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JOHN HAD ARRIVED with Cara at New San Martín Base before the setting of the sun. He took a sliver of solace in the fact they had found an incredible substance, something he planned to expedite a full analysis of, away from unfamiliar scientists and a blood-thirsty media.

Cara balled up in the corner of the room, her legs drawn into her chest, eyes swollen from crying. John stayed at her side, steady hand on her shoulder.

An incoming call notification sounded on his phone in the hospital section where they'd been taken. He tapped the screen, accepting the Video Call from Peter Stone back at FY Labs.

"Are you all right?" Peter inquired.

John rose and stepped into the hallway. He glanced at Cara and replied in a hushed voice. "I'm okay, despite the fact that someone tried to kill me on my own plane. Am I all right?" He paced. "Someone else has been shooting at us down here and an innocent family has been murdered in cold blood. Let me call you back a little later."

A hand rested on John's shoulder. John spun around to find Cara on her feet.

"It's okay, John. Really. I'm better now, thank you."

Peter addressed Cara through the screen. "I'm sorry for all you've been through, Dr. Criest. FY Labs will compensate you for your losses."

She averted her gaze. "Not all my losses."

"Authorities are on the way to investigate and search for the criminal. If they are foolish enough to stick around, they'll be found," Peter said. "Did you find anything?"

John trusted Peter but decided that now wasn't the time to go into detail.

"We've got a few leads, but it'll take some time to run them down. I may be gone for longer than I thought. Do you have everything—"

"Everything is handled and running as it should, John. Take as much time as you need."

"Thanks. And tell Digital Darryl I've been trying to contact him for the last three hours. I need to speak with him. It's urgent."

"Nothing I can help you with?"

"No, but thanks. He has been working on a few projects for me and I'm going to need to test them in the field ... ready or not."

"Very well." Peter nodded and then addressed Cara, "Welcome aboard FY Labs, Dr. Criest."

Cara managed a faint smile as John terminated the call.

He cycled through the messages on his phone and stopped on one from earlier that day. A message from Tom Gunn, on a secure account.

Go to Greece. A missing link is there to scroll through. Contact to follow.

John realized in a flash what Tom had meant. "The scrolls my father found." He licked his lips. "If we can get them, maybe this will all make sense." He tapped the next message, another from Tom—this one from his personal, unsecured account. "What do we have here?"

Afterward, I have a great investment opportunity for you with Ascension Communication. Noble cause. They need help gaining access to build a comm tower in the Mediterranean. Coordinates attached. Your government contacts could prove useful.

Tom would never send him a business pitch, John knew. "Looks like we have a trail of bread crumbs to follow after all. What do you say? Are you ready for a trip?"

"I just hope that the end leads me to the bastard who is responsible for—"

John held up his hands.

"Some people say that revenge isn't healthy and that you won't get any closure by killing someone." He stared his blue eyes at Cara. "But there must be a first time for everything, right?"

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