Paul saw Alyssa grimace when the man injected the anesthetic around the wound site. After he finished he looked down at Alyssa and smiled.
“The worst is over.”
Paul edged around the bed and took her hand. Beads of sweat followed the curve of Alyssa’s spine, her upper back trembling with shallow breaths. She looked up at him, her face pale.
“Everything is going to be okay,” he told her, giving her a small smile.
Paul’s nose wrinkled at the faint smell of the antiseptic as the physician cleaned the area around the wound. He pulled out a tray and surveyed the instruments before slipping on the sterile gloves and picking up a scalpel. “Please try to be as still as possible, Miss Morgan.” He leaned over her, bringing the scalpel to the wound.
Paul’s chest tightened as he watched Nazari make an incision into Alyssa’s skin, opening up the small hole made by the bullet. His movements were smooth and efficient. He put down the scalpel and picked up a pair of long-nose pliers from the tray. Alyssa gasped and squeezed Paul’s hand hard when Nazari inserted the instrument into her wound.
A heartbeat later Nazari removed the instrument from Alyssa’s body, a small metal slug between the pincers. “Here is the culprit,” he said and dropped the bullet into the tray.
Alyssa continued holding her breath, her fingers still locked around Paul’s hand. He touched her head gently. “It’s over,” he said.
He felt her grip relax slowly as she exhaled.
“I’m going to examine the inside of the wound to ensure there aren’t any remaining fragments,” the physician said. “Then all we have left is to suture the wound.”
Alyssa’s eyes slowly lost focus. “That’s swell,” she said softly. She looked from Nazari to Paul. “I’m going to pass out now.” Then she closed her eyes.
Paul stared at Nazari, alarmed.
Nazari gave him a reassuring look. “She will be fine. Everything went well. Sleeping is the best thing she can do now. She will feel much better when she wakes up.”
Part 3
REVELATION
21 Kasir El Aini Hospital, Cairo
Dr. Ahmed Farag shivered as the cold blast of air from the inside of the minus-eighty degree freezer met his skin. He quickly scanned the shelves and removed two small vials before closing the heavy door. He crossed the laboratory to the long blacktop bench and reached for the DNA extraction kit. Absentmindedly, he threw a glance at the updated test results on the laptop. Still nothing.
He grabbed his water bottle and brought it to his lips. Empty. He didn’t remember finishing it. He swallowed, trying to wet his irritated throat.
The sound of his phone made him jump. He answered it.
“Ahlan, Ahmed.” He recognized Kamal Khanna’s voice. “Any progress?”
Farag tried to hide his frustration. “The cursed thing keeps mutating in front of our eyes, but we can’t make any sense out of it! Any news from the CDC and World Health Organization?”
“They are still having problems isolating sufficient amounts of stable RNA. The molecular structure of this bugger is more fragile than a teenage girl’s heart. Anytime we think we’re getting close, it just shatters on us.”
Farag scoffed and rubbed the back of his neck. “We’re running out of time, Kamal. We can’t afford to botch this up.”
“We will get to the bottom of it.” Kamal said and hung up.
Farag put the phone down and slid the tubes into the DNA processor. He cleared his throat, but it turned into a cough. He shielded it with his arm. When he brought his arm down, he gasped. His sleeve was covered in bright red blood.
Paul’s head bobbed down, and he jerked up, again, struggling to stay awake. He watched Alyssa, the steady movement of her chest rising and falling beneath the silk cover when the door slowly opened. He turned and eyed Renley as the tall man quietly entered the room.
“How is she?” Renley asked.
“She’s been sleeping, mostly.”
“You have been sitting in that chair all day. The room across the hall is set up for you. You should take a rest.”
“I’m fine,” Paul answered.
“As you wish,” Renley turned, heading for the door.
“Wait.”
Renley stopped and faced him.
“I never thanked you for what you did for Alyssa—for both of us,” he said. “Why did you help us?”
