by F. Habib
She looked out on the dusky waves far below.
All this started before Galen was even conceived - before I met Liam. Though clearly, there is a link as he saved me from the first kidnappers. But why me? I don’t have any powers and didn’t even get to start my research.
Beth stood still, emptying her mind.
It worked that way sometimes - like cleaning a space on a crowded blackboard. She waited to see if an answer would show itself. Nothing. She rubbed her eyes.
Ok, all I’m left with is this Khoen guy. I’ll get some answers from him somehow.
She returned to the sofa and wrapped her arms around Galen. She decided to enjoy the brief reprieve, feeling his bony knees press her stomach as he curled into her.
He’s so big. How did he get so big? Their time alone, the years of close togetherness were over. The loss dangled her over an abyss she’d never dreamed existed. Its depth sucked at her heart; it took all her restraint not to crush him again. Instead she held him lightly, stroked his hair and waited. How much bravery would be required to get through this?
The doors swung open with a thud, and they stumbled to their feet. A pause, then a man in grey walked in with long strides. Beth and Galen stood transfixed.
Chapter Ten
A deep electric charge flowed through Beth; rooted her feet. Her body zinged with intense recognition, though she’d never seen nor imagined a man like this before. For a long moment her thoughts tangled and stalled like a pileup on her synaptic highway.
The sudden energy within her mushroomed and stretched out like an invisible hand. The moment it reached him he halted and looked directly at her. She was glad to be holding Galen’s shoulders as the jolt rocked her onto her heels.
Holy cow, we’re in trouble.
Galen stepped slowly from his mother, his gaze moving between them. He sat back on the sofa and watched.
Something pumped through her that echoed with the force of fear, but wasn’t. It was the opposite of fear. It was confidence. A senseless assurance in the face of grave danger, for this was a very dangerous man.
Charisma roiled around him like a cloak. She recognised an intelligent, deadly opponent; weakness now would be the last mistake she'd make.
He was dark. Thick brows and lashes framed cold charcoal eyes. He was dressed in a peculiar style; clean strong shapes that flowed and moved even when he was still; it would look entirely ridiculous on anyone else.
He tracked a slow wide circle around her, but there was no need for bravery. The closer he got, the stronger she felt. His eyes burned into hers in a battle of wills that she didn’t understand. Her mind didn’t seem to be working properly; she was functioning on instinct and her instinct was doing weird things. She knew she could win against this man. She didn’t know how or why but deep within her, she felt powerful. Where it was coming from she had no idea, but it was exhilarating to not be afraid.
I must be losing my mind…
She straightened her shoulders and loosely clasped her fingers behind her back; she embodied calm, polite interest.
Confusion and irritation flashed in his eyes before he tore his gaze away. Beth controlled the twitch of satisfaction that tugged at her lips, hiding a burst of elation that nearly made her laugh aloud.
Yep, the crazy train has definitely pulled in this time, Irving. Just stay cool.
Khoen turned to Galen with a tilt of his head. The boy kept very still but didn’t seem afraid either. It took all of her will not to step between them. Then Khoen gave him a smile that vaulted her stomach so that she pressed her hand to it.
Uh, oh.
‘So, you are finally with us. Allow me to formally welcome you aboard Salacia. We have waited eagerly for your arrival.’ His voice had a burnt quality that tingled Beth’s skin like a calloused finger. His Spanish accent was pronounced. ‘I look forward to learning more about you both and the marvellous things you can show us. Please, do me the honour...’
Without looking back he turned towards another door.
They walked through to a magnificent dining room elaborately set for what looked like a seven-course dinner. Beth couldn’t imagine eating even one morsel of food. Bazir stood to one side of the table and passed Khoen some papers; he glanced at them briefly before handing them back. Another uniformed waiter offered Beth a selection of drinks on a silver tray. Her heart was thumping out an odd rhythm, but nothing but self-confidence rushed through her veins.
