Free The Judas Strain by James Rollins Page B

still felt the sting of that betrayal.
    But now they had a key Guild operative in custody.
    As Painter entered the anteroom to his offices, his secretary and aide, Brant Millford, shifted back from his desk. The man used a wheelchair, his spine severed by a piece of shrapnel following a car bombing at a security post in Bosnia.
    “Sir, I have a satellite call coming in from Dr. Cummings.”
    Painter stopped, surprised. Lisa was not scheduled to report in so soon. A thread of worry cut through the tangle of responsibilities this night.
    “I’ll take it in my office. Thank you, Brant.”
    Painter crossed through the door. Three plasma monitors hung on the walls around his desk. The screens were dark for now, but as the night wore on, they would soon be flowing with data, all pouring into Central Command. For now, that could all wait. He reached across his deck to the phone and tapped the blinking button.
    Lisa had been scheduled to report in just around dawn, when it was nightfall among the Indonesian islands. Painter had requested the full day’s debriefing at that time, just before she went to bed. Such scheduling also offered him the perfect chance to wish her a good night.
    “Lisa?”
    The connection proved spotty with occasional drops.
    “God, Painter, it’s great to hear—voice. I know you’re busy. Brant mentioned a crisis—little else.”
    “Don’t worry. Not so much a crisis, as an opportunity.” He rested his hip to the edge of the desk. “Why are you calling in early?”
    “Something’s come up here. I’ve transmitted a large batch of technical data to research. I wanted someone over there to start double-checking the results from the toxicologist here, Dr. Barnhardt.”
    “I’ll make sure it gets done. But what’s the urgency?” He sensed the tension in her voice.
    “The situation here may be more dire than originally projected.”
    “I know. I’ve heard about the aftermath of the toxic cloud that blew over the island.”
    “No—yes, that was horrible, certainly—but things may be growing even worse. We’ve isolated some strange genetic abnormalities showing up in secondary infections. Disturbing findings. I thought it best to coordinate with Sigma researchers and labs as soon as possible, to get the ball rolling while Dr. Barnhardt completes his preliminary tests.”
    “Is Monk helping the toxicologist?”
    “He’s still out in the field, collecting samples. We’ll need everything he can bring us.”
    “I’ll alert Jennings here in R and D. Get him to roust his team. I’ll have him call and coordinate at our end.”
    “Perfect. Thanks.”
    Despite the resolution, Painter could not escape his own worry. Since assigning this mission, he was doing his best to balance his responsibilities as director, to maintain that necessary professional distance, but he could not achieve it, not with Lisa. He cleared his throat. “How are you holding up?”
    A small amused snort escaped her, tired but familiar. “I’m doing okay. But after this, I may never take another cruise in my life.”
    “I tried to warn you. It never pays to volunteer. I wanted to contribute. To make a difference, ” he said, mimicking her with a ghost of a smile. “See what it gets you. A passport to the Love Boat from Hell.”
    She offered him a halfhearted laugh, but her voice quickly lowered into a more serious tone, halting and unsure. “Painter, maybe it was a mistake…me coming here. I know I’m not an official member of Sigma. I may be in over my head.”
    “If I thought it was a mistake, I wouldn’t have assigned you. In fact, I would have grabbed any excuse to keep you from going. But as director, I had a duty to send the best people suited to oversee a medical crisis on behalf of Sigma. With your medical degree, your doctorate in physiology, your field research experience…I sent the right person.”
    A long stretch of silence followed. For a moment, Painter thought the call had dropped.
    “Thank