by S. S. Segran
Called it. Victor swiped the card on the scanner under the door handle and stepped in, shouldering the backpack vacuum cleaner for authenticity’s sake under the cameras’ watchful gaze.
The door swung shut behind him and he found himself staring at a well-appointed room. A generous pantry and kitchen greeted him on his left. A comfortable king bed with a marble nightstand beside it was pushed against the far corner of the room. A sleek television set atop a teakwood console faced the bed. A bathroom was located between the bed and the pantry.
This is really nice, Victor marveled, staying pokerfaced. I wouldn’t mind crashing here for a few days myself . . . No wonder Tony rarely leaves.
He stole a glance at his watch. Tony’s walks took anywhere from half an hour to forty minutes. Nearly fifteen minutes had passed since he’d seen the man leave the building, so he had to work fast. Problem was, the room looked spotless. Nothing was out of place. The bed was neatly made, the wastebasket empty.
Kid’s got to be a neat freak. It’s like Mr. Clean was let off the leash. Victor split the chamber into sections, combing through everything thoroughly but careful to leave nothing out of place. All he found was a small overnight bag with fresh clothes. He stood in the middle of the room, forlorn. Ten minutes of scouring and nothing to show for it.
His gaze lingered on the bedside table where a pencil and notepad lay. His tongue slowly traced his bottom lip and his brow creased. Maybe . . .?
Grabbing the pencil, he started to shade the first page of the notepad. White lines forming letters appeared through the lead. First an E, then M, a P, an O, R—
The door clicked.
Victor grabbed the paper and tore it off, spinning around to face the new arrival as he slipped the note into his back pocket. Tony stood in the doorway like an animal defending its territory. “What are you doing?” he snapped.
The Sentry touched the brim of his cap. “Cleaning this floor, sir, this room included. I’m almost done.”
“Ah.” Tony regarded him cagily. “Why are you squinting at me? And are you sick? You sound sick.”
“Sorry, I really don’t mean to squint, I’m just nearsighted. And yeah, my nose is really plugged. It’s just the tail-end of a cold, I promise. I didn’t contaminate anything of yours. Didn’t want to miss work. Have to put food on the table, you know?”
“. . . Right. Well, thanks, I guess.” Tony scrutinized Victor for a second longer before going into the bathroom and shutting the door.
The Sentry maintained his squinted eyes as he exited the room in case Tony came back out. As he put one foot out the door, he heard the elevator at the end of the hallway open and a voice singing gruffly to himself. “Mama, just killed a man, put a gun against his head, pulled my trigger, now he’s dead . . .”
Victor quickly pulled back. Crap. Head guard. He’ll know my charade. There’s a stairwell—agh, the cart. I’ll have to drag it down somehow. And . . . is he singing Bohemian Rhapsody?
The Sentry knelt and focused his energy, then placed his hand on the ground. He looked around the corner just as the guard stepped out of the elevator. Before the big man could turn and see the impostor, Victor sent a blast of focused acoustic waves through the floor. It travelled down the hall, shot up through the table where the crystal phoenix sat and sent the sculpture flying behind the guard. It smashed against the wall, shattering into thousands of pieces. The guard spun around at the noise, away from the Sentry.
Victor hastily pushed his cart into the stairwell and, with some difficulty, went down a flight to the floor below, then took the elevator all the way to the lobby. It was empty. He headed out to the parking garage, opened the back of the janitors’ van, put the overalls back onto the still-unconscious man inside—with the keycard in a pocket—and switched the picture on the ID badge back. He replaced all the supplies and kept the van doors open to expose a janitor who appeared to be sleeping on the job, then left the scene with his own ball cap back over his head, once again taking a long route to his car.
Chief greeted him enthusiastically. Victor put an arm around the dog and rubbed his belly. “Hey, pal. Been cooped up for a while, huh? And having the windows down doesn’t really do anything, I know. I’ll take you for a walk in a bit. But first . . .”
