A Rumor of Real Irish Tea (Annals of Altair Book 2)

by Kate Stradling

  After fifteen minutes, only three people had ventured past the point, and none of them looked particularly suspicious. Hawk decided it was time to move on and gave the signal, which Revere cheerfully cawed from above.

  Across the water, Hummer and Happy slinked away from their hiding place.

  “We still have almost an hour before the meeting,” said Honey nervously. “If we get too close to the meeting place too early, we’ll be that much easier to spot.”

  “The birds in the area haven’t noticed anything out of the ordinary,” Hawk said. “We’re the only ones here who are loitering.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Honey, it’s a hundred degrees out. No one’s staying in the park for more than a half-hour. They come in their air-conditioned cars, get out and walk around until they start to sweat, and then get back into their cars and leave. The only exceptions are the handful of crazy golfers across the lagoon, and they’re all focused on their games.”

  “The birds told you that?” she said skeptically.

  “They’re pretty used to the daily routine here.”

  His reassurance placated her worries. She fell in step behind him with no other protest but a wary glance at their surroundings. They had to cross another bridge to get in the area of the ramada that Hummer had pegged as Altair. Instead of following the path toward that spot, though, they veered and circled around the water’s edge, feigning interest in the algae-filled lagoon and the waterfowl that played there.

  The ramada was empty. Hawk and Honey settled in the shade of a tree to watch and wait. Hawk plucked at the dry, scruffy grass beneath him.

  Next to him, Honey tensed. “There are people coming.”

  He looked up to see two golfers—both the age of retirees—walking up the path toward the ramada. Each of them pulled a golf bag behind him.

  “It’s still forty minutes to two,” he said. “They’re probably just taking a rest from their game, or else having a late lunch.”

  Sure enough, the two men stopped at the ramada, and each produced a brown lunch bag from his things. They chatted together as they ate their sandwiches and drank from water bottles.

  “I’m starving,” said Honey.

  “You have a whole stash of food in your bag,” Hawk reminded her. “If you’re starving, it’s your own fault.”

  “I’m sick of granola bars and fruit. I want some real food.”

  “Like they served back at the Prometheus cafeteria?”

  She favored him with a narrow-eyed glare before returning her attention to the two dining golfers. “Like something Mom used to cook, back before the world collapsed.”

  Hawk didn’t immediately answer. He knew that Honey’s memories before Prometheus were scattered and few, so for her to bring up this kind of desire was out of the ordinary. “If everything goes well today, you might get that wish sooner than you expected,” he finally said, and he couldn’t hide the quiet hope he felt.

  The two golfers took their time eating. They talked and chuckled at one another and seemed to be in absolutely no hurry whatsoever.

  “They’re going to ruin our meeting if they stay there much longer,” said Honey after a half-hour had elapsed.

  “No,” Hawk said. “Look—they’re cleaning up. They’ll be gone before two.”

  He was half-right. While both golfers gathered together their things and packed them away in their bags, only one of them stood. He shook his fellow’s hand with a smile and then waved goodbye before he turned and retreated up the path. The other one pulled out a deck of cards and began a game of solitaire.

  “You don’t think—” Honey began, but her attention diverted to one side. Hummer and Happy were quickly moving along the water’s edge to join them.

  Hawk and Honey both hunched closer to the ground.

  “What are you doing?” Hawk hissed.

  “That’s the guy!” Hummer said as he joined them.

  “You don’t know that for sure.”

  “Look—the golf course might be right across the water, but there’s no direct path from there to here. He just lugged his golf bag halfway around the park to have lunch with his friend at that particular ramada on a scorching afternoon like this? I don’t think so. It’s two o’clock, and he’s there. Go talk to him.”

  Hawk and Honey exchanged wary glances.

  “We’ve got nothing to lose,” said Honey.

