The Phoenix Encounter Page 9

  “Good, I hate big slimy lizards with fangs.”

  Despite the seriousness of the subject she smiled. It was an odd moment for humor, but she knew that during prolonged periods of high stress, humor could be a powerful tool against despair. As a doctor, Robert would know that. She wondered if he was using humor for her benefit or his.

  “The outer wall is topped with concrete,” she said. “Shards of glass and concertina wire were imbedded in the concrete.”

  “Guess he doesn’t want his neighbors popping over unexpectedly.”

  “I don’t know him well. I mean, on a personal level. But from talking with him and others who know him, I was able to put together a sort of psychological profile.” She slid a sheet of paper from a manila folder. “From all appearances he’s a paranoid sociopath suffering from delusions of grandeur.”

  Scowling, Robert took the paper and skimmed it. “Nice.”

  “I wouldn’t recommend pissing him off.”

  Shaking his head, Robert cursed. “What the hell kind of crazy bastard are we dealing with?”

  “A very dangerous one.”

  Lily jumped when a crack of thunder shook the walls. She knew Robert was watching her, but she didn’t meet his gaze. She didn’t want him to know how jumpy this was making her.

  “Have you ever heard anyone mention an American doctor by the name of Alex Morrow?” he asked after a moment.

  Lily repeated the name, knowing it was familiar, but for the life of her she couldn’t remember where she’d heard it. “I’m not sure. Who is he?”

  “He’s an environmental geologist. An American who disappeared during a conference in Holzberg.”

  “He’s a friend of yours?”

  Robert nodded. “I need to find him.”

  She’d been wondering about his motivations for showing up, for having so many questions about DeBruzkya, and realized a piece of the puzzle had fallen neatly into place. But she also knew Morrow wasn’t the only reason Robert was here. “You think DeBruzkya is involved in Morrow’s disappearance?”

  “I think he’s involved up to his bald head and beady eyes.” Crossing his ankle over his knee, he absently began to massage his thigh.

  Lily watched for a moment, remembering his limp, and felt a tug of guilt. She wondered how badly he’d been injured on that last terrible night. She wondered if he’d been able to forgive her.

  “Do you need something for the pain?” she asked.

  His gaze jerked to hers. For an instant she saw surprise in its vivid blue depths, then his eyes hardened and cooled, like molten steel plunged into ice water. “I’m fine.”

  “I couldn’t help but notice your limp yesterday.”

  As if realizing he’d been massaging his thigh, he released it and leaned back in the chair. “It’s a long walk from Rajalla to your cottage.”

  “What happened, Robert?”

  His expression darkened. He glanced toward the window, then at her. “I thought you didn’t want to talk about that night.”

  “I just…” She struggled with words she couldn’t quite get right. “I don’t. I just…I’m sorry you were hurt.”

  His gaze burned into hers. “So am I.”

  She felt the heat of his stare as surely as she felt her heart roll over and begin to pound against her breast. Outside, the storm hurled rain and small hailstones against the tin roof. Even though it was still early, the windows had gone dark.

  “I took a hit from some shrapnel.” He looked away, and she wondered if, for an instant, he was back at the pub, hurting and angry because she’d refused to leave with him. She wondered if he blamed her. If he hated her.

  “Were you badly injured?” she asked.

  “Compound fracture of the femur. A few bone fragments. But there wasn’t any arterial damage.” He shrugged, looking distinctly uncomfortable. “A titanium pin, a few bolts, and I’m almost new.”

  “My God.” The night flashed horribly in her mind’s eye, the images hitting her with the same force as the bombs striking the ground. Some nights she could still feel the hot breath of the explosion. The smell of singed hair. The pain of her burns. “That could have been fatal.”

  “That’s one of the advantages of being a doctor. You get into a tight spot in the field and you can treat yourself.” He grinned, but the grin was tight and plastic, and she instinctively knew the injury had been much worse than he was letting on.

  “Some British medics picked me up,” he said. “They shot me up with morphine and put me on a plane to Paris. It took a couple of surgeries, but the surgeon was able to save the leg.”