He pulled the paper from his pocket and searched around his duffel bag for a pencil, then finished shading until the entire note was gray. Sitting back, he gave a half grin. “I think we’ve got something here, Chief.”
Against the car’s interior light, the words were spelled out clearly:
EMPORIO RULLI, SFO
DR. NATE, THURSDAY 11a.m.
Victor flipped the small paper between his fingers. “Looks like the jaunt was worth it. It’s Wednesday today. What comes after Wednesday, Chief?”
Chief’s ears pricked as he looked at his owner. The Sentry scratched the dog under his chin. “Thursday, indeed. And . . .” He looked up at Phoenix Corporation’s tower as it loomed in the darkness. “. . . we finally get to meet the infamous Dr. Nate.”
11
Victor lurked inside a newly-opened bookstore in San Francisco Airport’s international terminal, flipping through a National Geographic magazine. He wore a fitted gray jacket with a beanie covering his hair and a scarf around his neck, aiming to look different than the night before.
Thirty yards away, Tony was seated in front of the Emporio Rulli café, sipping a hot drink and scrolling through his new smartphone. Phoenix probably provided that, the Sentry thought.
A young, attractive barista worked around Tony, cleaning tables and putting used dishes on trays, often looking over at him. She was obviously trying to catch his attention, but he was glued to his phone. Victor raised his eyes heavenward.
From the Sentry’s left came a bespectacled man no taller than five feet with a round face and no eyebrows. His oily black hair was combed against his skull. He had a strange fashion style: black pants with creases that could cut a person, and a white poet shirt tucked in loosely. He carried a briefcase half his size—that’s comical, Victor smirked—that he plunked down as he took a seat opposite Tony. Despite his diminutive stature, there was something chilling about the man that the Sentry couldn’t quite place. He honed in his hearing on the pair, cancelling out other sounds and amplifying their voices.
“You look like ’ammered crap,” the newcomer said, pushing his glasses further up the bridge of his nose. He spoke as if he had sandpaper in his vocal chords. “Did you give out any information?”
Tony slowly set his phone down and stared emotionlessly at the man. “Pleasure seeing you as well, Dr. Nate. Didn’t Adrian fill you in? I gave them nothing.”
“That kind of interrogation, surely you spilled something?”
“Don’t you dare question me like that. I’ve already told Adrian what happened. I will not repeat myself, do you understand?”
Dr. Nate shushed him and peered around; Victor quickly turned his back to the men. “Keep it down, Tony. Now, tell me ’ow you escaped. One minute you were in Kansas where you were bested in your own game by children, next thing you’re in Canada, cuffed in a cell. And you escaped. ’ow?”
“Look, I’ve spelled out all the details for the Boss in my report. Get to business already. Why did you want to meet me here?”
“You never have patience with me. Alright, fine, we’ll get to it. The Boss wanted me to pass along a message to you.”
“Wha—are you joking?” Tony sounded stunned; hurt, even. “What’s this, a demotion? I can’t talk to the Boss myself now?”
“Let’s just say there’s a different plan for you.”
“Which would be . . .”
“The Boss is putting you in charge of the New Mexico Sanctuary.”
“Excuse me? Vladimir and his walking one-eyed tree trunk are running that show, aren’t they?”
“They’re being pulled out for another assignment, so we need you to get to the Sanctuary within forty-eight hours to relieve them.”
Victor could hear Tony’s teeth chattering in anger. “And . . . for how long . . . do I have to be stuck in that hole in the ground?”
“Watch your words, young man,” Dr. Nate chided icily. “That so-called ’ole in the ground, all six of them, are our Noah’s Ark. Once the world flatlines, you’ll appreciate it.”
“Don’t preach to me. I know what it’s all for, Doctor.” Tony took a deep breath. “How’s the second project of the Arcane Ventures going? I’ve been told it’s already begun.”
“We did initial testing in an isolated village in Africa some weeks back, and it turned out quite well.”
“Very nice. And now?”
“It’s picking up. It will make the Spanish flu look like the common cold. I suggest you keep an eye on the news—while you’re doing your job in New Mexico, of course.”
