The Traveler (38 page)

"Father's alive."

"How do you know that?"

"I went to a place called New Harmony in southern Arizona. Eight years ago, Father met some people and inspired them to start a community living free of the Grid. He could be in our world—this world—anywhere."

Michael paced back and forth between the reading tables. He picked up a book as if it could give him an answer,
then
tossed it away. "All right," he said. "Dad's alive. That's an interesting fact, but it's not relevant. We've got to focus on our current problem."

"And what's that?"

"At this moment, my body is lying on a table at a research center near New York City. Where are you, Gabe?"

"I'm at a deserted church camp in the Malibu hills." "Are you surrounded by guards?"

"Of course not."

"When I return to the normal world, I'll tell them where you are."

"Are you crazy?" Gabriel stepped closer to his brother. "You were captured by the Tabula. They're the same people who attacked our house and burned it down."

"I know all about it, Gabe. A man named Kennard Nash explained everything. But that was in the past. Now they
need
a Traveler. They're in contact with an advanced civilization."

"What difference does that make? They want to destroy any kind of personal freedom."

"That's the plan for the ordinary people, but not for us. There's no right or wrong about this. It's going to happen. You can't stop it. The Brethren are already putting the system into place."

"Our parents didn't see the world that way."

"And what the hell did that get us? We didn't have any money. We didn't have any friends. We couldn't even use our real names and we spent our entire lives running. You can't avoid the Grid. So why not join the people in control?"

"The Tabula have brainwashed you."

"No, Gabe. It's the other way around. I'm the only one in the family who ever saw things clearly."

"Not this time."

Michael placed his hand on the handle of the gold sword. The two Travelers looked in each other's eyes. "I protected you when we were growing up," Michael said. "Guess I have to do it again." He turned on his heels and hurried from the room.

Gabriel stood between the tables. "Come back here!" he shouted. "Michael!" He waited for a few seconds, and then ran out into the hallway. Empty.
No one there.
The door squeaked faintly as it closed behind him.

Michael sat on the surgical table in the middle of the Tomb. Dr. Richardson and the anesthesiologist stood back and stared at him while Miss Yang removed the sensors from his body. When the nurse was done, she took a fleece-lined sweatshirt from the tray and held it on the open palms of her hands. Michael took the shirt and slowly pulled it on. He felt exhausted and very cold.

"Maybe you should tell us what happened." Dr. Richardson sounded worried.

"Where's General Nash?"

"We called him immediately," Dr. Lau said. "He was over in the administration center."

Michael picked up the sheathed sword lying on the table beside him. Like a guardian spirit it had traveled with him through the barriers. The gleaming sword blade and the gold handle were exactly the same in the Second Realm.

The door opened and a thin shaft of light appeared on the dark floor. Michael returned the sword to the table as Kennard Nash hurried across the room.

"Is everything okay, Michael? They said you wanted to see me." "Get rid of these people."

Nash nodded his head. Richardson, Lau, and Miss Yang re-treated through the lab door underneath the northern gallery. The computer technicians were still peering down from the gallery windows.

"That's all!" Nash said loudly. "And please switch off the micro-phones! Thank you very much!"

The technicians reacted like schoolboys caught peeking into the teacher's room. Immediately, they moved away from the windows and returned to the glowing light of their monitors.

"So where did you go, Michael?
A new realm?"

"I'll describe that later. There's a more important issue. I met my brother."

General Nash stepped closer to the table. "That's wonderful! Were you able to speak to each other?"

Michael swiveled so that he was sitting on the edge of the table. When he and Gabriel were traveling around the country together, Michael had spent hours staring out the windshield at the passing scenery. Sometimes he would concentrate on one particular object beside the road and hold that vision in his mind for several seconds until it disappeared. Now that same sensation had returned to him with an increased power. Images lingered in his mind and he could analyze the smallest details.

"When we were growing up, Gabriel never looked ahead or made any plans. I was the one who always figured out what to do."

"Of course, Michael.
I understand." Nash's voice was soft and soothing. "You're the older brother."

"Gabe gets a lot of crazy ideas. I need to be objective. Make the right choice."

"I'm sure the Harlequins have told your brother all their foolish legends. He doesn't see the big picture. Not like you."

It felt as if time had slowed down. Without effort, Michael could see the split-second changes in the expression on Nash's face. Normally, everything happened quickly during a conversation. One person was talking and the other was waiting to respond. There was noise, movement, confusion, and all these factors helped people conceal their true emotions. Now everything was clear.

