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by Judith Reeves-Stevens

  “He came to Boston for Florian’s memorial.”

  Victoria started to say that was against all the rules, then reconsidered. “They were very fond of each other.”

  “And Su-Lin didn’t tell him gunmen tried to kill me in Canada, just before—”

  “Gunmen?!”

  “Then she didn’t tell you, either.”

  “When did this happen?”

  “Three days after Florian was murdered.”

  “Jessie, dear, you’d better tell me everything.”

  David woke with a start. He’d nodded off in the ugly orange chair waiting for Jess to return, or for someone else to come for him.

  She’d said it’d be impossible for him to see the real underground facility here, but as soon as she’d spent a few minutes speaking with her host, he’d be allowed to enter the first level, where the main living quarters were housed. He could rest there while she used a computer terminal to call up photos of the sun map. She’d also said there would be several astronomers she could contact, funded by MacCleirigh Foundation grants, who’d be able to interpret the arrangement of planets in the meteorite’s inscriptions. That they would know if a particular date could be inferred.

  David checked his watch to see how long he’d slept. An hour and a half?

  He stood up, muscles sore and stiff after Cornwall and the forced inactivity of a day spent in planes. His stomach rumbled. He hadn’t had a real meal for days, but the closest thing to food at hand was a can of Coke.

  He went to the door, opened it, saw no one in the hall.

  “Hello?”

  No one answered.

  David didn’t know how this place ran, but something wasn’t right. Not for a security-obsessed outfit like Jess’s family.

  Coke in hand, he started down the hall toward the closed door at its end. He was guessing that that was where Jess had gone with Bakana.

  The door was unlocked when he tried it. He walked into what seemed to be a mothballed office. Everything was wrapped in plastic.

  “Jess? Bakana? Hello?”

  Silence.

  David took another sip of Coke, considering his next move. Then he heard someone in the hall, moving fast. Finally.

  He went back to the door, pulled it open.

  The driver of the Land Rover was charging toward him. He had a gun.

  David slammed the door shut—

  But he’d swung the lightweight door so hard, it banged open again just as fast. The driver fired.

  Jess sat in anxious silence as Victoria stared up at one of the few paintings on her office walls, its ornate frame squeezed between the overstuffed bookcases. It was a portrait of Sir Francis Bacon, one of the 144 of his day. It was also a Family painting, and he held one hand in the gesture of the empty scroll. His other hand grasped his Tuareg cross. In the edging of the purple cloak that draped the famous scholar, the words SCIENTIA POTESTAS EST were worked in gold threads: Knowledge is power. The phrase was one of many from the Traditions that Sir Francis had revealed to the world, much to the chagrin of his cousins.

  “Do you believe me?” Jess asked at last.

  Victoria turned away from the portrait, and Jess saw new creases of concern on her cousin’s sun-weathered face. “It’s not that simple. You’ve given me no motive, or real evidence. Without that, how can I, or any of the rest of us, believe Su-Lin—and Andrew—want . . . and have already acted, to erase our heritage? There’s no basis for removing them from the Twelve.”

  Jess blinked. “Is that possible? Can a defender be removed?”

  “Supposedly, though I don’t think it’s ever happened. The most I’m aware of is that a few defenders have left active service and ended up in our libraries. ‘Taking on lives of permanent scholarship,’ I believe the Foundation calls it. But that’s more like being in exile than being removed.” Victoria frowned. “You see, that’s the problem with what you’ve told me, Jessie. The Foundation’s so big, our resources so formidable, any defender should be able to pursue any line of inquiry, without question. That’s always prevented disputes among us.”

  “What about the allocation of those resources? Willem said there are never enough in a given year to do everything that everyone wants to do.”

  “That’s true in any academic setting. But if one of our personal projects isn’t approved one year, it’s approved the next. We’re all equal, dear. That’s why the table’s round.”

