Circle Series 4-in-1

by Ted Dekker

“Can I walk with you?”

  “Sure. Maybe I can help you remember a few things along the way. Your memory certainly needs some prodding.”

  Before he could respond to her obvious needling, a large white beast stepped out of the trees toward them. A tiger, pure white with green eyes. Thomas stopped abruptly.

  Rachelle looked at him, then at the tiger. “That, for example, is a white tiger.”

  “A tiger. I remember that.”

  “Good.”

  She walked to the animal, hugged it around the neck, and ruffled its ears. The tiger licked her cheek with a large tongue and she nuzzled its nose. Apparently all in the course of a day. Then she insisted that he come over and scratch the tiger’s neck with her. It would be easier for him to remember if he engaged the world actively.

  Thomas wasn’t sure how to read her comments. She said them all with a smile and with apparent sincerity, but he couldn’t help thinking that she was edging him on or chiding him for his lackluster romancing.

  Or she could be playing hard to get. Could that be part of the Great Romance?

  On the other hand, she may have already decided he wasn’t quite what she’d hoped for. Maybe the game was at its end. Could you un-choose, once having chosen?

  They walked a few steps with tiger in tow. Rachelle plucked a yellow fruit from a small leafed tree.

  “What is this?” she asked.

  “I . . . I don’t know.”

  “A lemon.”

  “A lemon, yes, of course, I remember that too.”

  “And if you put the juice of this lemon on a cut, what happens?”

  “It heals?”

  She curtsied. “Very good.” They walked on and Rachelle picked a cherry-sized purple fruit from a low tree with wide branches. “And this one?”

  “I don’t think I know that one.”

  She circled him as she held up the fruit. “Try to remember. I’ll give you a hint. Its flesh is sour. No one likes them much.”

  He grinned and shook his head. “No. Doesn’t ring any bells.”

  “If you eat it”—she imitated a small bite with perfectly formed white teeth—“your mind reacts.”

  “No, no. Still nothing.”

  “Rhambutan,” she said. “It puts you to sleep. You don’t even dream.” She tossed it back to the tiger, but the beast ignored it.

  They’d come to the edge of the forest. The village sat peacefully in the valley, glimmering with the brightly colored homes leading concentrically to the great Thrall.

  Rachelle gazed down the hill and spoke without looking at him. “You are even more mysterious and wonderful than I imagined when I chose you.”

  “I am?”

  “You are.”

  He should respond in kind, but the words weren’t coming.

  “You might want to work on your memory, of course,” she said.

  “Actually, my memory works well in some areas.”

  She faced him. “Is that so? What areas are those?”

  “In my dreams. I’m having vivid dreams that I live in the histories. And all of that I remember. It’s almost as real as this place.”

  She searched his eyes. “And do you remember how to romance in these dreams?”

  “Romance? Well, I don’t have a girlfriend or anything, if that’s what you mean, no. But maybe I do know some things.” Kara’s advice on romance came back to him. Now would be a good time to turn up the wooing quotient. “But nothing like this. Nothing so wonderful and beautiful as you. No one who captures my heart so completely with a single touch or a passing smile.”

  The corner of her mouth tugged into a faint smile. “My, you are remembering. You may dream all you like, my dear.”

  “Only if I can dream about you,” he said.

  She reached up and touched his cheek. “Good-bye, Thomas Hunter. I will see you soon.”

  He swallowed. “Good-bye.”

  Then she was walking down the hill.

  Thomas walked back from the crest so that he wouldn’t be visible from the valley. The last thing he wanted at the moment was for Tanis or Palus to come flying up for a report.

  He knew he wouldn’t be dreaming of Rachelle, despite his sentiments to do so. He’d be dreaming of Bangkok, where he was expected to deliver some critical information on the Raison Strain.

  He stopped by a large green tree and looked east. The black forest was about an hour’s walk. The answers to a dozen questions could be there. Questions about what had happened to him in the black forest. Where he’d come from. Questions about the histories. The Raison Strain.

  What if he were to go? Just one quick visit, to satisfy himself. The others might not even know he was missing. Michal might. But he couldn’t continue on with these impossible dreams or without knowing exactly how he’d come to be in the black forest in the first place. One way or the other, he had to know precisely what had happened, was happening, to him. He might find those answers only in the black forest, just as Tanis might find his satisfaction only in an expedition there.

  But not now.