‘Perhaps, Mr…Khoen, you would kindly clear something up for me.’ Her warm tone earned a glance from Galen. ‘Since I came round from my tranquilliser-induced coma, I’ve been wondering why a man of such refined tastes sought to use such boorish tactics to get us here. Would an invitation not have sufficed?’
Shock flashed across the faces of Bazir and the waiter. Galen frowned as the tension in the room spiked. Khoen faced her with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes.
‘You’ll have to forgive my crude methods, Elizabeth. I have never been inclined to hide who I am. When people know me, they rarely accept my invitations. I suppose, I stopped asking.’
Beth grit her teeth. ‘Well, you ought to ask,’ she said. ‘I hid for years precisely because you didn’t. It may have saved a lot of time had you given me the opportunity to refuse, don’t you think?’
Bazir blanched beneath his tan. Khoen stared at her for a long moment, then gave a stiff, almost imperceptible nod, his mouth pinched.
‘I will be interested to see if you feel the same in the future. I am at heart an unpolished man, and unfortunately you will have to bear with my clumsy efforts at refinement and social etiquette.’
‘Well, I’ll do my best,’ Beth stated after a considered pause, ‘as long as you do yours, of course.’ She reached for a glass of champagne from the waiter who walked with his gaze pinned to the floor. Taking a sip she looked around the room and did a double take. She placed her glass on the table and walked towards a slowly rotating metal sculpture; a deep frown furrowed her brow.
Khoen followed.
‘What do you think of it?’
She stared from the sculpture to Khoen and back. He eyed her closely as she walked around and around it, peering at it from every angle, waving her hands about.
‘It’s not a trick – well, not strictly speaking.’ He dusted a non-existent speck from his shoulder. Beth sensed quiet gloating though he showed no indication of self-satisfaction.
‘What is it, mum?’ Galen came to see what the fuss was about.
‘It’s a Penrose Triangle. Seemingly whole…which is impossible.’ Beth’s mind whirled as she tried to determine how it worked. The metal clearly reshaped itself as the sculpture turned, maintaining the illusion even as the viewer circled the pedestal. However it was achieved, it was a powerful demonstration of Khoen’s abilities. She stared at him with intense interest.
He raised a brow at her reaction. Mischief lent a momentary sparkle to his black eyes, surprising her. She didn’t get the impression much merriment followed in his trail.
His eyes were strange. So black, she couldn’t distinguish his pupils from his iris and they drew her like a chasm. Now that he was closer, the strange force between them dragged at her. Beth broke their interlocked gaze to regain her balance.
It would be a mistake to underestimate this man.
This irrational burst of personal power is going to land you flat on your face, Irving. It’s only been five minutes since you met him - rein in the effrontery and tread lightly.
As they returned to the table Beth caught Bazir’s cool regard. He smiled, but she saw a flash of something, confusion perhaps, in his eyes.
‘La cena está lista, Maestro.’ The waiter spoke to the floor and she wondered if anyone ever looked Khoen in the eye.
‘Then we can begin,’ he lifted a tumbler filled with crushed ice and blue liquid. ‘I would like to talk to you about why you’re here and how we can help each other. My researchers have been working on some things that may be of interest to
you, specifically the malleability of atomic structures to thought. They’ve made considerable progress in the last couple of years. I understand you and your son have some experience with this in organic materials.’ His statement did not invite debate. ‘Perhaps we can support each other’s research for our mutual benefit?’ He took a sip, studying her over the rim. ‘You would have access to some of the best information and technology available.’
The inference that she had a choice pricked Beth; she suddenly understood why he didn’t bother with invitations.
‘What are your goals and intensions toward us? I’m aware that I have limited options, but things might go more smoothly, if I knew what will motivate you to release us.’
Stony silence greeted her words. She suspected he had no intension of letting them leave and had never expected to be asked the question. He looked to be considering her query with some irritation.
He probably can’t think of a suitable lie that will pacify me.
‘Are you always this direct?’