  “But . . .” Jess felt desperation rising, all thoughts of the need to acquire the sun map image sinking below a new threat. If she couldn’t convince Victoria, there was every likelihood she’d corroborate Su-Lin’s misgivings about the new defender’s readiness—and I’ll end up in a “life of permanent scholarship.”

  She spoke with urgency. “Victoria, listen, that’s not how Su-Lin is behaving. She didn’t tell you about the attack in Canada—and she was supposed to. Think about that, please. She told you she was worried about me, but she didn’t tell you she’d already sent Cross personnel to bring me back to Zurich—at gunpoint. She’s already destroyed one temple, and probably the one in Cornwall, too. Think of what else we’ll lose if we don’t stop her!”

  “I have been listening, and, frankly, Jessie, you’ve just weakened your argument.”

  Jess stared at her cousin, uncomprehending.

  “You made it clear that you and your David, and Ironwood and his people, were the only ones who could have known about the temple in Cornwall. That leaves only one reasonable assumption: Ironwood is responsible for its destruction. Which means, it’s likely he’s also responsible for what happened in Polynesia. And I wouldn’t put too much on Willem, just now. He’s been distraught since he lost Florian. Their ‘association’ with each other wasn’t unknown to all of us.”

  For Jess, though, one action outweighed all others. “That doesn’t change the fact that Su-Lin’s withholding information.”

  “What would you have me do?’

  “Exactly what she’s doing. Don’t tell her anything I’ve told you.”

  “About . . .”

  “About anything, especially David.”

  “David.” Victoria looked thoughtful. “When do you get the results of the genetic testing back?”

  “Another two days for the preliminary results. Apparently, they’ll be able to tell if we’re related right away. It’ll take a bit longer than that to work out the precise details.”

  “Well . . . at the very least, it would be fascinating if it turns out there’s a genetic marker that identifies the Family. It’d certainly make sense. And it would make it easier for you to bring him into the 144.”

  Jess understood. Spouses of defenders automatically became part of the Family’s inner circle, though sometimes the training period could last years.

  “What about . . .” Victoria hesitated. “The White Island?”

  “Not till we decode the star map.”

  “Then what?”

  “Ideally?” Jess knew what she wanted to do but wasn’t sure it was possible. “Ideally, I’d like to go to whatever location the star map points to and see what’s there—and, somehow, get word to all the defenders, and all the 144 at the same time. If Su-Lin and Andrew are destroying temples, that would stop them.”

  “Because everyone will know.”

  Jess looked at the portrait of Bacon. “Knowledge will give us the power to preserve knowledge.”

  Victoria thought that over, and Jess held her breath when it seemed her cousin had made a decision.

  Then the deafening scream of a siren made them both cup their ears.

  “What is it?” Jess gasped.

  Victoria raised her voice to be heard above the din. “The blast door! It’s closing!”

  David raised his hands in a reflexive yet futile attempt to block bullets, but the gun was a Taser, and it fired darts. They struck the can of Coke he held, sparked, and deflected from their target.

  Reacting instantly, David slammed the door again in the same heartbeat
the driver lunged forward, and the sound of its connection with his face was solid. The door slowly opened, and the man staggered forward, blood spurting from his nose and lips.

  A month ago, David wouldn’t have known what to do.

  Now he did.

  He swung, hard, and the man dropped to the floor.

  David thought quickly. There had been two men in the Land Rover that had intercepted him and Jess. Driver and passenger.

  He checked the hallway. Empty.

  He bent down, patted the man’s pockets, and found keys and a small plastic box with extra darts for the Taser gun. He used the man’s belt to secure his hands. Then he locked the door to the hall. His eyes swept the cubicles, chairs, and saw—

  Something that broke the pattern.

  The back wall of filing cabinets, the one unit without a plastic shroud. Its middle drawer was open.

  David ran to the unit, looked in the drawer. A biometric hand scanner—Jess and Bakana had come in here.

  David dragged the unconscious man back to the cabinet, freed his hands, and placed one of them on the scanner.

