The Eye of God (Sigma Force 9)
Page 63Rachel stirred. “I asked that very question of Josip.”
Vigor looked stricken. “And I dismissed it as unimportant.”
“Uncle, you were just trying to protect Josip’s feelings. We could not know the importance of such information.”
Gray stared hard at Sanjar. “Who bought the priest’s treasure, this gold cuff?”
“Workers talk, tell stories, so even this might not be true. But everyone seemed convinced it was sold to someone important in the Mongolian government.”
“Who?”
“Our minister of justice. A man named Batukhan.”
Gray considered this new information, recognizing the thin nature of this line of conjecture. Maybe it wasn’t the same gold cuff. Maybe Batukhan wasn’t the one who bought it. And even if both were true, the minister could have sold it to someone else long ago.
All eyes were upon him.
“It’s worth checking out,” Gray finally admitted. “At least we should pay this guy a visit. But if this minister is Borjigin, he’ll likely know all your faces.” He nodded to Monk’s side of the table. “But he won’t know mine. Nor Seichan’s.”
Excitement drove Vigor to his feet. “If we can recover that last relic—”
Gray held up a hand. “That’s a big if. And I’m not willing to delay the hunt for the wreckage of the satellite on this long shot alone.” He pointed across the table. “Monk, you take Duncan and Jada and head into the mountains with Sanjar. You’ve got the latest GPS waypoints from Painter that mark off the search grid, right?”
The team at the SMC had further refined the trajectory estimates of the crashing satellite, narrowing the parameters to as small a region as possible.
“So we’ll get started immediately. In the meantime, I’ll investigate this minister with Seichan and leave Kowalski to guard Vigor and Rachel here at the hotel. If nothing pans out, we’ll join you in the mountains as soon as possible.”
With a nod, Monk stood, ready to go.
Kowalski stretched and mumbled, “Yeah, it’s always a good idea to split up. That’s worked so well for us in the past.”
12:02 P.M.
Seichan paced her room. She had come in here to take a fast nap after Monk and his group headed out to begin their trip into the mountains.
In the next room, Gray worked with Kat back at Sigma command. They were putting together a profile on the Mongolian minister of justice, including where he worked and lived and the schematics of both places. They also gathered financial records and a list of known associates, business partners, anything that might prove useful before approaching the enemy.
If he was the enemy . . .
No one was ever who they seemed to be. It was something she had learned long ago, thrust as a child into the realities of the harsh world, where everyone had a price, and faces were as much of a façade as the clan leader’s wolf mask. She had learned to trust only herself.
Even around Gray, she could not totally let her guard down.
She wasn’t afraid of him seeing her true face. Instead, she feared she had no face. After so many years, playing so many different roles to survive, she feared nothing was left. If she dropped her guard, would anything be there at all?
Am I just scar tissue and instinct?
A knock at the door drew her from her thoughts. Glad for the interruption, she called out, “Yes?”
“What do you want?”
It came out more brusquely than she intended, revealing some of that scar tissue. She felt no animosity toward Rachel. While they could never be friends, she respected the woman’s abilities, her sharp intelligence. But she could not discount the spark of jealousy when she first saw Rachel today. It was mindless, a feral instinct to protect her territory.
“I’m sorry,” she tried again. “Come on in.”
Rachel took a tentative step inside, as if entering a lion’s cage. “I wanted to thank you for agreeing to help my uncle. If he had gone out on his own . . .”
Seichan shrugged. “It was Gray’s decision.”
“Still . . .”
“And I like your uncle.” Seichan was momentarily surprised how true those words were. Upon entering the hotel room earlier, Vigor had touched her arm with affection, knowing full well her dark past. That simple gesture meant a great deal to her. “How long has he been sick?”
Rachel blinked a few times at her question and swallowed.
Seichan realized Rachel hadn’t fully accepted that reality. From the pending tears, Rachel must know it down deep, but she hadn’t truly faced it.
At least not out loud.
Seichan waved her farther inside and closed the door.
“He won’t speak about it,” Rachel said stiffly and moved to a chair and sat on the cushion’s edge. “I think he believes he’s protecting us, sheltering me.”
Rachel nodded and wiped a tear. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay.”
“He’s been going downhill for a while. But it’s been so gradual, each small decline easy to dismiss and excuse. Then suddenly you truly see him. Like on this trip. And you can no longer deny the truth.”
Rachel covered her face with her hands for a long breath, then lowered them again, struggling to keep her composure.
“I don’t know why I’m burdening you with this,” she said.
Seichan knew but remained silent. Sometimes it was easier to open one’s heart to a stranger, to test emotions upon someone who means little to you.
“I . . . I appreciate you helping to watch over him.” Rachel reached out and took her fingers. “I don’t think I could have done this alone.”
Seichan involuntarily stiffened, wanted to yank her hand back, but fought against it. Instead, she whispered, “We’ll do it together then.”
Rachel squeezed her fingers. “Thank you.”
Seichan slipped her hand away, awkward at the intimacy. She knew Rachel wasn’t only thanking her for shouldering the burden of her uncle, but also for allowing her to share her fears. Silence fueled anxieties, gave them their true power. Expressing them aloud was a way of releasing that tension, of letting go, if only for a brief time.
“I should get back to my uncle.” Rachel stood up. As she headed out, she paused at the door. “Gray said you found your mother. How wonderful that must be for you.”