  “Does it still bother you much?”

  He offered a wan smile. “Only when I have to hike six miles blindfolded in the rain.”

  Hurting for him, trying not to imagine what he’d gone through, she looked down, realizing her knuckles were white. “I’m sorry you had to go through that. It must have been terrible.”

  “It was a long time ago.”

  “You don’t forget something like that.”

  For several minutes, they sat in silence and listened to the rain. Then he asked, “What about you?”

  She glanced up, found his eyes already on her, asking questions she had no desire to answer. She’d known by bringing up that night that she would be opening the door to a subject that was best left closed and locked down tight. Lily didn’t want to talk about what had happened to her that night. She knew it wasn’t fair, but they’d both been around enough to know life wasn’t always fair. She’d been around enough to know some things were best left unremembered—even if she couldn’t forget.

  “I need to check on Jack,” she said.

  She started to rise, but he reached out and grasped her forearm. “Quid pro quo,” he said.

  “It doesn’t work that way.” She’d meant for the words to come out strong, but they came out as nothing more than a whisper.

  He must have read something in her eyes, because he suddenly released her. “I’m not going to let this go.”

  “Yes, you are,” she said, but her heart was pounding when she walked away.

  Chapter 6

  Jack had never been much of a crier. Normally he was a content baby with a sweet personality and easygoing temperament. But over the last couple of months, it seemed that he’d been cranky more often than not. He wasn’t sleeping as well. Some days he was finicky with his food.

  At 2:00 a.m. Lily turned on the tiny lamp next to her bed, slipped into her robe, went to the crib and gathered her son into her arms. “Mommy’s here, sweetheart.”

  But Jack wasn’t having any sweet talk. His little body strained with each wail. His skin felt clammy and damp against hers even though the cottage was cool. Concerned, Lily held him snugly against her, caressing the back of his head and murmuring a mother’s sweet nothings. She tried using the pacifier she kept on hand for emergencies, but he refused it. Cradling him in her arms, she paced the room several times, rocking him, talking to him, stroking him. But he didn’t stop crying.

  It was the third time in as many hours that she’d been up with him. The longer she listened to him cry, the more certain she became that something was wrong. She wasn’t exactly sure how she knew, but she did. The pitch of his cry wasn’t quite right. It seemed almost frantic. Usually, he stopped crying immediately upon being picked up. Tonight, he hadn’t even slowed down.

  “Shh. It’s okay, big guy,” she cooed. “Are you sick? Do you have a tummy ache?”

  Knowing a mother’s nervousness could be easily transmitted to a child, she tried to keep her tone light. But she heard the sharp edge of concern in her voice. She felt that same concern all the way down to her bones. As much as she didn’t want to admit it, she feared he might be seriously sick.

  She carried him to her bed and laid him down, sliding her finger into his diaper. Dry. It was the second time she’d checked it. And the second time she’d found it dry. Earlier, she’d warmed a bottle of goat’s milk. He’d refused it an hour ago. Sur
ely he must be hungry now. But when she put the nipple to his lips, he turned his head and cried even louder.

  Because she couldn’t stand to see him lying on the bed and crying, she scooped him into her arms. Cradling him gently, she hummed a meaningless nursery rhyme and began to pace the room. But Jack didn’t stop crying.

  “What’s wrong, sweetheart?” she murmured. “Mommy’s here, sweet baby.”

  She carried him to the ancient rocker beside her bed, she pulled the quilt over both of them and began to rock, the way she had when he was a newborn. Rocking usually quieted him when nothing else would. Even when he’d had a painful bout with colic, rocking had usually lulled him to sleep. They’d spent some long and uncomfortable nights together in this rocker. Then one of the Rebelian women in the village had suggested goat’s milk instead of cow milk. The colic had ceased immediately, and she’d been giving him goat’s milk ever since.

