man to grab Elena so suddenly.

  Not that I don’t have a backup plan.

  6:34 A.M.

  Elena knelt on the ground, sitting on her ankles, too weak to even hold herself up. Despair and regret hollowed her out. Her arms trembled as she continued to hold her hands atop her head. She wanted to lower one of them, to touch the pair of crosses hanging from the chain of her reading glasses, to cast one last prayer to her daughter and two grandchildren, to wish them a long and fruitful life.

  She found it hard to concentrate on such a last plea to God, not with five rifles pointed at the group. She caught Kat’s small nod to her husband, a final silent expression of love and affection, which the two had amply demonstrated throughout this journey. She also knew the pair had two children and added those girls to her prayers.

  After acknowledging his wife, Monk faced their executioners, his hands clasped behind his head. She blinked, realizing her mistake. There was only one hand cradling the back of his skull. The fingers of that hand fiddled with the titanium wrist cuff, where the man’s prosthesis was normally attached.

  It was gone.

  When Sam had ordered the assault team to strip the group of their weapons, he had forgotten in the rush of events to inform them of a hidden threat. She also suspected Kat had kept attention on herself by questioning Sam, distracting everyone so Monk could detach and drop his prosthesis.

  But where and how—?

  Then she spotted movement behind the legs of the armed men: the skittering of a pale plastic spider across the burnt amber floor.

  She remembered back at Sigma headquarters in D.C., how Monk had demonstrated his ability to remotely control his disarticulated limb. He clearly had some skill. His disembodied hand danced on its fingertips and drew closer behind the line of men.