by Joe Ducie
‘We’re finding a way to escape,’ he said finally. ‘Business as usual, eh? I never asked, but you’re coming to Japan, right?’
Tristan shrugged. ‘If Irene is going, I’m going, too. I really like her.’
‘Yeah, she’s great.’
‘More than like her, Will.’
Drake said nothing, thinking about the kiss he and Irene had shared back at that stop on the highway. Tristan knew about the kiss, Drake was sure of it, and he was letting Drake know that he knew.
Tristan loved Irene – had fallen in love with her on the Rig.
‘Well …’ Drake squeezed his shoulder. ‘Time for all that later, after we’ve escaped.’
‘Silly me, I thought we already had.’ Tristan gestured with his phone and the hundreds of conflicting signals turned the screen a bright, pulsing red. ‘Yeah, I thought we already had. But you’re not wrong, this is the real prison, isn’t it? Nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. Hell, we could sneak around the Rig more freely than we can around this city.’
‘Have you had any chance to make sense of all those readings you recorded from that portal?’ Drake said, edging the conversation away from darker topics.
Tristan shrugged. ‘It’s strange, but I think the drone’s instruments measured the frequency of your power, or whatever. It’s all numbers but when you analyse it in a data app, turn it into graphs and spreadsheets, there is a pattern. I don’t know what that pattern means, but it’s there. It spiked when you and Skeleton Man made that portal. It went haywire when that spider stumbled through it.’
‘So, do you think I could recreate …’ He trailed away.
A silver sedan pulled up at the intersection, and a tinted window lowered to reveal Takeo in the driver’s seat. Noemi sat opposite him, and Drake glimpsed Irene in the back. He and Tristan piled into the car.
‘Any problems?’ Drake asked.
‘Of course not,’ Takeo said. ‘The stolen vehicle will be cleaned, repaired, and left somewhere the authorities can find it, so they can return it to its owner. Haven always pays its debts. They’ll get their car back in better condition than we found it. This vehicle will suffice to ferry us around the city.’
‘So where we headed?’ Drake asked.
‘Central Park,’ Noemi said. ‘Haven has provided a penthouse overlooking the park until we can arrange safe passage and proper transport to Japan. I think you’ll find it quite to your liking.’
After living in a shoebox with Tristan for the better part of half a year, Drake was willing to agree, sight unseen.
The penthouse was on the east side of Central Park, Park Avenue, and Drake struggled to recall ever seeing something so luxurious in his life. The view of New York alone … seventeen floors above the city, he stood gazing out of the window. It overlooked Central Park and Fifth Avenue down towards the Empire State Building. The clear skies bathed the city in sunlight, and far below hundreds of yellow taxis and other vehicles drove the streets, oblivious to the fact that the infamous terrorist William Drake watched from above.
Drake chuckled. I’m never going to have a normal life again. ‘Better than no life,’ he muttered.
The four-bedroom, three-bathroom apartment covered the entire top floor of the building, with an open balcony, complete with a small garden and spa. They would be more than comfortable – spoilt, even. The open plan, the red brick walls, hardwood floors, impressive library and large wood-burning fireplace reminded Drake of some of the buildings in London. That old London aesthetic was offset a touch by all the modern appliances and conveniences – computers, televisions, two glass refrigerators bookending a steel island stove in the kitchen, and a great deal more.
‘Can you believe this place?’ Irene asked. She had curled up inside a large red spinning chair shaped like an egg, her legs tucked up underneath her. She glanced at the city, still wearing her bloodstained blouse – What else does she have to wear? – and seemed to be speaking as much to herself as to Drake. ‘Wonder what my mum’s doing today.’
‘You could call her,’ Drake suggested.
Irene didn’t look at him as she shook her head. ‘She hates me for what I did to my stepfath— to Thomas.’
Dropped a car on him … bastard deserved it. Drake wanted to say something comforting and reassuring but came up empty.
Noemi returned from inspecting the rest of the apartment with Takeo and Tristan. ‘OK. This place is secure. Master Tristan has assured me of no electronic interference. What I need from you two now is for you to write down your clothing sizes. Takeo is going to go shopping.’
