"No problem," Ava gritted. "I'll be sure to repay the favor."

Natan cut the bottom portion from Ava's pants. She sat on the table, scowling at him as he worked. He deserved no less. But he needed her help. He had to make her see what they were doing was right.

"We are not terrorists," he said, grimacing as she cried out when he reset the bone. "Sorry."

"If you're not terrorists then who are you?" she asked between hiccupping breaths.

"A really p.i.s.sed-off family."

"There are support groups for that."

"Yes, we tried that until Venom took Toma."

"Toma?" Ava was suddenly alert. "What do you mean Venom took him?"

"Toma is my cousin. He comes from a village to the east of us," Natan said, wondering how much to tell Ava. He knew from experience that if a person didn't have enough information, they couldn't be as useful. But could she be trusted? They only took Ava because the man named Brock was already long gone on an aircraft carrier that Natan had no hope of boarding. Ava had been on a punctured life raft. It was easy enough to capture her. One of his men had the cargo plane ready for takeoff as soon as they returned to sh.o.r.e.

"East of us? Where exactly are we?"

"Iraq, near the Turkish border."

Ava grimaced. "I knew it."

"We could've left you to die on the sinking boat."

Glancing at her leg, Ava said, "I think I'd have been better off there."

"It wasn't a unanimous decision."

"Had to take a family vote?"

He smiled. "Something like that. You won."

"Lucky me," she said dryly. "Tell me the story. What did Venom want with Toma?"

"I don't know. We've been piecing it together when we can get Toma to talk. As you could probably tell, he's not really chatty. I was at home in London when it happened."

"I heard your accent, along with Mikael's. He's definitely American. Where are the rest from?"

"Everywhere, though about half are here in Iraq."

Ava snapped her fingers, coming to a conclusion. "You're a.s.syrian. I couldn't peg it before."

"How did you guess?"

"When families are spread across the globe, it usually has to do with politics and racism. Persecution has a way of scattering people." Her gaze shot up to Natan. "Sorry."

He nodded, continuing to tend to Ava's leg. She was right. Throughout history they'd been targets, deprived of their ethnic, cultural, and even national rights. They were even victims of genocide.

But that wasn't what he was fighting against today. "Toma disappeared from the village about six months ago. He left to run an errand but never returned."

"But he did. He's here now."

Natan shook his head. "His body is here, but his mind is gone. And it gets worse if his adrenaline spikes. It's as if he's becoming someone or something else. His strength is compounding. When he showed up at home two months ago, I was asked to come."

Natan finished wrapping Ava's leg, the splints adding bulk. She would need a cast eventually, but for now it was set. If she was in pain, she wasn't letting on.

"Why not get him medical treatment instead?"

"His family is very poor," Natan explained. "And, I am a doctor. As soon as I saw him, I knew something had happened-something I couldn't explain."

"How do you know Venom is involved? What has Toma relayed so far?"

"When Toma came home, he was hallucinating. Injection marks ran up his arm. He was violent, lashing out. He thought we were going to hurt him. But it wasn't us. He was the one hurting himself. There was a reason I stopped you from taking the cloth from his face." Natan looked away, retaining a firm grip on his emotions. "The Toma I knew never took drugs. You probably wouldn't guess to look at him, but Toma is a skilled artist. When he finally came down off the drugs, he spent hours at a time sketching and murmuring 'Venom' over and over again. But the effects of whatever he was injected with are still present. He can change. He can kill."

Ava's brow creased.

"What are you thinking?" Natan asked.

"How did he survive?" Ava asked. "Venom wouldn't allow him to just get up and leave."

"You've heard of the stories, then?"

"Some. What were you planning on doing?"

"I thought it'd be a simple matter to find Venom, but the more we search, the more . . ." Natan stopped. He was furious with himself. He was digging his family farther into a world they didn't belong. They weren't trained soldiers, and yet here they were, armed with old rifles in a hideout that could fall over with one gust of wind. But he couldn't turn back either. Venom had to be stopped. The other victims were lucky to have died. He doubted Toma would survive for long. And even if he did, he'd never be the same; his soul was already blackened.

Venom had to have an antidote. It was one of the reasons they continued. To save Toma and any others who might be out there. Natan had tried everything he knew, even spoke with several colleagues. But no one grasped the severity. The only thing he could do now was pump Toma with enough tranquilizers to take down an elephant. And still that was barely enough.

"You said Toma sketched," Ava said. "Do you have any of them here?"

"Yes, I keep a few on me in case I run into someone who might know something." He reached into the long pocket on his outer thigh and pulled out three worn pages.

Ava reached for them. "These have seen some action," she said, noting the dried blood on the edges.

"We've been through a lot. More than I ever thought possible."

Ava looked thoughtfully at him. "We all get tested at one point or another."

