by Ted Dekker
“Maybe.”
“Then think about it. It might be a useless idea, I must agree. But sending the lot of those beasts scrambling is a thought worth savoring. I have something else that you must see, Thomas. Come.”
He steered Thomas to the forest, not the least bit put off or discouraged by Thomas’s dismissal of his ideas.
“Now? Where?”
“Just here by the river that leads from the lake. I have an invention you must help us try.”
He headed into the forest, and Thomas hurried to catch him. “Who is ‘us’?” Thomas asked.
“Johan. He is my first recruit. We have made something that an adventuresome soul like you will appreciate. Hurry. He is to meet us there.” Tanis began to run.
They broke out onto the banks of a river slightly smaller than the one at the black forest. Johan sat on a large yellow log they’d felled. He jumped to his feet and ran for Thomas.
“Thomas! First we fly, and now we float.” He hugged Thomas’s waist. “Did you see the stick Tanis made? Where is the stick, Tanis?”
“I threw it into the forest,” the elder said. “Thomas said it was a terrible idea, and I agreed. It would never work.”
“Then how will we—”
“Exactly!” Tanis boomed. He stuck a finger in the air. “We won’t!”
“We won’t float our log down the river to attack the Shataiki?”
“That’s what you were planning?” Thomas asked. He looked at the tree and saw that they’d hollowed out half of it. He’d dreamed about one of these. It was a canoe.
“It was an idea,” Tanis said. “We talked it up yesterday and we shaped this log so that it might float, but the sword was a bad idea, you said so yourself. Don’t tell me you want me to fashion another, because I really am having my doubts about it now. Unless we could send a bomb down the river in this log.”
They both stared at Thomas with round green eyes. Innocent to the bone. But still filled with desire. The desire to create, the desire to romance, to eat, to drink, to swim in Elyon’s lake.
The tension between satisfaction and desire was odd, to be sure. Dissatisfaction led to mischief as well as good.
He faced Johan. “Do you want to take this canoe onto the water?”
His eyes lit up. “Yes.”
“And would you be unhappy if we didn’t try?”
Johan cast a blank stare. “Unhappy?”
“What on earth are you talking about, man?” Tanis boomed. “You’re speaking in riddles here. Is this a game of wits?” He seemed quite taken with the idea.
“No, not a game. Just my memory. A way to help my recollection of the way things are. There is happy, so there must be unhappy. There is good, so there must be evil. I was simply asking if Johan here would be unhappy if we didn’t push the boat onto the water.”
“Yes, there is evil, and we dispatch it regularly. And since there is happy, there must be unhappy too. I can see what you’re saying. I feel anger at the bats, of course, but unhappy? You have me tied in a knot, Thomas Hunter. Help me out.”
They felt desire without dissatisfaction, Thomas thought. The best of both worlds.
He, on the other hand, did feel dissatisfaction. Or at least unsatisfaction. Perhaps because he’d been in the black forest. He hadn’t taken a drink of the water, but he’d been in there, and his mind had been affected somehow.
Either that, or he wasn’t from this place at all. He’d come in a spaceship.
“Just a story, Tanis,” Thomas said. “Just an idea.”
Tanis exchanged a glance with the boy. Then back. An idea.
“Well then, should we give it a try?”
Johan started jumping in anticipation. The invention was quite an event. Thomas ran his hand along the canoe.
“How will you steer it?”
“With the sword,” Tanis said. “But I think any good stick would do.”
“And how did you bring the tree down?”
“As we always do. With our hands.”
“Okay, let’s give it a try.”
They tied a vine around its bow and then to a tree on the bank. Thomas braced himself. “Are you ready?”
“Ready!” they both cried.
Together they heaved and watched the glowing yellow canoe slip out into the running water. “It works!” Tanis beamed. But almost as soon as he said it, the boat began to sink. Within a few seconds, it had disappeared under the gurgling green waters.
“It’s too heavy,” Thomas said with a frown.
