Edge of Dawn

by Melinda Snodgrass

  “Not now.”

  “If not now, when?”

  Eddie led them upstairs and down several hallways. Kenzo walked directly behind the young scientist, with Gold at his side. The march order indicated their contempt for Richard. He was irrelevant. Forgotten. He didn’t mind. He welcomed it.

  Richard dropped even farther back to Weber’s side. “Richard, what—” the ex-cop began.

  In an undertone Richard said, “Be ready.”

  Eddie had stopped in front of a door with a keypad lock. He typed in the code, pushed open the door. Richard realized it was a storeroom at the same time Gold and Kenzo reacted. Richard rushed them, grabbed Kenzo’s arm up behind his back with one hand, slammed his other hand into the financial officer’s back, and shoved. Weber, only a half step behind him, grabbed Gold in a wrestling lift and flung him into the small room. Richard pulled the Browning out of his shoulder rig and drew down on the goggling executives as they struggled to regain their balance and turn to face him.

  “Get their cell phones,” he ordered Weber.

  “Richard! Have you gone mad?” his sister demanded.

  “This is false imprisonment!” Gold shrilled.

  Kenzo glared at Richard. “You’re finished.” The Japanese man grabbed Weber’s wrist and turned it in a tricky maneuver that Richard recognized as jujitsu. “You will not take my phone. This is an outrage!”

  Richard calmly fired a shot past Kenzo’s ear. The man jumped, yelled out in Japanese, and inadvertently released Weber. The big cop quickly rammed Kenzo face-first into the wall and took the cell phone from his pocket. Gold clawed at his pocket and practically threw his phone at Weber. He alternated between looking nervously at Richard, at the gun, and at Weber. The former cop backed into the hall.

  “Okay. What now?”

  Richard pulled the door closed and heard the lock snap shut. “We get out of here.” He started walking.

  “What? Who? Where? What do you mean?” Dagmar was almost wailing as she trotted after him.

  “Kenzo and Gold think they’re going to take control of the company. And they may, for a little while, but they’ve gotten in bed with Grenier, and he’ll outplay them and then stab them. And I sure as hell don’t want to place myself and Mosi in Grenier’s power.”

  Richard increased his fast walk to a jog. It was hard on the two women in their high heels, and they quickly shed their shoes, carrying them as they all ran downstairs to Kenntnis’s quarters. At the door, Richard turned to the young scientist. “Eddie, who do you most need to get the goddamn sword back?”

  “Uh…”

  “Well, figure it out and get them! Meet us at the cars.” Richard checked his watch. “You’ve got fifteen minutes. Go!”

  Richard keyed in the code on Kenntnis’s door.

  “Richard, would you have shot them?” Pamela asked, her tone low, hesitant. He glanced over at her and saw the deep discomfort and almost fear on her face.

  “If necessary I would have made my point, but fortunately I didn’t have to because Kenzo thought I would,” Richard said with a grim smile. “That’s all that mattered.”

  The door swung open.

  Mosi’s piping child’s voice floated out to him. “‘She dreamt that the Neverland had come too near and that a strange boy had broken through from it.’”

  Mosi looked up from the book as they entered, as did Kenntnis. “Come, Mosi. We have to go. You can bring the book.” Richard bent over Kenntnis and offered his hand. “Sir, we’re going.” The big man slipped his hand into Richard’s and was gently pulled to his feet.

  “Clothes?” Dagmar asked.

  “No time.”

  Back upstairs and through the front doors. Blinking in the hot September sun, Richard impatiently checked his watch. Eddie, trailed by Chen and Ranjan and Ron Trout from the energy meeting, ran through the front doors. The four scientists skidded to a halt in front of Richard.

  “Okay,” Eddie panted.

  “I feel responsible, Mr. Oort,” said Chen. “So anything I can do to help.”

  “Is this a most exciting escape?” Ranjan asked, and he seemed thrilled at the prospect.

  “It is an escape, but with luck it will be rather mundane.” The East Indian scientist looked disappointed. Trout just looked impassive, and Richard wondered if the man had any sense of what was happening. What had happened.

