by Thomas Locke
“But you didn’t.”
“No, man. You said look but don’t touch.”
“Can you do it again?”
“Oh, absolutely.” On that point he had no doubt. “Just say the word.”
“Could we possibly use this weapon against people in the physical realm as well?”
“I have no idea. Maybe.”
“Okay. Good work.” She turned to Consuela. “Go.”
“I could sense him working out there. But I held back. And I watched. I liked that part more than I thought. I could see, like, everywhere around us.”
“Were you aware of the weapon Joss made?”
“Totally. I don’t know what it was. But all of a sudden, it got really creepy. Like, I can’t describe . . .”
“Try. For me.”
“Like, if he’d been aiming at me, I would have been taken out.”
“It felt that bad,” Reese said. “Even though he didn’t use it.”
“Oh yeah. We’re talking seriously nasty. I don’t want to be near that thing when it goes off.”
“Could you make a weapon like that yourself?”
“I don’t know. Maybe.” She turned to Joss. “You think maybe you could show me?”
“Say the word, lady.”
Consuela smiled. “Least you got the name right that time.”
Reese waited through another fist-on-fist, then asked, “Anything else?”
Consuela said, “I think maybe somebody saw us.”
Joss frowned. “I didn’t notice anything.”
“You were busy with your bomb making. I was the watcher. I’m pretty sure they were there. Not directly with us. More like, watching from the next room. Five, maybe six of them.”
“Did they see you?”
“I have no idea. But I think . . . maybe.”
Reese noticed how the pair had coalesced into a functioning team. They had not yet succeeded at the task, but the prospect was real. Reese fashioned a smile and punched the words as hard as she could. “Good work. I mean it. This is strong.”
Joss grinned and laced his fingers behind his head. “I’m thinking our crew needs a different name. Something like, I don’t know . . .”
Consuela said, “Attack ghosts.”
“Hey. I like that.”
“You serious?”
“Totally. They hear we’re coming, they spook out.”
Reese turned for the door. “Get some rest. We go out for real tomorrow.”
65
Gabriella said over the phone, “So this Elene woman ascended, with you guiding her.”
“Reese’s team calls it transiting, but it’s the same process. Jorge’s voice on the iPod did the guiding. I just sat in the room and kept her company.”
“It’s still very difficult for me, being faced with hard evidence that our process was stolen and handed over to that woman. Who has taken it and twisted it and turned it into . . .”
He felt exactly the same. But there was nothing to be gained by allowing his rage to emerge. Charlie kept one hand on the steering wheel and held the phone to his ear with the other. “It was amazing, sitting there and watching this stranger lay down and fit on the headphones and key the iPod and ascend. Like she had done it dozens of times. Which of course she had.”
Gabriella said slowly, “At least we have confirmation that we can bring Reese Clawson’s team over to our side, given a chance.”
“Assuming they want to come.” When Gabriella did not respond, he asked, “How’s our boy?”
“Brett is coping. Sleeping most of the time. Full of remorse. He wants to speak with you.”
“Today’s already booked solid. I’ll call him soon. Where are you?”
“In the waiting room at Luton Airport. I hired a Swiss air taxi to take us to Guernsey. It was the only way we could all make it there today. I hope that’s okay.”
“Are you kidding? It’s beyond fine. There’s another lady traveling with Elizabeth. Her name is Shane Schearer.”
“Elizabeth told me. This jet is very expensive, Charlie.”
“You ladies are going off to buy an island. You can afford a private jet to get you there in style. Matter of fact, they’ll probably take you more seriously now.”
She was silent long enough for Charlie to know what was coming next. Finally she said, “So you do this thing tonight.”
“We do it,” he corrected. He waited as a truck thundered past his rental car and then finished the thought. “I couldn’t do it without you.”
“Where are you?”
“On the freeway headed south. I need to run an errand.”
Charlie was afraid she was going ask what he had to do that was so urgent. And he did not want to lie. But all she asked was, “Is that why you are entering their facility so late?”
“We’re going in when Elene saw us doing it. Just before dawn. She was very clear on this point.”
“Elizabeth has just come through the doors, Charlie. Perhaps we should wait and talk once we arrive on Guernsey.”
“Gabriella.”
“Yes, Charlie?”
“Nothing. You’re right. It can wait.”
“Perhaps it should.” She was quiet. Charlie heard the plane engines rev up. Then she said, “I am looking forward to tonight, Charlie. Very, very much.”
“Me too. That last time was amazing.”
“It was more than that, Charlie.” She whispered the word then. And sent fire shooting down his spine. “Finally.”
66
Shane entered Luton Airport’s private terminal behind Elizabeth. She was still scoping out the place when a truly beautiful woman rushed over and enveloped Elizabeth in an embrace. Shane could see that Elizabeth held back, as though carrying the vestiges of a quarrel the other woman had long since left behind. If the other woman noticed Elizabeth’s reserve, she gave no sign. Instead, she wiped streaks off both cheeks before smiling with broken joy and saying, “You must be Shane.”