“My motives are my own, Mr. Matthews, as are yours.”
Paul’s gaze moved to Alyssa. He studied her, watching her sleep peacefully in the luxurious bed. He took a deep breath. “We planned to enter the Hall of Records.”
“And what would you do once you got there?” Renley asked.
“I’m not sure,” he hesitated. “Alyssa says the answers lie inside.”
“But you remain doubtful?”
“The crystal. It contains information. We managed to decode some of it,” Paul said, “but they were only snapshots. It became too dangerous for Alyssa to continue. She was too stubborn to let anybody else take the risk. She insists that the cure to her father’s illness is in the Hall of Records. Something about Horus’s blood.”
Renley gazed at him silently.
Paul shrugged. “I know it sounds crazy.” He rubbed his temples. “I think you’re right. I’m going to go rest for a bit.”
Renley continued staring at Paul with a strange expression.
“What is it?” Paul asked.
Renley shook his head wordlessly and stepped out of the room.
Moving as quietly as his stiff joints allowed, Paul slowly got out of the chair and inched to the bed. He studied Alyssa’s face, trying to ignore the waves of emotions welling up inside him. He ran a hand through her hair, moving the strands away from her eyes. Quietly, he turned and left the room.
Professor Baxter moved the VR helmet with his foot and knelt beside the body sprawled on the floor. He studied the man’s lifeless eyes for several seconds then stared up at Drake.
“What the hell happened to him?”
“You tell me, you’re the doctor,” Drake scoffed.
“I’m a molecular geneticist, not a physician.” Baxter replied, frowning. “What did you do to him?”
Drake pointed at the helmet and cables connecting it to the computers on the desk. “The whiz kid from the WHO put this together. We found it in the apartment.” He pushed a button on the LIDAR and a small panel slid open, revealing the crystal. “Apparently, they figured out how to access information stored in the artifact.”
“They what?” Baxter gave a bark of laughter. “You can’t be serious.”
“It seems there may be truth to the old prophecies after all, Professor.”
Baxter opened his mouth then shook his head. He closed his jaw with a snap and ran his hands through his gray hair. “So, what happened?”
Drake pointed at the man on the floor. “One of our men volunteered to access the information.”
“Ah…” Baxter nodded. “You’ll have a harder time finding a second volunteer.”
“He started seizing within seconds of putting on the helmet,” Drake continued. “We shut it down but couldn’t bring him out of it. He was dead in two minutes.”
Baxter bent down and scrutinized the fully dilated pupils in the man’s frozen eyes.
“My professional opinion?” He frowned. “Sensory overload. Guy’s nervous system is fried. Whatever the hell that thing is, clearly it didn’t agree with him.”
“I need the information stored in the crystal,” Drake said. “The girl accessed it, repeatedly, and still lives.” He regarded Baxter with an expectant look.
“I want to know why,” Drake continued. “Can you figure it out?”
Baxter pondered the question. “Possibly,” he replied. “If I can get my hands on her and perform a thorough—”
Drake snorted. “No.” He shook his head. “As long as she’s the only one who can get us the information, we need her intact—and cooperating.”
“At least
get me a blood sample, so I can run some tests, then,” Baxter shot back.
“That can be arranged,” Drake replied, a cold smile building on his face.
The ornate handle creaked softly under Tasha’s hand as she gently pushed the heavy oak door into the room. She glided inside, carefully closed the door behind her, and studied the young woman sleeping in the bed. You should never have come to Egypt, she thought, pressing her lips together wistfully.
She moved across the carpet and sat on the bed. Alyssa stirred, but her eyes remained closed. Tasha’s gaze traveled across Alyssa’s body, following the graceful curves under the thin white blanket. Her hand hesitantly moved to Alyssa’s face, almost touching it as her fingertips skimmed the contour of her cheek. Her fingers tingled as they drifted over Alyssa’s body, slowly descending toward the wound on her left side.
