Dark Light

by Randy Wayne White

  “Sure.” Mitch said. “People love miniatures. There are collectors out there who will pay big bucks for fancy, high-end dollhouses and all the little things that go inside.”

  Sierra smiled at Jake. “Congratulations. I think you’ve found yourself a new career path.”

  “Thanks to you and Elvis,” Jake said.

  “Don’t thank us,” Sierra said. “Thank Fontana and Ray. They’re the ones who went into the jungle to find you and the others.”

  Simon chuckled. “Fontana’s First Rule: Never leave a man behind for ghost bait.”

  Jake looked at Sierra. “Well, he sure as hell married the right woman. She wouldn’t leave a man behind, either.”

  Chapter 39

  IT WAS LATE MORNING. THE WEATHER REPORT HAD called for a slight lifting of the fog by noon, but Fontana had seen no signs of any lightening in the permanent twilight outside the windows of his office. He looked at the notes on his desk. There was a timeline and a rough sketch of the catacombs beneath what was left of his house. Ray sat in the chair on the opposite side of the desk.

  “Patterson obviously knew about the hole-in-the-wall in the basement,” Fontana said. “He must have also known that the closest exit was beneath the warehouse.”

  “In which case, it didn’t take a genius to figure out that if you and Sierra went into the tunnels to escape the fire, you would head for the warehouse,” Ray said. “What I find really interesting is that the Riders set their trap in the one short section of the tunnels where there was a blind curve and no intersecting corridors that you could use to evade them.”

  “That means that they had an accurate map of that sector of the catacombs.” Fontana raised his brows. “But according to the former owner’s journal, the chart he made was the only one in existence.”

  “Either he was wrong—”

  Fontana leaned back in his chair. “Or somehow Patterson got hold of the journal and used the information in it to set up his ambush.”

  Ray’s expression was grim. “You told me that you discovered the journal in a hidden wall safe in the art gallery. You said you never showed it to anyone else. How the hell would Patterson have known about it, let alone have a chance to study it?”

  “Good question.” The intercom buzzed. Fontana leaned forward and rezzed it. “What is it, Harlan?”

  “I have the Foundation files that you requested, sir. Shall I bring them in now, or would you prefer to deal with them at another time?”

  “Bring them in now. I want to look them over before I talk to Bonner.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Ray’s brows rose. “Why the sudden interest in the Foundation?”

  The door opened. Harlan came into the room.

  “I’m going to get rid of Bonner,” Fontana said.

  “You’re going to put someone else in charge of the Foundation?” Ray asked.

  “Yes. My wife.”

  Harlan set the files on the desk. “Here you are, sir.”

  “Thanks, Harlan.”

  Ray grinned. “Interesting choice. Sierra will clean things up in about twenty-four hours. You won’t have to worry about where the money is going with her in charge.”

  Fontana set the file aside. “I figure my main problem will be explaining to her that I don’t intend to increase her budget every time she decides to take on a new philanthropic project.”

  Chapter 40

  “THIS PLACE IS INCREDIBLE,” KAY WHISPERED, HER VOICE hushed to the point of reverence. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”

  “No one else has either,” Runtley declared triumphantly. “Not unless you count the gang that was bottling and selling the juice and the guards the Guild has posted here now.”

  They were gathered around the amazing fountains in the glowing jungle ruin. The psi levels were so high Sierra could feel the buzz across all of her senses. She could only imagine how it affected Fontana and the other hunters in the vicinity.

  The trek through the rain forest had taken less than three hours. Fontana and his team had brought Sierra and the staff of the Curtain into the jungle through the previously uncharted gate that Troy Patterson and the drug runners had used. It was much closer to the ruin than the official gate where Fontana and Ray had entered when they went in to rescue the missing hunters.

  “As far as the general public is concerned, the very first pictures of this place will be on the cover of the Curtain tomorrow morning,” Phil said, rezzing off a few more shots. “These pics are gonna make me famous. Man, I am gonna be up for the News Photographer of the Year award. And the cool thing is, these fountains are real. I didn’t have to build them out of doughnuts and discarded Curtain Cola cans the way I did the alien Temple of Love.”

