The Judas Strain (Sigma Force 4)

But Kowalski's ongoing commentary had not fallen on deaf ears.

Across the room, Gray's father lay sprawled over three chairs, eyes closed but not sleeping. It took an effort to maintain that deep frown.

"So you're some sort of science spy," his father had said earlier. figures. . .

Gray still didn't know what his father meant by that, but now was not the time to confront the issue. The sooner he could get Seichan patched up and away from his parents. . . the better for all of them.

Gray continued his examination. He turned the obelisk around, studying every surface. The black stone was ancient, pitted and scored, but was otherwise nondescript. It looked Egyptian, but it was not his area of expertise. Even his assessment of origin might have been clouded by the failed assassin's Egyptian accent.

But one feature of the obelisk was definitely not natural to the stone.

He turned the broken top section on end. Protruding from the bottom was a bar of silver, about the thickness of his smallest finger. He touched it. Gray knew it was the tip of the proverbial iceberg. Something had been hidden at the heart of the obelisk. Looking more carefully at the broken end, he was able to make out an old cemented seam in the stone, invisible from the outside. The obelisk was really two pieces of marble craftily glued together, hiding something within. Like carving out the pages of a book to hide a gun or valuables.

He remembered Seichan's words.

It could save the world. . . if we're not too late already.

Whatever she meant, it was important enough for her to come seek him out, to betray the Guild.

He needed answers.

The creak of the door drew his attention. Gray's mother pushed into the dental suite. She pulled a surgical mask from her face.

Gray stood up.

"She's damn lucky," his mother said. "We've cauterized the bleeding and hung a second unit of blood. Mickie thinks she'll do fine. He's finishing her dressing."

Mickie was Dr. Michael Corrin, a former teaching assistant of his mother's who had gone on to medical school, largely based on his mother's recommendation. The depth of their relationship and trust extended to this midnight house call, a secret rendezvous at the hospital's neighboring dental facility. A quick ultrasound revealed the night's first bit of good news. The bullet hadn't pierced Seichan's abdominal cavity. The shot had passed just lateral to her pelvic bone.

"When can she be moved?" Gray asked.

"Mickie would rather she spend a few hours here, at the very least."

"We don't have that much time."

"I explained that to him."

"Is she awake?"

A nod. "After the first unit of blood, she grew more responsive. Mickie's loaded her with antibiotics and analgesics. She's already sitting up."

"Then it's time to go." Gray went to push past his mother. He had observed the ultrasound, but he'd been chased out when the doctor set to work on the wound. No amount of arguing would make the doctor budge.

Gray hadn't liked letting Seichan out of his sight, so he'd left with the broken obelisk. Seichan was not going anywhere without it.

With the two pieces of the obelisk in hand, Gray shoved through the door. His mother followed. Gray crossed to the first dental suite. He almost ran into Dr. Corrin as he was stepping out. The young doctor stood as tall as Gray, but he was sandy-haired and whip-thin. A manicured line of beard traced his jawline. Wearing a scowl, Dr. Corrin nodded back to the room.

"She yanked her catheter and asked that I fetch you. And an ultraviolet light." He waved a hand toward the rear of the dental office. "My brother uses one to cure dental composites. I'll be right back."

With the way open, Gray entered the suite.

With her back to him, Seichan was sitting in a dental chair, naked from the waist up, struggling to pull a borrowed Redskins T-shirt over her head. A steri-drape lay crumpled at her feet. Even with her bare back to him, Gray read the strain of the effort. She had to catch herself on the armrest.

His mother sidestepped him. "Let me help you. You shouldn't be doing that by yourself."

Seichan resisted. "I've got it." She lifted an arm to ward off any help, but flinched with a gasp.

"Enough, young lady."

Gray's mother went to her side and helped her tug the T-shirt over her bare br**sts and bandaged midriff. Turning around, Seichan discovered Gray standing there. Her face darkened, abashed. But Gray suspected her embarrassment lay not in being almost caught naked, but in showing weakness.

She slowly stood, face hardening against the pain. Leaning her rear end against the reclined chair, she rebuttoned her pants, still tight to her hips.

"I need to speak to your son," she said to Gray's mother, voice hoarse, dismissive.

His mother glanced to Gray. He nodded to her.

"I'll go check on your father," his mother said coldly, and left.

Down the hall, the muted sound of a television started. Apparently Kowalski had found the remote.

Alone now, Gray and Seichan stared at each other. Neither spoke, both taking a moment to size the other up.

Dr. Corrin stepped to the door with a handheld lamp. "This is all we have."

"It will do." Seichan tried to raise a hand to ask for it, but her arm trembled.

Gray accepted it, cradling the pieces of obelisk in one arm. "We'll need a minute."

"Of course." Dr. Corrin followed after Gray's mother, sensing the tension in the room.

Seichan's eyes had never left Gray's face. "Commander Pierce, I'm sorry I put your family at risk. I underestimated Nasser." She gingerly touched her bandaged wound. Acid entered her voice. "I won't make that mistake again. I thought I had lost him in Europe."

"You didn't," Gray snapped back.

Her eyes narrowed. "I didn't because Sigma command is compromised. The Guild used your own resources to track and expose me. The blame does not fall squarely upon me."

Gray had no argument against that.

She touched her forehead as if she had forgotten something, but Gray suspected she was stalling, weighing what to say and what to leave out. "You must have a thousand questions," she mumbled.

"Only one. What the hell is going on?"

Her left eyebrow lifted. A strangely familiar gesture, a reminder of their shared past. "To answer that, we have to start there." She nodded to the obelisk. "If you'll set it on the instrument table .. ."

Needing answers, Gray obeyed, balancing the broken piece atop the base.

"The lamp . . ." she said.

A moment, later, with the overhead lights off, Gray bent over and studied the rows of illuminated letters glowing upon the black stone, across all four surfaces.