Tanis and Johan stared at the bubbles that still broke the surface. “Another story sinks,” Tanis said.
Johan found this so funny that he dropped first to his knees and then to his back in uncontrolled fits of laughter. Tanis was soon joining in, and they quickly turned the laughing fits into a game of sorts: who could laugh the longest without taking a breath.
Thomas tried, at their urging, and lost handsomely.
“Well, now,” Tanis finally said, “what do you say we try another tomorrow?”
“I would find something else,” Thomas said. “I really don’t think floating down to the black forest is such a great idea anyway.”
“Perhaps you are right.”
“Tanis?”
“Yes, what is it?”
“Rachelle told me of a fruit that makes you sleep so deeply that you don’t remember your dreams.”
“So deep that you don’t even dream,” he said. “Would you like me to find you some?”
“No. No, I need to dream. But is there also fruit that just makes you sleep?”
“And still dream?”
“Yes.”
“Of course!”
“The nanka!” Johan cried. “Do you want some?”
An amazing thought. To be able to enter his dreams at will. Or to turn them off by not dreaming.
“Yes. Yes, I would like that. Maybe one of each.”
26
“WHAT?” THOMAS sat up on the couch.
“Sorry, you said five hours, but I fell asleep,” Kara said. “It’s been eight.”
“What time is it?”
“Close to noon. What is it? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
His head swam. “Am I a ghost?”
Kara ignored the question. “You found something out, didn’t you? What is it?”
Thomas rolled off the couch and stood. “I think I can turn off my dreams,” he said.
“Completely?”
“Yes, completely. Not here. There. I can stop dreaming of this.”
“And what good would that do you? This is pretty important.”
“This is also a major distraction to me. I’m trying to remember my life, and instead I keep running up against this.”
“So you would just fall asleep and wake up and never dream of any of this again? It would just . . . disappear?”
“Yes, I think it would.”
“Well, don’t you dare turn off your dreams, Thomas. You don’t know what would happen. What else did you learn?”
The rest of his dream came to him in a barrage of images that ended with Rachelle telling him where she would like to be rescued.
He turned to her, wide-eyed. “That’s it!”
“What’s it?”
“It’s a map. Is Raison awake?” He ran toward the doors. “A map, Kara!” he said, turning. “We have to find a map.”
“What’s going on?” she demanded.
“I think she told me where to find Monique. Is Jacques awake?”
“Yes.” Kara ran after him through the door. She followed him straight to the office. “Who told you?”
“Rachelle!”
“How would Rachelle know?”
“I don’t know. She just made it up. Maybe she doesn’t know.” Thomas ran past a stunned guard and threw the door open. The old man sat at his desk, dark circles prominent under his eyes. He spoke urgently into his phone.
“I think I may have it!” Thomas shouted.
Rais
on dropped the phone into its cradle. “You know where Monique is?”
“Maybe. Yes, I think maybe I do. I need a map and someone who knows this area.”
“How could you know?”
“Rachelle told me. In my dreams.”
The man’s face sagged noticeably. “That’s very encouraging.”
Thomas felt his patience slip. “Well, it should be. For all I know, you’re the dream!” He jabbed his finger at Jacques. “You ever consider that? Don’t be so . . . so stuck up.” He’d been better with the diplomacy last night.
“Now I’m a dream,” Raison said. “Very, very encouraging. Mr. Hunter, if you think I will—”
“I don’t think you will do anything. Except help me find your daughter. What if I’m right?”
“The what-ifs again.”
“I know where Monique is!” he shouted.
Kara stepped forward. “I would listen to him, Mr. Raison. I don’t think he’s been wrong yet.”
“Of course, the big sister speaks. My daughter’s kidnappers-turned-saviors have spoken. The little people in their dreams have told them where my daughter is. Then let’s warm up the helicopter and scoop her up, shall we?”
Thomas stared, dumbfounded at Raison’s arrogance. Jacques was stressed out. He needed a shock to his system.