  “All right. We’re going first to the B and B to collect our things. Then we head to the airport, making stops at ATMs as we go. Pull as much cash as you can,” Richard instructed. He gave mental thanks that he’d made it mandatory that all Lumina personnel carried their passports at all times. Of course that didn’t help with Mosi. There hadn’t been time to procure a passport for her. Acid churned through his gut. He pressed a hand against his stomach and took several deep breaths.

  “And where is the airplane going?” Pamela asked.

  “I haven’t worked that out yet,” Richard admitted. “We could hook up with our forces in Kenya.”

  “I expect that’s the first place they’ll look,” Weber said.

  Tension and East Coast heat and humidity had a trickle of sweat running down his sides and tickling his sideburns. His mind jumped from country to country where Lumina had facilities. Which of course put them completely off-limits.

  “Want some advice?” Cross asked.

  “Please.”

  “Turkey. Ankara,” the homeless god said.

  “Why there?”

  “Kenntnis was really tight with Atatürk. ’Course we knew him when he was still Mustafa Kemal, but there’s a cadre of generals, sort of a secret cabal, who have sworn to support Lumina. You turn up with Kenntnis in tow, and they’ll take us in. Do anything we need.” Cross considered for a moment. “Probably even wax some people for us.”

  “Well, let’s hope that’s not necessary. History wasn’t my strong suit. Remind me who was Atatürk?”

  “Military officer. Beat the British at Gallipoli. Became a national hero. Turned politician. He oversaw the dismantling of the Ottoman Empire, passed a new constitution, secularized and Westernized the country, granted women more rights than they had in most other countries in that era. Not a paladin, but close. He was a hell of a guy. Too bad he was also an alcoholic. Liver cirrhosis killed him before his time.”

  “And Kenntnis advised him on all these changes?”

  “Yep.”

  Richard pulled out his phone and called Brook. “Is the plane fueled?” he asked the pilot.

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Can we get to Ankara, Turkey, from here?”

  “Lemme check.” There was silence for a few moments. “Yes. Since we upgraded to the Gulfstream G650 we’ve got a range of eight thousand miles. Shall I file a flight plan?”

  “Is there some way to hide where we’re actually going?”

  “Not a chance,” came the disheartening reply. “Not after nine/eleven. And am I going to end up in jail again?” Brook asked, and despite the joking tone Richard could hear the concern.

  “No.”

  “Just checking. When do we leave?”

  “Within the hour.”

  He hung up the phone. Everyone was huddled around him. It seemed strange to be planning a desperate escape on a bright September afternoon while standing on oil-stained concrete in a parking lot. In the distance he heard the hum of tires on a nearby road. A plane flew overhead. There was the monotonous drone of cicadas. Normal life. Except it wasn’t.

  Dagmar touched his arm, drawing him out of his reverie. “Richard, I’m not coming with you,” she said. “You’ll need somebody on the inside. Someone who can report back to you.”

  “Dagmar, you have a family.”

  “Which is another reason I really can’t go. I can’t leave them.”

  “If they figure out you’re two-timing them, your family will be in danger,” Weber warned.

  “I know, but you can’t be on the run with an entourage of kids and spouses and parents,” Dagmar argued.
“Peter and I will work something out. Now go. When do you want me to release Kenzo and George?”

  “You’ve got to buy us time to get clear. We can’t land and find cops or Interpol waiting for us.”

  “So, hours.”

  Richard nodded. “Tell them I locked you up too.”

  “I hope they believe me.” Dagmar went back into the building.

  “We meet you at the airport?” Eddie asked.

  “Yes. And on the way be sure to hit ATMs and get money. Pull out as much as you can,” Richard said.

  Eddie nodded and led Chen, Trout, and Ranjan to his Audi. Richard climbed into a car with Kenntnis and Mosi. Weber slid behind the wheel, and Pamela joined them in the backseat.

  “And what about our family?” Pamela asked.