  “Not unless this is a really elaborate scheme the GCA put in place to make us come to them,” Hawk retorted, but even he knew this was a moot point. The GCA may have set up such an involved sting, but the Wests were in no position to back out. Everything they had worked for thus far had led them down this path, and they couldn’t risk abandoning it now.

  “Come on,” he said to Honey. “Hummer, you and Happy get away from here like we planned. I’m sending Revere with you. If anyone comes after you, he’ll let me know. I’ll have one of the local birds find you if anything goes wrong on our end.”

  Hummer and Happy obediently continued down the water’s edge. Hawk and Honey cut across the grass toward the golfer under the ramada. Hawk wished that his nerves were as steady as his footsteps. Everyone within a square mile could probably hear the pounding of his heart.

  The golfer was angled away from them, so rather than approach him from behind, they cut an oblique path as though taking a wide berth around him. It seemed only fair that he should see them coming. Contrary to their expectations, though, he kept his eyes fixed on the table and his cards as they neared.

  “Excuse me,” said Hawk, and his nerves were more flustered than ever. “Do you happen to have any Real Irish Tea?”

  He didn’t know if the code word was needed; he didn’t know what to say in this situation at all, but if this man had no affiliation with Altair, he wouldn’t find the phrase too notable.

  A laugh broke through the man’s lips. “Subtle,” he remarked as he raised his eyes at last. They were a twinkling brown, shrewd and cautious and bordered by pleasant wrinkles. “They told me you kids were smart. I’m glad. I don’t think I could’ve handled a midday golf game every day this week. Here.” He fished a baseball cap out of the golf bag beside him.

  Hawk took it in confusion. When the man only smiled, he hesitantly put it on his head.

  “Sit down. We’ll pretend we’re a grandfather treating his grandkids to a school-day outing. You can call me Smith, by the way.”

  “Is that your real name?” Honey asked.

  He shook his head. “No. And please don’t ask me what my real name is. I’m taking my life into my hands by meeting with you.”

  “You’re the ones who set up this meeting,” Hawk said. “You shot my bird.”

  “It was either that or shoot one of you kids. We figured there was a better chance of you seeing the message if the dart went to the bird, though. And we only set up the meeting because you were looking for us. Shadow organizations don’t much like having lights shined their direction. That was a clever little run on the downtown GCA office, by the way.”

  Hawk felt the blood rush to his face. Next to him, Honey smiled impertinently. “Thank you,” she said.

  “What is it you want from us?” Smith asked bluntly.

  The two children glanced at one another. Hawk took a deep breath before he spoke. “We’re looking for our parents, and someone told us that you might be able to help.”

  To their dismay, Smith shook his head. “We’re not in the business of finding. We’re in the business of hiding.”

  “But if you hid someone in the past—” Hawk started.

  “There are avenues to track that someone down,” Smith interrupted, “but it’s not such a simple matter. We’re not like the national government, with a giant database of records to consult. You could say we’re exactly the opposite: every cell keeps its own secrets, and they guard them jealously.”

  Hawk’s hopes fast dwindled. “So… you’re not one big organization?”

  “You might say we’re a con
glomerate of little organizations—individual franchises with the same brand name, perhaps. It’s the only way we’ve been able to survive, by being local and tight-knit. The cells—that’s what we call each local unit, a cell—they do communicate with each other, but the information they pass is limited.”

  “Such as?” Honey prompted.

  “Such as whether there’re any good hiding places in their region,” he told her. “But you didn’t come to us to hide, and even if you had, there’s nothing we can do for you as long as your faces are on the news every hour. Right now, you’re untouchable.”

  “So that’s why you wanted this meeting?” Hawk asked, suddenly bitter. “So you could tell us to quit trying to find you?”

  Smith smiled, but there was more apology and regret in his expression than pleasure. “Not quite. We do have a couple of options for you, but you’re probably not going to like either of them. I don’t really like either of them, to be honest.”

  Hawk wished that the man would quit equivocating. “What are they?”