‘That is not an answer,’ Beth’s voice was stern with fresh outrage that he really meant to kill them off. ‘You need my help but you can’t even pretend that we’re going to be released even if you reach your goal, whatever that may be. I suggest you start thinking fast because you’ll get nothing but trouble from me if you can’t convince me otherwise.’
‘Don’t you mean more trouble,’ He spoke softly. Bazir flinched as though he’d shouted. ‘You seem to be confused as to who is in charge here.’
‘Is that supposed to put me in my place?’ Beth sniffed, ‘yes, you’re the big guy, the man in charge, the boss, bigwig, Lord of all you survey,’ she ignored the pink tinge colouring Khoen’s neck, ‘and I can see everyone else around here is terrified of you, but I am not.’
Beth pointed at her own face. ‘Do I look scared?’ Her finger was shaking but she knew it was rage. She felt light-headed with it.
‘You look crazy, only the insane would…’
‘Galen!’ Bazir shouted too late. Beth whipped round to see a pallid Galen bump into a piece of artwork in the corner. A bejewelled sword tumbled from where it had balanced. Beth’s heart leapt, an image of him impaled flashed through her mind, but Galen reached out deftly and caught it by the handle. Her heart was still choking her when heat flashed against her own inattention.
‘Drop it, now!’
Galen instantly released the sword and it fell to the floor with a crack. It took her a second to realise that the crash was not from the weapon. She turned to see Khoen staring at the broken tumbler at his feet, sky blue seeping into the cream carpet.
There was confused silence.
Khoen turned opaque eyes on Beth and cold shivered over her. Behind them she detected horror, shock and fear quickly washed away by a blinding fury that surged the power around him. The air crackled and objects about the room began to shake and jump; cutlery clattered to the floor. Khoen’s hands were balled into tight fists by his side and he shook with some great effort.
‘Get out!’ he hissed through clenched teeth. There was a frozen pause, and then everyone ran for the door.
*
‘In here,’ Bazir pointed to a side door as they sprinted down another long passage. They pushed through to a living room, nearly tripping over each other. Panting, the three collapsed onto a low sofa. Galen was trembling, eyes wide. Bazir covered his face with his hands and Beth clamped a palm over her mouth to hold back hysterical laughter. The mad confidence was slowly dissipating.
I really need to get a grip.
She cuddled Galen till he calmed down. The strong Arabic theme in the décor was enhanced by wonderful incense; yet another beautiful room.
‘Where are we?’
‘These are my quarters,’ Bazir rubbed his forehead and stood abruptly. ‘I don’t know what game you imagine you’re playing Beth, but I strongly advise against it.’ He snatched up a delicately carved eggshell from its stand and then carefully replaced it. Beth noticed a number of these exquisite eggs, intricately carved with lace patterns and astonishing reliefs depicting animals and warriors. She walked to a corner workstation - these were Bazir’s own creations.
‘This is amazing,’ she carefully lifted a work in progress to marvel at its fine mesh. Clearly he’s more than a cowering assistant. This kind of work demanded huge patience, detailed planning and design, as well as a creative, determined nature. She slowly replaced it.
‘I’m not playing any games,’ she said, ‘I just won’t be cowed. I allowed my father to intimidate me most of my life. It was a mistake I don’t intend to repeat, especially as I have a child to protect. If Khoen is going to…’ she glanced briefly at Galen, who was also admiring the eggs, ‘dispose of us when we no longer serve his purpose, then we either have to remain useful or escape. You’ve told me that escape is impossible, which I doubt. You are clearly aware that Galen is possessed of abilities that could prove difficult to combat.’
Galen shot her a dubious look from the corner of his eye.
‘You have no idea who you’re dealing with,’ Bazir hissed, and for a millisecond Beth wondered if he meant Khoen or himself. ‘Khoen does not take kindly to challenge; I was amazed at his patience with your defiant attitude. Others have suffered serious consequences for less. His powers are greater than you can imagine and he has possessed them for a long time. He has not been defeated in any ambition since childhood, and his ambitions are without limit.’
