LITMIR.BIZ

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no effort to disguise her annoyance at the interruption. Her irritation morphed instantly into a closed, guarded expression when Don mentioned the Vhrana.

      He overrode her bureaucratic caution with a blunt order. “Gillian was one of our own until she bailed. Despite that serious lapse of judgment, I’ll vouch for her. Give her whatever information you can about the sect.”

      “Whatever” turned out to be scary as hell. The Vhrana, Jilly soon learned, were an even more dangerous splinter group of the religious fanatics who set off chemical bombs in a Tokyo subway some years back.

      “The Vhrana believe the only true path to enlightenment is to cleanse the world of evil, as they see it,” Hathaway related. “They practice rites that derive from Buddhism and ancient forms of Hinduism, with a dash of Turkish Sufi thrown in. The more ‘advanced’ in the sect go into trances and spin around for hours.”

      “Like whirling dervishes?”

      “Precisely.”

      “And they also practice animal sacrifice?”

      “In ancient times, they sacrificed humans. Usually enemies captured after a battle. The Vhrana drank blood from the vanquished warriors’ skulls to imbibe their valor before devouring their hearts and livers.”

      “Nice guys.”

      “Don’t delude yourself. The women in the sect were—and still are—every bit as bloodthirsty. You don’t want to get crosswise of a Vhrana priestess. Nowadays, of course, human sacrifice has been outlawed. So has animal sacrifice, for that matter, but the Vhrana still practice it on holy days. They’re rumored to offer up a variety of animals, but their sacrifice of choice is a monkey or ape.”

      The picture of the little gibbon flashed into Jilly’s mind.

      “I thought most Hindus revere monkeys. In fact, I remember reading about the hordes of monkeys that now overrun New Delhi because the devout feed them peanuts and bananas.”

      “The Vhrana have perverted that reverence. Or elevated it, I guess you could say. Since primates are the closest things to humans, they believe they’re honoring the animal by sacrificing them to their gods.”

      “Do you have a fix on the Vhrana sects in the U.S.?”

      “We’re tracking seven different branches. The largest is in California.”

      Where the dead gibbon was found. A frisson of excitement jumped along Jilly’s nerves. She didn’t have the training or field experience of a seasoned agent, but every scrap of intuition she possessed told her she was on the right trail.

      “The second-largest sect is right across the state line,” Hathaway continued, “in Baltimore. It draws most of its followers from the D.C. area.” Swinging around, she clicked a few keys on her computer. “Here’s a shot of the exterior of their temple.”

      Jilly studied the windowless brick building. “It looks like a warehouse.”

      “It is. We’ve ascertained that the owner has no idea what goes on in his building between the hours of midnight and dawn. His night manager takes over then.”

      Another click brought up a shot of a handsome man in the turban of a Sikh. Next to him was a smiling, doe-eyed female in a turquoise sari and veil.

      “That’s the night manager’s wife, the current high priestess. We’ve been told she wields the knife at the altar. We hope to verify that tonight.”

      “Tonight?”

      “It’s the first night of the second full moon since harvest. One of their holiest days.”

      “Who’s going in?”

      “Special Agent Nareesh. He was one of us until he transferred to the FBI.”

      “Benjamin Nareesh?”

      “Yes. You know him?”

      “I do! We trained together as junior FSOs.”

      Her pulse tripping, Jilly got Nareesh’s number from Sandra Hathaway.

      The afternoon sun had warmed the air when she emerged from State. She stood for some moments on the wide front steps, debating her next step. She really, really wanted to follow this lead on her own. If it produced results, Hawk would have to eat his objections to her lack of training and experience. Common sense and the awareness that she was part of a team had her reaching for her cell phone.

      Since she hadn’t yet been equipped with one of OMEGA’s handy-dandy, supersecure communications devices, she couldn’t directly access the Control Center or any of the operatives. Instead, she dialed the number for Lightning’s executive assistant.

      “Offices of the Special Envoy. How may I help you?”

      “Elizabeth, it’s Jilly. I need to speak to Uncle Nick.”

      “He’s still in conference, dear.”

      In conference was code for upstairs, doing duty as OMEGA’s director.

      “I thought he might be. Ask him to call me on my cell when he’s free.”

      Her cell phone pinged moments later.

      “Where are you, Jilly?”

      “Just leaving State. I may have something.”

      Or not. The lead was pretty tenuous at this point.

      “I want your okay to accompany a friend on a visit to a temple tonight.” She couldn’t go into more detail over an open line. “I’ll brief you after the visit.”

      The silence on the other end was deafening.

      “Are you sure you know what you’re doing?” Lightning finally asked.

      “No, but my friend does. He’s with the Bureau. His boss might call you for confirmation that it’s okay for me to ride along. Will you give it?”

      Another silence, longer this time.

      “Uncle Nick? Am I good to go?”

      “You’re good.”

      She restrained her exultant whoop but couldn’t resist punching the air with her fist.

      Hours later, she huddled beside a turbaned Ben Nareesh in his darkened car. Their intent gazes were fixed on the small screen in his handheld unit. It was fed by cameras the FBI had positioned to cover the brick warehouse. Figures had been slipping through the cloudy night and into the warehouse for the past half hour.

      “I still can’t believe I let you talk me into this,” Nareesh muttered. “Or that my boss gave the green light. You must have some powerful contacts.”

      Jilly merely smiled as Ben’s gaze swept over her, looking for a chink in her disguise.

      He didn’t find one. She was draped in a silk sari she’d purchased in a downtown D.C. shop that catered to the city’s large Indian and Pakistani population. Tinted contacts darkened her eyes. Thankfully, her jet-black hair had needed no touching up. She’d parted it in the middle and fashioned an intricate series of braids that now tugged at her scalp.

      “Just follow my lead,” he instructed. “And if we do find any sacrificial animals, we both stay the hell away from them.”

      Ben hadn’t taken her warning about a potentially lethal virus lightly. In addition to his team of backups, he now had a crew encased in biohazard protective gear standing ready. All were prepared to move at his signal.

      Jilly’s nerves were strung tight when Ben stowed his unit and shifted to face her.

      “Ready?”

      She hooked the silk veil across the lower half of her face, dragged in a deep breath and nodded.

      “Ready.”

      Hawk was huddled with a team of scientists at the Centers for Disease

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