The Judas Strain - James Rollins [45]
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 breasts 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