  “All of the slick dailies and the rest of the media are going to be begging me for permission to use the shots,” Runtley said, dazzled by the prospect. “This is the scoop to end all scoops, and the Curtain has the story.”

  Fontana studied him across one of the sparkling green pools. “Just make sure the Guild comes out looking good. Remember, we have a deal here.”

  “Absolutely,” Runtley assured him hastily. “Don’t worry, what with taking down that gang of juice dealers, rescuing the hunters who were abducted by aliens, and opening this place up for the para-archaeologists, the Guild will look downright noble and heroic in tomorrow’s edition. Guaranteed.”

  Fontana nodded, satisfied. “Noble and heroic works. My PR people like noble and heroic.”

  Kay walked to the nearest fountain and looked into the effervescent green pool. “I wonder if the aliens came here to get drunk or stoned out of their weird little minds?”

  “No way to know,” Matt said, jotting down some notes. “The energy in those waters may have affected them a lot differently than it does humans. For all we know, this place could have been some sort of fancy, high-end health spa.”

  “A psychic health spa,” Runtley said. “I like it.”

  A familiar whisper of shimmering awareness sparkled through Sierra. She left Fontana’s side and circled the nearest fountain, contemplating its airy, otherworldly beauty.

  “It doesn’t feel like a spa,” she said quietly. “And I doubt that they came here to get drunk or stoned, at least not for recreational purposes.”

  Fontana watched her, intrigued.

  “What do you think went on here?” he asked.

  She gazed down into the psi-green waters. Although the fountain pool did not appear deep, she could not see the bottom. The restless little tides, eddies, and waves sparkled and flashed and swirled in endlessly shifting patterns.

  “There is an Old Earth legend,” she said slowly, “about a place known to the ancients as the Oracle of Delphi. Supposedly strange vapors emanated from the ground beneath the Oracle. The fumes caused the chosen priestess to prophesy. The prophesies came in the form of strange riddles that had to be interpreted.”

  “You think this ruin was sacred ground to the aliens?” Fontana asked.

  She looked up from the mesmerizing waters of the fountain pool. “It makes them seem more human, doesn’t it?”

  Chapter 41

  “SOMETIMES I WONDER IF THIS FOG IS EVER GOING TO lift.” Kay sat on the corner of the desk, a cup of coffee in one hand, one long leg swinging easily. “It’s starting to get to me. The city always feels strange during the Big Gray.”

  “Think of it as atmospheric,” Sierra said.

  “Every year I tell myself that, but after a couple of weeks the atmospheric line doesn’t work anymore.”

  “It won’t last much longer.”

  “Let’s hope.”

  “You’re just feeling low because all the excitement of the Guild’s big drug bust and the discovery of the Alien Oracle has died down,” Sierra said.

  “I know. It’s been a great run. Problem is, Runtley’s on a roll. He’s gotten used to publishing the top-selling paper in Crystal. You heard him this morning. The ad money is pouring in, and he wants us to keep the headl
ines coming.”

  “We’ll think of something,” Sierra said.

  “We always do,” Kay agreed.

  Elvis floated by in his balloon basket. The rhinestones on his white cape glittered. He chortled a greeting and munched on the bit of doughnut that someone, probably Phil, had given him.

  Kay chuckled and reached out to give him a pat. “The fog doesn’t bother you, does it, King?”

  She gave the basket a gentle push that sent Elvis sailing regally off in the direction of Matt’s desk.

  “Look at it this way,” Sierra said. “Coming up with new stories for Runtley won’t be half as tough as explaining my Marriage of Convenience to my grandmother.”

  “I can see you’re not looking forward to that.”

  The phone rang. Sierra picked it up.

  “Newsroom,” she said.

  “I wish to speak with Sierra McIntyre.”

  “You’ve got her. What can I do for you?”

  “My name is Harlan Ostendorf. I’m Mr. Fontana’s executive administrative assistant.”

  “Yes, of course, Mr. Ostendorf. Fontana has mentioned you.”

