The Judas Strain - James Rollins [199]
He had been plotting this for the past three days, and now the timetable had been moved up. The gate to the hospital appeared ahead.
They were allowed to leave, but only as far as the surrounding village.
Rounding a corner of a tall hedgerow, Gray came upon a small alcove, a private altar with a fat Buddha draped in red silk. A few smudge sticks lay on the ground, but currently the smoke came from another source.
Kowalski leaned on the Buddha, a palm atop the stone head. He removed the cigar from his mouth, puffing a long thick cloud.
“Oh, yeah…” he moaned in grudging contentment.
“Where did you get a—oh, never mind.” Gray held out a hand. “Were you able to find what I asked for?”
Kowalski stubbed out his cigar on the Buddha’s shoulder.
Even Gray cringed a bit at the casual sacrilege.
“Yeah, but what do you want with all this?” he asked, and lifted a paper-wrapped bundle from behind his back. “I bribed my nurse while getting a sponge bath. Of course it was a guy. Took all the fun out of it. But he was able to buy what you wanted.”
Gray took the package and turned to head off.
Kowalski crossed his arms, his brows heavy with disappointment, even heaving out an irritated sigh.
Gray stepped back. “What’s the matter?”
Kowalski opened his mouth—then closed it.
“What?” Gray pressed.
Kowalski flipped his hands in the air. “First…well, all this time, I didn’t get to shoot a single goddamn gun. Not a rifle, not a pistol, not a popgun! I mean I might as well have been on guard duty back home. All I got for my troubles was a bunch of needles stuck in my ass.”
Gray stood a moment, staring. It was the longest speech Kowalski had ever given. He was plainly passionate on the subject.
“I’m just saying…” Kowalski blurted, suddenly mildly chagrined.
Gray sighed. “Come with me.” He stalked off and headed toward the gate. He did owe the guy.
Kowalski followed. “Where we going?”
Gray led him to the gate. The guards on duty nodded to them. Gray tucked the package under his arm and fished out his wallet. He stripped out a bill and passed it to Kowalski as they stepped through the gate.
“What am I supposed to do with ten dollars?” he asked.
Gray stepped farther out and pointed down the road to where a work crew labored. Thailand-style. Four men and their two work animals.
“Look…elephants,” Gray said.
Kowalski stared down the dirt track, down to the bill in his hands, then back out to the elephants. A giant grin split his face. He strode off, turned back, struggled to express his thanks, failed, then headed down the road again.
“Oh, yeah, I’m all over this elephant ride…” He lifted his arm. “Hey, you! Gunga Din!”
Gray turned around and headed back inside.
Poor elephant.
12:15 P.M.
VIGOR RESTED IN his bed. He had a pair of reading glasses perched on his nose. He had books piled on his nightstand, crowding his goldfish bowl. He had articles printed out and stacked on the other side of the hospital bed: on angelic script, on Marco Polo, on the history of the Khmers, on the ruins of Angkor.
He was presently rereading for the fourth time the scientific report Gray had sited, an article in Science magazine from 1994, relating the study of human language to DNA code.
Fascinating…
Motion at his open door drew his attention from the paper. He spotted Gray. “Commander Pierce!” he called out.
Gray paused at the door, checked his watch, then leaned in. “Yes, Monsignor.”
Vigor was surprised at the formality. Something had set Gray on edge. He waved the man inside. “Come in for a moment.”
“I have just that…a moment.” He stepped inside. “How are you feeling?”
“Fine.” Vigor waved away such matters. “I read this article. I didn’t realize that only three percent of our genome is active. That a full ninety-seven percent is junk and codes for nothing. Yet, when this junk is run through the cryptography program testing for language, even such random garbage also reveals a language. Amazing.” Vigor took off his glasses. “Gray, what if we could understand that language?”
Gray nodded. “Some things may be forever