"Look, I need to see you, but I'm in Las Vegas," he said. "I'll head back to LA tomorrow. Something I need to do on the way."
Mee started to laugh.
"What's so funny?"
"Well, you won't believe this, but I'm in Vegas too."
"What?!"
"Long story. Might even be as interesting as yours. I'm here with Bob." There was a pause while Seb tried to work out who she meant.
"Bob, as in Bob and Marcie? From the hills? How do you know him?"
"We have a mutual friend," she said, deciding Marcie's fate was something Bob might want to tell Seb face to face. "Come see us. I'll give you directions." She told him where the Order community was. "Or we could meet in the city," she said. "Could murder a gin and tonic right now."
"I can't come today," he said. "Somewhere I need to be. But I'll be back tomorrow afternoon. I'll come out to you."
"Deal," she said. "Don't get into any more trouble between now and then."
"I'll do my best," he said. "I'll be on this number for another couple hours. Mee?"
"Yes?" there was another pause.
"Nothing. Nothing. I'll see you tomorrow."
As Mee finished the call, she saw Bob walking toward her, a questioning look on his face.
"It was Seb," she said, smiling broadly. "He's ok. He's going to meet us tomorrow."
"You told him where we were?"
"Yes," she said. Her forehead creased as she thought about it. "Oh."
"Yeah," said Bob. "These guys have Government connections at the highest level. We don't know if they're monitoring calls. I know that's a phone they don't know about, but did you use your name? Or mine, or Seb's?"
Mee's expression changed as she considered the implications. "Oh, no," she said. He'll be walking into a trap."
Diane walked over and joined them. Lo told her what had happened.
"We have an understanding with other Manna users," she said, "including the organization who we believe is pursuing Seb. We leave each other alone. If they know you are with us, they will keep their distance. If Seb makes it here, he will be safe."
"But if they know he's coming, they can watch the road and grab him before he gets anywhere near," said Bob.
"Exactly," said Diane. She held out her hand for Mee's phone. Mee got a notebook out of her battered backpack and made a note of the number Seb had called from. Then she handed the phone to Diane and watched as it crumbled into a fine black dust in front of her. She rolled her eyes and tutted.
"You could have just done that to the SIM card," she said. She pouted and glared, a combination that had turned many people into stammering wrecks. Diane just ignored her.
"I'll go into town," said Bob, "pick up another cheap cell. We can call Seb, warn him, fix up another meeting place."
"No. I'll go," said Lo. "They've been watching you. It's too risky."
Bob hesitated, then nodded, agreeing reluctantly. Lo ran behind one of the trailers, then reappeared on a motorcycle, her childish figure looking incongruous on such a big machine. She roared off with a quick wave to the others.
She was back within 20 minutes with a burner - a cell phone paid for with cash with $20 credit on it. Mee took it and dialed the number. A male voice answered.
"Seb?" said Meera.
"I'm sorry," said the voice, "you must have misdialed. There's no one of that name here." He hung up.
"Shit," said Meera. She double checked the number. Definitely the one Seb had called from. "What now?" she said, looking at the others.
"Only one thing we can do," said Bob. "We've got to assume they'll try to grab Seb before he gets here. We can't warn him. So we need to watch the watchers. Set up lookouts on the outskirts of the city - the most likely place for an ambush. That way, we have a good chance of spotting them move into position. Tomorrow, when they spring their trap, we'll jump them. You lot are pretty handy in a fight, right?"
Lo smiled. "We won't kill anyone, but there are kinder ways of incapacitating an enemy."
"Just don't be too kind," said Bob, thinking of Marcie lying in a pool of spreading blood. "They don't deserve it."
"We'll make plans this afternoon, then move into place at dawn tomorrow," said Diane. "We'll have Seb back to you by tomorrow night."
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Six miles away, Walt stood by his desk, looking at the phone, thinking. Finally he picked it up and dialed a number he knew by heart but rarely called.
"Yes?" came the whisper.
