Free The Blood Gospel by James Rollins, Rebecca Cantrell

problem was that Sanderson hadn’t yet mastered the art of manipulating the dual joysticks. Jordan couldn’t run them either.
    Erin glanced at him, eyes curious. “Is that an ST-20? I’ve logged hundreds of hours on one. Could I give it a shot?”
    Might as well give her something to do. Sanderson didn’t look like he’d get the robot out. Plus Jordan respected anyone who was willing to jump in and help. “Sure.”
    Sanderson lifted his hands in obvious disgust and rolled his chair out of the way. “Be my guest. The only thing I haven’t tried doing is crawling down that hole and kicking it.”
    Erin stood where Sanderson’s chair had just been and took both joysticks like she knew what she was doing. She alternated between the front and rear controls, inching the ROV forward and backward much like she was trying to parallel-park.
    “I tried that,” Sanderson said. “It’s not going to—”
    The ROV abruptly pulled out of the crack. Jordan saw Erin smother a quick smile of victory, and respected her all the more for trying to spare Sanderson’s feelings.
    Sanderson stood and put his hands on his hips. “Dude! You’re making me look bad in front of my CO.”
    Then he smiled and pushed his chair behind her like it was a throne. Once she got settled, she looked up at Jordan. “What are we looking for?”
    “Our team’s been commissioned to find the source of the gas.”
    “Let me guess,” she said with a true smile. “I’m here to assure the Israeli government that you don’t destroy any millennia-old artifacts in the process?”
    Jordan matched her smile. “Something along those lines.”
    He didn’t take it any further than that, but her presence here was at the request of Israeli intelligence, not the antiquities department. He wasn’t sure why yet. And he hated unsolved mysteries.
    All eyes were on the monitors as she steered the ROV over a pile of rocks.
    “What are you doing in Israel anyway?” Sanderson asked her.
    “I have a team digging in Caesarea,” she said. “Routine stuff.”
    Jordan suspected by the tone of her voice that it wasn’t routine. Interesting.
    The rover slid down a rocky outcropping, then entered what appeared to be a straight passageway.
    “Look at the walls.” She rotated the rover’s cameras. “Sharp-edged chipping.”
    “So?” Jordan prompted.
    “This tunnel is man-made. Dug out by hand and chisel.”
    “Way down there? At the heart of the mountain?” He stepped closer to her. “Who do you think dug it out? The Jewish rebels who died here?”
    “Maybe.” She leaned away from him. Personal space issues. He moved back a fraction. “Or the Byzantine monks who lived on the mountain centuries later. Without more evidence, it’s impossible to say. I’m guessing this little guy might be the first one down this passage in a very long time.”
    The ROV climbed over a pile of rubble, halogen headlamps painting the pitch-black crevasse sickly white.
    “Damn,” Erin said.
    “What is it?” Jordan asked.
    She turned the rover fully to the right to show a pile of broken stones.
    “And?” To Jordan, it didn’t look that different from any other pile of rocks.
    “Look at the top.” She traced the image on the monitor with her finger. “That was a tunnel, but it’s collapsed.”
    “So has a lot of stuff,” Sanderson put in. “Why is that a big deal?”
    “Look at the sides,” she said. “Those are fairly modern drill marks.”
    Jordan leaned forward excitedly. “Which means?”
    “It means that someone cut their way into this tunnel sometime in the last hundred years or so.” Erin sighed. “And probably stole anything of value.”
    “Maybe they left the gas.” Jordan wasn’t sure why he felt relieved that it might be a modern nerve gas and not an ancient one, but he did.
    She turned the rover forward again, and it rolled down the path, eventually reaching an open area.
    “Stop there,” Jordan said. “What’s this place?”
    “Looks like an