Drake rolled his neck and swung the tassels from his hat back over his shoulders. ‘What’s wrong with my clothes?’
‘Well, apart from the fact you’ve been on the run for two weeks and are in need of a shower …’ Noemi gestured from his boots to his hat. ‘You look homeless, William Drake.’
Drake had to admit the constant abuse had stretched his woollen jumper out of shape. The cuffs were burnt and frayed, and his jeans – already torn when he’d bought them – had descended from serviceable to shabby.
‘Wouldn’t hurt to have a shower and a change of clothes, I suppose.’ Drake took the notepad from Takeo, jotted down his belt size and a request for a few medium-sized shirts, and handed the pad to Irene. ‘So how long do you think we’ll be here?’
‘A day or two. Three, at the most,’ Noemi said. ‘Despite the fact that we’re in the heart of the Alliance’s empire, the relative size of this city and the sheer number of people that live here works in our favour. Our people will negotiate with the Alliance, see if we can achieve safe passage. Other assets are moving into place, as well, should things turn nasty.’
Drake snorted. ‘Whitmore wants me dead. That’s not going to work.’
Noemi offered him a small smile. ‘We have a few bargaining chips of our own, William Drake. Perhaps the Alliance, Lucien Whitmore, will see their value. Our people will meet at their headquarters in the next day or so. Consider this apartment neutral territory until the negotiations are complete.’
‘Yeah, I got a glimpse of the Alliance headquarters building from the window,’ Drake said. ‘You think I can go and file a customer complaint about the level of service I’ve been receiving?’
Tristan laughed. ‘I’m sure they’d give it the attention it deserves.’
‘I’m sure they’d shoot you on sight,’ Noemi said.
‘What are we going to do here for two or three days?’ Irene asked.
Takeo took the notepad back from her and crossed his arms. ‘You’ll find plenty to entertain yourselves with. We need to minimise our presence as much as possible until we intend to leave, which means staying off the streets.’
Drake agreed. He was actually looking forward to a bit of a rest. Hot shower, change of clothes, sleep for a year. The idea of sleep turned his thoughts bitter. Days of fatigue weighed on his shoulders, but the best he could hope for would be a troubled doze. The Crystal-X wasn’t letting him sleep. Worse, when he was allowed a few minutes, the nightmares seemed far too real. Still, two out of three ain’t bad. Hot shower and clothes.
‘Right then,’ he said. ‘Thank you, Noemi, and thank you, Takeo, for bringing us here. You’re risking a lot, and I appreciate it. That said, I’m about to go and raid the fridge, but first I’d like to know how you’re planning on getting us out of New York when the time comes – if we’re allowed to leave safely.’
‘We’ll most likely arrange passage through the harbour and out to sea,’ Takeo said. ‘Once we’re in international waters and away from the Alliance, we can change vessels and cross the ocean to Europe.’
‘What? On a boat?’ Tristan asked.
‘Better than another plane …’ Irene muttered and brushed her hair down her face, making sure it covered her scar.
Drake pulled his hat from his head and ran a hand through his hair. ‘How long will that take?’
‘Direct crossing can be done in six days,’ Takeo said. ‘Probabl
y closer to eight.’
‘A week at sea.’ Drake thought of the endless water surrounding the Rig and sighed. ‘I knew if we ever saw the open water again it would be too soon.’
But he had to suppress a shiver of excitement. Anywhere in Europe put him closer to London than he’d been in over a year.
Chapter Fourteen
Magic Training
Given the struggles of the past few weeks – the escape from the Rig, the better part of two weeks on the run, the derailed train, the crashed plane, and the constant worry that an Alliance attack chopper was about to shoot him in the back – Drake found it a touch hard to relax in the penthouse apartment.
He tried watching TV, he tried reading a book, he tried working out a bit in the small gym in the western corner of the apartment, but nothing could shake the nagging itch between his shoulders that the Alliance was nipping at his heels.
