Forged in Smoke (Red-Hot SEALs #3)(80)

After a second of studying the two computer screens, Wolf appeared to dismiss them. Shifting slightly, he caught Rawls’s eye. “Walk with me.”

The words weren’t a request, but Wolf wasn’t his priority. He turned back to the radiologist.

“When are you doin’ the stress test?” He’d make certain he was there when they strapped those sensors to Faith’s chest and cranked up the treadmill.

Faith’s hand, which had been still as a frightened bird within his own grip, stirred and squeezed his fingers.

“Later this afternoon?” The lift in the man’s tone turned the words into a question. “I’m sure Dr. Ansell would like to get some rest. And I have a couple of patients I need to check on.”

A radiologist making rounds? Rawls reassessed this guy’s role at the facility. He was obviously a hell of a lot more than a simple radiologist, as Wolf had introduced him. But then . . . Rawls turned to consider the man waiting patiently behind him. Wolf was a hell of a lot more than a simple commander too.

Maybe taking that walk with their host would give him a better sense of what kind of organization they were dealing with. At the moment, the only thing he knew for sure was their hosts were exceptionally well stocked on everything from weaponry to aircraft to medical equipment.

Hell, the medical bay was as well-equipped as any high-tech hospital. Their ultrasound, X-ray, CAT scan, and MRI machines were all the current incarnations within an ever-changing technology. And from what he’d seen of the lab— Which reminded him . . .

“They find anythin’ in Brendan or Benji’s bloodwork?” he asked, looking over his shoulder at Wolf.

They’d scanned the children for microchips or implants while he’d been waiting for Faith to return from the last round of testing. According to Amy, they hadn’t found anything inserted into her sons’ flesh . . . however, following a routine blood test, they’d found an anomaly in the red and white blood cells.

They’d taken the boys to the lab for additional testing.

A grim shadow fell over Wolf’s normally taciturn face. “A genetically modified biological isotope was found in their blood cells. This compound appears to have bonded with every cell in their bodies.”

An engineered biological compound?

“They’re usin’ this compound to follow the kids?”

“It appears so,” Dr. Kerry said. He sighed and scrubbed at his forehead. “The isotope is siphoning off the cells’ electrical impulses and using them to power a high-frequency signal. If the people who injected the compound know the frequency the isotope emits, theoretically they could locate and follow it.”

Considering how quickly their camp had been attacked after the kids’ arrival, there was nothing theoretical about it.

“Sweet Jesus.” Rawls’s throat tightened. “They’re just kids. What’s wrong with those people?”

You didn’t target children. You sure as hell didn’t fill their bodies with experimental chemical shit. If the isotope was hijacking the electrical output, the cells would break down much faster. As more and more cells failed, the health of the host would decline.

Those Goddamn bastards had effectively condemned two children to a prolonged and likely agonizing death.

He took a deep breath and forced the rage back. There had to be a way to counteract the compound they’d been injected with.

“Can the isotope be neutralized?” Rawls asked.

“We’re looking into that.” Kerry’s gaze shifted back to the MRI of Faith’s heart on the monitor. “Along with other possibilities.”

Wolf dropped a heavy hand on Rawls’s shoulder. “Walk with me. There is much to discuss.”

“Such as?”

“Your biitei.” Wolf’s hooded black gaze dropped to the leather cord circling Rawls’s neck.

“The hiixoyooniiheiht seems to be holdin’ it at bay,” Rawls said, feeling the slight burn of the colorful amulet beneath his T-shirt.

Faith fixed determined eyes on Wolf’s face. “These charms are fascinating. I understand only the person who mak— creates them, is aware of how they work. I’d like to speak with whoever this person is. Perhaps—”

The shoulder Wolf turned on her was answer enough, and she stumbled into silence.

Rawls remained silent, but he had questions as well. Wearing the thing triggered the strangest sensation, not just the scratchy burn, but the way it vibrated every now and then. When it quivered, the burning intensified, never enough to prove painful, but enough to be noticeable. He hoped that meant it was working and Pachico’s reign of frustration was officially over.

Wolf turned back to Rawls. “This biitei took orders from your enemy. Is this not true?”

“He worked for them, if that’s what you’re gettin’ at.”

“Then it carries answers to many of our questions.” Thick black eyebrows rose in a quizzical expression. “Does it not?”

Rawls shrugged. “He’s not exactly forthcomin’ with what he knows.”

Hell, Pachico had bled out without giving up any of his knowledge. And death hadn’t softened his disposition. Why would he answer their questions now, when they had nothing with which to entice him or hold over his head in threat?

“Even if the biitei”—Rawls said the word carefully—“decided to answer our questions, we couldn’t trust what it tells us. He wasn’t much help alive; he’s even less help dead.”