The air was dead still. Mark spoke in a hard, level voice. “What if it’s true, Boy Scout? What if all of it’s true? What if the money isn’t the point? What if kicking O’Shay’s ass isn’t the point? What if what we want is to be who we are? What we were selected and trained to be? What would be so wrong about that?”
“Nothing. For any of you, if that is who you really think you are. But I can’t do it. I just can’t.”
When Mark spoke again, his voice was smooth. Deadly soft. “Why not?”
“Because I don’t need this,” Terry said. “I thought I did. I don’t. I don’t need the money. Or the revenge. Or the thrill. Or even my brothers, if this is the only way to earn their friendship.”
“What are you asking?”
“I’m out. If you’re going forward, God bless you. I’m not a part of it.”
“You can’t just walk away from something like this,” Mark growled.
“Yes,” Terry said. “I can. And so can any of you. Any of you. You can change anything except your essence, and none of you know who that is. What that is. Do this … step across the line stretching right in front of us, and you’re doing something that can’t be undone.”
“You can’t just walk away,” Mark said. Lee and Pat moved to bracket him. Even Father Geek wheeled around behind him and locked the door.
But despite his actions, Terry could tell that Geek wasn’t so sure. “There’s something different about you, Terry. I’ll give you that. I can feel it. But some things never change.” He smacked his balled fist into his thigh. “These legs … I can’t get them back. But enough money means I’m not a freak anymore. I’m a charming eccentric. Enough money…”
“Stop it,” Mark said. “Just stop. It’s not about reasons. I don’t care about that, and you know I don’t. You can’t walk away from this.”
“Geek was right,” Terry said. “I’ve changed. You need to see that, I understand now. It’s all right, Mark. It really is.”
Mark looked at him, and it was clear that he didn’t comprehend. Not at all. For the very first time, something like unease touched his face. “I think you need to see how serious we are,” Mark said, and nodded almost imperceptibly at Pat.
And that was how it started.
From Terry’s point of view, the “worms” appeared again, seething tunnels like time-lapsed photos of his four partners in crime as they approached and surrounded him. He saw every action’s root before it flowered.
As expected, Pat attacked first. Almost placidly, Terry leaned out of the way as Pat lunged at him with a tire iron, nudging an arm with his finger to keep Pat from whacking Mark. He collided them with each other, tied them into knots.
He was curious about a lunge from Lee, and poked Lee’s shoulder with a fingertip at exactly the right moment, at the instant Lee transferred balance from one foot to another, and was functionally like an ice-skater balanced on the tip of one skate. The Okie spun helplessly away. Without conscious effort or intention Terry always seemed to be in the right place, with the right balance, moving at the correct speed, at the right moment.
The Pirates moved at what should have been an incomprehensible blur, but was as clear as ice. Terry was moving slowly, but they smacked into each other, tangling themselves into knots of arms and legs. He actually protected Lee from Mark when Lee collided with the XO’s greater mass and nearly bounced off into the corner of a desk.
Father Geek wheeled at him, knife in his right hand and then his left and then his right, targeting Terry’s legs, his South African “Piper” skills whipping with speed that should have been a blur … only for the first time it wasn’t. It seemed to Terry as if his mind had a hyper-fast shutter speed, every individual “frame” seething with an almost overwhelming amount of information, Blade Runner–level density. If he focused he could isolate an individual frame and gain clarity, but in the process miss the overall dynamic pattern. He could know where the hands were, but not precisely where they were traveling and at what speed. Or the speed and direction, but not the precise location.
So … strange.
But whichever it was, some part of him knew where and when to be, and acted instantly. He kicked with perfect timing, striking Geek’s elbow so that the arm rebounded and Sevugian almost stabbed himself. In the moment of confusion, as Geek spun his wheelchair in a circle, Terry push-kicked his shoulder and the chair flipped onto its side.
Then the “worms” receded, and he stood alone in the middle of the room, his four erstwhile opponents sprawled in various postures of semiconsciousness.
