Page 100 of Lethal Game

He squared his shoulders. “I’m glad you understand that, Dr. Perry. I’ve invested a lot of time and effort in the care of these people.” He glanced over at Len, who watched them all from a distance. Len, who was paid to protect him.

So, that’s what his problem was. He didn’t want to take second seat to a doctor who looked young enough to be in med school. Maybe he was writing an article for a medical journal or was hoping to sell his story of sacrifice in the desert sands to one of the big US media outlets.

“I’m going to go back to my tent to eat and rest,” she said. “And wait for you to come to me with any news. I do have a sputum sample to test, but I doubt now that anything will come of it.”

Surrounded by dozens of dead bodies, Dr. Blairmore’s smile was out of place. “Thank you.”

She nodded at him, glanced at Con and walked out. The farther she got from the moron the madder she got.

Con caught up to her as they left the hospital tent and said in her ear, “Unclench your fists.”

She did it, but it was harder than it should have been. “I want to strangle that guy. Just a little.” She snorted. “No one would notice, right?”

Con choked. “You look so innocent when you’re planning to murder someone. How do you do it?”

“Which part?”

He opened his mouth, then shut it again. “If you have to ask, there’s no point in discussing it further.”

“Discussing what?” asked a voice behind them.

They both turned, Con thrusting Sophia behind him as he brought up his weapon.

Len held up his hands. “Sorry, didn’t mean to startle anyone.”

“You shouldn’t sneak up on people with semi-automatic weapons in their hands,” she said.

Len put his hands down and Con relaxed his stance, but he didn’t lower his weapon all the way to the ground.

“What do you want?” she asked the mercenary.

“To, ah, apologize for Blairmore’s shitty attitude. The guy is a little paranoid.”

“He’s a pompous ass,” Sophia told Len, then pasted on the fakest smile she could manage. “But then, what do I know, I’m a glorified cheerleader.” She turned on her heel and entered the lab tent.

She unpacked the two samples and wasted no time in noting them in her journal and preparing them for testing. She put both samples through the Sandwich, a portable analyzer that could determine most of the common pathogens, bacteria, and viruses responsible for the majority of lethal diseases, and waited impatiently for the results.

Negative for pathogens.

How could both samples be negative? Something had caused the dead woman’s symptoms and killed her.

As she set up more tests, Sophia considered the puzzle of the disease. If it wasn’t bacteria or viruses detectable in blood, sputum, and CSF, what was it?

The symptoms were fever, hallucinations, dehydration, confusion, seizures, and death within twenty-four hours or so. A short time span for any micro-organism. None of it fit any disease she could think of.

Sophia went in search of Con and found him still talking with Len. Both men turned to look at her.

She was struck by the differences in their expressions. At first glance, they looked the same, blank and businesslike, but while the corners of Con’s eyes were crinkled with concern, Len’s were puffed up with a contempt he couldn’t hide.

Her body jerked with the need to back away.

“Sophia?” Con asked. His voice saying her name gave her a little boost.

She didn’t want to discuss the results with Len standing right there, so she asked, “When is the first supply drop scheduled?”

“Dawn,” Con answered. “Do you need something?”

“Yeah, I’ve started a list.”

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