"It's Walter Ford. Someone else knows he's here. And he's leaving."
"Yes." The whisper was weak, breathy, but the words were always precise and considered. "I know. Where is he now?"
"Packing," said Walt. "I can't talk him out of it and I don't know where he's heading."
"It's of no concern to you now," whispered the voice. "We know where he's going. Ford?"
"Yes, sir?" said Walt.
"Change is imminent. I may be calling on your services. And the services of many others. Old allegiances will be broken. We are under attack and any action we take will need to be decisive. Be ready."
"Yes, sir," said Walt. The line went dead and he swallowed hard. When he turned, Seb was stood in the doorway. How long had he been there? Did he hear anything? Walt forced a smile onto his face. Seb was holding the same slim bag he had arrived with. When you could make your own clothes from a handful of dirt, it made sense to travel light.
"Can't persuade you to stay a few more days?" said Walt. "You're just beginning to get used to controlling Manna. It's not an easy time, even for someone with your gifts."
Seb shook his head. "Thanks, but no," he said. "I need to be on my own." He hadn't mentioned anything about Mee to Walt. He felt bad about not trusting someone who'd helped him out, but there it was. He was going with his gut on this one - particularly now that his gut had taken on the persona of Seb2 and backed him up.
"I can't protect you from whoever's after you if you leave," said Walt. "And they seemed pretty well connected. Who can authorize a train to make an unscheduled stop? Do you really want to take that risk?"
"I have to," said Seb. "Thanks, Walt, I appreciate what you've done. Goodbye."
He stuck out his hand and Walt shook it slowly. "Well, if you're sure," he said. "You have my number if you change your mind. Still don't want to tell me where you're heading?"
"It's not that I don't trust you," said Seb, lying. "I just don't know yet. I need some time to figure things out."
"Well, when you do, get back in touch," said Walt, walking with Seb to the door, where Steve was waiting to take Seb into town. "The Users I told you about, the ones who look out for each other, they're pretty much the most powerful group in the country. And they're not all as easy-going as me."
"What are you saying?" said Seb as he opened the door of the Lincoln.
"Just think carefully," said Walt. "As a User, you can't hide, and not all of those who notice you will have your best interests in mind."
Seb thought of the look on Sonia Svetlana's face as she unleashed a burst of potentially fatal energy toward him. "Yes," he said, "I get that."
"Look, Seb, there are those I work with have a far tougher attitude than me. They might think if you're not for us, you must be against us. I wouldn't want that to happen."
Seb got into the car, opening the window as he shut the door. "Is that a threat?"
"It isn't meant to be. No."
"Funny," said Seb, "'cause that's exactly what it sounded like. Look after yourself, Walt." The electric gates slid back and the Lincoln began the short trip to central Las Vegas. Steve dropped Seb outside the Bellagio. As soon as the car was out of sight, Seb hailed a cab to the station. Within the hour he was on his way back toward Albuquerque.
Walt had received another phone call and now he was drinking. Even though he knew he would have to counter the effects of the alcohol with Manna in a few hours, he wanted to delay having to deal wi
th reality just a little longer. He poured a very generous glass of aged bourbon, then drained it in two long swallows. He stared at the phone on his desk. He had gone for years without hearing from Mason. And now this. He looked at his watch. Eleven hours until he was needed. His glass was empty. He filled it again.
The stealth helicopter approached Las Vegas from the East. It didn't fly directly over the Order's horseshoe of trailers, but got close enough to get some excellent images. The layout was straightforward, so the strategy was easy to formulate. Just one approach by road, a track from the Interstate coming in from the south-east, following the curve at the base of the rocky hill against which they'd placed their encampment. A much rougher track was accessible leading out from the trailers to the north, but it led nowhere. Not an easy place to defend from a basic pincer movement. The sort of place you'd only choose if you expected never to be attacked.
Westlake closed the laptop and smiled grimly, remembering Mason's words an hour previously. "They won't be expecting us until tomorrow," he said. "They will be unprepared, but the element of surprise will be short-lived. You're about to break a truce that's lasted hundreds of years. So make sure it's done right. Fast and clean. No mistakes, no evidence pointing back to us. And no survivors."
