The Seal of Solomon by Rick Yancey Page A

grow.
    I grew till I was about the size of a whale shark, this gray and white behemoth of the sea, gulping hundreds of gallons into my wide, toothless mouth and shooting them out through my gills. I felt something pricking my fish-skin: hundreds of little silvery fish with suckers for mouths were attaching themselves to me as I swam. More and more of the little sucker fish appeared out of the depths and latched on to me, until thousands carpeted every inch, and I could feel them sucking the life out of me. I began to sink deeper and deeper as my life force waned, and the water began to turn black and very cold.
    I shivered. I’m not sure fish are capable of shivering, but in this dream anything seemed possible, even something like a white-bellied Kropp Fish.
    I woke up and I was still shivering.
    The porthole was shining brightly and light reflecting off the ocean was dancing on the glass. Right beside the porthole, Op Nine leaned against the bulkhead.
    â€œWhat time is it?” I asked.
    â€œWe are two hours from the insertion point,” he said.
    â€œI love your super-secret-agent Tom Clancy lingo,” I said.
    â€œExtreme extraction. Special Subject. Insertion point. What happens after we’re inserted into the point?”
    I sat up and a wave of dizziness swept over me. Someone, probably Op Nine, since I had a feeling he had been assigned as my minder, had brought me another big glass of orange juice. I gulped it down.
    â€œThen we have approximately six hours,” Op Nine said.
    â€œSix hours to do what?”
    â€œStop the Hyena before he can unlock the Lesser Seal.”
    â€œ ‘Hyena’?”
    â€œMike Arnold.”
    â€œThat’s his code name, Hyena?”
    â€œYou don’t like it? We thought it most apropos.”
    â€œIt’s okay, but my big problem with code names is why use one when everybody knows the real name?”
    â€œBecause that would offend our super-secret-agent Tom Clancy sensibilities.”
    He motioned toward the foot of the bed.
    â€œPerhaps you would like to dress before we reach Marsa Alam.”
    â€œHuh?” I had no idea I wasn’t dressed. Then I saw I was wearing a hospital gown. Why had OIPEP stuck me in a hospital gown?
    I slid out of bed and grabbed the bundle of clothes. He just stood there, staring at me with those dark eyes. I hoped he didn’t plan to stand there while I got dressed.
    â€œIs there someplace I can maybe wash up and brush my teeth?” Running my tongue over them felt like I was licking carpet, and not the thin, worn kind in the Tuttle house, but something with a thicker pile.
    â€œOf course. Left down the corridor, last door on the right at the terminus of the hall.”
    Terminus of the hall. He didn’t have any accent that I could detect, but he talked like English was his second language. Who says “terminus of the hall”?
    Op Nine opened the round door for me. I turned left, one hand pressing the clothes against my chest, the other clutching the gown closed behind me as I shuffled down the hall. In case you didn’t know, hospital gowns are open in the back with just a little drawstring to tie them, and therefore my naked butt was flapping in the breeze. The hall was packed with agents hurrying up and down, and a few stopped and stared as I passed.
    I thought I heard a couple of snickers and once the word “pimple,” though it might have been “dimple,” which made sense too.
    I reached the terminus of the hall and went through the last door on the right.
    I was in a tiny bathroom, maybe two or three times the size of an airplane bathroom. I barely fit in the shower, but it had one of those removable shower heads on a flexible tube with the adjustable sprayers for regular or massaging.
    I stayed in that shower for a long time, leaning against the wall as the water pounded on my dimple, wondering what this dizziness was about and if it had something to do with