  A soft chime sounded, and a wall panel slid aside.

  David retied his captive’s hands, then stepped through the opening.

  He was at the top of a staircase that wound down into a vast artificial cavern with a massive vault door at one end. The door was disklike, shining stainless steel, open to reveal a large tunnel.

  The only other ways in or out of the cavern appeared to be three smaller, unprotected tunnels. David guessed those led to the loading-dock garage doors he’d seen when he and Jess drove in.

  The conclusion was obvious: The Shop lay beyond the vault door.

  He started down the stairs. A cry rang out behind him.

  The second man. The Rover’s passenger was in the opening to the staircase, shouting into a radio.

  A siren soared into earsplitting life. On the floor below, spinning lights flashed into action, smearing wild reflections in the vault door’s sheen.

  The air shook as the deep rumble of powerful hydraulic pumps began.

  The silver disk was closing.

  FORTY-THREE

  The blare of the siren drowned out Jess’s shout of “Why?”

  Victoria grabbed her laptop and rushed for the door. “We only shut it for drills and—”

  She stopped dead. Bakana stood in the open doorway. “You need to stay in your office,” she said.

  Victoria tried to push past her assistant, but Bakana took her arm and firmly forced her back. “You need to stay here.” The assistant glared at Jess. “You, too.”

  Victoria wrested her arm free, furious. “What is this about?”

  Jess knew the answer. “Me.”

  Bakana closed the door behind her. From the hallway, Jess could hear running footsteps, the rise and fall of worried voices. The scholars working here would be hurrying to do exactly what her cousin had done: retrieve their computers and vital notes. Just in case.

  “You have no right to detain either of us,” Victoria said.

  “I’m doing this for the Family.”

  Jess knew why this was happening. “No, you’re not. Whatever Su-Lin’s told you, it’s not true.”

  “Why would she lie?” Bakana looked back and forth between her two captives. “She’s a defender like the two of you. You both know things I don’t. The 144 know things I don’t. Keeping knowledge secure is how the Family survives. But now you”—she pointed at Jess—“you’re threatening everything we are with your stories of a false temple! You’re helping Ironwood!”

  The siren stopped abruptly. The sudden silence was unnerving.

  “The door’s closed now. We’re sealed in for at least a day.” Victoria held her laptop to her chest. “I agree with you, Bakana. We do need to keep some knowledge hidden. That is how we survive. But, having been a defender for more than twenty years, I can tell you that not all of us at the table agree with one another. I’m going to call Su-Lin. I’m certain this can all be sorted out.”

  Bakana held her position blocking the door. “They want Jessica back in Zurich. Just to talk. That’s why they don’t have guns.”

  “Who doesn’t have guns?”

  “The people from Cross.” Bakana stepped aside as the office door began to open. “They’re here to take her back.”

  David rushed for the vault door as the sirens wailed and the immense steel disk ponderously shifted, gaining momentum. Without breaking pace, he glanced back.

  The Rover’s passenger was halfway down the spiral staircase. David recognized the blocky black weapon he carried. A Taser gun.

  He raced on. Getting past the vault door was his only chance of escape, but the huge disk was already halfway through its arc—in ten seconds, it would be closed. Behind him he heard the clanging of the metal stairs end as his pursuer reached the ground.

  Ahead of him, the opening to the tunnel narrowed, nearly covered by the immense steel disk. David twisted sideways, skidding into the five-foot depth of the locking frame, slipping through just as a crackling Taser dart sparked off the disk’s outside edge and the towering cold bulk closed.

  Safe.

  The hydraulics growled to a stop, and the door’s locking pegs sprang out to hold it fast.

  The siren stopped.

  David moved. Felt resistance. Something held him. He twisted, awkward.

  His shirt. The tail of it caught in the door.

  He yanked on the trapped fabric. No success. In frustration, he pulled his khaki shirt open, ripping buttons off, finally pulling free and turned to keep running, just as a third Cross bodyguard Tasered him.