  “The first is to smuggle you out of the country. We have the channels to get you across the border and from there to any number of places around the world. You’d be fugitives for the rest of your lives, and you might never be able to return to the States, but you wouldn’t have to look over your shoulder for the GCA anymore. You’d have relative safety, but very little stability.”

  “And what about our parents?” asked Hawk.

  “You’d have to give up your search for them, at least until you’re adults who can blend into a crowd. But then, you’re probably going to have to give up your search anyway. There isn’t very much that a group of children can do without drawing attention to themselves.”

  Hawk and Honey glanced at one another, mutinous expressions mirrored on their faces.

  “What’s the second option?” Honey asked.

  “You’re not going to like it,” said Smith, “but it’s the one I’d strongly advise you to take. That option runs you back into the custody of the GCA.”

  Hawk wrenched away from the table. “No! What are you saying? That we should turn ourselves in?”

  “You could, but it would be a lot better if you were caught,” Smith replied, unfazed by his violent reaction. “Understand that we’ve already had to sacrifice one of our men to set up this meeting. The GCA will never stop searching for you, and with the entire country waiting with bated breath for little Maddie and Alex North to be delivered from their captors, that search is only going to pick up steam. Under ordinary circumstances, time would reduce people’s interest, but in this case they’re kept glued to their screens by the likes of Veronica Porcher at NPNN, and every time they leave their houses, they’re on the lookout for the poor children in those news clips. The case has even garnered international interest. Our hands are tied. If you were to get caught, though—”

  “We’re never going back,” Honey interrupted with quiet determination.

  “I think we’re done here,” said Hawk. “Come on, Honey.” He stood and stubbornly pulled the ball cap from his head to return it.

  Smith looked down at the hat, then back up. “Keep it. There’s a key and an address to a safe house in the brim. All of the information we have about your situation is in a file there, along with our two proposals. You don’t need to decide today, but we can’t give you more than forty-eight hours. After that, you’ll be on your own again, and this time for good.”

  Hawk wanted to fling the cap in the man’s face, but necessity made him stop. “Is the house really safe?” he asked resentfully.

  “Yes,” said Smith.

  “Tell the truth,” Honey commanded.

  “It’s safe,” Smith said again. “I give you my word.”

  Hawk was still riddled with hesitation. Honey interceded. “Beggars can’t be choosers.” She took the cap from his hand and fit it on her own head. “Thanks, Smith,” she said sarcastically to the old golfer. Then she tugged her brother behind her, away from the scene.

  One final glance toward the ramada showed Smith gathering up his cards, preparing to leave.

  “What a waste,” said Hawk.

  “He’s given us information to look over and a roof to sleep under for the night,” Honey said woodenly. “That might’ve been all he could do.”

  This was probably true, but that didn’t quell Hawk’s disappointment. “All this time looking for Altair, only to have them tell us to go back to the GCA,” he muttered. “Hummer’s going to throw a fit.”

  It was a fairly accurate assessment. Hummer and Happy saw them coming from a distance and met them beneath a row of trees near the park’s exit. Hawk summarized the situation.

  “So they’re completely useless,” Hummer declared.

  “Maybe they know something we don’t,” Honey interjected. “We can’t really blame them for not wanting to take the GCA head-on when we don’t want to do that ourselves.”

  “Since when have you been the voice of reason?” he asked.

  “Since you both started throwing fits whenever everything didn’t go as planned. This is progress. They’re giving us information and hiding us for a couple of days. They don’t owe us anything, and certainly not if it involves risking their necks for us.”

  “They’re grown-ups,” Hummer said. “They should be braver than we are. So where’s this safe house?” he added grudgingly.

  Hawk pulled the ball cap from Honey’s head and fumbled around with the inner lining. His brothers and sister watched with eager interest. The key was easy to find, secured at the front of the hat just above the bill. He had to fold down the lining to discover the address; it was scrawled in black marker halfway around the inside brim.

