The Judas Strain by James Rollins

you,” she finally whispered.
    “So don’t let me down. I have a reputation to maintain.”
    She snorted again, her amusement ringing more true. “You really have to work on concluding your pep talks.”
    “Then how’s this: Stay safe, watch your back, and get back here as soon as possible.”
    “Better.”
    “Then I’ll simply have to go for the gold.” He spoke firmly. “I miss you. I love you. I want you in my arms.”
    He truly did miss her, with a physical ache in his chest.
    “See,” she said. “With a little practice, you can actually be a pretty good motivational speaker.”
    “I know,” he said. “The same line worked with Monk earlier.”
    A true laugh followed. It helped shatter his worry from a moment ago. She would do fine. He had faith in her. And in addition, in Painter’s stead, Monk would keep her safe. That is, if Monk ever wanted to show his face again…
    Before Painter could respond further, his aide appeared at his door, knocking softly. Painter waved for him to speak.
    “I’m sorry to disturb you, Director. But I’ve another call holding. On your private line. From Rome. Monsignor Verona. He seemed quite urgent.”
    Painter’s brow furrowed. He spoke into the phone. “Lisa—”
    “I heard. You’re busy. Once I coordinate with Monk, we’ll conference with Jennings on the situation here. Get back to work.”
    “Stay safe.”
    “I will,” she said. “And I love you, too.”
    The line blinked off.
    Painter took a breath to collect himself, then twisted around to hit the button on his private line. Why was Monsignor Verona calling? Painter knew Commander Pierce had been romantically involved with the monsignor’s niece, but that had ended almost a year ago.
    “Monsignor Verona, this is Painter Crowe.”
    “Director Crowe, thank you for taking my call. I’ve been trying to reach Gray for the past two hours, but there’s been no answer.”
    “I’m sorry to hear that. Is there a message you’d like me to forward?”
    Painter didn’t bother to explain about the current situation. Though Monsignor Verona had helped Sigma in the past, the matter here was on a need-to-know basis, already coded in black.
    “There’s been an incident here at the Vatican…in the Secret Archives precisely. I’m not entirely sure of its import, but it strikes me as a message or warning. One left for both myself and perhaps Commander Pierce.”
    Painter stood up and circled around his desk to his chair. “What sort of message?”
    “Someone broke into a vault here last week and painted the symbol for the Royal Dragon Court on the floor.”
    Painter sank into his seat, disturbed by the coincidence. Two years ago, Gray and Monsignor Verona had teamed up to root out and destroy a brutal sect of the Dragon Court. They had succeeded—but not without help, requiring an alliance with an enemy, an operative from the Guild.
    Seichan.
    And now the assassin was here.
    Painter was not one to swallow coincidences easily. Not in the past, and certainly not now. If nothing else, his stint as director of Sigma had honed his edge of paranoia to a razor’s sharpness.
    “Did anyone get a look at this trespasser?” he asked.
    “Briefly. Whoever it was, they came alone. Slipped past all of Vatican security. We captured only a shadowy image on one security camera. This was no casual thief. Only one person I know could have crossed into the inner sanctum and out again with no more than a shadow captured. The same someone connected to our joint involvement with the Dragon Court in the past.”
    So it seemed the monsignor was no less suspicious than Painter.
    “And the dragon painting on the floor,” Vigor continued. “It was plainly a message, perhaps even a reminder of a debt owed.”
    “You believe it was the Guild operative, Seichan,” he said. “The one who helped you defeat the Dragon Court?”
    “Exactly. If we could find her, ask her—”
    Painter knew that any further secrets would only hamper