21
Jake’s head-torch illuminated the way through the narrow tunnel, but the dark stone around absorbed much of the light, dampening it to a mere flicker. There were rough markings on the rock where ancient tools wielded by muscled hands had once chipped away at the heart of the volcano. It reminded him of the men who had descended into the mine back in South Africa, and his own part in creating the man that Frik eventually became. Jake recalled the South African’s face at the moment he toppled from the shoulder of Christ, knocked off balance by his own ferocious charge. He still raged at his enemy even as he plummeted to the concrete below. Jake had seen death in many guises, but something about the big South African haunted him.
He pushed away the dark thoughts. Now was not the time to
