Sandstorm

10:28 P.M.

HOW DIDit get in there?” Painter asked. He stood by the entrance to the bath, staring at the floating length of dead snake among the jasmine petals.

The entire dining party had heard the maid’s scream and come running. They had been held at bay by the butler until Kara could help Safia into a robe.

Kara answered his question from her seat beside her friend on the bed, “Bloody buggers are always turning up, even in the plumbing. Safia’s rooms had been closed off for years. It could’ve been nesting anywhere in here. When we aired out her rooms and cleaned the place, it must have been disturbed, then was drawn out by the water in the tub.”

“Shedding,” Safia whispered hoarsely.

Kara had given her a pill. Its effect had lazed the woman’s tongue, but she seemed calmer than when the group first arrived. Her wet hair hung damply to her skin. Color slowly returned. “Shedding snakes seek water.”

“Then more likely it came from outside,” Omaha added. The archaeologist stood by the arch into the study. The others waited out in the hall.

Kara patted Safia’s knee and stood up. “Either way, the matter’s over. It’s best that we get ready for our departure.”

“Surely it can be put off a day,” Omaha said, glancing at Safia.

“No.” Safia pushed past the sedative haze. “I can manage.”

Kara nodded. “We’re due to rendezvous at the port at midnight.”

Painter held up a hand. “You never did tell us how we’d be traveling.”

Kara waved away his words like a foul smell. “You’ll all see when we get there. I have a thousand last minute details to attend to.” She strode past Omaha and out of the rooms. Her words carried back as she addressed the others in the hall. “Gather in the courtyard in an hour.”

Omaha and Painter stood across the room from each other, on either side of Safia. Neither man moved, both equally unsure if it was appropriate to comfort Safia. The matter was settled by Henry stepping through the archway, the butler’s arms full of folded clothing.

Henry nodded to the two men. “Sirs, I’ve rung for a maid to help Mistress al-Maaz dress and gather her things. If you would be so kind…” He nodded toward the door, dismissing them.

Painter stepped closer to Safia. “Are you sure you’re okay to travel?”

She nodded, an effort. “Thank you. I’ll be fine.”

“Just the same. I’ll wait outside in the hall for you.”

This earned him the smallest smile. He found himself matching it.

“That won’t be necessary,” she said.

He turned. “I know, but I’ll be there anyway.”

Painter found Omaha studying him, his eyes slightly more narrowed than a moment before. The man’s expression was tight. He was clearly suspicious, but also a trace of anger lay under the surface.

As Painter crossed toward the door, Omaha made no room to allow him to pass. He had to turn sideways to get by.

As he did so, Omaha addressed Safia. “You did good in there, babe.”

“It was just a snake,” she answered, standing to accept the clothes from the butler. “And I have a lot to do before we leave.”

Omaha sighed. “All right. I hear you.” He followed Painter out the door.

The others had all cleared, leaving the hallway empty.

Painter moved to take a post beside the door. Omaha started to march past him, but Painter cleared his throat. “Dr. Dunn…”

The archaeologist stopped, glancing sidelong at him.

“That snake,” Painter said, following a thread left untied earlier. “You said you thought it came from outside. Why?”

Omaha shrugged, stepping back a bit. “Can’t say for sure. But carpet vipers like the afternoon sun, especially when shedding. So I can’t imagine it was holed up in there all day.”

Painter stared over at the closed door. Safia’s room had an eastern exposure. Morning sunlight only. If the archaeologist was correct, the snake would’ve had to travel a long way from a sunny roost to the tub.

Omaha read his thoughts. “You don’t think someone put it there?”

“Maybe I’m just being too paranoid. But didn’t some militant group once try to kill Safia?”

The man scowled, an expression worn into the lines of his face. “That was five years ago. Way up in Tel Aviv. Besides, if someone planted that snake, it couldn’t have been those bastards.”

“Why’s that?”

Omaha shook his head. “The extremist group was rooted out by Israeli commandos a year later. Wiped out, actually.”

Painter knew the details. It was Dr. Dunn who had helped the Israelis hunt the extremists down, using his contacts in the area.

Omaha mumbled, more to himself than Painter, a bitter tone. “Afterward, I thought Safia would be relieved…would return here…”

It’s not that easy, guy. Painter already had a good fix on Omaha. The man tackled problems head-on, bulled through them without looking back. It wasn’t what Safia needed. He doubted Omaha would ever understand. Still, Painter sensed a well of loss in the man, one that had been filled by the sand of passing years. So he tried to help. “Trauma like that is not overcome by-”

Omaha cut him off sharply. “Yeah, I’ve heard it all before. Thanks, but you’re not my goddamn therapist. Or hers ” He stalked off down the hall, calling back derisively, “And sometimes, doc, a snake is just a snake.”

Painter sighed.

A figure moved from the shadows of a neighboring archway. It was Coral Novak. “That man has issues.”

“Don’t we all.”

“I overheard your conversation,” she said. “Were you just chatting with him, or do you really think another party is involved?”

“There’s definitely someone stirring the pot.”

“Cassandra?”

He slowly shook his head. “No, some unknown variable.”

Coral scowled, which consisted of the barest downturn of the corner of her lips. “That’s not good.”

“No…no, it’s not.”

“And this curator,” Coral persisted, nodding to the door. “You’ve really got the role of the attentive civilian scientist down pat.”

Painter sensed a subtle warning in her voice, a cloaked concern that he might be crossing the line between professionalism and something more personal.

Coral continued, “If there’s another party sniffing around, shouldn’t we be searching the grounds for evidence?”

“Definitely. That’s why you’re going out there now.”

Coral raised an eyebrow.

“I have a door to guard,” he said, answering her unspoken question.

“I understand.” Coral began to turn away. “But are you staying here to safeguard the woman or the mission?”

Painter let command harden his voice. “In this particular case, they’re one and the same.”