He spun around and strode for the door. “Fine. We’ll let her rot in the cell she’s in.”
Kara delivered one last salvo. “How dare you mock me, you walking ox! You have no idea what a terrible mistake you’re making.”
They got to the door before he spoke.
“I’m sorry. Wait.”
“Wait?” Thomas said, turning. “Now you want to sit around and wait?”
“You made your point. Tell me where you think she is.”
Thomas hesitated. He had the upper hand; he intended to keep it. Tell-ing the man that Monique was in a—what was it, a great white cave full of bottles where a river and the forest meet, a day’s walk to the east? Wouldn’t do.
“Get me a map and someone who knows southern Thailand. And then I want Deputy Secretary Merton Gains on the line. Then I’ll tell you where Monique is.”
“You’re making demands again? Just tell—”
“The map, Jacques! Now.”
They had a large map of Thailand and the gulf countries on the conference table. Jacques insisted that he knew the region well enough, but Thomas wanted a local. The bulky Thai guard who limped into the room was none other than one of Thomas’s security guard casualties.
Muta Wonashti was his name. Thomas stretched out his hand. “Taga saan ka?” Where are you from?
The man paused at Thomas’s use of his language. “Penang.”
“Welcome to the team. Sorry about the other day.”
The man seemed to straighten. He walked up to the map, limp now gone.
Jacques glared. “Satisfied?”
“Is Gains on the line?”
Nancy stepped forward with a phone. “He’s waiting.”
“You have no idea how embarrassing this will be if you are wrong,” Jacques said. “I’ve expended considerable equity on you.”
“Not on me, Jacques. On your daughter.” Thomas took the phone.
“Secretary Gains?”
“Speaking,” Gains’s familiar voice said. “I understand that you have some new information.”
“That’s correct,” Thomas said. “I really can’t keep trying to prove myself at every turn, Mr. Gains. It’s slowing us down.”
There was a pause.
“You see? You still don’t know whether or not to believe me. I’m not saying I blame you; it’s not every day someone tells you a virus is about to wipe out the world, and they know so because they’ve dreamed it.”
“I will remind you that I did hear you out,” Gains said. “And I did mention the situation to the president. In this world, that’s sticking my neck out for you, son. I’m sticking my neck out for a kidnapper who’s having crazy dreams.”
“Which is why I’m calling. To the point: I’ve had a dream and in this dream, I’ve learned where they’re keeping Monique de Raison. In front of me I have a map. I want you to begin to accept me on my terms if it turns out that I’m right about where Monique is. Fair enough?”
Gains thought about it.
“If I’m right, Mr. Secretary, and there is a virus, we’ll need a few believers. I need someone on the inside.”
“And that would be me.”
“No one else is volunteering at the moment.”
“You say you found out where they have Monique from your dreams. No other information?”
“Bona fide, 100 percent dream. Not a hint of any other intelligence.”
“So if you actually find her, you think it proves that your dreams are valid and should be taken seriously,” Gains said.
“It won’t be the first time I’m right. I need an ally.”
“Okay, son, you have a deal. Put Mr. Raison on the line.”
“I don’t suppose you could get me a team of Rangers or Navy SEALs?” Thomas asked.
“Not a chance. But the Thai have good people. I’m sure they’ll cooperate.”
“They still think I’m the kidnapper,” Thomas said. “Cooperation isn’t exactly flowing over here.”
“I’ll see if I can’t get them to ease up.”
“Thank you, sir, you won’t regret this.” He handed the phone to an impatient Raison, who listened and ended the call with a polite salutation.
“Now, please tell me. I’ve done everything you’ve asked.”
Thomas leaned over the map. “A great white cave full of bottles a day’s walk to the east where a river and the forest meet,” he said. “Where is that?”
“What’s that?”
Thomas looked up. “That’s where she is. We just have to figure out what that means.”
The man’s face lightened a shade. “That’s your . . . that’s what this is all about? A white cave full of bottles?”
