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his outer stratum corneum is infected with a multiviral factor, specifically an altered strain of the Marburg virus. It's something we call HyMar. And that virus, gentlemen, makes Cain a walking time bomb."
    Soloman understood the ramifications because he had dealt with the destruction and theft of biological weaponry before. What he knew was that Marburg was the one that even scared the bio-warfare specialists. No one knew where it came from, its vector, or a cure. They just knew it killed 99 percent of the people it touched and it did it ugly.
    Ben leaned back, his cigar dead-cold. Clearly, shock had removed him from the conversation. Perhaps because he couldn't trust himself to speak. But Soloman was concentrating furiously: "Why did you infect Cain with a strain of the Marburg virus, Doctor?"
    "Because the Central Intelligence Agency and the Pentagon gave me a mandate to create the ultimate soldier, Colonel. And the funds to do it."
    "And did you do it?"
    "Yes," she said quietly. "And then some."
    "How long do we have to find Cain, Doctor?"
    "Ten days" was her answer and genuine fear, for the first time, entered her voice.
    "And if we don't?"
    "Then," she replied, "Cain will be able to walk through the largest city in the world, Colonel, and kill everyone in it."
    ***
    "Ah, so pleasant," the giant murmured. "I love cathedrals. They remind me so much ... of home."
    Seated in the half-light of the edifice, the towering image of the Crucifixion dominating a far wall, he rested before he continued, smiling faintly: "Yes, such an aroma of death."
    He lifted a hand, slowly flexing it into a massive squared fist of incalculable power, power obvious even with the simple contraction. Staring, the trembling priest watched the movement, trying not to reveal his fear. But clearly, the strength in that taloned hand could kill without effort. The giant laughed again and tenderly reached out to turn the priest's head, staring into his face.
    Terror, pure and concentrated, burned vividly in Father Lanester's face as he looked into the giant's horrific countenance. Then the priest closed his eyes, as if he could not endure what he saw.
    There was a rumble, like an approaching storm and then the giant murmured, " Feoh othila ansux, osgeo mannz kano ?"
    Father Lanester violently shook his head, "No, no, please, I—"
    "Oh, I am so sorry," he whispered. "You do not understand Runic? No ... of course not. Hmmm. Perhaps we should try Latin? Do you understand Latin? Cognovi te a facie inimici ?"
    "Yes!" Father Lanester shouted, eyes tight. "I know you are the enemy! Esto mihi, Domine, turris fortitudinis !"
    The giant frowned, menacing. "Yes, Father. I am sure that ... he ... will be your strength. But times change. Believe me." He smiled. "Then again, perhaps we should leave Latin. Such dreadful repetition. We can speak any language you wish. I know them all. Of course, I would prefer to avoid Aramaic. I had a terrible experience with it ... once." His horrific face lightened in humor. "Why don't we try German? Kannst du nicht treu sein ?"
    "Yes! I can be faithful to God!"
    "No," the giant said soothingly, gently caressing the priest's head as he would caress a lost dog. " Meine Handpuppe profane, du hast nicht treu sein konnen ."
    "Yes!" the priest said, fear choking his throat. "Yes! I have been faithful! I do not know you! I do not know you! You have no part of me! I am a priest of Deus et Dominus —"
    Clamping his hand over the priest's face, the giant shut the words.
    Anger hardened his brow and his aspect was suddenly darker, violently intensifying the surrounding shadows. "Please do not speak that name again in Latin, Father. It disturbs me ... somewhat. And if you insist, I shall remove you of the burden of your tongue, to ensure your silence. I would not mind. I am quite famished."
    Carefully he removed his hand from the priest, a massive hand that easily covered the face and forehead. And for a moment the priest stared fearfully up