  After five minutes of rocking, Jack’s cries became even more frantic. Lily had been trying to ignore the quiver of worry hovering in her gut. Surely he was just being fussy because he was teething, wasn’t he? All babies were fussy when those first couple of teeth cut through their tender gums, weren’t they? But when she laid Jack on the bed and saw that his lips were darker than usual and the tips of his little fingers were blue, worry shot up the scale into full-fledged fear.

  “Okay, sweetheart,” she said, scooping him into her arms. “Let’s go get Robert.”

  “I’m right here.”

  Lily jolted at the sound of his voice. She looked up to see Robert standing in the doorway of her bedroom wearing nothing more than a pair of faded jeans and a sour look. His hair was sticking up. Black stubble darkened his jaw. He didn’t look very doctorly, but she was glad to see him nonetheless.

  “Something’s wrong,” she said. “I can’t seem to get him calmed down.” She laid Jack on the bed, concern rippling through her when his little body went taut with another high-pitched wail. “He’s never cried like this. Even as a newborn he was a very calm and happy baby. But the last couple of months he’s been…fussy.”

  Robert walked to the bed and looked at the baby.

  “I thought he needed changing, but he wasn’t wet. I warmed some milk for him, but he refused to take it.”

  “Does he usually take a bottle at night?” he asked.

  She nodded. “Goat’s milk, because he had a bout with colic.”

  “Did he take any milk tonight?”

  “No.” She looked at her child, felt the worry tighten like a chain around her chest. “His coloring is…off. His lips seem darker.”

  Bending, Robert lifted one of Jack’s fingers and gently squeezed the tip.

  “What is it?” she asked.

  “Just checking circulation. His refill rate is slow.”

  “What does that mean?” Lily pressed a hand to her chest. “My God. Is it serious?”

  “Probably not. But I think it’s smarter to err on the side of caution.” Robert looked at her. “I don’t think we should wait much longer before taking him to the hospital.”

  “Then it is serious.” Her heart stuttered and threatened to stop. “My God—”

  “Just take it easy, Lily. I don’t think anything at this point. With a child this age, it could be any number of things.”

  “But why is he crying like that? Is he in pain?”

  “Look, I’ve got some acetaminophen in my bag. Let me dose him. That should help him get to sleep.”

  Lily looked at her precious child and set her hand against his forehead. “I love him so much, Robert. I couldn’t bear it if—”

  “Nothing’s going to happen to him,” he said firmly. “Just stay calm for me, all right?”

  “Okay.” She took a deep breath. “I’m just…scared.”

  “I know you are.” He looked into her eyes. “Everything is going to be all right.”

  The way he said it left no room for doubt. And for that she was incredibly grateful. “Okay,” she said, feeling calmer.

  “Good girl.”

  For an instant she thought he would offer comfort. Comfort she badly needed at that moment. Instead, he turned and started down the hall. She knew he was going to get his medical bag, but she felt his departure far too acutely. She turned to her son, felt her heart swell within her chest. Jack represented all the goodness in a world that wasn’t always good. He represented hope for a future that was many times uncertain. He gave her joy when there was none to be had. If anything happened to him, she didn’t think she could go on. “Everything’s going to be all right, sweetheart,” she said.

  Lily had never been the kind of mother to overreact. Even when she’d been a new mother and hadn’t known a thing about babies, she’d taken all Jack’s ailments pretty much in stride. This time was different, however. She didn’t know how, but she knew there was something wrong with her baby. Something serious that was beyond her experience. Maybe beyond Robert’s. As she stared at her son, the thought brought a hot rush of tears to her eyes, and her heart simply broke.

  “Lily.”

  Quickly wiping away the tears, she turned to face him.

  “I know one of the doctors at the hospital in Rajalla. Dr. Roman Orloff. We can trust him. He’ll run the tests without alerting DeBruzkya or his soldiers.”

  “All I care about is getting Jack well.”

  She watched as he administered a small dose of acetaminophen. Jack had never been a good medicine taker and resisted, but Robert handled him with the gentle firmness of a man who’d administered medicine many times. She knew it was silly, but seeing Robert with Jack eased the fear clenching her chest.

