The Sixth Day (A Brit in the FBI #5)(96)

“Nicholas, he’s in Kevlar!” and she shot at his legs.

He was down, groaning, on his side on the floor, grabbing his left leg. Nicholas shouted, “FBI, put down your weapon,” but the man groaned once and went limp. A huge pool of blood spread across the perfect white floor.

“Artery shot, Mike.”

They heard a woman’s voice shout, “Careful. It’s rigged, they rigged—” before she was cut off.

They froze. “What’s rigged?”

They heard her garbled voice. Someone had his hand over her mouth. They studied the room that looked like a large hospital suite but didn’t see anything that could kill them.

“Isabella,” Mike called. “Is that you? Are you all right?”

There was scuffling and more muffled yells. Nicholas took one step forward, heard something metallic grinding and ducked just before a sharp edge of metal swung right at his head. Mike ran forward, went down on her knees, and skidded. They collided.

Nicholas grabbed her arms to hold her steady. “What the bloody hell was that?”

“I don’t know, but it nearly took off your head. She was right, the place is rigged.”

Mike leaned up, whispered against his ear, “The defenses must be on motion sensors. Maybe if we stay low, we can get them to go off without killing us.”

They crawled. After ten feet, they saw Isabella, wearing a hospital gown, her legs webbed to the bed. But she wasn’t alone.

She was sitting up, and a man was holding her in front of him. They were tethered together, connected by a long tube running from her arm to his. It was dark red. What was going on here? A blood transfusion? This man was taking Isabella’s blood?

Was this Roman Ardelean’s brother? Tall, pale as death, and he looked like he wanted to vomit. He’d flattened one hand over Isabella’s mouth and the other hand held a scalpel to her neck.

What was his name? Radu. Yes, Radu Ardelean, and he was ill, Barstow had said. Mike whispered his name to Nicholas, but he already knew. They knew Radu had seen them, but he wasn’t looking at them. No, he was looking over to where the older man lay on the floor behind them, an ever-spreading pool of blood snaking toward them. There were tears in his eyes.

He spoke to them in a language they didn’t understand. Then he shook his head and said in stilted English, “Don’t come any closer. I don’t want to kill her. She is my life, but I will if you make me.”

Isabella bit his hand, and he flinched. He stuck the scalpel into her neck, drawing a drop of blood.

Mike sat back on her heels, her mind racing, but when she spoke, her voice was calm and soothing, “You are his brother, aren’t you? You’re Radu Ardelean.”

“Yes, but it doesn’t matter. If you leave us, we will be fine. We belong together. She is my blood sister. She’d tell you that, but she’s scared.”

“Why don’t you let your blood sister speak to us?” Mike crawled a few more feet, then a few more, sat back on her heels again. Nicholas stopped behind her. She felt his hand on her leg.

Slowly, Radu took his hand from Isabella’s mouth, but the scalpel remained against her throat. They saw another drop of blood. Mike would swear his nostrils flared, as if he was breathing in that blood on her neck, as he whispered, “Tell them, sister, tell them we belong together, that I will die without you.”

Isabella couldn’t get any spit into her mouth. She was still weak and light-headed from the loss of blood, but she had to get it together, had to. She swallowed and swallowed again, aware Radu was behind her, breathing hard, nearly over the edge he was so frightened, so desperate. She wasn’t about to try to shove him off. She said quietly, her voice infinitely calm, “Yes, Radu isn’t only Roman Ardelean’s brother, he’s his twin. He has an untreatable hemophilia that runs through our familial line. He’s right. With the recipe from the Voynich and my blood, he could be cured.” The scalpel eased out of her neck, and she swallowed again. He whispered against her neck, “Tell them you belong with me. Always.”

Nicholas heard him, of course, and said, “Radu, we can’t leave her with you. You have to let her go.” He continued to crawl forward until he was next to Mike. Radu’s face hardened, then he looked again toward the older man’s body, and suddenly, he seemed to fold in on himself. He whispered, “No, no,” and his voice was filled with soul-deep grief. Yet again, he pricked her skin with the scalpel. She flinched but didn’t make a sound. Blood trailed down to stain her white hospital gown.

Mike raised her hand. “Stop, don’t hurt her. She’s innocent in this, and from what we see, what she’s said, we know you are, too.”

Nicholas said, “Radu, please, put down the scalpel, and we can talk about this, civilly.” He rose slowly to his feet.

“You killed Iago.”

“We didn’t want to, but we had no choice. He was trying to kill us.”

“He was protecting me. Iago always protected me, since I was a little boy. Don’t come another step closer.”

Mike stood as well, moved to stand beside Nicholas.

Radu said, “I’m telling you, you want to stop walking, right now. You really should pay attention.”

Nicholas stopped, but Mike took another step, and another. She saw Radu reach out his hand and touch something at the side of a counter, and the whole world disappeared.