Alyssa stirred again. Tasha’s hand jerked back. She took a deep breath and took out a pen-shaped item and removed the plastic tip covering the tiny blade. Gently, she grasped Alyssa’s hand and moved the item to her finger.
Alyssa lifted her eyelids sluggishly. She recoiled, wild-eyed.
“What are you doing?”
Tasha flinched and pulled her hands back. Her eyes narrowed imperceptibly for an instant before her lips curved into a disarming smile.
"I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you. Dr. Nazari assured me that the sedative would keep you asleep for another couple of hours. He asked me to check on you.”
Alyssa looked dazed as she processed the other woman’s words. She stared at the object in Tasha’s hand. “What is that?”
Tasha slowly brought it closer to Alyssa, allowing her to examine it. “This? It’s just a lancet pen. It pricks your skin and takes a drop of your blood. Dr. Nazari wants to check it to make sure you don’t have an infection.”
Alyssa tried sitting up then winced and clutched her back. Tasha reached out to help, but Alyssa waved her off.
“Where is Paul?”
“The young man who brought you here?”
“Where is he? I want to see him.”
“He’s been at your side since you arrived. He was finally convinced to rest for a while. Would you like me to wake him?”
Alyssa looked down and sighed. “No, that’s all right.” She shook her head softly. “Let him rest.”
Tasha smiled. “He’s a good man. And he cares about you.”
“Who are you?”
“I’m Tasha. Renley said you’re friends?”
“No,” Alyssa replied too quickly. “I guess, maybe…”
“You’re lucky to be alive. He saved your life by bringing you here, you know.”
Alyssa’s body stiffened again. “I want to see Paul.” She tried pushing herself up but staggered. Tasha caught her and gently lowered her onto the bed.
“Your body is full of sedatives. You’re in no shape to get out of bed right now.” She put her hand on Alyssa’s arm. “You need to recover. It will give your boyfriend a chance to rest, too.”
Alyssa moved her arm away from Tasha. “He’s not…” she shook her head. “It’s complicated.”
Tasha grinned. “Always is with men.”
Alyssa blinked, puzzled.
Tasha considered her for several moments. “I should let you rest,” she said, finally. She held up the lancet pen. “Would you like me to come back later to do this?”
“No,” Alyssa held out her hand. “Go ahead.” She grasped Tasha’s arm. “I hate needles,” she said.
“Don’t worry,” Tasha replied, gently squeezing Alyssa’s hand. “I’m good with sharp objects.”
22 Wightwick Manor
Paul woke up with a start.
How long have I been out? He checked his watch. Only a couple of hours. I must have passed out as soon as I got into the room.
He sat up on the bed and rubbed his face to clear his head then stood and lumbered into the bathroom. He glanced at his reflection in the mirror. He looked haggard, eyes sunken. His beard looked as if he hadn’t shaved in two weeks. He fixed on the dark stains on his shirt. Alyssa’s blood. He lifted his hands to undo the buttons and flinched as he spotted the dried blood on his palms. Paul’s fingers trembled as he fumbled with the buttons, rushing to get away from the blood and the memories. He finally gave up and lifted the shirt over his head and threw it on the floor.
He turned on the faucet and scrubbed his hands, desperately trying to erase the image of Alyssa lying bleeding on the pavement from his mind. He scrubbed harder until his knuckles were red raw. Only when the water drained perfectly clear did he stop.
Paul opened the glass door to the shower and started the water. He stood for several seconds, eyes closed, keenly aware of the air conditioning against his bare skin and the soft splatter of the water hitting the marble floor.
Did all of that really happen today?
He opened his eyes and took a deep breath. He reached into his pocket and took out his phone. He had switched it off when he was with Alyssa, so it wouldn’t wake her. Absentmindedly, he powered it on and placed it on the sink. As he started unbuttoning his jeans, he heard the phone buzz with a new voicemail.
He glanced at the display. Unknown number. He tapped the screen to listen to the message.
