She closed her eyes and prayed to Mary, to Jesus, to the angels and saints. Not for rescue—Sister Sophia did not believe that she could be rescued. No, she prayed for death. If it were not a mortal sin she would have taken her own life, or at least tried. She contemplated smashing her head against the rocks, or taking her rags and making a rope of them.

But that would be suicide, and she would slide further down into the pit if she did that, her soul lost and unredeemable.

And … worse still, it would be murder.

She could not bear to touch her stomach, but she could feel it growing, day by day.

In the other cells along the hall, she could hear babies crying. She could hear the mothers. Some crying, others praying. A few cackling in nonsensical words, their minds broken by the horrors.

“Mother Mary,” she prayed, “please…”

Inside her womb, her baby kicked.

It was sharp and sudden. Vicious. But what else would it be? How could she expect anything but that from a child of a monster?

Chapter Seventy-four

Chapter Seventy-Four

Mustapha’s Daily Goods

Tehran, Iran

June 15, 7:31 p.m.

“Go,” said Church.

“I think Hugo Vox is working with the Sabbatarians.”

“What makes you think so?”

“I opened the briefcase I took from Krystos and found some stuff. Two things in particular and you are not going to like them. The first is a directory of safe houses all through the Middle East. Nothing newer than January first, though, so it fits with what he might have known before he went into the wind.”

“I figured as much. I sent out a network-wide warning after your ‘adventures’ today. The CIA has confirmed two other compromised locations, ditto for Barrier, and the Israelis lost one. Right now you’re sitting in the only safe house in Iran that we know for sure was never on Hugo’s radar. As bad as this is, it could be worse. Most of the houses are untouched, so staff was able to evac safely. We might be in the clear there and—”

“There’s something else,” I said. “Something a whole lot worse.”

I could hear Church take a breath. After today he was probably wishing he could change his number. “Tell me.”

I didn’t actually want to tell him. It would be like dropping a hand grenade into his lap.

“I found a printed list. Fifteen pages of it. Names, social security numbers, home addresses, family members. The works.”

“Who is on the list?”

“Everyone who works for the Department of Military Sciences,” I said. “And their families. Rudy’s on that list. My father and brother are on that list. And, Church—?” I said softly, “Circe is on that list, and it says that she’s your daughter.”

“God…” Church breathed. “Oh my God.”

The silence became huge, filled with flying debris.

Church disconnected without another word.

Chapter Seventy-five

Chapter Seventy-Five