“Of course,” Tony said. “Now, I ask again, how long exactly will I be stuck doing this?”
“If you do your duty right this time, you might be able to ask the Boss yourself, soon.”
“I—what?”
“You may get a surprise visit at the Sanctuary. Maybe.”
Victor nearly dropped the magazine he was holding. What? He risked a glance at the men, noting that Tony’s demeanor had lightened considerably. The young man was silent for a time. When he spoke, he sounded genuinely more cooperative. “So where are you headed?”
The Sentry saw Dr. Nate give an ugly smile. Tony frowned at the diminutive man’s expression, then leaned back, eyes wide. “My God. You’re not really going there, are you? You are. You’re actually going to the Hea—”
At that moment, the barista working around the conversing pair dropped an entire tray of dishes. The cascading crashes jarred Victor and he stumbled back against a pillar, covering his ears, eyes squeezed shut. Through the painful ringing, he heard the barista apologizing profusely, humiliated. Tony got up to help her and the floor was cleaned within a minute. Sitting back down, Tony looked at Dr. Nate expectantly as if their conversation hadn’t been interrupted. Victor grimaced, the ringing in his ears starting to fade.
“I’m afraid I’m not allowed to reveal that to you,” Dr. Nate said.
“Wow. So that’s it, then. That’s how far down the ladder I’ve slid.”
“Don’t take it personally. I’m sure you’ll get back up quickly as the go-getter you are. No more blunders and you’ll be fine.”
“Don’t patronize me, you ass,” Tony muttered.
Victor watched them out of the corner of his eye. Dr. Nate swung off his chair and fluffed his shirt. “Well, thank you for meeting me ’ere on such short notice. I’m off. You know what you need to do, and don’t forget to call Adrian once Vladimir ’as ’anded the operations of the Sanctuary over to you.”
Tony didn’t look at the other man. “Say hi to the Boss for me.”
Dr. Nate smiled without replying, picked up his briefcase and trotted off. Victor looked from him to Tony, and back again. So one is heading somewhere important, maybe even to meet Reyor. The other is heading to New Mexico where Reyor might show up.
He was fine with letting Tony go. His main objective had always been to locate the head of the snake. But would following the doctor increase his chances of finding Reyor?
From the moment I let the kid go, it’s been one gamble after another.
He decided to stick with Tony. It helped that he knew where Tony was headed; the Chosen Ones had been there and the information they’d gathered about the Sanctuary had been passed on to a number of Sentries, himself included.
Victor waited for Tony to leave the airport before finding his way to the Camaro in the packed parking lot. Chief was sitting inside, happily gnawing on a juicy bone.
“We’ve got another flight to catch, boy,” the Sentry told the wolfdog as he started the car. “There’s more work ahead. We need to keep pushing—the Elders are counting on us.”
12
Aari left the training grounds with Tegan, Jag, Kody and Mariah. His friends were furious. The group had been informed that Hutar wished to see them at the temple, and none of them wanted to entertain the thought of meeting the would-be murderer.
“I don’t care what he wants!” Mariah exclaimed. “I’m not going!”
“Neither am I,” Kody said. “And you know how easily I forgive people.”
Aari shut the heavy wooden gate of the training grounds with Jag’s help, then dusted his hands. “Maybe he wants to apologize.”
Tegan scoffed. “And maybe I’m the Queen of England.”
“I don’t like him any more than you do, but would it actually hurt to at least hear what he has to say?”
“We’re not going to meet with him, and that’s final,” Jag said as they walked down the slope with the back of the temple in sight. “Some people you just don’t entertain. The Elders have been dealing with him and I think it’s best we leave it that way.”
Aari paused when they reach side of the temple. “The Elders also told us that this choice is ours to make. Jag, I’m not saying we sit down for a latte with the guy and discuss world issues. I’m not even saying we forgive him if he does apologize—which I think is highly unlikely. Let’s just see what he wants.”
“No.”
