Gray remained silent.

Commander Pierce, I assume you haven't heard any more word. No further cryptic messages?

Gray sighed.

To gain the captain's cooperation, he had related the one message he had received or possibly received. It had occurred weeks after Monk had vanished.

Following the events that occurred at the island, the only piece of his friend to be salvaged had been his prosthetic hand, a state-of-the-art piece of biotechnology built by DARPA engineers, which included a built-in wireless radio interface. While transporting the disembodied hand to Monk's funeral, the prosthetic fingers had begun to tap out a weak S. O. S. It had lasted only a few seconds and only Gray had heard it. Then it had gone silent. Technicians had examined the hand and concluded it was most likely a mere glitch. The hand's digital log showed no incoming signal. It was just a malfunction. Nothing more.

An electrical ghost-in-the-machine.

Still, Gray had refused to give up even as week after week passed.

Commander? Trypol said.

No, Gray admitted sullenly. There's been no further word.

Trypol paused, then spoke more slowly. Then perhaps it's time to lay this to rest, Commander. For everyone's sake. His voice softened at the edges. And what about Kat? Your man's wife. What does she have to say about all this?

It was a sore point. Gray wished he'd never mentioned it to her. But how could he not? Monk was her husband; they had a little girl together, Penelope. Still, maybe it had been the wrong thing to do. Kat had listened to Gray's story with a stoic expression. She stood in her black funeral dress, ramrod straight, her eyes sunken with grief. She knew it was a thin lifeline, only a frail hope. She had glanced to Penelope in the car seat of the black limousine, then back to

Gray. She didn't say a word, only shook her head once. She could not grasp that lifeline. She could not survive losing Monk a second time. It would destroy her when she was already this fragile. And she had Penelope to consider, her own piece of Monk. True flesh and blood. Not some phantom hope.

He had understood. So he had continued his investigation on his own. He had not spoken to Kat since that day. It was a silent, mutual pact between them. She did not want to hear from him until the matter was resolved one way or the other.

Gray's mother, though, spent several afternoons with Kat and the baby. His mother knew nothing about the S. O. S., but she had sensed that something was wrong with Kat.

Haunted, that was how his mother had described Kat.

And Gray knew what haunted her.

Despite what Kat had decided that day, she had grasped that lifeline. What the mind attempted to set aside, the heart could not. And it was torturing her.

For her sake, for Monk's family, Gray needed to face a harsh reality.

Thank you for your efforts, Captain, Gray finally mumbled.

You did right by him, Commander. Know that. But eventually we have to move on.

Gray cleared his throat. My condolences for the loss of your man, sir.

And the same to you.

Gray ended the connection. He stood for a long breath. Finally, he stepped over to the opposite locker, placed a palm on its cold metal surface, as cold as a grave.

I'm sorry.

He reached up, peeled a corner of the duct tape, and ripped it away.

Gray was done chasing ghosts.

Good-bye, Monk.

4:02 P. M.

Painter spun the ancient coin atop his desk. He watched the silver flash as he concentrated on the mystery it represented. It had been returned from the lab half an hour ago. He had read the detailed report that had accompanied it. The coin had been laser-mapped for fingerprints, both its metallic content and surface soot had been analyzed with a mass spectrometer, and a multitude of photographs had been taken, including some taken with a stereo-microscope. The coin's spinning slowed, and it toppled to the mahogany desktop. Carefully cleaned, the ancient image on the surface shone brightly.

A Greek temple supported by six Doric pillars.

In the center of the temple rested a large letter.

E

The Greek letter epsilon.

On the opposite side was the bust of a woman with the words DIVA FAUSTINA written below it. From the report, at least the origin of the coin was no longer a mystery.

But what did ?

His intercom chimed. Director Crowe, Commander Pierce has arrived.

Very good. Send him in, Brant.

Painter pulled the research report closer to him as the door swung open. Gray stepped through, his black hair wet and combed. He had changed out of his bloody clothes and wore a green T-shirt with ARMY emblazoned on the front, along with black jeans and boots. As he entered, Painter noted a shadow over the man's features, but also a certain weary resolve in his gray-blue eyes. Painter could guess the reason. He had already heard from the Office of Naval Intelligence through his own channels.

Painter waved Gray to a seat.

As he sat, the man's attention noted the coin on his desk. A flicker of curiosity flared.

Good.

Painter shifted the coin toward Gray. Commander, I know you asked for an indeterminate leave of absence, but I'd like you to take the lead on this case.

Gray made no move to take the coin. May I ask a question first, sir?

Painter nodded.

The dead man. The professor.

Archibald Polk.

You mentioned that he must have been on his way here. To see you.

Painter nodded. He suspected where the line of questioning was leading.

So Professor Polk was familiar with Sigma? Despite the top secret clearance for such knowledge, he knew about our organization?

Yes. In a manner of speaking.

Gray's brow crinkled. What manner is that?

Archibald Polk invented Sigma.

Painter took a small measure of satisfaction in the man's surprise. Gray needed a little shaking up. The man sat up straighter in his chair.

Painter held up a hand. I've answered your question, Gray. So now you answer mine. Will you take the lead on this case?

After the professor was shot in front of me, I want answers as much as anyone.

And what about your extracurricular activities?

A wince of pain narrowed Gray's eyes. The planes of his face seemed to grow harder as a part of him clenched internally. I assume you've heard, sir.

Yes. The navy has discontinued its search.

Gray took a deep breath. I've pursued all angles. There's nothing more I can do. I admit that.

And do you think Monk is still alive?

I I don't know.

And you can live with that?

Gray met his gaze, unflinching. I'll have to.

Painter nodded, satisfied. Then let's talk about this coin.

Gray reached out and took the coin from the desktop. Turning it in his fingers, he examined its freshly cleaned surfaces. Were you able to determine much about it?

Quite a bit. It's a Roman coin minted during the second century. Take a look at the woman's portrait on the back. That's Faustina the Elder, wife of the Roman emperor Antoninus Pius. She was a patron of orphaned girls and sponsored many women's charities. She also had a fascination with a sisterhood of sibyls, prophetic women from a temple in Greece.

Painter waved for Gray to turn the coin over. That's the temple on the other side. The temple of Delphi.

As in the Oracle of Delphi? The female prophets?

The same.

The coin's report on Painter's desk included a historical sheet about the

Oracle, detailing how these women would inhale hallucinogenic fumes and answer questions of the future from supplicants. But their prophecies were more than just fortune-telling, for these women had a great impact on the ancient world.

Over the course of a millennium, the Oracle's prophecies played a role in freeing thousands of slaves, setting the seeds of Western democracy, and elevating the sanctity of human life. Some claimed their words were pivotal at lifting Greece out from barbarism and toward modern civilization.