  Bakana backed away from Victoria’s office door as the bodyguard pushed a figure in ahead of him.

  David fell to his knees, and Jess rushed to kneel beside him.

  Seconds later, she looked back at Victoria. “He’s alive because they used darts this time. In Boston, their orders were to kill.”

  “Why the change?” Jess demanded. The Cross operative in olive drab outback gear didn’t answer her. With the hypertrained resolve of each recruit in what was, to all intents, the Family’s private army, he slipped a new cartridge into his Taser.

  “Orders are to take you both to Zurich. Uninjured, if possible.”

  Jess saw Bakana’s look of surprise at the threat of violence. Victoria continued to say nothing.

  Jess touched David’s smooth bare chest. Barbed electrodes were still hooked into his skin there. Blood oozed from the impact points.

  He moaned, still not coherent. The disruptive effects of the high-voltage, low-current shock did take some time to wear off, but Jess thought it odd he showed no signs of recovery yet.

  She turned back to Victoria. “In Boston, Su-Lin wanted David and me dead. Now she doesn’t. That means she needs information from both of us. She wants us to tell her how to find the temples.”

  Jess ignored the astonished faces of the operative and Bakana. All that mattered was what Victoria would do.

  The Defender of Canberra evidently made her decision. She spoke to the man with the Taser, her voice authoritative, commanding.

  “You are in my domain. If you expect to leave with your prisoners, you’ll do me the respect of telling me why you’re taking them.”

  The operative hesitated, and Jess guessed that Su-Lin had ordered him not to reveal anything. Not even to the Shop’s director.

  She saw Bakana, conflicted, look from the bodyguard back to her superior. Aware that she was watching history.

  Jess suddenly wondered if this was one of the stories she would tell the Family’s children someday.

  “You should speak to the Defender of São Paulo,” the operative finally said.

  “I intend to. But right now, I’m speaking to you.”

  David moaned again. The sound distracted the operative, and he reached down for the wires trailing from David’s chest, to pull them free. “He should be fine now.” But in one quick motion David ripped the darts from h
is chest himself and used them to slash at the operative. The man reeled back, startled, his face streaked with blood as he raised his Taser to fire again, and—

  —fell back as David grabbed a heavy book from a shelf and slammed it against his head.

  David scooped up the Taser and backed away, waving the weapon at Bakana as he ordered her to stay by the fallen man. Though David’s hand was shaking and his face was ashen, blood still dripping from ragged chest wounds, it was obvious to Jess that he’d deliberately acted to persuade the operative, and her, that the Taser had debilitated him more than it had.

  “Let’s just find what we came for,” he told Jess, “and get out of here.”

  Bakana found her voice. “You can’t get out of here. No one can.”

  “I can wait for the door to open,” David said. He looked at Victoria. “You are going to open it, right?”

  Despite what she’d just witnessed, Victoria maintained an air of imperious calm. She pulled out a dusty black phone from under a stack of papers. “Jessie, I agree with you that something’s not right, and that Su-Lin’s somehow involved, but you still haven’t convinced me she wants the temples destroyed. There’s just no reason for it.” She lifted the receiver, ready to place the call.

  Before Jess could make one last attempt to convince Victoria to help her, David spoke.

  “Sure there is,” he said. “What about the Family secret?”

  It was as if a sudden chill had frozen everyone in the office. Bakana and the operative turned to stare at him. Victoria stood with the handset of her phone halfway to her ear.

  Jess knew what David was about to do: Defend her. She tried to warn him off. “David—”

  But David was oblivious to the hurricane he was about to unleash.

  “I couldn’t even begin to guess what this facility cost,” he said. “What it took to get a blast door into the center of Australia. How Jess can get fake passports, charter planes halfway around the world . . . It’s like money doesn’t exist for you people.”

  “Your point?” Victoria asked. She was looking straight at Jess, the unspoken question in her eyes. How much have you told him?