She punched her thigh. “Shitza!” She pressed the wound in her shoulder. “Stick to the cover story, it’s solid.” She pulled out her phone and walked away a few paces, speaking rapidly in Hebrew. She listened, grunting now and then, and keeping her eyes on the street outside. She disconnected and turned.

“We were attacked, robbed.” She pointed to the two unconscious Egyptians, and Kroen’s body. “There were five of them. We overpowered three, but the rest shot at us and escaped.” She growled and lashed out with her boot, kicking Kroen’s body and cursing again. “I wish you were alive so I can kill you all over again.” She rounded on Abrams. “Your security is worthless. How did this Kovitz woman infiltrate your ranks?”

Abrams’s mouth worked for a moment, surprised by the attack. He shook his head. “Captain Kovitz was assigned to me just months ago. She was competent, friendly, just… normal.”

Hartogg shrugged. “I didn’t notice anything unusual about her.” There was blood covering half his face. “She must have been deep cover – no amateur.”

Adira bared her teeth. “Ach, a sleeper. This has been years in the planning.”

“Remember what Albadi told us?” Matt asked. “There’re cults that still worshipped Cthulhu. I bet they had infiltrators in every country, every government body, just waiting to see who got the first lead.”

“What do we do now?” Andy asked. “We’ve lost the Book.”

Silence stretched and Matt rubbed his eyes, the images flashing like a reel of photographs. “We don’t need it.” He leaned his head back, feeling the dull throb behind his eyes. “I can still see it – every page, every word, every curl, dot and stroke.”

“Can you recreate it?” Adira asked, walking closer to stand over him.

Matt opened his eyes, focusing on her. “I think so…yes.”

She smiled down at Matt. “Good. Then we must get you home – you are now the prize.” Adira looked at Abrams, her eyes level. “Until the Professor is safe, he is still under my guardianship.”

Abrams seemed to think for a moment, and looked briefly at Hartogg, who nodded. He turned back to her. “Okay, until then.”

“Now what?” Andy asked, rubbing his own head and wincing. “Home?”

Adira crouched down to Matt, looking into his eyes. “Yes, and we find this Father…he seems to be their leader. We also need to find out exactly what is going to happen in Kentucky, yes?” She placed a hand on his shoulder, leaving a print of her own blood. She looked at her hand and then felt the wound on her shoulder again.

“Ach.” She stood and went to the electric stovetop. She removed the coffee pot, took a large spoon from a drawer, and rested it on the red coils. She turned back to Matt.

“What do you need?”

Matt thought for a moment. “Paper, lots of it. It needs to be written in Syriac, Arabic and Greek. Ink, pens, and then…peace and quiet.”

Heavy footsteps sounded just outside. She turned. “Remember the cover story – it will work. As we’re foreigners, they’ll want to sweep this under the rug – we can be out of here in a few hours, and still make our flight.” She turned back to the now red-glowing spoon. She snatched it up and then held the flat end against her wound. Smoke curled, and it sizzled as the flesh sealed over. She never flinched.