Gabriella Speciale was a sloe-eyed stunner with the power to draw light from a dismal, windswept day. Her beauty struck Shane as belonging to a different era, when women wore silk gowns dyed with royal purple and were worshiped in hilltop temples and launched kings into battle. Yet Gabriella embraced Shane with the easy abandon of a woman who had traveled across continents for nothing less.
They were joined by a tall young man with a monk’s clear-eyed gaze. Gabriella introduced him as Massimo. Elizabeth seemed to think even less of the young man than she did of Gabriella. But if Massimo even noticed Elizabeth’s sullen hello, he gave no sign.
Beyond customs, a pilot waited for them with an umbrella and a well-paid smile. They were bundled into a small jet, which powered up before they had buckled their seat belts. Elizabeth settled into the row behind Shane and pulled down the window blind and shut her eyes to the thrill of traveling by private jet. Massimo took the lone seat across from Elizabeth and lost himself to the view beyond the window.
Gabriella chose the plush leather seat next to Shane, and once they were airborne she said, “You must have many questions about all this.”
“I probably should.” The jet rose above the clouds. Sunlight lanced across the interior as the plane went through a banking turn. “To tell the truth, all this is a little overwhelming.”
“I understand.”
Shane thought the woman opposite her had the quiet attentiveness of a professional listener. “Are you a doctor?”
“Psychologist. I started on this project because I grew tired of watching rats.”
“And look where it brought you.”
“Yes.” Gabriella had a lovely smile. “But this is an exception. I have never been in a private jet before.”
Shane turned toward the window. “All my life, I’ve been waiting for the moment when things finally started happening. Now all I can think of is, I wish Trent was here to make it real for me.”
“Trent is your young man?”
“I have no idea. We’ve only kn
own each other a few days. But with everything that’s happened, it feels like years.”
“He is connected to you through ascents?”
“That’s a good question. He’s only had dreams. He doesn’t call them that, though. He says it’s a completely different element, like comparing carbon and helium. He’s a physicist.” Shane rubbed the side of her face. She knew she was not talking clearly. But she doubted she could do any better without about a week of sleep. “These images come from someone who looks like his older self.”
“So Trent receives his information via experiences that resemble an intense dream state. And you ascended using the iPod that Elizabeth supplied. And now you are here.” Gabriella’s accent gave the impression that she delicately tasted each thought. “All this is still very new to us as well. But if you want my opinion, something happens to people who share these experiences. They discover that many barriers we often use to remain isolated become less important than we ever thought possible. If we are open to the invitation, we can join together with a remarkable force of intimacy.”
“So what’s happening to Trent is the same as to me.”
“Logically there is no possible way the two could be connected. He dreams and receives experiences you call images. He has no control. He cannot make them happen. He is a passive observer. You, on the other hand, ascend by your own choice and actions.” She smiled once more. “But I am Italian. Logic plays a much smaller role in my society. So my professional mind says, we cannot verify any connection without a great deal more study. But my heart says, we have all been drawn together for purposes beyond our wildest dreams.”
They left the season and the sun behind when they descended into the clouds. Their little plane was buffeted and tossed as they dropped. Shane caught glimpses of savage waves and lashing rain. They landed hard.
A hotel van pulled up right to the stairs, but they were still drenched just from crossing from the jet to the vehicle. Shane did not mind. The cold and the salt air was a bracing reminder of where she was and how far she had come. The dull classes and the frustrating chains of university life belonged to a different realm.
The van drove them up a winding road, along cliffs that dropped to a sea of froth and howling wind. The hotel was a grey stone monument to another era. Its lead-paned windows and peaked doors and towers all seemed designed to defy the awful weather. Inside they were greeted by a roaring fire, hand-wrought chandeliers, and a distant ceiling painted with family shields. Even the portraits smiled complacently.
Shane’s room was lined in oak paneling and illuminated by a hand-wrought iron chandelier. The ceiling was beamed. On the polished floor awaited a pair of slippers, lest the royal foot grow chilly. Shane dumped her bags and her clothes and crawled into her four-poster bed and was gone.
67
Charlie took the coastal road south as far as Ventura, then headed inland. His internal clock ticked the seconds off with impatient volume. But he took his time, driving slow enough to check the side roads. If he failed, he knew he could find a replacement at hardware stores. But mixing and building homemade explosives was a fiddling process, amplified by the need to spread out his purchases. He could ask Elene and Trent to help, but the young man was already spooked by the night ahead. And he did not want them to see the danger zone one moment earlier than necessary.
Trent had assumed that when Charlie had nixed the bomb, it meant no trouble. No opposition. But Charlie was fairly certain the night was going to end on a very loud note. He would simply prefer something easier to target than a bomb. He had not corrected Trent because there was nothing to be gained by planting the red flag of combat until it was absolutely necessary.
Most of California’s truly blighted regions lay inland from the coast’s serious money. But there were certain pockets where the meth epidemic had eaten away at formerly decent communities, staining the earth with a frantic cry for bedlam. Charlie found what he was looking for down a side street about two miles east of the freeway. He pulled into the parking lot of a strip mall. The bar anchoring the far corner was rimmed by a sparkling assortment of chrome and leather. A trio of bearded bikers grinned as one of their own gunned a tricked-out Harley and filled the parking lot with a bone-rattling din.