  “Mr. Fontana is extremely busy today, but his schedule has opened up a bit. He asked me to call you to see if it would be possible for you to meet him for lunch at the Amber Club. He requested that I send a car to pick you up.”

  “Lunch at the Amber Club?” She glanced at her watch. It was almost noon. “Yes, that will be fine.”

  “Excellent. The car will be in front of your office building in approximately ten minutes.”

  The phone went dead. She put it down slowly.

  “Did I just hear you say you’ve been invited to the Amber Club for lunch?” Kay demanded.

  “Yes. I’m meeting Fontana there. That was his assistant.” She frowned. “Why?”

  “Oh, nothing,” Kay said airily. “It’s just that the Amber Club is one of the most exclusive places in town. I’ll bet this is the day.”

  “What day?” Sierra asked.

  “The day he asks you to enter a Covenant Marriage with him.”

  “No way,” Phil said. He cranked back in his chair, twiddling a pen. “A guy might suggest an MC over lunch, but Covenant Marriage proposals are always done over fancy dinners.”

  Kay glowered. “How would you know? You’ve never asked anyone to marry you.”

  “It’s a guy thing,” Phil explained, very knowing.

  Matt looked up from his computer. “He’s right. Covenant Marriage proposals are evening events. Expensive dinner. Champagne. There’re rules about that kind of thing. You don’t do them at lunch.”

  “Oh, yeah?” Kay shot back.

  “Yeah,” Phil said.

  Kay folded her arms. “So why else would a busy man like Fontana take time out of his day for lunch at a place like the Amber Club unless he’s planning to propose?”

  Phil and Matt looked at each other.

  Matt shrugged. “Maybe he’s hoping for a nooner.”

  Kay yanked the flowers out of the vase on Sierra’s desk and hurled them at Matt’s head. The blooms struck the target, showering Matt with petals and water.

  “Hey,” he yelped. “I was just trying to explain a little male psychology.”

  Sierra ignored the uproar and got to her feet. “If you’ll excuse me, I’m going to leave now.”

  “What about Elvis?” Phil said. “You can’t take him into a fancy place like the Amber Club. Management will freak.”

  “I’ll leave him here with you.” She paused beside the balloon basket and dropped a little kiss onto the top of Elvis’s head. “Be good while I’m gone, okay? I’ll be back soon.”

  Elvis rumbled contentedly and went back to eating his doughnut. She slung the strap of her purse over her shoulder and headed for the door.

  “Have fun,” Kay said. “And don’t forget to thank Fontana for me.”

  Sierra turned slightly to look over her shoulder. “Why?”

  “Because he just gave me my next big scoop. ‘Guild Boss Proposes Covenant Marriage to New Bride.’ ”

  “Hey,” Phil said. “Does that mean another night in the mysterious alien temple of love?”

  “No,” Kay said. “This is a CM. We need a new venue and some new secret rituals.”

  “I can help with that part of the story,” Matt said.

  “What would you know about secret wedding-night rituals?” Kay asked.

  “It’s another guy thing.” Matt spread his hands. “What is it with women? You think we know nothing about this kind of stuff.”

  Sierra went out the door and hurried down the stairs. When she reached the lobby, she looked out through the glass doors. A long, black limo waited at the curb. A dapper-looking man attired in a uniform, black leather gloves, and a cap stood beside the big car. A tiny chill shivered through her. It’s the fog. Kay is right. It makes everything seem a little strange.

  She pushed through the heavy doors and hurried across the sidewalk. The icy sensation grew stronger. Relax. You’re still a little over-rezzed because of all the excitement lately.

  The chauffeur opened the rear door for her. She looked into the dark interior. The inexplicable rush of dread brought her to a complete stop. She could not get into the vehicle. A possibility occurred to her. Maybe this was the wrong limo.

  “Is this the car that was sent for Sierra McIntyre?” she asked.

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  The discordant hum of her intuition was rattling every nerve in her body now. “You’re Harlan Ostendorf, Fontana’s assistant. I recognize your voice. You called me a short time ago to tell me that Fontana wanted to do lunch.”