  Richard considered his sister Amelia, her husband, Brent, and son, Paul. He had offered them protection in New Mexico, but Amelia couldn’t accept the truth about the world or life in Albuquerque, and they had soon returned home to Boston. Then there was his father, also in Boston. If his enemies took the elder Oort, Richard knew he probably wouldn’t much care. The memory of his father’s hand cracking against his face had not faded. He didn’t much care about his brother-in-law either, but Amelia and Paul … he would bend if they were in danger.

  “Can you get them? Take them into hiding until this is resolved?” he asked his sister. “Amelia may listen to you.”

  Pamela gave a tense nod. “Okay.”

  Back at the B and B, it didn’t take long to pack. Richard handed over his Lumina credit card and took care of the bill, and then they were heading toward the airport. They stopped several times for people to draw out cash. Richard spotted a branch of the interstate bank where Lumina had an account. He went in and withdrew $9,999 in cash to avoid the large-currency transaction report. By the time Pamela and Weber had withdrawn funds, they had $29,997.

  At the airport, they pulled up to the front and dropped off Pamela. She leaned into the car and frowned at her brother. “Try to find some way to contact me. Let me know you’re all right.”

  “That may not be easy. You all need to dump your phones.”

  “So how the hell will I know when it’s safe for us to come home?” The profanity was unusual in his sister.

  “I’ll put an ad in the New York Times.”

  “Okay, I guess that will work. Which section?”

  He gave her a grin to mask all his doubt, worry, and regret. “Personals, of course.”

  “You’re an ass.” She turned away, then suddenly whirled, leaned into the car, and grabbed him in a fierce hug. “You be careful,” she whispered.

  “You too.” He forced another smile. “Sorry about your bank account.”

  She shrugged. “It’s okay. I’ll put the touch on Amelia. She’s a doc.”

  They drove to the private aircraft section of the Rochester airport, where Brook, Jerry, Eddie, Trout, Ranjan, and Chen were waiting. Richard hurried them up the stairs and into the plane. Just inside, Kenntnis paused, and there was a flicker of a frown. Richard realized the man hadn’t seen this new plane, and Richard was somewhat heartened at even this small reaction. Richard got Mosi and Kenntnis buckled in, settled into a seat, and checked his watch. They were doing well. After they were in the air, Richard opened the pouch containing the money. Eddie and Talbot added their funds—another $4,000. Mosi’s eyes were wide as she watched him distribute bundles of money to the companions.

  That’s when he looked around and realized that he had a young child in the company of only men. He began to wish he had kept either Pamela or Dagmar with him. Preferably Dagmar. She at least had children. Yes, children of her own that she wants to care for. Mosi is my responsibility now.

  Richard brought up the entertainment center, and they scanned the selection of movies. There was a clash of wills when she wanted to watch a particularly violent action movie. “No.”

  She glared up at Richard. “My daddy—”

  “No.” He brought up the PG selections. “You can watch any movie listed here.”

  “Those are baby movies.”

  “Harry Potter is pretty scary.”

  The lower lip was thrust out, she crossed her arms over her chest, but finally nodded. “Okay, I’ll watch that.”

  Richard cued up the first film. He walked away, reflecting that as a paladin her job would be to rob Harry and his friends of their magical powers. Which brought him to the real issue. The child had endured the butchery of her family and only a few days before had witnessed violent death. What was he really accomplishing by censoring her movies? She might be only nine, but her childhood was irrevocably over. Yet as a parental figure he needed to set and maintain boundaries for her behavior. What had happened to her was real, but he could mitigate it by giving her life structure.

  “I can try to keep it as normal as possible,” he muttered aloud as he brewed a cup of tea in the galley.

  “It is never a good sign when you are talking to yourself,” Weber said. “What’s up?”

  “Worrying about Mosi. What have I done to this child by taking her?”

  “Probably saved her life. Or at the very least prevented her falling into the hands of those sons of bitches.”

  “They might never have found her if I hadn’t … hadn’t…”

  “Cared enough to tell a child she wasn’t crazy and that her brother wasn’t himself when he committed murder?” His hand gripped Richard’s shoulder. “You can only do the best you can. You can’t anticipate every outcome.”

  It was unconscious, driven by the sense of isolation that lay on him like a smothering cloak. Richard leaned into Weber.