‘What are his ambitions? Powers? Where is he from? What exactly does he need from us if he is so mighty?’
He raised a palm against the barrage and walked to a table full of colourful ceramic pots of varying shapes and sizes. He selected a number of items from the array and offered them to Galen in a silver bowl.
‘I hope it’s ok – they are treats,’ he explained to Beth. She nodded and watched Galen dive in with his usual relish.
‘Khoen is from Venezuela, near the Columbian border,’ He indicated she be seated. ‘He was born into violent poverty, with an alcoholic father who communicated with his fists. When he was 5 years old, he tried to intervene in a beating his mother was receiving when his father broke his arm in a doorway. He killed his father that day and manifested his powers for the first time. He never looked back.’ He brought some sweets over for her.
‘He gained power in the local criminal network and by his early teens had a formidable reputation. When he was fourteen he made his way to the US where he rapidly gained huge wealth and power but was clever enough to maintain his anonymity. He was known only as El Maestro. I met him when he was 16 and I still don’t know his true name.’
‘So where did the name Khoen come from?’
‘It is an anagram of ‘noh ek’; it means ‘Big Star’ which was a Mayan deity – Venus, essentially.’
Beth stopped the laughter bubbling up. ‘He named himself Big Star after a deity? How does he get about, with that kind of ego to lug?’
Bazir was not laughing.
‘Around here most people see him as a kind of…demigod. They fear him, but they also respect him. Yes, he is narcissistic, but he is not psychotic nor a sadist. He isn’t interested in guilt or innocence as such, only what moves him towards his goals. He pays very well for competence, which is second only to courage in his eyes. People fear his temper and intolerance of failure. Disloyalty is severely punished.’
Beth sat back in her chair. ‘So, if he has all this wealth and power, what does he want with us?’
Bazir crossed his legs and fed some yellow Turkish delight into his mouth. He seemed to be enjoying his tale. She wondered how much was true, or was it just the first ever telling?
‘When Khoen was 18, his mother died of cancer. He returned home for her funeral and learned from an elderly cousin that he had not been born into the family. He’d apparently been abandoned on a street corner as a new-born and found by his mother early one morning. She’d brought him home to the puzzlement of the family and fury of her husband. Ne
vertheless, she’d been adamant that she would not give him up. The family had assumed her inability to have children of her own had made her a bit crazy.
The news came as a huge shock; it changed his personal identity and ambitions quite radically. I believe it exposed him to a vulnerability he hadn’t felt since before his father’s death. For a while he became obsessed with his lost parentage, but there was no trail; he focused then on understanding his powers as a source of information about his origins.
It didn’t take him long to realise there weren’t any answers available within orthodox physics. He immediately set up his own research facilities, seeking out the best scientists, the most creative thinkers.’ Bazir shrugged, ‘It proved difficult to keep things quiet and a number of international agencies were still chasing down El Maestro, even though he had, by then, largely disbanded his criminal organisations. So came the change of name and a move to international waters.
Much progress was made here, and there were excursions to other labs over the years to extract information. He is adept at using his considerable charm as effectively as his other strengths. It was during one of these excursions to a parapsychology centre in Mexico that a young woman approached him. I don’t know what she said to him, he didn’t tell me many details about it, but it wasn’t long before he became interested in the holographic paradigm and your name came up.’
Beth started, ‘Me? Why me?’
He shrugged, ‘he wanted to meet with you, but our forward scout discovered you were already being observed by the Sayan. That’s when we sent in the extraction crew.’
‘The Sayan? What’s a Sayan?’
‘It’s a person from the Sayan Mountains in Russia. There was a lab created there by a group of pharmaceuticals in the late 1960s to research the powers of healing. It was a pretty radical group by any standards and children were created and trained specifically to harness and enhance the power demonstrated by some healers, to exploit the resource. Their research methods were…harsh. After 20 years, their star performer escaped and disappeared. The remaining children rebelled and the Pharma group crushed them before terminating the project. I believe some sort of chemical weapon was used. A nasty business for sure.’