Bloodline: A Sigma Force Novel by James Rollins Read Free Book Online Page A

to the mystery at hand. “And this trip out to the Seychelles.”
    Gant lifted his empty hands and shook his head. “Not even the Secret Service knew about this unscheduled trip. Damned if she didn’t slip out from under all our noses. My only guess is she wanted some time alone with her husband, away from the paparazzi and tabloids, before the birth of my grandson. After that, the two would be lucky for a moment’s privacy.”
    Painter studied the president’s face, looking for any micro-expression that would indicate deceit. But all he found was a man dissolving into grief and fear.
    “If that’s all …” Gant said.
    Painter stood up. “I’ve got what I need. My team should be flying into Somalia as we speak, and I must get back to Sigma command.”
    “Very good.” Gant pushed out of his seat. Ever the Southern gentleman. “Let me walk you out.”
    The pair left the president’s personal briefing room, pausing only long enough for Painter to retrieve his BlackBerry from a lead-lined box outside the Situation Room. As he straightened and pocketed his phone, a familiar figure appeared at the end of the hall, flanked by Secret Service.
    She was dressed in a sapphire-blue twill dress, over which she tied a lace cardigan tightly around her belly. Painter noted her balled fists, the scared cast to her eyes as she found her husband.
    The First Lady, Teresa Gant, hurried toward him, balanced between attempting to maintain a professional decorum and raw panic. “Jimmy … I heard from your secretary that the meeting was over. I waited for as long as I—”
    “Terry, I’m sorry.” The president caught his wife, hugged her, and brushed a few loose blond hairs from her cheek. “I had a few more details to attend to. I was going to you next.”
    She stared up at his face, searching for any news there, plainly afraid to question him in front of her bodyguards. No one could know about Amanda’s plight.
    “Come, let’s return to the residence.” The president looked ready to scoop her into his arms and carry her to safety. “I’ll tell you everything there.”
    Gant glanced at Painter.
    He understood. Teresa needed her husband. At this moment, they were not the First Lady and the president. They were simply two parents terrified for their child, seeking comfort in each other’s arms.
    Painter left them to their grief, more determined than ever to find their daughter. But as he headed down the hall, he could not escape the feeling that the events in the Horn of Africa were masking something far greater—and far more dangerous.
    He checked his watch. Gray and his team would be landing in Somalia in the next hour. If anyone could ferret out the true intent behind the kidnapping of the young woman, it was Commander Pierce. Still, Painter felt a stab of misgiving for having sent Gray in blind, for failing to mention his suspicions about the president’s family.
    He prayed that silence didn’t cost lives.
    Especially the president’s daughter and her unborn child.

4
July 1, 8:02 P.M . East Africa Time
Cal Madow Mountains, Somalia
    The truck continued its slow crawl through the mist-shrouded forest.
    Amanda Gant-Bennett rode in the back of the older-model Land Rover. Modified with an open top, it must have once served as a safari-touring vehicle. A massive grille protected the front end, and four large driving lights were mounted on the roof rack. She’d also noted the two winches—front and back—along with a shovel and ax secured to the fender, ready to help free the vehicle if it became bogged down or stuck.
    From the terrain they traveled, she understood the necessity for such modifications. The road was little more than a muddy track through the dark jungle. Somalia suffered from an arid climate, but the rainy season—called gu , she’d overheard—had just ended. These highlands, bordering the Gulf of Aden, received most of that rain. And what didn’t fall here as precipitation remained as thick fog.
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