Mark stared up at him, too dazed to speak. Terry was delighted, filled with almost childlike glee.
He bounced over to Father Geek, sprawled on the ground. “Are you all right?”
Geek flinched away as if Terry was a sack of cobras.
Only then did he realize what he must have seemed like. How they must have felt.
“I’m sorry,” he said, and meant it. “So sorry.”
And he walked to the door. It was locked. He gripped the knob. Twisted and exhaled. And exhaled. And exhaled.
The knob broke. The door opened. Terry laughed. And left.
* * *
For a moment there was silence in the room. The Pirates picked themselves up off the floor, groaning.
Mark wagged his head like a huge, sick Saint Bernard. Stunned. “What … in the hell … was that?”
Pat growled. “I’ll cut his nuts off. I swear to God. He’s dead.”
Mark helped Father Geek back into his chair. Sevugian just sat there, thinking back on what he had just seen and heard. And entirely uncertain of what it all meant.
CHAPTER 23
On the pretext of seeking out a restroom, Maria Cortez had managed to slip away from the tour group. That excuse had worked for her four months earlier, the last time she had visited the Salvation Sanctuary.
She found herself in a section of the easternmost building, the one labeled ADMINISTRATION. Most of it was deserted, but she went directly to an office she had identified months ago as a place where decisions were made.
Very carefully, making sure she was unobserved, she removed the black plastic rectangle of a Sony VOX digital recorder from beneath a chair, where it had been secured with a wad of plumber’s putty. She checked it, found it was still operating. Maria allowed herself a satisfied smile, checked to be certain she hadn’t put anything out of place, and slipped out of the room.…
And directly into the path of a security guard. Tall, slender, straw-haired, loose-jointed, muscular. His badge read TONY KILLINGER, CHIEF OF SECURITY.
“Hold up there, ma’am,” Tony said. “What are you doing here?”
Maria slipped into her most obsequious body language. I’m dumpy. Harmless as a hamster. “I’m sorry. I think I got separated from the tour.”
Tony squinted at her. “I’ve seen you.” His Southern accent was very pronounced. Mississippi or the Louisiana delta perhaps. “Didn’t you take a tour here, just a few days back?” He pronounced “here” heah.
“No,” Maria said. “It’s been months. I find this … what you are doing here … to be very interesting.”
“I’m sure you do. No offense now, but I’m afraid you’re gonna have to show me your purse.”
“Why?” Maria said, fighting a stammer. “You have no right.”
“I got every right you can think of, señorita,” Tony said calmly. His eyes were bright with interest. “In fact, it’s my responsibility. This here is a private area of the Sanctuary. There are valuable books and documents top to bottom. I have what you’d call an obligation to the folks I work for.”
She began to tremble, and deliberately breathed deeply, seeking to quiet her nerves. “No, I won’t.”
He finally seemed to notice that he was looming over her, and stepped back a bit. “Well, if it’s a personal thing, maybe you’d like it better if I called for one of our female security folks. We have a little lady named Maureen Skotak who might suit you jus
t fine.”
Maria pretended to consider. That bought her some time to think, which was always a good thing. “If you have to. If it is so important to you.”
“Yes,” Tony said. “’Fraid it is, ma’am.”
She handed over the purse. He combed it, then handed it back.
“You see? Nothing. May I have it back now?”
Tony looked at her. And then back at the office. “I think I need to search you,” he said.
“No!”
He smiled. “Again, if you would prefer to be searched by a female officer…” He touched his epaulet’s microphone button. “Maureen, come to the main house, if you please…”
“No,” Maria said with all the firmness she could muster. A mental line in the sand. “I simply don’t give you permission.”
There followed a long and increasingly stressful pause. Then Tony said: “You’ll have to come with me.”
* * *
To Olympia’s surprise, when they emerged from the underground labs they were under the castle, not the library. Hannibal was delighted with the apparent “trick,” and Madame Gupta affected an appropriately mysterious air.