  Surprisingly, the older man didn’t withdraw, but Richard realized he was out of line and straightened abruptly. “Sorry.”

  Surprise became shock when Weber dropped an arm over his shoulders and held him in place close against his side. “You’re lonely.”

  Richard started to deny it, then hung his head. “Yes. I don’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

  “You’re not.” Richard’s gaze flew up to Weber’s face, but the man was carefully looking the other way and had not released him. Richard felt disoriented. In another circumstance he would have found the embrace tender, even affectionate, but this was Weber. Richard stepped away.

  Weber jammed his hands into his pockets. “So how do we get in touch with these generals?

  “Turn up in Turkey without visas for a start.” Richard removed the tea bag, tossed it, and tipped half-and-half into his cup. “Though what then…” He folded his lips together but couldn’t hold back the words. “I lost the sword. How do I protect us? Protect the world?”

  Weber drew in a preparatory breath, then slumped.

  “Yeah, you’ve got no idea either,” Richard concluded.

  Cross ambled up to them. “What are we talking about?”

  “Contacting the generals,” Richard said.

  “Wish you could just whammy us to Turkey the way you do yourself. Then nobody could trace us,” Weber said.

  “No, you don’t,” Cross said. “When I travel, I cross realms that would fry your little monkey brains.”

  The two humans exchanged a glance, and Weber shuddered. Richard didn’t blame him. They had rescued a child from one of those realms, and looked through far too many gates and tears in the intervening years. The worlds revealed were scary and most were inimical to human life.

  “Don’t pick up any hitchhikers,” Richard said dryly. “We currently have no way to dispatch them.”

  “Don’t think they won’t try. And yeah, that’s a problem. Makes me start to wonder if I hitched my wagon to the wrong star” was Cross’s snide reply, and there was again that glitter in his eyes that Richard had seen before and that disturbed him more each time he saw it.

  “But back to the generals and this cabal … fraternity … secret society … what the hell do I call it? How do I contact them?”

  “You announce this plane belongs to Lumina, and som
eone from the group will show up,” Cross said authoritatively. “It’s been a long time since we were here, so the people will have changed.”

  “How long is long?”

  “Nineteen twenties.”

  “So how do we know this group still exists?”

  “Guess we’ll find out” was the comfortless reply.

  Chapter

  FOURTEEN

  A touch to his shoulder brought Richard awake. He had reclined his seat to full horizontal and had been deep in a dream where he was trying to explain to Weber why they needed ice cream, and Pamela and Mosi kept walking out a door but never seemed to actually leave. He was instantly awake and looking up into Brook’s face.

  “Sir, we’ve got a engine light,” the pilot whispered. “I don’t think it’s anything real serious, but Jerry and I would like to set down at Istanbul rather than Ankara and get it checked.”

  Richard took the seat back up. “Okay.”

  “We’re about forty minutes out.”

  Standing, Richard tried to generate a little saliva in his dry mouth. He tasted stale coffee and the ham sandwich he’d made hours before, and his bladder was urgently suggesting he find a toilet. He paused to check on Mosi, who was deeply asleep, one hand tucked under her chin and the blanket pulled up around her ears.

  After relieving the pressure, he washed his face and hands, brushed his teeth, and studied himself in the mirror. A razor would be in order. Whatever he was going to face in Istanbul, he’d better not face it looking like a bum. He pulled his garment bag out of the overhead and retreated to the small office at the back of the plane. The electric razor vibrated against his chin and cheeks and forced him to concentrate on something other than the lost sword, the lost company, his lost way. He hoped a splash of aftershave and a clean, pressed suit in an elegant Prince of Wales windowpane in shades of blue, lavender, and gray would make him seem less like a fugitive and more like a man in charge to whomever he was going to meet. And maybe his kempt outward appearance would convince even himself that he wasn’t frantically creating plans on the fly.

  He had managed to transfer the subsidiaries, but since he had no money to operate them he was going to have to shutter the buildings and furlough the staffs. Which meant they weren’t really viable companies; they were just chits in the game he was playing with his rebellious officers, and mostly with Grenier. A game he didn’t, as yet, see any way to win.