“Fine. You guys go ahead and enjoy what’s left of the afternoon and I’ll go meet him.”
Jag looked as if he was about to restrain Aari. Then he sighed. “If you really want to, alright. Just . . . be safe.”
Aari smiled. “Always.”
As the others continued down the valley, Aari strode up the stairs to the magnificent temple. He paused in front of the incandescent stream of flames at the center of the foyer to compose himself, then entered.
The temple was completely devoid of people, which was strange considering there were usually at least a few villagers meditating or reading at any given time of the day. Passing by the corner where he and his friends would usually sit and discuss matters with the Elders, he turned left and found Akol by a pillar just outside the temple’s library. Nageau and Tikina’s grandson had a staff slung across his back and a hunting knife sheathed on his belt. He looked displeased. “I hoped that you would not come.”
“Well, hello to you too, compadre,” Aari said lightheartedly.
“Oh hush, my friend. I just do not understand what the point is in meeting Hutar.”
“I’m the only one who agreed to see the monster. The others tried to talk me out of it, but I thought it would be fair to see what he wants.” He clicked his fingers at Akol’s staff and knife. “I have to admit, it’s weird seeing anyone armed in such a spiritual place.”
“It is merely precaution. Your safety is important.”
“I appreciate that, Akol. Really.”
Akol dipped his head.
“You know, I couldn’t help but notice that it’s empty in here.”
“And it will remain so until . . . he . . . leaves.”
“Let’s get to it, then, shall we? The sooner we can get this over with, the sooner people can get back into the temple.”
Akol led the way past the doorless entrance of the vast library. Sunlight streamed through the wide windows, catching on the leaves of numerous colorful flowers and plants. Frankincense burned on hot coals in stone trays by bookshelves, releasing a soft, pleasant scent that was both sweet like myrrh and crisp as forest air.
Aari scanned the large collections of leather-bound books and scrolls on long wooden shelves, then turned his gaze to the center of the library where five wingback chairs faced one on which Hutar sat. The black-haired young man was reading peacefully. Two older youths were positioned on either side, armed and alert. Akol went to stand behind Hutar, a hand on the hilt of his knife, and indicated for Aari to approach.
Aari wet his lips, then cautiously sat on the center chair opposite Hutar. Hutar didn’t acknowledge him for a full minute until he finished the page he was on and slowly closed the book. His dark sapphire eyes locked with Aari’s ice-blues, unblink
ing. Aari tried to hold his stare but ended up glancing sideways before looking back. I can’t read this guy, he thought. It’s like he just doesn’t show emotion.
Hutar put the book aside and leaned forward, arms resting on his knees. “I see you are the only one who has agreed to meet with me. That is one more than I thought would come.”
“I can’t believe I’m sitting here talking to you,” Aari blurted before catching himself and mentally kicking his rear end.
“I am surprised you came at all. Why did you?”
“To hear you out.” Aari crossed his arms. “And to say that what you did, saving Elder Nageau . . . that was selfless.”
Hutar’s face remained inscrutable. “Where are the others?”
“They don’t really want to be anywhere near you.”
“I cannot say that I blame them.”
A pause came between them. Aari jerked his chin at Hutar. “How’s the injury? It’s only been a week and you’re out and about.”
Hutar studied his fingernails. “Better. Huyani is a great healer and it helps that she is skillful with our remedial solutions.” He halted his preening and looked directly at Aari. “You have a question.”
“I’d just like to know why you wanted to speak with us.”
“I wanted to speak with you because I wished to apologize for what I did in the past, and I would like for bygones to be bygones. However I am certainly not a fool. I know that will not happen overnight, but I was hoping the healing would begin.”
“That’s it?” Aari asked flatly.
“That is all.” Hutar absently touched the center of his chest as he let his eyes wander around the library, ignoring the guards on either side of him. “I am curious, Aari. How is your training? I have heard mutters from my people that you and your friends have begun to exhibit some great abilities as a group.”
Aari tucked his chin against his chest, face hardening. “Training’s fine.”
