He rose from a bed of fur and silk and broken bones. Ribs cracked beneath his feet. Cobwebs licked at his face as he moved from chamber to chamber. Water dripped in the distance, and the sound of wretched weeping echoed to him from down one of the many corridors his people had carved from the living rock. He paused to listen to the sobs. A female voice, of course. A babble of nonsense words and bits of prayers which combined to make sense only to the mad. There was so much pain there, so much hurt and loss.

It made him smile. It made his loins throb with a deep and ancient ache.

He closed his eyes and leaned against the closest wall. The limestone was cool and damp as he pressed his cheek against it, savoring the rough texture. A tongue tip the color of a worm wriggled out from between his teeth and curled along the thin contours of his lips.

It was as if he could taste the pain, and he craved it, wanting more of it, wanting the freshest and choicest bits.

He was there for a long time, lost in memory and expectation.

“Grigor,” murmured a voice, and with regret he opened his eyes and pushed himself away from the wall. He turned to see Thaddeus, his eighth son, standing a few yards away. The boy had made no sound at all. Excellent. He was learning, he would be ready soon.

“What is it?” asked Grigor.

“He is here.”

Grigor smiled again. “Good.”

And it was good. In the distance the weeping continued unabated, and that was good too. Soon, Grigor knew, there would be more weeping. So much more.

How delicious that would be.

And how soon.

It was almost time to make the whole world scream.

Chapter Ten

Chapter Ten

Starbox Coffee

Tehran, Iran

June 15, 8:05 a.m.

I almost came out of my chair and went for Rasouli.

“Where?” I snarled. Feyd was halfway across the room before Rasouli held up his hand to freeze the moment.

“I don’t know,” he fired back, cold and hard. “Listen to me, Captain, I am here as a friend—”

“Bullshit.”

“As an ally then. In this matter, we are both in danger. Now please, listen for a moment.”

I stayed in my chair. Feyd gave me a hard look and slouched back to his post. Rasouli let out a weary breath.

“You said that there was a device in the States,” I said very quietly. “Where?”

“I don’t know where. I’m not even positive there is one in America. Please, let me tell you what I do know.” He gestured to the phone that I still held. “We believe that this device is somewhere inside the Aghajari oil refinery.”

“That’s yours,” I said. “That’s in Iran.”