  “Yes, ma’am. At the Amber Club.” Harlan checked his watch. “If you don’t mind, we’re running a little late. Mr. Fontana likes people to be on time.”

  “But you’re an executive assistant, not a chauffeur.”

  “Mr. Fontana likes me to drive whenever possible.”

  She took a step back and reached into her purse for her phone. “Just a minute. I want to give my husband a quick call and make sure he’s still on for lunch.”

  “Get into the car,” Harlan Ostendorf said. “Now.”

  She looked up swiftly. There was a mag-rez gun in Harlan’s gloved hand.

  “You have caused me a great deal of trouble, Sierra McIntyre,” he said quietly. “Get into the car, or I will kill you where you stand.”

  Chapter 42

  THE ICY, HYPERVIGILANT SENSATION WAS NOT UNLIKE the feeling he got when he encountered ghost light. But there was no dissonance energy in the room. What he was looking at, Fontana knew, was the answer to the question he had been asking ever since he and Sierra had escaped the burning mansion.

  He raised his eyes to meet Ray’s. He shook his head once, indicating that he wanted silence. Then he reached for a pen and wrote the name on a piece of paper. Ray glanced at it, frowning a little. His expression cleared and his face went hard. He nodded once, in agreement.

  Fontana rezzed the intercom. “Harlan, would you come in here for a minute? I’ve got a question about the Foundation files.”

  “I’m sorry, sir, Mr. Ostendorf has gone to lunch,” Dray Levine said. “Is there anything I can do?”

  Fontana felt everything inside him turn stone cold. “Did Harlan go down to the cafeteria?”

  “No, sir. He said something about going out to a restaurant.”

  “What restaurant?”

  “He didn’t say, sir.”

  Fontana reached for the phone and entered the number of the Curtain’s newsroom. Matt answered on the second ring.

  “This is Fontana. I want to talk to Sierra.”

  “Huh?” Matt sounded bewildered. “She left a few minutes ago to have lunch with you.”

  “The hell she did. Who picked her up?”

  “She said you were sending a limo for her. She went downstairs, and that was the last we’ve seen of her. To tell you the truth, we were starting to get a little worried.”

  Grippi
ng the phone very tightly, he got to his feet. “What was your first clue?”

  “Elvis has left the building.”

  “Skip the Elvis jokes.”

  “I’m serious. He’s gone. One minute he was in his balloon basket, and the next he just disappeared. The door was open, but no one saw him leave. What’s wrong?”

  “I think Sierra has just been kidnapped by my executive assistant.”

  “Shit,” Matt whispered, stunned. “I told her you weren’t going to propose a Covenant Marriage over lunch.”

  Chapter 43

  IT WAS MIDDAY, BUT THE COMBINATION OF THE DENSE fog and the heavily tinted car windows made the view so dark it might as well have been midnight. Sierra sat in the rear seat of the vehicle. The car doors had locked automatically as soon as she was inside.

  She hadn’t bothered with a seat belt. If she got an opportunity to make a break for it, she did not want to waste any time unbuckling.

  They were headed deep into the neighborhood near the south wall of the Dead City, the most dilapidated section of the Quarter. Harlan was forced to drive slowly because of the dense mist and the narrow streets. She could see the back of his head, but there had been no conversation between them. Harlan had not lowered the window that separated the driver’s seat from the passenger compartment.

  He brought the limo to a halt in an alley and climbed out from behind the wheel. She heard the door to her left unlock. Harlan yanked it open.

  “Get out,” he ordered. He held the mag-rez steady, pointing it at her midsection. “Hurry.”

  “This is a Guild car,” she said, sliding slowly across the seat. “Fontana probably has a way to track it.”

  “I’m not an idiot. This isn’t from the Guild fleet. It’s from a commercial limo service. Besides, Fontana has no idea that I’m here with you. As far as he’s concerned, I’m his ever-faithful executive assistant, one of the few people he thinks he can trust in the organization. And he’ll go on thinking that when I help him try to find you after you disappear.”

  Slowly she stood. “Why do I have to disappear?”