The Sign by Raymond Khoury Read Free Book Online Page B

joke—they wouldn’t prove too hard to deal with.
    His BlackBerry nudged him out of his reverie. The ring tag told him who it was, and a quick glance at the screen before picking up the call confirmed it.
    The Bullet got straight to the point, as was his norm. They’d already spoken twice that evening.
    “I got a call from our friend at Meade.”
    “And?”
    “He got a hit. A phone call, between two of the peripherals on the watch list.”
    Drucker mulled the news for a beat. The Bullet, aka Brad Maddox, had initially suggested using one of his contacts inside the National Security Agency to—quietly—monitor for unexpected trouble. Although Drucker had thought the risk of exposure outweighed the unlikely benefits, it now looked like Maddox had made the right call. Which was why Maddox was in charge of the project’s security.
    “You’ve heard the recording?” Drucker asked.
    “Yes.”
    “Is it anything to worry about?”
    “I think it might be. The call itself was too brief to read either way, but its timing raises some concerns.”
    Drucker winced. “Who are the peripherals?”
    “One of them’s a techie, an engineer here in Boston. Vince Bellinger. He was Danny Sherwood’s college roommate. They were tight. Best buddies. The other’s Sherwood’s brother, Matt.”
    A flash of concern flitted across Drucker’s eyes. “And there’s no history there?”
    “Last communication we have between them goes back almost two years.”
    Drucker thought about it for a moment. Two years ago, they had a natural reason to chat. The timing of this new call, though, was indeed troublesome. “I take it you’ve got it under control.”
    Maddox couldn’t have sounded more detached if he’d been sedated. “Just bringing you up to speed.”
    “Good. Let’s hope it’s a coincidence.”
    “Not something I believe in,” Maddox affirmed.
    “Me neither, sadly,” Drucker replied. Then, almost as an afterthought, he asked, “And the girl?”
    “Just waiting to be plucked.”
    “You’re going to need to handle that one with even more discretion,” Drucker cautioned. “She’s key.”
    “She won’t be a problem,” the Bullet assured him. “My boys are ready. Just say the word.”
    “It’s imminent. Keep me posted on the roommate,” Drucker added before hanging up.
    He stared at his phone for a moment, then shrugged and tucked it back into his suit’s inside breast pocket. He looked out at the streaks of red and white light gliding past his wet window, and played out the next moves in his mind.
    It was a good start, no question.
    But the hardest part was yet to come.

Chapter 8

    Amundsen Sea, Antarctica

    G racie watched the screen fade to a fuzzy gray and shook her head. The adrenaline rush was petering out, and she now felt exhausted, battered by a hurricane of exuberance, confusion, and unease. Yet another cup of the ship’s surprisingly decent coffee beckoned.
    “Let’s see it again,” one of the scientists told Dalton.
    Dalton glanced over at Gracie, who shrugged, got up, and headed over to the corner bar for her caffeine fix. Her throat felt dry and hoarse, and she’d lost all sense of time. The continuous, seemingly never-ending daylight didn’t help.
    They’d stayed out on deck, scanning the skies, for about an hour after the apparition had vanished before heading inside for some warmth. Some crew members stayed out on watch, in case it reappeared, while Gracie and the others had crowded into the officers’ and scientists’ lounge—which sounded a lot more grand than it was—and watched the footage from both of Dalton’s cameras on a big plasma screen. Several viewings and countless cups of coffee later, they still weren’t anywhere remotely close to explaining what they’d witnessed.
    The comfort zone of ascribing it to some spectacular weather phenomenon was quickly dispelled. The obvious candidates—aurora australis southern lights, fogbows, and green flashes—didn’t fit the