  He leaned against the green trunk and crossed his arms. His legs had a rubbery feel to them, like noodles. He hadn’t realized that romancing required so much energy.

  17

  OF COURSE she likes me,” Thomas said. He’d slept half the night, but felt as though he was running on fumes here.

  Kara looked at him across the wrought-iron table. “I think wishful thinking is rearing its beautiful head, dear brother. For all you know, winking means, ‘Take a hike.’”

  They were seated in the café adjacent to the atrium where Raison Pharmaceutical would make its grand announcement as soon as the entourage arrived. The main courtyard milled with dozens of reporters and local officials awaiting this momentous occasion. You’d think they were receiving the president. In Southeast Asia—any excuse for a ceremony. Thomas was surprised they didn’t have a ribbon to cut. Any excuse to cut a ribbon.

  Thomas scanned the crowd for the hundredth time, considering yet again his options. Getting to Monique de Raison shouldn’t be a problem. Convincing her to order additional testing of the drug didn’t seem unreasonable either. The real challenge would be the timing. Getting to Monique before the announcement if possible; convincing her to do more testing before shipping.

  “I have a bad feeling about this,” he said. He felt like a worn leather sole. His eyes hurt and his temples throbbed.

  “You sure you’re okay?” Kara asked. “I know you’ve been insisting you’re peachy all morning, but you really do look horrible.”

  “I’m tired is all. Soon as we deal with this thing, I’ll sleep for a week.”

  “Maybe not.”

  “Meaning what?”

  “Meaning the dreams. They’re real, remember? Maybe the reason you’re not getting any rest is because you’re not.”

  “Because when I’m asleep there, I’m awake here and vice versa.”

  “Think about it,” Kara said. “You’re tired in both places. You just fell asleep on the hill overlooking the valley while contemplating the Great Romance.”

  “No, I was contemplating returning to the black forest at the urging of my sister.”

  Thomas heard a commotion by the front doors. A guest’s baggage had toppled from a cart, and several bellhops were frantically throwing it back on.

  “You’re right that I’m just as tired there. I keep falling asleep. It’s one of the only things that’s similar. Everything else is different. I wear different clothes; I talk differently—”

  “How do you talk?”

  “More like them. You know, eloquent and romantic. Like a hundred years ago.”

  She grinned. “Charming.”

  “You’d be surprised.”

  “Oh, brother.”

  Thomas felt the first of a blush warm his face. “I know it sounds sappy, but things are just different there.”

  “Clearly. The point is, you can’t keep going like this. You’re exhausted, you’re nervou
s, you’re sweating, and you’re chewing on your fingernail. You have to get some rest.”

  Thomas pulled his finger from his mouth. “Of course I’m sweating. It’s hot.”

  “Not in here it’s not.”

  For the first time Thomas seriously considered his physical condition. What if she was right and he wasn’t getting any real sleep at all? He instinctively ran his fingers through his dark curls in an attempt to put them in order. It helped that his hairstyle was a tad avant-garde, or “messy,” as Kara put it. He wore a pair of Lucky jeans, featherweight black boots, and a black T-shirt, tucked in at Kara’s insistence given the occasion. The shirt had an inscription in white schizoid letters:

  I’ve gone to find myself.

  If I get back before I return, please keep me here.

  “Maybe I’m sleeping, but my mind’s so active that I’m not getting good rest,” he said.

  The loitering crowd suddenly surged toward the atrium.

  Thomas jumped to his feet, knocking over his chair. “She’s here!”

  “Did I mention edgy?” Kara asked. “Calm and collected, Thomas. Calm and collected.”

  He righted the chair and then strode toward the entrance with Kara hurrying to keep pace.

  “Slow down.”

  He didn’t slow down.

  The door opened and two husky men dressed in black stepped into the reception area. Thai sak tattoos marked their forearms. There were basically two varieties of tattoos in Thailand: khawm designs meant to invoke the power to love, and sak designs meant to invoke the power against death. These were the latter, worn by men in dangerous lines of work. Clearly security. Not that Thomas cared—he wasn’t planning on jumping the woman. Their eyes made quick work of the room.

  Two red cords draped through golden posts formed a temporary path toward the atrium. The men blocked the space between the last post and the entrance, pushed the doors open, and swept their arms to guide their employer.

