James Rollins - Bloodline

Kat’s small voice emerged over the speaker. “Did you get the sat-photo?”

“Got it.”

Lisa peered over his shoulder, covering her mouth with a hand.

Painter struggled to keep to his original plan. It was easier to abandon Gray’s team to a bad situation when it wasn’t staring him in the face. But no matter how tough or callous, he knew his original decision was the correct one.

With a few final instructions, he signed off with Kat and lowered the phone. He stared out into the darkness.

Someone desperately wanted to stop Amanda from being found.

But who?

12:12 P.M . East Africa Time

Cal Madow mountains, Somalia

Dr. Edward Blake held the radio handset to his ear. He stood in the communications tent, crammed with gear and festooned with satellite dishes. The swelter of the day drew beads of perspiration down his forehead.

But he knew all of that sweat was not from the heat alone.

He even held his white safari hat in his other hand-not because he was indoors, but because of the presence at the other end of the line. Few personages ever intimidated him. He had been raised in an aristocratic family in Leeds, whose lineage included earls and dukes, all distantly related to the royal family. At estate dinners throughout the ages, their home had hosted famous figures of past and present, from the wartime leader General George Patton to entertainers who had been knighted by the queen. In Oxford, his roommate had been a billionaire’s son, a prince out of Saudi Arabia, a deadly man who would eventually head a Muslim fundamentalist group until he’d been caught and hung.

Still, none of that affected him or impressed him-not like now.

Edward’s fingers tightened on the handset.

The voice on the other end was computerized, masking the identity of the speaker. Edward had no idea to whom he spoke-but he knew the power behind that cloaked voice. It was somehow appropriate the voice was computerized, because he knew he was speaking to a vast machine, a powerhouse that had moved throughout the ages, destroying all in its wake and retooling the chaos to suit its ends.

And Edward wanted to be more than a cog in that vast machine; he intended to drive that massive engine. It had been luck that landed Amanda on his doorstep-his egg-harvesting clinic, one of many in this region, had been chosen to facilitate this matter-but it would take his skill to turn that good fortune into an opportunity to move up the ladder.

To achieve that, he needed success.

“The problem is being addressed,” Edward promised. “The Americans will never reach the mountains in time.”

“AND THE FETUS?” the voice asked.

“The DNA is stable. As we all hoped.”

He dabbed the sweat from his brow with the back of a sleeve. At least that was good news. Plans could move forward-behind schedule, yes, but still salvageable.

Edward continued, “As to that other matter, I can perform the C-section immediately. Get things ready.”

“VERY GOOD.” Though the voice was flat and affectless, Edward imagined the satisfaction behind those inhuman inflections.

“And what of the mother?” Edward asked, suspecting this was a touchy matter.

The answer came without hesitation. “SHE’S NO LONGER OF USE. HER DEATH WILL SERVE A GREATER PURPOSE.”

“Understood.”

The voice moved on to exacting detail about how preparations and procedures would continue from here. One last item concerning the mother was addressed.

“BURN HER BODY. IT SHOULD BE UNRECOGNIZABLE.”

The sweat down his back went cold. The pure callousness both appalled and excited him. What would it be like to move through the world with such utter disregard for morality-driven only by purpose?

The call finally ended.

Lost in preparations, he vacated the communications tent, strode through the sun-speckled glade of the camp, and up the steps to the makeshift medical ward. He tried his best to wear such a mantle of amoral drive as he stepped through the door and let it clap shut behind him.

Petra glanced up, shifting a fall of blond hair, her face open and questioning.

Edward looked beyond her to the hospital bed at the back of the ward. Amanda stared at him. He must have failed to fully don that cold mantle; something must have still shone in his face. The patient pulled her legs up, an instinctive desire to protect her child.

But it’s not your child that needs protecting at the moment…

Edward turned to Petra. “Get everything ready. We’re doing this now.”

July 2, 12:15 P.M . East Africa Time

UNICEF Camp, Somalia

With the blast still ringing in his head, Tucker pulled the dazed boy to his feet. Kane shook off dust and pieces of thatch. Smoke and sand floated in the air. The air reeked of burned flesh and flaming fuel.

The rocket had hit outside the hut, collapsing a corner of the clay-brick structure. A large blackened crater opened a few yards away. Bodies lay strewn at the edge, tossed and torn like so many rag dolls.

Tucker found his breathing growing heavier, flashing back to prior firefights in Afghanistan. He pulled the boy’s face into his chest, not wanting him to see. Baashi didn’t resist. Though deafened, he still felt the boy crying in terror, felt his wracking sobs.

Captain Alden groaned and rolled onto his rear end. Blood covered half his face, but it appeared to be only from a scalp wound. He must have caught a piece of the blast debris.

“Get him out of here!” Alden yelled, flopping his arm weakly toward the door.

Others rose out of the smoke, shedding rubble, bearing cuts and abrasions. Gray stumbled forward with Seichan.

Kowalski helped Major Jain to her feet. She wobbled slightly but found her footing. “You okay?” he asked

She shook free of him-teetered sideways, then grabbed his arm again. “Maybe not.”

When the Indian woman spotted her captain, she still tried to go to him, concern on her face. Alden waved her off. “Go with them, Jain. Help get them clear.”

“What about you?” Gray grabbed the map from the floor and passed it to Baashi. They still needed the boy to pinpoint the secret medical encampment rumored to be up in the mountains. Even rattled, the commander never lost sight of the mission objective. “Captain, you need medical attention.”

Alden grinned through the gore. “Then I guess I’m bloody well at the right place, aren’t I, commander?” He teetered back to his feet. “Besides, I’ve got two men here. I’m not leaving them until I know they’re safe.”

Or dead , Tucker added silently.

Punctuating that dour thought, another blast rocked deeper into the camp. Kane flinched, ducking lower.

Gray grabbed the captain by the upper arm. “You’ll do your men no good on your own.” He dragged the Brit out the door. “Come with me.”

Alden looked ready to argue, but Major Jain backed Gray up.

“Commander Pierce is right, sir.”

“Maybe we can argue later!” Kowalski shouted at them by the door. “Chopper’s swinging back this way!”

“Out of here! now!” Gray ordered.

The captain reluctantly followed. They rounded the hut and moved out among the field of parked vehicles.

Tucker guessed where the commander was taking them. He would’ve done the same, to utilize every resource to survive.

Gray led them straight to the minitank, painted white and emblazoned with the Un world logo. The Daimler Ferret armored car still sat where they’d seen it earlier. The peacekeeper posted beside it had climbed into the turret, manning the machine gun. The weapon smoked from prior shots, but the helicopter was currently beyond range on the other side of the camp, although it wouldn’t take long for the chopper to circle back around.