He remembered how his father had acted with strangers, watching them carefully while they spoke. That's how you did it, Michael thought. You didn't read their minds just their faces.

"Are you all right?" Nash asked.

"After we talked, I left my brother and found the passageway back. Gabriel is still in the Second Realm, but his body is lying in a church camp in the Malibu hills."

"That's wonderful news. I'll send a team there right away." "That doesn't mean you have to hurt him. Just get him under control."

Nash glanced down as if he was getting ready to conceal the truth. His head shifted slightly and he showed his teeth with a terse smile. Michael blinked and then the world was normal again. Time continued to move forward, each new moment falling into the future like a line of dominoes.

"Don't worry. We'll do everything we can to protect your brother. Thank you, Michael. You did the right thing."

General Nash turned and hurried through the shadows to the exit. The heels of his dress shoes made a sharp noise on the polished concrete floor.
Click-click.
Click-click.
The sound echoed off the walls of the Tomb.

Michael picked up the gold sword and held the scabbard tightly.

It was close to five o'clock in the afternoon, but Hollis and Maya still hadn't returned. Vicki felt like a Harlequin, protecting the Traveler who lay on the cot in front of her. Every few minutes, she touched Gabriel's neck with her fingers. His skin was warm, but there was no sign of a pulse.

Vicki sat a few feet away from him and read some fashion magazines she found in the closet. The magazines were about clothes and makeup and finding men and losing men and being knowledgeable about sex. It embarrassed Vicki to read some of the articles, so she skimmed through them quickly. She wondered if she would feel uncomfortable wearing tight clothes that displayed her body. Hollis would find her more attractive, but then she might become one of the girls who received a duplicate toothbrush and a ride home the next morning. Reverend Morganfield was always talking about shameless modem women and the harlot by the side of the road. "Shameless," she whispered. "Shameless." The word could sound like a feather or a slithery snake.

Vicki tossed the magazines into a trash can, went outside, and looked down the hill. When she returned to the dormitory, Gabriel's skin was pale and felt cold. Perhaps the Traveler had entered a dangerous realm. He could have been killed by demons or the hungry ghosts. Fear came to her like a soft voice growing louder and more powerful. Gabriel was losing strength.
Dying.
And she couldn't save him.

She unbuttoned Gabriel's shirt, leaned over his body, and pressed her ear against his chest. Vicki listened for a heartbeat. Suddenly, there was a thumping noise, but Vicki realized it came from outside the building.

Abandoning the body, she ran out the door and saw a helicopter descend to the flat area of land beside the empty swimming pool. Men jumped out wearing helmets with bulletproof face shields and body armor that made them look like robots.

Vicki ran back into the dormitory. She put her arms around Gabriel's chest and pulled him, but he was too heavy for her to carry. The cot fell on its side and she had to lower the body onto the floor. She was still holding the Traveler when a tall man wearing body armor ran into the room.

"Let go of him!" he shouted and pointed his assault rifle. Vicki didn't move.

"Step back and put your hands on your head!"

The man's finger began to squeeze the trigger and Vicki waited for the bullet. She would die beside the Traveler, just like the Lion of the Temple had died for Isaac Jones. After all these years, debt paid.

A moment later, Shepherd strolled into the room. He looked as stylish as ever, with his spiky blond hair and tailored suit. "That's enough," he said. "No need for that."

The tall man lowered the rifle. Shepherd nodded his approval, and then approached Vicki as if he was late for a party. "Hello, Vicki. We've been looking for you." He leaned over the Traveler's body, took the sword away, and pressed his fingers against Gabriel's carotid artery. "Looks like Mr. Corrigan
has
gone off to another realm. That's all right. Sooner or later, he has to come home."

"You used to be a Harlequin," Vicki said. "It's a sin to work for the Tabula."

"Sin is such an old-fashioned word. Of course, you Jonesie girls have always been old-fashioned."

"You're scum," Vicki said. "Do you understand that word?" Shepherd gave her a benevolent smile. "Think of all this as a particularly complex game. I've picked the winning side."

Maya and Hollis were about four miles from the entrance to Arcadia when they saw the Tabula helicopter. It rose into the sky and circled over the church camp like a raptor looking for prey.

Hollis turned his pickup truck off the road and parked in the Jimsonweeds growing near a retaining wall. They peered through the branches of an oak tree and watched the helicopter head over the ridge.

"So what do we do now?" Hollis asked.