“Yes, but Rachelle wouldn’t know what a laboratory looked like. A white cave full of bottles has to be a laboratory, right? They took her to an underground laboratory a day’s walk to the east where a river meets the forest. That’s about twenty miles.”
“How many kilometers?” the tracker asked.
“Roughly thirty.”
“The Phan Tu River cross plain here.” The squatty fighter drew his finger along a blue river line on the map. “It end here at the jungle. Thirty kilometer east. No lab. Concrete. No longer in use.”
Thomas stared at the man. “A concrete plant? Right there?”
“Yes.”
Jacques de Raison ran both hands through his hair. “How do you know this is accurate? And how—”
“You have a helicopter, Mr. Raison,” Thomas said. “Is your pilot here?”
“Yes, but surely this is a matter for the authorities. You can expect—”
“I can expect that whoever attacked us in that hotel room is smarter than any team the Thai military can throw together on a moment’s notice. I can expect that they will expect a possible rescue mission by the Thai government and are thoroughly prepared. And I can expect you would do anything, Mr. Raison, anything at all to see your daughter alive again. Am I missing something here?”
He responded momentarily. “You’re right.”
“Send me in with a radio and a guide, say Muta here, drop us off a few miles out, and we can at least locate her, maybe do more. At this point, we’re operating on one of my dreams, not enough to bring out the U.S. Marines. But if we can get something on the ground, we have a whole new story.”
The man paced, squinting and scratching at his head. “And you think you’re the one to go in?”
“I know a few new tricks.”
Kara raised her brow. “He does indeed.”
“And I practically grew up in the jungle.”
“You’re under house arrest. This is just not feasible—”
Thomas slapped
the map. “Nothing is feasible, Mr. Raison. Nothing! Not my dreams, not the virus, not your daughter’s kidnapping. We’re running out of time here. If anyone can rescue your daughter, I can. Trust me. I’m supposed to rescue your daughter.”
27
CARLOS PATIENTLY led Svensson down the concrete steps. His bad leg made stairs nearly impossible. The Swiss had flown into Bangkok during the night and arrived at the old lab an hour earlier. Carlos had never seen the kind of rabid intensity that had emerged in him.
“Open it,” he said at the steel door.
Carlos slid the latch and shoved the door open. The white lab gleamed under two rows of bare fluorescent bulbs. Svensson had built or converted two dozen similar labs throughout the world for an eventuality like this one. The discovery of a possible virus. If a virus presented itself in South Africa, they needed to be in South Africa. Ultimately they would return to the much larger labs and production facilities of the Alps, of course, but only when they had what they needed firmly secured and the environment it came from thoroughly analyzed.
Here, in Southeast Asia, they had six labs. Raison Pharmaceutical’s move from France to Thailand precipitated the building of this particular one. And now it was paying its dividends.
The lab was equipped with all the equipment expected of any medium-sized industrial lab, including refrigeration and heating capabilities. Monique sat in the corner, gagged with duct tape and bound to a gray chair. Carlos hadn’t hurt her. Yet. But he’d talked to her at length. The fact that she refused to engage him with more than a grunt convinced him he would have to hurt her soon.
“So, this is the woman the world is screaming about,” Svensson said, moving slowly over the white tile floor. He stopped three feet from Monique. “The one who’s chosen not to see the light yet?”
Carlos stood with his hands clasped in front of him. He didn’t answer. Wasn’t expected to answer. Wouldn’t have anyway. He’d done his part; now it was time for Svensson to do his part.
The Swiss’s big bony hand flashed out and slapped loudly against Monique’s cheek. The woman’s head jerked to the side and her face flushed red, but she didn’t breathe a sound.
Svensson smiled. “You’ve seen me. And you obviously recognize me. I believe we even met once, at the Hong Kong drug symposium two years ago. Your father and I are practically bosom buddies, if you stretch things a bit. Do you see the problem in this?”