Charlie parked with his nose pointed at the bar’s entry. He rolled down his window and waited with the motor running.
One of the bikers nudged his mate and pointed in Charlie’s direction. They all turned to glare at him. The biker cut his motor, rose from the saddle, and sauntered over. “What’re you after, meat?”
Charlie kept both hands on top of the wheel, in clear view. He did not reply.
The biker wore a stained vest and leather pants and high boots. He poked his head in the open window. A rancid odor filled the car. He snorted loudly. “Don’t smell like cop to me.”
Charlie said, “I’m going to reach into my pocket.”
“Go for it, meat.”
Charlie lifted out a folded twenty and passed it over.
“I won’t wipe you off my boot for this, meat.”
“I’m just offering your friends a drink. Which they’ll have inside the bar.”
The biker possessed eyes with no bottom. He turned and spoke to the group waiting by the rail. All but one drifted inside. The other came up to the car, crossed massive arms, and hulked over Charlie as the first biker said, “I asked what you wanted.”
“Only what I can get fast.”
“Time is money, meat. The less you got, the more it costs.”
“I need a sidearm. Box of hollow points. And a 12 gauge. Solid round ammo.”
The biker didn’t speak.
“Some C-4. And caps. And a timer.”
The bikers exchanged filthy grins. “Ten thousand.”
“I’ll give you four.”
“You’ll give me what I want, meat. Now let’s see some ID.”
Charlie had the money ready. “Five hundred now. The rest on delivery. I need it fast or not—”
“I heard you the first time.” The biker stuffed the money in his vest. “There’s a body shop two blocks south. I’ll meet you in the back in half an hour.”
“You’ve got ten minutes,” Charlie said, putting the car into drive. “And I’ll be waiting out front.”
68
Who is this, please?”
“You’re the one who called in here.”
“This is Elene.”
“Is this a joke?”
“No. Eli?”
“Yeah. It’s me. Elene, wow, people have been going postal here over your vanishing act. Especially Reese. Where are you?”
“I had to do something. I’m sorry, I thought I had called the nurse’s station in the Treatment Room.”
“You did. She asked me to spot her while she went for a smoke.”
“How . . . how is Rod?”
“Which one is he?”
“The older man in the bed farthest from the nurse’s station.”
“You won’t believe it. A while back, the guy just woke up.”
“Is he . . .”
“He’s okay. I mean, he’s pretty freaked. But the doctor’s treating him like a trauma victim. Serious sedation. Using antidepressants to bring him back in gradual stages. I talked with him today.”
“Listen, I’m coming in. And I’m bringing somebody with me. The member of the Swiss team who supplied Reese with the technology. Is Reese around?”
“No, she split a couple of hours ago. She’s been basically camped out here. Everybody’s either sacked out or gone. It’s just me and the guys trapped in their beds.”
“When the nurse comes back, do you think you could meet us and let my friend in?”
Elene handed the phone to Charlie, who said, “You did good.”
“He was there. Just like I saw in my transit.”
“Ascent,” Charlie corrected.
Elene nodded. “There is a lot more that changes than just the name.”
“You have no ide
a.” Charlie turned to Trent and asked, “You know what to do?”
Trent swallowed noisily. “Do you think this will work?”
“Elene saw it.”
“She saw some guy named Eli sitting at the nurse’s station. She saw us going in. She didn’t say anything about getting out again.”
“Yes I did.”
Charlie studied the diminutive agent. “Actually, you didn’t say a word about after.”
“There is a lot to take in.” Elene described their leaving the building, then said, “The entire ascent felt good. Really, really good. I thought the experiences in the transit room were special. This is something else entirely.”
Charlie had the impression she was holding something back. But she gave him the blank gaze of a woman trained since birth to hold secrets close, and decided now was not the time to press. Either he trusted her or all was lost.
He turned to Trent and said, “You are going in and you are doing what needs to be done. Then you are coming out of there safely.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“Because,” Charlie said. “This is what I do.”
“What, getting people into scary situations?”
“No. Bringing them out the other side.”
“But you won’t be with us.”
“I’ll be coming in as soon as I finish laying the groundwork.”
“Trent,” Elene said. “This is going to work.”
Charlie rose from the table. “Elene, I want you to walk him through everything one more time. Then grab a bite, why don’t you. We leave in an hour.”
“I couldn’t eat,” Trent said.
“You have to.” Charlie waited until the grad student met his eye. “Be strong, be rested, be prepped. You’ve got a busy night ahead.”
69
Two hours later, Trent sat in the rental car’s passenger seat. He studied the woman next to him and wondered if he could ever be this calm. Elene Belote did not appear the least infected by nerves. In fact, she seemed totally disconnected from what was about to happen. She sat and stared out at the night and talked in an utterly disconnected manner. She might as well be reading off a shopping list.