While she was right, Natan just wanted to get back to his practice in London. But if this path took the rest of his life to walk, then he would, with no regrets.

Ava cursed, drawing his attention. "What is it?" he asked. Her face paled as she clutched the paper. Natan peered down to see which one she was looking at. "I think that's where Toma was held."

"I've seen this place before. I thought it was just a storage facility."

"Do you know where it is?" he asked. This was what he'd been waiting for. Finally, he was getting answers.

"Near the border," she said, shaking her head. "This can't be right."

"Why not?"

"Because then I would know who Venom is," she said, shaking her head again. "It can't be right. It must be a different place."

Natan took the papers from her and shuffled to the one Toma always drew. "That's Venom," he said, pointing. "Toma always repeated his name when he sketched him."

"Oh, G.o.d! I know who it is!"

"Ishaia," Natan called, his voice boomed through the building. "Load the boys up; we found Venom," he ordered in Aramaic so that Ishaia would understand.

Ishaia skidded to the door. "Are you sure?"

"She knows him. She knows where he is."

"Can she be trusted?" Ishaia asked.

"Yes," Natan answered. But even if she couldn't be trusted, he couldn't overlook any lead. He glanced at Ava; the dread in her eyes told him everything he needed to know. She knew Venom.

"We should leave her here," Ishaia said.

"No, she'll come with us."

"But her leg."

"We have those old wooden crutches in the back. She can use those."

"But-"

"We need her," Natan stated, continuing to speak in Aramaic. "Even if she gave us directions, we'd need her. If Venom won't listen to reason and won't stand down to threats, then we'll use her." Even if they have to hold her hostage again. If she had a close relationship with Venom, he might cave.

Somehow, though, Natan doubted it.

David and Boyer hopped off the helicopter at a point near the Turkey/Iraq border. David was beyond thankful for Boyer's a.s.sistance. The man had more years in the service and more connections than he and Remy combined. Boyer was instrumental in planning their operation.

They were to meet with a team who'd help them cross the border undetected and aid them in finding Venom. There were a few names on the team that David recognized. He felt confident that with their help they'd find Venom. David just prayed that they'd make it in time. He didn't know how Remy had survived the first experiment; he couldn't see how anyone could survive a second.

"Follow me," Boyer said.

They headed down a trail that wound its way through rocky hills. It looked as if the path hadn't been used for a while. While there was no forest or vegetation to reclaim it, it was dusted over as if strong winds blew through.

"Where are we going?" David said.

"There is a small base about a half mile south of us."

"Will the team already be a.s.sembled?"

"Should be."

David hoped they would be. Any delay and . . . no, he never left a man behind. He certainly wasn't going to start now, not with Remy.

David continued to follow Boyer, his mind absorbed with the operation and echoes from the past. Several minutes later, they stepped into a clearing, hidden amongst the hills. A large shed took up most of the s.p.a.ce.

"Is this the meeting point?" David asked.

"This is it." Boyer walked over to the door, unlocking the padlock with a key. He stepped back to allow David to enter first.

"Is there a light?" David asked as he walked in.

"There's no need," Boyer said.

David looked back at Boyer questioningly.

"Inside," Boyer ordered, a gun now in his hand, aimed at David.

"What's going on?" David asked, backing away. "Put the gun down."

Boyer pulled the trigger, piercing David's arm with a dart. David yanked it out, but not in time. The effects of the tranquilizer were already coursing through his system.

"Are you out of your f.u.c.king mind?" David shouted, the words sounding like they were bouncing through a deep cave.

"No, but you will be."

David fell to his knees as Boyer closed in.

Chapter 15.

"What side of the border are we on?" Remy asked, stopping to wipe the sweat from his brow. He would have thought they'd have reached a fence or resistance line, but they were in the middle of nowhere. He didn't know how heavily the border was guarded.

"Still in Iraq," French muttered, forging ahead.

Still in h.e.l.l and feeling more that way every minute as they hiked through the scorching hills. The mountainous terrain jutted up like soldiers, each one standing in Remy's way.

Abandoning their jeep over an hour ago, Remy armed himself with weapons. Guns and knives were at the ready. Night vision goggles and provisions were in his pack.

As they navigated the natural path that curved between the rock formations, Remy pressed his lips together to keep from swearing. He and French had volleyed back and forth about the sketches. How could Venom possibly be Jared Boyer? The man was solid Army, like these d.a.m.n boulders.

Neither French nor Remy could find an ulterior reason why Boyer's likeness was in the notebook. The villager had wanted his son back. To what purpose would he fill a sketchpad on the off chance that the right people should come along?

"If Venom is Boyer, then he's responsible for the attack," French said, incredulously. "After all of these years of searching, he's been under my nose this entire time!"