  “That should take down his temperature and help him rest,” he said.

  Lily walked over to stand beside him, and they both stared at Jack for a moment.

  “I’d like to run a couple of preliminary clotting tests tonight if it’s all right with you,” Robert said after a moment.

  “You can run tests here?”

  “I’ve got the equipment to measure red and white blood cell counts and platelets. I can put some cells on a slide, scan it and send the scan via my satellite phone to the lab. The rest will have to be done at the hospital.”

  “Sounds pretty high-tech.”

  “It is.”

  She nodded. “Let’s do it.”

  “I’ll need your permission to take a blood sample.”

  “You’ve got it.” She glanced at Jack. He had stopped crying, but he looked pale and listless, and that broke her heart. “How will you get the sample?”

  “A quick prick on his heel.”

  “Poor little guy.”

  Robert smiled, but she knew it was only to reassure her. “He’s going to be fine,” he said.

  And for the first time since he’d shown up at her door, she was grateful he was there.

  In his small room off the kitchen, Robert inserted the slide into the scanner, locked it down to keep the resolution from bleeding and, using his palm-size computer, adjusted the magnification. He tried to concentrate on getting a perfect scan, but he knew the odds were against it under field conditions. If he weren’t so damn distracted…

  He knew better than to think of Jack and Lily on a personal level. He told himself he would have done this even if mother and child were strangers he’d met on the street. He was a doctor, after all. That’s what he did. He would have made sure they received proper medical care no matter who they were.

  Only this woman and her child weren’t strangers. Robert had felt that the instant he’d set foot in the cottage, the instant he laid eyes on that child. Jack may not be his son, but he felt a connection nonetheless. And if he wasn’t careful, he was going to find himself getting a little too close for comfort. A grave mistake considering the circumstances. Not only were he and Lily finished, but he had a mission to carry out.

  He couldn’t let this woman and her child interfere with finding Alex Morrow and collecting information on Bruno DeBruzkya. Damn it, he and Lily
were through. Had been for almost two years. She had a child and a life that didn’t include him. She’d moved on. Robert needed to do the same.

  Cursing under his breath, he clicked the mouse to open the software and scanned the cells on the slide. Once the cells had been scanned, he saved the image and information to the tiny disk, then sent both files to the satellite hub, which patched them directly through to ARIES headquarters. He’d instructed Hatch to forward the scan to the laboratory on site, along with an order for the tests he wanted run. He’d been able to skirt most of Hatch’s questions about whose blood they were testing. Hatch hadn’t pressed, but Robert knew he’d eventually have to come clean. He didn’t relish the idea of explaining to his boss that he was holed up with a woman he’d spent the last twenty-one months trying to get out of his system.

  “How long will it be?”

  He looked up from his tiny computer to find Lily standing in the doorway. Because the sight of her invariably triggered inappropriate thoughts, he looked at the computer and stared blindly at the screen. “We should have preliminary results in a few minutes. Dr. Orloff is expecting us.”

  “Good.”

  After shutting down the computer, he rose and started toward her. “How’s Jack?”

  “He’s finally asleep.” She hugged herself as if against a chill. “I think he’s exhausted.”

  Because it was too early to make any kind of definitive diagnosis, Robert hadn’t yet admitted to Lily that he was, indeed, concerned about her son. His symptoms were consistent with several types of anemia that, though rare, were most often diagnosed in children under two years of age. He wanted to reassure her, but at this point he knew those reassurances could turn out to be false. It made him feel lousy that he couldn’t even offer her that.

  “If he needs any kind of medication that isn’t available in Rajalla, I can have some sent to you from Paris or Frankfurt,” he said.

  She nodded. “Thank you.”

  Robert could see the strain in her eyes, the fear hovering just beneath her calm facade. Even though she was doing a pretty good job of masking it, he sensed the tension radiating through her. Shadows of fatigue marred the porcelain skin beneath her eyes. He wondered how well she would hold up if it turned out to be something serious. He hoped like hell it wasn’t.