“Paul, this is Kamal.” He tensed at the voice. “You and Alyssa are in great danger. I came to warn you in the apartment. You must call me back. Your lives may depend on it.”
Paul rested his hands on the sink and gaped into the mirror, studying his own reflection. What the hell is going on?
There had to be a connection somewhere. The thought hovered over him, as if waiting for permission to descend.
Frustrated, he reached for the phone and pushed the callback icon. The phone on the other end was picked up on the first ring.
“Paul?” Kamal’s voice sounded tense.
“Yeah, it’s me.”
“Is Alyssa with you?”
“Yes. Well, not right here. She’s in the other room.”
“What happened?”
“She was shot, Kamal. Alyssa was shot.”
He heard Kamal inhale sharply.
“How is she?”
“I think she’ll be okay. The doctor said she was very lucky.”
“Where are you?”
“I… I didn’t know what to do. I called Renley. He picked us up and drove us to—”
“Renley?” Kamal interrupted, alarm in his voice. “Paul, listen to me carefully. You are both in grave danger.”
“What?”
“We haven’t told you everything because we didn’t know whether we could trust you.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I’m trying to protect Alyssa. Damn it, Paul! We tried to keep her in Peru. Keep her from entering the Hall of Records with her father!”
“You’re behind the attack on her camp?”
“Nobody was supposed to get hurt! We just had to keep her out of Egypt long enough to miss the dig.”
Paul’s head was spinning as he processed the news. “That’s insane! And who is ‘we’?”
“There is no time! You have to trust me. We have reasons to believe that Renley was linked to what happened at the dig site.”
Paul slammed his hand on the sink, his nostrils flaring. “I knew it! That aristocratic prick. He’s been behind this all along!”
“He may be involved with a group of fanatics that are extremely dangerous.”
Paul’s mind raced, reliving the events from the last three days.
“The filters…” Paul started, “something doesn’t add up… They were all deactivated, except one. Ed Wallace. But he’s the one who died! That doesn’t make any sense!”
Paul heard Kamal breathe in sharply as realization hit him.
“Good gods,” he said, his voice trembling, “you’re in more danger than you can imagine.”
“What? What are you talking about?”
“Listen to me. You both have to get out of there, now.”
He paused. “Wait! No, don’t do anything. Don’t give them a reason to suspect that you know anything. We can track your location using the GPS on your phone. Don’t do anything, do you understand?”
Kamal waited for several seconds. “Paul? Did you hear me?”
Paul remained silent and frozen, watching the door to his room open slowly. He turned off the phone and put it on the sink and quietly slipped behind the bathroom door. Watching through the doorjamb, he tensed as a man entered his room and softly closed the door behind him. He remained motionless for several seconds listening to the running water. He thinks I’m in the shower. The man slid his hand into his jacket, pulling out a large, black, sinister-looking auto pistol, and stalked across the room toward the bathroom door.
Drake stood next to Tasha and stared at the computer display over Baxter’s shoulder, trying to make sense of the multitude of color-coded shapes and sequences of letters. It was complete gibberish to him. “What is all of this?”
Baxter ran his hand through his hair. “These gene sequences are completely degraded. Even the promoter regions are incomplete.” He scrolled through the results. “And the coding segments don’t exhibit any homology with known exons.”
Drake stared at him. “In English.”
Tasha looked up. “It appears the girl’s blood sample does contain several unknown genes, but they are quite splintered,” she explained. “What’s even stranger… even the individual pieces don’t match any of the known genes in the databases.”
“Maybe the sample was damaged during processing in the lab,” Drake said.
Baxter sat up, his chin out. “I can assure you, my sample processing protocols are flawless. There was no degradation or contamination.”
“So what else can it be? And what does it mean?” Drake asked.
Baxter cleared his throat. “It means reconstructing the genes and getting any useful information is going to be painful.”
Heir of Ra (Blood of Ra Book One) Page 18