Maya wanted to punch the window, kick, and shout: anything to release her anger. But she forced her emotions into a little room inside her brain, and then locked the door. When she was a child, Thorn would make her stand in the corner, then pretend to attack her with a sword, knife, or fist. If she flinched or panicked, her father was disappointed. If she stayed calm, he praised his daughter's strength.

"The Tabula won't kill Gabriel right away. They'll interrogate him first and find out what he knows. While that's going on they'll leave a team at the church camp to ambush whoever returns."

Hollis peered out the window. "You mean somebody's waiting there to kill us?"

"That's right." Maya slipped on her sunglasses so Hollis couldn't see her eyes. "But that's not going to happen ..."

***

THE SUN WENT down around six o'clock, and Maya began to climb the hill to Arcadia. The chaparral was a tangled mess of dry vegetation; it had the sweet, sharp odor of wild anise. The Harlequin found it difficult to move in a straight line. It felt as if the branches and vines were grabbing at her legs and trying to pull the sword case from her shoulder. Halfway up the hill, she was blocked by a thicket of manzanita and scrub oak that forced her to search for an easier path.

Finally she reached the chain-link fence that surrounded the church camp. She grabbed the top bar and pulled herself over. The two dormitories, the swimming pool area, the water tank, and the community center could be seen clearly in the moonlight. The Tabula mercs had to be there, hiding in the shadows. They probably assumed that the only entry point was the driveway that led up the hill. A conventional leader would position his men in a triangle around the parking lot.

She drew her sword and remembered the lesson on soft walking she had learned from her father. You moved as if you were crossing a lake covered with thin ice: extend your foot, judge the ground, and finally step forward with your weight.

Maya reached an area of darkness near the water tank and saw someone crouched beside the pool house. He was a short, broadshouldered man holding an assault rifle. As she approached him from behind, she heard him whispering into the microphone of a radio headset.

"You got any more water? I'm out." He paused for a few seconds,
then
sounded annoyed. "I understand that, Frankie. But I didn't bring two bottles like you did."

She took a step to the left, ran forward, and swung the sword at the back of his neck. The man fell forward like a slaughtered steer. The only sound was the clatter of his weapon falling onto the concrete. Maya leaned over the body and pulled the radio headset off the dead man's ears. She heard other voices whispering to each other.

"Here they are," said a voice with a South African accent. "See the headlights? They're coming up the hill ..."

Hollis drove his truck up the driveway, stopped in the parking lot, and switched off the engine. There was just enough moonlight to see his silhouette inside the truck cab.

"Now what?" an American voice asked.

"Do you see a woman?"

"No."

"Kill the man if he gets out of the truck. If he stays there, wait for the Harlequin. Boone told me to shoot the woman on sight."

"I only see the man," the American said.
"How about you, Richard?"

The dead man wasn't answering questions. Maya left his weapon on the ground and hurried toward the community center. "Richard? Can you hear me?"

No answer.

Hollis remained in the pickup, distracting them from the real danger. Maya found the next Tabula at the second point of the triangle. Kneeling by the community center, he pointed a sniper rifle at the truck. Maya's footsteps were silent on the hard-packed ground, but he must have sensed her approach. The Tabula turned slightly and her sword blade hit the side of his throat. Blood sprayed from a cut artery as the man collapsed.

"I think he's getting out of the truck," the South African said. "Richard? Frankie? Are you there?"

She made the quick, certain choice of a Harlequin in combat and sprinted toward the women's dormitory. And yes, the third man was standing near the corner of the building. The Tabula was so frightened that he was talking loudly. "Can you hear me? Shoot the man in the truck!"

Emerging from the shadows, she slashed at his right arm. The South African dropped his rifle and she attacked again, cutting the hamstring tendons behind his left knee. He fell forward, screaming with pain.

Almost over.
She stood beside the man and gestured with her sword. "Where are the two prisoners? Where did you take them?"

The mercenary tried to get away, but she swung the sword again and cut the hamstrings on his other leg. Now he was flat on his belly, crawling like an animal, his fingers digging into the soft dirt.

"Where are they?"

"They took them to Van Nuys Airport. Loaded them on a ..." He groaned and his body jerked forward.
"Private jet."

"What's the destination?"

"WestchesterCounty, near New York City.
The EvergreenFoundationResearchCenter."
The man rolled onto his back and raised his hands. "Swear to God, I'm telling you the truth. It's the Evergreen..."

Her blade flashed through the shadows.