Their tiny hostess escorted Olympia and Hannibal counterclockwise around the Salvation Sanctuary, past the dining hall and back toward the library. Olympia found herself wishing she could be here in the springtime, she wondered what birds and butterflies might swarm about when the garden bloomed. “It’s so beautiful here,” she said.
“Like it here,” Hani said chattily. “Don’t want to go.”
“And you’ve seen only the surface,” Madame Gupta said. Her voice and face were suffused with wonder.
“What is it you think you can do for Hannibal?” Olympia asked. “Do you think you can help him…” She cursed at herself for almost saying be normal. “Fit in?”
“No,” the little woman said.
That answer seemed to stop her heart. “No?”
“No. Far more than that. I believe your son is what many would call a genius.”
That word unfroze her world, started her walking again. “Genius?”
“Genius!” Hannibal crowed.
Olympia’s face felt paralyzed in a taut smile. This was what happened when you were afraid even to hope. Dear God, she prayed the woman wasn’t using the word lightly. She’d seen the “genius” autistic children with their spectacular artwork and prodigious piano skills, felt envious of the parents who at least knew what they had traded normality for, could show evidence that their children were so much more than their deficiencies.
“Have you given more thought to Christmas?” Madame Gupta asked. “Have you plans?”
Olympia was again swept away by the fantasy. She’d barely had a moment to think about Christmas, much less plan. “Just … a little tree, presents … I’ve already done my shopping.”
Madame Gupta smiled. “We would give you a wonderful suite. A thirty-foot tree, the most beautiful tree you’ve ever seen.”
“But you aren’t Christian, are you?”
Gupta laughed. It was a beautiful, warm, welcoming laugh. A jolly Mrs. Elf laugh. “Christ wasn’t Christian, either.” She smiled. “I believe in seizing every conceivable opportunity to celebrate. And would do everything to make this the most spectacular Christmas Hannibal has ever had. And presents … what would you think of offering Hannibal the most wonderful present in the world?”
“Wh-what?
“A new and better life.”
Olympia felt dazzled again. Could think of fewer reasons to fight the feeling. “How long would this miracle take?”
Madame Gupta’s nut-brown face creased as she considered. “The process has already begun. Can’t you tell the difference already? Give us ten days. Total. Then Hannibal would return to his world. Imagine him being able to join the other children after Christmas vacation. Playing with them. Attending a normal school.”
The word “normal” tweaked her, but she tamped down the reaction.
“Play,” Hannibal said.
Olympia felt herself wavering: a different world, a world with hugs and eye contact, a world where she knew what her own child felt and thought. A better world. She had never, probably would never say that aloud, but there it was.
“What would I have to do?”
Gupta spanked her hands together. “We will send our helicopter to get you. Just let us—”
“Get your hands off me!”
Olympia recognized that voice instantly, and whipped her head around. Could it be Maria?
One of their golden-robed escorts focused on the approaching knot of tense-faced people. “What is going on here?”
“A security matter,” the tall guard said. “I caught this woman exiting Madame Gupta’s private office.”
“That’s not true,” the woman said. God, it was Maria! “He lured me here.”
Olympia pulled Hannibal closer to her.
Maria saw her, and the expression on her face was that of a drowning swimmer sighting a lifeguard. “The girl I told you about, Maya Tanaka, has disappeared,” she said. “I’d been tracking her through her Facebook posts, and the day she said she was going through this special ceremony was her last day posting.”
Madame Gupta looked at Maria with sympathy. “There is more to life than social media. She is simply … busy.”
“And where is she now?”
“On her way to our facility in Brazil. Nothing sinister has occurred here, my dear. She will be back after the holidays, and you are welcome to speak with her then.”
Gupta sounded so reasonable, so conciliatory and calming. And yet …
Maria was terrified. Why?
“Mommy…?” Hannibal said.
“Please, ma’am,” Tony said to Maria. “This is an internal matter.”
“What did she say?” Olympia said. “I know this woman. Please let her speak.”
“Show me Maya’s airline ticket,” Maria insisted. “The e-mail reservation confirmation. Do that, and I’ll go with you quietly.”
