Tom tested the door, confirming that it was unlocked. He rapped once and threw it open, striding into the room without waiting for a response. Furlann, bent over a censer, stopped her chanting and looked up. Colonel Jordan spun to face the door, revealing Markowitz, reclining in a chair that looked remarkably like a dentist’s couch. He didn’t move. Jordan’s hand was on the butt of his sidearm, but he didn’t draw it. That threat didn’t halt Tom. What stopped him were the colored chalk lines on the concrete floor. He put an arm out to stop Andy, hard on his heels, from breaking the ritual circle.