The Gulfstream jolted, and the “fasten seatbelt” sign came on. I ignored it as I walked down the narrow aisle, bracing myself on the seatbacks. With the exception of Savage and me, everyone was sound asleep—including the anthropologists. I felt a deep-seated relief. My people were alive and healthy. It could have ended so much worse.
Falcon slept peacefully, his head bent to the side. For that I felt grateful. He’d been twitching, mumbling to himself from the stress. I’d added five more milligrams of Mirtazapine to his cocktail, figuring he could use the additional dosage. He worried me the most, being the most fragile.
Cat and Edwin sat side by side, her head on his shoulder, long black hair spilling down around her delicate face. Edwin’s head was propped on hers, his mouth open, eyes flickering in REM sleep.
Winny lay curled like a red fox in a den; she slept in one of the window seats. I’d threatened to sedate her when she’d insisted on flying the Gulfstream. It had taken Savage, me, and Reid Farmer to manhandle her into the seat.
Note to self: Winny and tequila? Bad idea.
Across from her, the anthropologists, having folded the seat arm up, were snuggled against the cabin wall, the window shade pulled down. Not that there was much to see in the darkness beyond. The precious pack and satchel were safely stowed under the seats in front of them.
I paused at Karla’s seat. Her dark tactical gear had, for the most part, dried out. A black HK submachine gun lay on the seat beside her. Woozy from tequila, she’d nevertheless insisted on cleaning it subsequent to Winny dunking her and the gun in the lake.
I fought the urge to reach down and pull back the strand of black hair that hung down in front of her nose.
You know better than to form attachments like this, Ryan.
Yeah, sure.
With a weary smile, I made my way to the front and took the seat opposite Savage. He was studying me through thoughtful black eyes as he held his phone to his ear.
I heard him say, “Yes, sir. I understand, sir.” He pushed the end button, a bitter expression on his face.
“Trouble?” I asked.
Instead of answering he asked, “You got a thing for Raven, Doctor? That look you gave her . . . ?”
I chuckled and pulled a bottle of water from the pouch in the bulkhead. “I’ve got a thing for all them. But you’re right. Karla’s special.”
“That’s not healthy, Doctor. Professionally or otherwise. And you’re old enough to be her father. She’s hot, but not exactly the makings of a storybook ending if you ask—”
“Is that what you think?” I shot him a look of amazement. “God, no!” I sipped from the bottle. “First, as you note, she’s a patient. Second, I can admire her for who she is without any romantic impulses. And third, yes, she’s a favorite of mine for a variety of reasons.” I paused. “None of which have to do with sex.”
Which of course was a lie; just about all adult, non-consanguineous, male-female relationships have a sexual underpinning. Savage, however, didn’t need to know that.
“Okay. I guess I deserved that.”
“What is it with you and Grazier? You thought the same thing about me and Gray. Psychologists are good at picking up on common themes. Yours keeps cropping up.”
“Occam’s razor says that the most likely solution is usually the answer. We don’t have a clue as to how Gray got out of Ward Six. That’s why. An inside job still seems the best explanation.”
“And since you already had me in the sack with Gray, I’m also lusting after Karla?” I shot him a scathing glance. “It’s tough, but make yourself step back and look at my people analytically. If you give them a chance, Karla included, you’re going to see what I do.”
He was silent for a while, then nodded. “I’ve got my anthropologists back. Grazier’s been on the phone with the Pitkin County sheriff and the FBI. The number of dead, the presence of fully automatic weapons, not to mention a stolen federal helicopter shot full of bullet holes, has the place under lockdown. FBI has already seized the sarcophaguses and mummies. We’ve got them back.”
I glanced sidelong at him. “Would you have? Had Falcon not cued on the Aspen mansion?”
“No.” Savage scowled. “But that clusterfuck back in Aspen? It looks like a small war zone. Here, on American soil. You and your hooligans have a messy way of picking up the pieces.”
“We almost got Gray back. And with her, the solution to the mystery of who took her out of Ward Six.” I waved him down. “All right, they were messy. What did you expect? They put this together overnight, on a shoestring, without any support, and still turned up aces.”
“That remains to be seen.” He stared down at his strong brown hands. “Grazier’s got a shitstorm brewing. Fifteen senators, the Pentagon, a host of congressmen, and the National Security Advisor are demanding to know what the hell he’s doing attacking Skientia.”
“Surely they’d . . . Hold on a second.” I cocked my head. “How would they know? Skientia, I mean. Grazier didn’t attack them. My people did.”
“They think it was Grazier.”
“Call him back, Savage. Tell him to deny any involvement. And tell him, for God’s sake, not to mention my people.”
“What are you thinking?”
“How would anyone know it was Grazier? Unless Skientia is way ahead of us and poisoning the water.” Who did I think I was? Falcon? But I could see the implications—and it wasn’t anything pleasant. “We need to get my people back to Grantham immediately.”
“For once you and I agree, Ryan.”
“And the record needs to show that they returned, of their own free will, twelve hours ago.”
“Huh?”
“Deniability. Especially for Grazier. Who’d believe that a bunch of crackpots from the asylum could have knocked off Skientia and killed all those people? It would have taken one hell of a spec-op team to pull this off, right?”
“. . . And all the teams can be accounted for,” he agreed, seeing the light. “The inquiry will upset every branch of the services, ruffle national security feathers, stir up a hornet’s nest of backlash.”
“To date, outside of you and me, only Grazier knows who was in Aspen. It’s got to stay that way.”
“Because they have someone inside Grazier’s team,” he agreed. “The same person, or people, who compromised my arrival in DC when France and Farmer were taken.”
“You’re quicker than I thought you were.”
He already had the phone to his ear. The guy was good, obviously, given his years in the intelligence and spec-op community. He told Grazier everything the man needed to know without telling him anything.
When Savage ended the call, he looked at me. “You can cover your end? When we get to Grantham, I mean. Fix the records?”
I tilted my head toward the cabin behind me. “Between Edwin, Hatcher, and Janeesha, it will look rock solid. Assuming you can soothe Mercy General, Best Buy, and the rental car company.”
“They’re taken care of. I can’t wait to hear what the anthropologists have to say. Let alone see what’s in that pack and satchel. I saw that tomb, Ryan. Farmer and France have seen the mummy, seen inside the sarcophagus.”
“Skientia is going to want them back,” I told him. “You can bet their lawyers are going to be demanding the return of all property seized in the Aspen raid, which includes the sarcophagi.”
“Skientia’s guys just got their teeth kicked in. We won.”
I shook my head. “The attack on the compound caught Skientia completely by surprise. Now they’re out for blood.”
He grunted.
“They think it was Grazier. But they won’t be able to prove it. And I have faith in Eli. He’s going to skate right out from under the crap and come up looking like the aggrieved party.”
I leaned over the armrest to meet Savage’s eyes. “But, Major, know this: We only handed Skientia a setback, nothing more. Until we debrief the anthropologists and allow Falcon to pick everything apart and reassemble the pieces, we haven’t a clue concerning what this is all about. But it’s big. Really big.”
Savage leaned back, mouth tightening. “On the way down the mountain, Reid told me that Skientia had hired the Talon mercenaries we killed in Egypt. He said Bill Minor, Skientia’s man in Egypt, was at that mansion. Maybe Raven took him out, maybe she didn’t. But either way, any organization willing to murder men in their employ that way, and then attack me and my detail like they did . . . ?”
“Yeah,” I said softly. “I hear you. But what makes Gray and an old tomb worth dying for?”