Tony struggled to restrain himself. A glance passed between him and Madame Gupta, a private communication. “Please,” he said, “escort Mrs. Dorsey to the library, while we see to this lady’s request.”
“I would like to leave,” Maria said. “Look. I have no books or sacred objects on me. I just want to leave. Please. Help me.” She locked eyes with Olympia. “What if your son wanted to leave?”
“This is absurd,” Madame Gupta said. “Our guests are welcome to leave at any time.”
Olympia’s heart had dropped into her stomach. Had the madness engulfing the outside world penetrated here as well? Was there no sanctuary anywhere? A mixture of anger and grief numbed her.
Madame Gupta seemed to have come to a decision. “And what precisely is the nature of our problem?”
“I caught this woman coming out of your office,” Tony repeated.
For a moment there was a standoff, with Olympia, Hannibal, and the entire group motionless as statues. The hair at the back of Olympia’s neck flamed, and she could hardly breathe.
Then Gupta smiled.
“Well,” she said, “if we can be certain that this young lady has nothing belonging to the center … I suppose she can go.”
Maria gripped Hannibal’s hand for dear life. “Helicopter!” he said, trying to pull away. “Hani wants helicopter ride.”
Maria dropped Hannibal’s hand, and grabbed Olympia’s. Held tightly in that desperate, clammy grip, they walked toward the gate. The blogger was scared. She could tell that Hani was, too.
And now, she was as well.
“We’ll be happy to take you back in the helicopter,” Tony said.
Maria looked pale, panicky. Seemed to be silently pleading with Olympia: Please don’t leave me. Hannibal’s arms slipped around his mother’s waist and he clung in confusion. Madame Gupta’s gaze shifted from one to another and then to Tony. Anger radiated. But at who? And for what? “Please, Ms. Dorsey. This is not…”
Wh
atever happened, at whatever cost, she would not leave Maria in this place. The rest could be sorted out later. “Maria,” Olympia said quietly. “Did you bring your car?”
“Yes. Please.” Her eyes pled. “Let me drive you back.”
Madame Gupta seemed unsure of what to do. Her eyes shifted back and forth between the two women. A few members of the visitation group were drifting closer, perhaps drawn by the commotion. Then Gupta smiled brilliantly, and motioned that the security man should step out of Olympia’s way. And in that moment Olympia slipped back into the eye of the storm. Perhaps, hopefully, this was all just a misunderstanding.
All the way to the parking lot, Maria stayed very close to Olympia and her son. “Were you in trouble back there?”
Maria nodded. “I think so. Yes.”
“What had you done?”
“I can’t talk about that, but I swear to God I didn’t steal or break anything.” She stopped, and for a moment the newswoman she was peered through the panic. “What do they want from you?”
“I don’t know. They wanted to help my son.”
“I don’t know what is going on there, but people have disappeared.”
Olympia blinked. “Who? This girl Maya?”
“There’s talk a few others have dropped out of sight. A man named Corwin Kimball. His communication with the outside world dwindled and then just stopped. Three days ago.”
“What are you saying? What happened to him?”
“No one seems to know. Thank you. I don’t know if I should have been scared. They seem so gentle…”
“That security man didn’t seem particularly gentle,” Olympia said.
“Tony? Yeah, he’s a prince. If I was you, I’d look a little closer before I trusted the little guy to them.”
You’d better believe it, Olympia thought. She felt a pang of sadness; the potential death of a dream she’d just discovered.
Their car pulled out of the lot. Strapped into his seat, Hannibal sobbed and squealed back over his shoulder as Madame Gupta, her acolytes, and security men dwindled behind them in the dust.
CHAPTER 24
A half-hour after dropping Olympia and Hannibal off at their home, Maria drove up to the covered parking shelter of her own apartment building. The night was upon her, and the frigid December rain fell like a veil of mourning. By the time she had locked her car, climbed the steps, and entered her apartment, her skin felt numb. Fingers trembling, she locked the door behind her.
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