That’s because they are, Drake, nattered a voice in his head that sounded a lot like Marcus Brand. Brand before he had been killed by the fire and Crystal-X in the hold of the Titan. They already know you’re in the city. Only a matter of time before you’re running for your life again. Haven can’t help you.
Drake made himself a ham sandwich for lunch, because despite the well-stocked fridge, there was no blackberry jam for a jam sandwich. A grievous oversight, in his opinion, but he would forgive Haven just the once, given their current circumstances were a damn sight better than Canadian icefields.
The first morning Drake and his friends spent in that apartment – after Takeo returned with whole wardrobes of clothing suitable for all climates and circumstances, and after they had each spent a good hour under the hot water blasting from the chrome showerhead, washing away grime and more than a little blood – Tristan seemed to be the only one of them who could put himself at ease. He had set up shop with his drone and phones, and he’d plugged himself into the bank of computer terminals built into the far wall of the apartment, off the grand foyer. He was researching the data from the drone, which had collected all manner of interesting points about Drake’s power. Drake took one look at the screens of scrolling numbers, felt a headache brewing, and left Tristan to it.
Irene seemed better for a shower and change of clothes, but she had quietly settled into a large beanbag in the library, a thick book on her lap and a posture that said pretty clearly ‘Do Not Disturb’.
It took Drake almost half the day to realise he was bored and waiting for something disastrous to happen. Unable to sleep, unable to settle, he stood staring out of the window overlooking the city, his hands stuffed into the pockets of a new pair of jeans, thinking about his sleep troubles. It was a dream, but it felt more like a memory. A memory of something that hasn’t happened yet …?
Those thoughts were also giving him a headache, icing on the cake of his boredom, so when Noemi emerged from her room, barefoot and wearing a blue dress with a simple pair of black leggings – and no damned sword – Drake leapt at the chance to ask her a few of the questions that had been preying on his mind.
‘Let’s sit out on the balcony,’ Noemi suggested. ‘It’s a nice day out there.’
The square terrace overlooked a few smaller buildings and uptown along the edge of Central Park. The day was warm – warmer than Canada and Niagara had been, at any rate – and there was no wind. Drake watched a game of baseball being played on one of the fields in the park far below, as Noemi unrolled an outdoor mat on a raised decking next to a set of perfectly good sun chairs, in the shade of two large potted ferns. She sat on the mat and crossed her legs.
Drake shrugged and sat down opposite her, almost falling back from the weight of his crystal arm as he struggled to cross his legs in a similar fashion. This damn thing … his arm didn’t hurt from the transformation, so Drake tried not to think too much about his predicament, which he knew was about as smart as hoping a suspicious lump would go away by ignoring it, but he was willing to bet no doctor had seen his particular affliction before. So how can I help you today, Mr. Drake? Well, Doc, I absorbed a shit-tonne of radioactive alien juice, and now my arm has hardened into pure crystal. You got a cream for that? ‘Probably not covered under Alliance Medicare anyway …’ he muttered.
‘You are concerned about what’s happening to you,’ Noemi said.
Drake held up his arm of dark crystal, visible thanks to his short-sleeved T-shirt. ‘This is a bit of a concern to me, yeah.’
‘Has the crystal progressed any further across your chest?’
Drake pressed his good hand to his chest. ‘Not that I can tell. Still got veins of the stuff running towards my heart.’
‘And how do you feel? Give me the first word that comes to mind.’
‘Powerful,’ Drake said. ‘Yeah, like I could lift a train with my bare hands or … or tear apart an oil rig.’
Noemi bit her lip, and Drake caught a flash of worry slip through her mask of calm. She held him with her emerald green eyes, as if trying to read his mind. What’s to say she can’t? Drake kept his thoughts clear and away from how he liked her shape in that blue dress, particularly the curve of olive skin from her shoulder down her chest and towards her … he shook his head.
Noemi grinned. ‘How do you make things happen with your power, then?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘You have done some fairly miraculous things in just the short time we’ve been acquainted. And all without the professional training and guidance students of the Path are given at Haven. I want to know how you make your gift work.’
