The Doomsday Key by James Rollins Page A

Vigor must have had it,” Gray realized and turned to Rachel. “And that his niece might have ended up with it after acquiring his possessions from the hospital.”
    Seichan nodded. “They went to look for it.”
    A wince of dread tightened in his gut. If they’d found Rachel, they would have carried out a brutal interrogation, then killed her. And after failing to find anything at her apartment, they were probably hunting for her right now, setting up surveillance at likely locations: apartment, place of work, even the hospital.
    There was only one way to protect Rachel.
    “We have to find out what they’re looking for,” Gray concluded aloud.
    Rachel and Seichan shared a glance.
    “I have it,” Rachel said.
    Gray could not hide his shock.
    “But we have no idea of its significance,” Seichan said. “Show him.”
    Rachel reached into a pocket of her jacket and pulled out a tiny leather satchel, no larger than a coin purse. She briefly described her discovery, how she found the object hanging from a bronze skeleton’s finger in Saint Peter’s Basilica.
    “Uncle Vigor led me to it,” she finished and handed over the satchel. “But Seichan and I haven’t been able to determine anything else. Especially about what’s inside.”
    Seichan and I…?
    From the casualness of her statement, it almost sounded like the two were partners, not kidnapper and victim. Gray glanced toward the bathroom. While Rachel had talked, Seichan had stepped out of view, leaving her towel on the floor. He heard her shuffling in there, and he was equally sure she was listening to them. Any attempt to make for the door and she’d be on them.
    “Are you truly all right?” Gray whispered to Rachel, catching her eye.
    She nodded. “She only handcuffed me when she took a shower. Not exactly the trusting type.”
    At the moment, Gray appreciated Seichan’s caution. Rachel was headstrong like him. Given the chance, she’d have bolted for her freedom. That might have ended badly. If the other hunters had caught her, they would not have been so gentle.
    Kowalski stepped closer now that Seichan was out of sight. He pointed at the satchel. “What’s in that thing?”
    Gray had already teased open the leather strings. Now he emptied the contents into his palm. He sensed the weight of Rachel’s gaze on him, waiting for his assessment.
    “Is that—?” Kowalski had leaned over Gray’s shoulder. He pulled away. “Oh, man, that’s sick.”
    Gray didn’t disagree, scowling his distaste. “It’s a human finger.”
    “A mummified finger,” Rachel added.
    Kowalski’s expression soured. “And knowing us, it’s probably cursed.”
    “Where did it come from?” Gray asked.
    “I don’t know, but Father Giovanni was working in the mountains of northern England. At an excavation there. There were no more details in the police report.”
    Gray rolled the leathery digit back into the purse. As he did so, he noted the crude spiral burned into the leather. Curious, he turned the satchel over and spotted another mark on the other side. A circle and a cross. He immediately recognized it from Painter’s description of events back in D.C. There had been two other murders on two continents, both bodies bearing this same mark.
    Gray faced Rachel. “This symbol. You said you knew the satchel had to be connected to the bombing. Why were you so certain?”
    He got the answer he was expecting.
    “The attackers branded Father Giovanni”—she touched her forehead—”with the same mark. It was a detail left out of the press. Interpol was investigating its significance.”
    Gray stared down at the pouch in his palm.
    Make that three murders on three continents.
    But how were all these deaths connected?
    Rachel must have read something in his face. “What is it, Gray?”
    Before he could answer, the hotel phone on the nightstand rang. Everyone froze for a moment. Seichan stepped back into the room, dressed in black slacks and a burgundy blouse. She