Westlake closed his eyes and visualized the upcoming operation. He would brief his men an hour before starting. They were the best, he expected a perfect outcome. The only loose ends were the Manna guys. They'd need to stop the targets using their power, but he doubted he would even need them. This was what he was good at and there were few who could touch him. Mason would have what he wanted by 1am.
Chapter 36
The atmosphere in the dining trailer was just as it had been when Bob and Meera had first arrived. A serene silence pervaded the place, despite the fact that they had spent most of the day planning an ambush for the following day.
Mee was making her way through another enormous stack of pancakes drenched in syrup. Ever since Muriel, who prepared much of the food, had told her that all the food she 'made' contained a perfect balance of nutrients, protein and carbohydrate, despite tasting like a dietician's nightmare, Mee had delightedly taken her at her word and stuffed her face with chocolate, ice cream, cookies and pie. Impossible to feel guilty when your body's telling you it just absorbed five fruits and vegetables, a handful of nuts and some brown rice. As religious communities went, this one had some perks.
Bob was sitting at the far end of the table, drinking black coffee like he never expected to need to sleep again. He was hunched over a map, triple checking everything that had already been double-checked an hour ago. Mee walked over.
"I think you've covered pretty much every eventuality," she said. He looked up and nodded.
"Can't be complacent," he said. "That's what gets you dead in these situations."
"So what do you make of this place? The Order, I mean. And what about Seb?"
Bob pushed the map away and rubbed his eyes. "I was never much of a one for magic, psychic powers, all that metal bending bullshit," he said, "but this is something else. I've been thinking about it - I spent most of yesterday talking to the folk here. They're happy to answer questions now that Diane's vouched for us."
Mee poured herself a coffee and added enough cream and sugar to give a diabetic palpitations before sitting down opposite Bob.
"What's the story?" she said.
"Well, it seems the Order is pretty pragmatic," he said. "I like them. It's not a religion as far as I can see. Not really. No worship, no need to believe in anything. They think their meditation helps them get in touch with reality, confronting the ugly stuff inside us. Not rejecting it, but not letting all that subconscious crap run their lives, either."
"You have a way with words," said Mee, smiling. Bob looked up, not sure if he was being teased. His answering smile was a little shy. He had grown to admire this fiery woman over the last few days. She never spoke about her feelings for Seb, but even someone as long out of the relationship game as Bob could see it as plain as the hand in front of his face. She was nuts about him. Bob hoped that whatever else emerged from this crazy adventure, at least Seb and Mee would stop wasting time and admit they belonged together.
"Diane told me more about their founder," he said. "Since they never wrote anything down, the stories are sketchy at best, but one thing is really clear. This guy was visited in his cave by some kind of angel, but not any kind of angel I ever heard about before. No wings, no robes, no message from God. Just handed over this power, showed him how to use Manna. And then disappeared and told him to wait. I guess he didn't think the wait would be quite this long."
"They think Seb is who they've been waiting for. Why?"
"Well, this is where it gets interesting. But not everyone thinks a Messiah is coming. Diane told me she - and many others - think they are waiting for an extraterrestrial visit. And it may have happened already."
"What?!" said Meera. "Oh, come on."
"Think about it for a minute," said Bob. "These 'thin places' where Manna is buried. People have been using this stuff for thousands of years. It never runs out. So, if it's not some mystical hocus-pocus bullshit, what is it?"
"I don't know," said Mee. "Enlighten me."
"Some kind of advanced alien nano-technology, that's the best fit," said Bob. He noted Mee's raised eyebrow, but as she wasn't walking away, he continued. "I read once that magic is just a name for stuff science hasn't explained yet. Well, Manna never runs out, very few people can use it, and the guy who learned to use it first was visited by a silent glowing creature who taught him all about it."
"An alien?" doing her best to stay cynical, but remembering what she had seen over the past few days.