‘So far I’ve just wanted stuff to happen, and it has,’ Drake said. He frowned and shook his head. ‘Actually, no, it’s more like the Crystal-X –’
‘Yūgen,’ Noemi corrected gently. ‘If you’re to follow the Path, then perception matters. Do not associate your gift with the mundane name the Alliance has given to something so incredible. Crystal-X is a brand. Yūgen is a unique way of seeing the world.’
Drake shrugged. ‘Yeah, OK. Well, so far it’s been more like the Yūgen has been doing what I want before I even know I want it. Like the shields and that eagle guardian or whatever the hell it was.’ He stared at the small white sphere glowing in the crystal of his wrist. ‘It’s anticipating what I want, like it knows what to do before I do.’
Noemi nodded. ‘There are scholars and followers of the Path at Haven that could explain this a hundred times better than I, but what you’re doing is letting the power master you – instead of the other way around. It’s dangerous and will, if you don’t take control, drive you mad.’
Drake rubbed at his forehead with his good hand and chuckled. ‘It’s keeping me awake. I’ve slept all of five minutes in about four days.’
‘Those at Haven who … fail to assert control over their gift often suffer from insomnia. The descent usually takes months. However, given the amount of Yūgen you absorbed, William Drake, we may not have that long.’
‘Already too late, you think?’
Noemi shook her head fiercely. ‘Absolutely not. I’ll have you on the right path, balanced and at peace, before the madness can claim you. I didn’t come all this way and lose two friends just to have you burn yourself away.’
Drake felt a sliver of guilt that he hadn’t spared much thought to Toby or Grace, Noemi’s pilots, since they’d been obliterated by the Skeleton Man. Two people had died for him, to help him escape. He didn’t want to think on it, just like he didn’t want to think too much about his arm, or Doctor Lambros, or Aaron and the fire at Cedarwood, or his mother …
‘I understand this is a lot to deal with,’ Noemi said. ‘Especially given your status as a fugitive.’
‘The Alliance have got half the world after my head,’ he said. ‘Calling me a terrorist and making my mother worry. I swear, Noemi, if I could wipe them all out with a wave of my hand …’ Dozens of sparks rushed down the length of his crystal arm, and Drake clenched his fist, putting a tight rein on his temper. ‘Heh. Now I sound like the colour they’re trying to
paint me.’
‘Fear,’ Noemi said. ‘The great manipulator. The Alliance are old hands at this game, and none more so than Lucien Whitmore. Fear and faith, two sides of the same coin that the powerful use to manipulate the weak. A patient manipulation.’
Drake considered and found he agreed. ‘All this just for me.’
Noemi chuckled. ‘You broke free of their chains, figuratively and literally, William Drake. You became something that the great giant itself has to fear. A player instead of a pawn. Not only have you embarrassed them, undermined their vital reputation, but you are walking proof of the true nature of the Alliance. If you live long enough, if you survive – well, anything is possible. You can drag the fearmongers into the light and show the world their cowardice.’
Drake grunted. ‘I’m not the hero you want. At best, I’m, like, a self-employed freedom fighter, working my own hours. If Haven is looking for someone to fight the good fight and fly their banner against the Alliance … that’s not me. I don’t want that. I just want to get back to London.’
‘Which is why, whether you want it or not, the chance to make a difference has fallen to you, William Drake.’
Drake scowled. ‘Don’t twist things around like that. You’re trying to get me to believe I’m some sort of good guy, or something. I’m not, Noemi. After what I did in London to land in my first Alliance prison … I kinda deserved it. I put a police officer in the hospital. He was just doing his job, and I … not on purpose, but it was my fault – I cracked his skull.’
Noemi remained silent, staring into Drake’s eyes.
‘The hell of it is, though,’ Drake said, ‘I’d do it again if it meant my mum got the medicine. I’m sorry it happened, but I’d … I’d do it again. Even knowing the copper was going to get hurt, because family comes first. It was only ever me and my mum when I was growing up. Family comes first. Yeah. But I bet that policeman has a family, too.’