  “That’s only a couple of streets away from here,” Hummer said.

  “Did you memorize the entire city grid?” Honey asked impertinently.

  He bristled. “What of it?”

  “What should we do?” asked Hawk before a fight could break out between the two. “We’re treading dangerous waters here, so we should all agree on our plan of action.

  “Are you kidding?” asked Honey. “We go to the house.”

  Indecision danced across Hummer’s face. “We should at least have a look, don’t you think? Maybe there’ll be something useful in the file he left us. At the very least we can walk by the place on our way to the train depot.”

  Next to him, Happy nodded.

  “And what do we do if Altair is leading us into the hands of the GCA to get them off their own backs?” Hawk asked.

  “They’re not,” said Honey. “Smith said it was a safe house, even when I asked him.”

  “And no one’s ever been able to withstand one of your projections,” said Hummer sarcastically. “There’s no way he could’ve been a null.”

  She pursed her lips in a sulk. “I thought you wanted to go to the house.”

  “I do. I just don’t like you acting like the high and mighty infallible projector. Come on, Hawk,” he said. “We need to follow this through to the end. If we skip town without having a look at that file, we’ll be starting from square one again. Besides, I’m roasting here. We’re each losing a quart of water every ten minutes we’re out in this inferno.”

  Hawk glanced to Revere perched in a tree branch overhead. The bird looked back at him as though to ask what he was waiting for. A sigh escaped his lips. “Lead the way,” he said to Hummer.

  The house was in a quiet neighborhood with little traffic. It was small but well kempt. Hummer volunteered to go first and, key in hand, he trotted across the street alone. His siblings nervously watched as he disappeared inside. After a few tense moments passed, he opened the door again and beckoned them to come. They tried to be as inconspicuous as three children and their pet raven could be, but there was a collective sigh of relief when they finally shut the front door behind them.

  The air-conditioning was on, and the house was blissfully cool. The inside was furnished, much nicer than any place the Wests had staye
d for the past couple of weeks. Hummer pointed them toward the tidy coffee table in the front room, where lay an overflowing fruit basket next to a thick manila file with the words “Burn after reading” printed in broad red letters across its cover.

  “Points for hospitality,” said Honey, and she cheerfully plucked up an apple.

  “Did you look through the file?” Hawk asked Hummer.

  “Just a glance. They’ve got a roster of all the people looking for us, for starters, including the two Prometheus null-projectors.”

  “Two?” Hawk said sharply.

  Hummer gestured to the file. “According to that, Quincy’s there with Oliver. The other night at the warehouse, there was a pocket of people who were unaffected by Happy or Honey—I guess she must’ve been standing with them.”

  Honey glanced between her two older brothers as she chewed on her apple. “Quincy—she’s your friend, isn’t she, Hawk? So she’s helping them catch us?”

  A muscle along his jaw clenched. “She probably doesn’t have a choice. Or maybe she’s really mad at Hummer and me for taking off in the middle of the night. Either way, it’s one more reason to steer clear of the GCA. Let’s have a full look at that file.”

  Soon enough, they had its contents strewn out across the floor. It was more than just a roster of people. It was their life histories, including those of Hawk, Hummer, Honey, and Happy.

  “I thought that Smith guy told you they couldn’t help us find our parents,” said Hummer, confusion thick on his voice.

  “He did,” Hawk said.

  Hummer held up the page he was reviewing. “They know where Oliver’s parents live. So why not ours?”

  Honey scrambled from her place on the floor to have a look. Hawk remained where he was. “Oliver’s parents didn’t ask to be hidden, I’m guessing.”

  “Wow,” said Honey as she took the page. “They know all of this about Oliver and next to nothing about us? What about Quincy? What do they know about her?”

  “Name, birth date, and basic history with Prometheus,” said Hawk from his corner. “Just about the same information they have on us. But they’ve got a truckload on this General Bradford Stone.”