"I can't think of a better theory," he said. And Roswell was the clincher."
"Why?" she said.
"Every Manna user knows about it," he said. "Apparently it's the most powerful thin place on the planet. When it first appeared in 1947, the Order thought it was what they had been waiting for. Their most senior people came here, went to Roswell to absorb it, but they couldn't do it."
"Why not?" said Mee.
"They don't know, but it didn't work for anyone. No one can use it. The Order took it pretty well, patience is something they're used to. Other Users, not so much. Diane says they've got no firm evidence, but they're pretty sure there was a cover-up immediately after the crash. Some of them think the government have been experimenting on an alien that survived the crash. Others think the alien must have died. Everyone thinks Roswell itself has some kind of protection. There are plenty of stories about people trying to dig, take samples, but the equipment they use fails when they try to break up the soil."
"Ok, back up," she said. "You think a real alien crashed at Roswell? And it was the same kind as the one who visited this bloke in a cave two thousand years ago?"
"Think about it," he said. "Manna is real, but no one knows what it is. It's magic, because science hasn't explained it yet. If we turned up in front of a caveman one day with a tablet loaded with movies, he wouldn't have a clue what was going on. But we don't think twice about it. He might learn to press the touchscreen in the right place, though. If he was shown. But he still wouldn't understand the tiniest fraction of what he was seeing, would he?"
"And we're the cave people," said Mee. "So what's Roswell?"
"If the same alien race came back after two thousand years, their technology will have moved on a bit," said Bob.
"Hmm," said Mee. "Yeah, just a bit."
"So that fits," said Bob. "All these Manna users, they feel the Roswell site is full of something similar, but they can't access it. Maybe the alien thought we would have advanced enough to use it by now. Maybe it really was an accident - a crash, and the alien didn't mean us to have it at all. I don't know. But the theory fits. And a hell of lot of the Order think that's exactly what happened."
"So why Seb? If he had been using Manna, I would have known about it."
"I d
on't know." Bob stood up and paced the length of the trailer a couple of times, thinking. Finally he stopped and put his hand on Meera's shoulder. She looked up at him.
"Look, I need to show you something," he said. He pulled a piece of paper out of his back pocket and handed it to her. She unfolded it, recognizing Seb's handwriting.
Sorry it had to be you, Bob, but I knew you'd be able to cope ok. All the best, Seb. PS. Help yourself to the whisky. It's good stuff.
"What is this?" said Mee.
"That tree we climbed back in the mountains," said Bob. "It was at the base of it. Next to an excellent bottle of whisky. Well, half a bottle. The note was held down by a knife, which was covered in blood. Seb's blood, I assume."
"What are you getting at?" said Meera.
"Why did you come to the mountain that morning?" said Bob. "Had you noticed anything strange about his behavior over the last few weeks? Any changes?"
"Well, we weren't spending as much time together as we used to," said Mee, "but that's only natural. We broke up months ago, after all."
"But you still spoke to him. You stayed friends."
"Of course. And he was still writing songs for us. But he was planning something. He said he was moving to Europe. I told him he was full of shit."
"So what was really going on?"
Mee stood up. It was her turn to pace the narrow confines of the trailer. Outside it was getting dark. "I had a bad feeling," she said, finally. "Something wasn't right. But I didn't want to push him."
"Yeah, I thought so too," said Bob. "Couple weeks back, we were walking together and he said he needed to sit down. Said he had an idea for a song, was going to make some notes. Told me he'd catch up. He almost fell over. I walked around the corner then doubled back. He was sweating and shaking. Some kind of fit, I don't know. He passed out. I was going to call 911, but he opened his eyes, started looking around, so I pretended I hadn't seen anything. He didn't mention it when he caught up."
"So," said Mee, "the note."
"Yeah," said Bob. "It was a suicide note, Meera."
"Jesus," said Mee, sitting down again. She buried her face in her hands. Despite herself, she started sobbing. Bob put his arms around her.
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