“Yes, alright.”
He was on the point of opening the valve on the gas cylinder and releasing the deadly contagion when he hesitated. A few moments later, he reached a decision. He slid the mask away from her mouth. “Just a moment. I forgot something. I’ll be right back.”
She nodded as a sign that she’d heard him.
He stalked off to a supply room in another wing of the facility and rummaged around until he found the items he needed. Then he prepared a syringe.
Returning to Annabeth, he removed the restraint from one arm. He positioned her limb, palm upward, on the armrest. “I’m going to give you something to make you sleepy.”
“But I want to be awake when my son gets here,” she protested mildly.
“After your nap,” he said gently, injecting the needle. “When you wake up, he’ll be here.” He then refastened the wrist restraint.
She beamed at him gratefully. “Thank you, doctor. I’ve waited so long. Nobody else would believe me. Nobody else would help me. Thank you! Thank you!”
Aboud turned away for a few seconds, wishing to avoid her eyes. None of his previous test subjects had received the benefit of a strong narcotic to eliminate their misery. Why should this one be any different? He marveled at himself. It was a bit late in the game for him to be growing sentimental. His associates from the old days would laugh if they could see him now. Never before had he allowed his scientific objectivity to be compromised by emotion. The doctor reminded himself defensively that he would still be able to collect the necessary data in spite of the sedative. He didn’t need Annabeth to be conscious in order to record how quickly she succumbed to the plague. Her pulse, or the lack thereof, was the sole piece of information he required. His oxymeter would tell him that.
If his benefactor were to ask, Aboud was prepared to offer a colorful account of Annabeth’s agonizing final hours. After all, he had compiled quite a repertoire to draw on—dozens of other victims who had expired painfully. He was quite sure he could supply a description lurid enough to satisfy even Metcalf and the implacable God he served. They both demanded blood sacrifices. Well, they would have their wish. Blood aplenty would be spilled before the day was over, but Annabeth would feel none of the pain of it.
He turned back around and fitted the mask snugly over her mouth and nose. She was already growing drowsy from the sedative. Her eyelids fluttered briefly.
He opened the valve on the gas canister, releasing its deadly contents into the mask. “Now,” he instructed. “I want you to breathe in and out normally. That’s all you have to do. Just breathe.”
Chapter 47—Shrine Circus
“Hi. Haven’t seen you two around. Are you new in town?” Rabten took a seat in the tiny Darchen cafe and struck up a conversation with an Australian couple.
“Yes, we’re planning to hike around the mountain. We hear it’s quite beautiful.”
“It’s a little late in the season to do the full parikrama around Kailash,” Rabten observed. “But you’re lucky. So far, no snow.” Out of the corner of his eye, he kept a close watch on the occupants of the next table—a man in a cowboy hat and his wiry, dark-haired companion. Leroy Hunt and Daniel Metcalf had arrived the night before. They’d apparently driven across the plateau from Lhasa in a hired vehicle. Since Daniel and his henchman had never seen the twins, Rabten and Rinchen were acting as spies to keep tabs on the duo.
The twins had only returned themselves a day earlier with the duplicate artifacts. They were greeted by an anxious Cassie and Griffin. To keep themselves from fretting, the scrivener and the pythia had made daily treks to Saptarishi Cave and back. The hikes helped them memorize the route since they would need to navigate it in the dark after making the relic switch. By now they had shaken off the last of their altitude sickness. It was a good thing they’d gotten some exercise while they still could. With Daniel and Hunt roaming around town, Cassie and Griffin were forced to lay low in their hotel and allow the twins to do the necessary legwork on their behalf.
This particular morning, Rabten intended to nudge the Nephilim operatives a few steps closer to their goal. He listened patiently while the Australians regaled him with stories of their Himalayan adventures. At a convenient lull in the conversation, he said, “If you’re going to hike Kailash you should really make a stop at Saptarishi Cave. There’s a shrine up there with an amazing artifact inside.”
The Arkana agent noticed that Daniel had tilted his head in their direction and was listening intently.
In a louder voice, Rabten continued. “The story goes that a Hindu pilgrim discovered a priceless statue hidden inside the cave. It’s covered with precious stones—so valuable that a shrine was built around it. The faithful consider it a gift from Shiva himself. Once you’re inside the cave, you can’t miss it. The artifact sits right underneath a lily carved into the stone wall.” He paused to sneak a glance at the Nephilim. At the mention of the lily, Daniel dropped his cup, spilling yak butter tea all over the table.
Rabten kept one ear tuned to the Australians who were thanking him for the tip and the other ear tuned to an urgent, whispered conversation between Hunt and Daniel. A few words drifted his way—enough for him to know that they were planning to visit the cave that same day. The trap was set.
***
Rinchen was loitering in a side street a few blocks away from the cafe. His brother came tearing around the corner with a big grin on his face. “They took the bait,” he said. “You’re up, bro.”
“Okey dokey,” Rinchen
