The Judas Strain - James Rollins [62]
“I believe that is exactly what I’m doing.” He stared back at her, unmoved. “Now pick.”
Lisa stared across the four faces. She could not pick the little girl, or her brother. She had no choice. She lifted a trembling arm and pointed a finger to another of the boys, the oldest of the group at ten years of age.
May God forgive me.
“Very good. Rakao, you know your duty.”
The Maori gunman stepped over to the boy, whose frightened face lifted hopefully.
A moan escaped Lisa. She took a step forward, trying to retract her decision. The guard tightened his grip on her elbow. Restrained, her legs trembled—then she was on her knees, boneless with terror and grief.
The gunman lifted his pistol and pointed it at the boy’s head.
“No…” Lisa gasped.
He pulled the trigger—but there was no blast of fire. The gun’s hammer clicked sharply in the confined space, snapping on an empty cylinder.
Rakao lowered his weapon.
In the silence a gurgling cry erupted from the other side of the hall. Lisa turned in time to watch Dr. Lindholm sink to his knees, matching Lisa’s posture. He met her gaze, eyes wide with shock and pain. His hands clutched his throat. Blood poured between his fingers.
Behind his shoulder, Devesh’s companion, the woman Surina, stepped back, her head bowed down as if she had just served tea and was now exiting. Her hands were empty, but Lisa had no doubt the woman had slashed the doctor’s throat, her dagger vanishing away as quickly as it had struck.
Lindholm slumped and fell to his chest on the carpeted floor. Blood soaked into the plush weave and overspilled into a growing pool. One hand twitched on the carpet, then stopped.
“Motherfucker…” Ryder growled, his face stony, turning away.
Devesh stepped back to Lisa.
“Wh-why?” she managed to force out, heartsick and cold.
“Like I said, nothing escapes our notice, Dr. Cummings. Including Dr. Lindholm’s skill. Or rather lack thereof when it comes to research and fieldwork. He served his purpose in keeping the WHO off our backs with his call, but beyond that, he is more a liability than an asset. His death at least served one last function. A demonstration. Not only to show the cost of insubordination.” Devesh fixed her with a hard stare. “Can I assume you’ve learned that cost, Dr. Cummings?”
She slowly nodded, staring at the pool of blood.
“Very good.” He faced the others. “The death also demonstrates a lesson to everyone. Of the seriousness of our venture here. Your lives depend upon your usefulness. It is that simple. Perform or die. I encourage you to pass on this lesson to your other colleagues before further demonstrations prove necessary.”
Devesh clapped his hands together. “Now, with that little bit of unpleasantness over, we can begin our work.” He motioned to the Maori leader. “Rakao, please guide everyone to their respective posts. I’ll escort Dr. Cummings personally to her patient.”
Holstering his pistol, Rakao dispersed his men. Devesh led Lisa down the hall, away from everyone else. She passed the line of children. Shell-shocked, they were being gathered for a return to the ship’s day care.
Surina, trailing Lisa and Devesh, paused by the little brother and sister. She bent to the girl, still cowering under her brother’s arm. Surina held out an empty palm; then with a flicker of fingers, a small wrapped sweet appeared in her hand, as if out of the air. She offered it to the terrified girl, but the child only pulled tighter against her older sibling. Her brother, more practical, reached out and snatched the candy from Surina’s palm, as if grabbing it out of a baited mousetrap.
Surina straightened in a smooth flow of embroidered silk, lightly brushing her fingers along the girl’s cheek as she rose. Her fingertips came away damp with the child’s tears. Lisa wondered if it was the same hand that had slashed Lindholm’s throat. The woman’s face remained perfectly still.
Lisa turned away, following Devesh.
He took her down to the very last cabin on this level and keyed his