  The strong, confident face of the woman who stepped into the lobby of the Sheraton Grande Sukhumvit commanded attention. She wore expensive-looking navy heels without nylons. Sculpted calves. Navy blue skirt and blazer with a white silk blouse. Gold necklace with a nondescript gold pendant that looked vaguely like a dolphin. Flashing blue eyes. Dark, shoulder-length hair.

  Monique de Raison.

  “My, my,” Kara said.

  Flashbulbs popped. Most of the guests waited in the atrium, where a podium had been set up amid a virtual jungle of exotic flowering plants. Monique gave the room one glance and then walked briskly toward the atrium.

  Thomas angled for the ropes. “Excuse me!” They hadn’t heard him. And she was a fast walker.

  Thomas hurried to intercept them. “Excuse me, Monique de Raison.”

  “Thomas! You’re yelling!” Kara whispered.

  Monique and her security goons were ignoring him. Behind the lead three, an entourage of Raison Pharmaceutical employees were filing into the lobby.

  “Excuse me, are you deaf?” he demanded. Yelled.

  This time the security men swiveled in his direction. Monique turned her head and drilled him with a stare. The sight of an American strutting for her clad in a black T-shirt and jeans clearly didn’t impress. She diverted her stare and walked on as if she’d passed nothing more than a curious-looking dog on the street.

  Thomas felt his pulse surge. “I’m here with the Centers for Disease Control. I lost my bags and don’t have the right clothes. I have to talk to you before you make your announcement.” He didn’t yell now, but his voice carried loudly enough.

  Monique stopped. The security stepped to either side, glaring like two Dobermans begging to pounce. She faced Thomas at ten feet. Her eyes glanced at the inscription on his chest. Maybe he should have worn the shirt inside out. Kara bumped into his side.

  “This is my assistant, Kara Hunter. My name is Thomas.” He stepped forward, and the guard to her right immediately moved forward as a precaution.

  “I just need a minute,” Thomas said.

  “I don’t have a minute,” Monique said. Her voice was soft and low and carried a slight French accent.

  “I don’t think you understand. There’s a problem with the vaccine.”

  Thomas knew before the last word left his mouth that it was the wrong thing to say. Any such suggestion or any endorsement of any such suggestion would be poison to the value of Raison Pharmaceutical stock.

  Monique’s brow lifted slightly. “Is that so?”

  No turning back now. “Yes. Unless you want me to spill the beans here, in front of them all, I suggest you take a moment, just one teeny-weeny moment, and talk to me.” His confidence surged. What could she say to that?

  “Afterward,” she said and turned on her heels.

  He took a long step in her direction. “Hey!”

  The security man closest put up a hand. Thomas had half a notion to take him on right here, right now. The man was twice his size, but he’d picked up a few new skills as of late.

  Kara grabbed his arm. “Afterward will work.”

  The entourage came abreast with curious stares. Thomas wondered if anyone would recognize him from the incident at the gates yesterday. Undoubtedly the whole thing had been caught by security cameras.

  “Okay, afterward. Try to keep your head low. Someone might recognize us.”

  “My point exactly. We talked about this, remember? No scene. I didn’t come to Bangkok to get thrown in jail.”

  The announcement was surprisingly short and to the point. Monique delivered it with all the poise of an experienced politician. Raison Pharmaceutical had completed the development of a new airborne super-vaccine engineered to vaccinate against nine primary viruses, including SARS and HIV. This was followed by a laundry list of details for the world health community. Not once did she look in Thomas’s direction.

  She waited till the end to drop the bomb.

  Although the company was waiting for FDA approval in the United States, the governments of seven countries in Africa and three in Asia had placed orders for the vaccine, and the World Health Organization had given its blessing after receiving assurances that the vaccine would not spontaneously spread beyond a specified geographical region, due to engineered limitations that shortened the vaccine’s life. The first order would be delivered to South Africa within twenty-four hours.

  “Now, I’ll be happy to answer a few questions.”

  The mind works in strange ways. Thomas’s had worked in the strangest of ways over the last few days. In and out of realities, crossing the seas, waking and sleeping in starts and fits. But with Monique de Raison’s final statement, everything came into simple focus.

  There was a Raison Vaccine. It would mutate into a virus that would make SARS look like a case of the hiccups. It was now being shipped to South Africa. He, Thomas Hunter from Denver, Colorado, and Kara Hunter from the same were the only people on the face of the earth who knew this.

  It had all seemed somewhat dreamlike until this moment. Now it was tangible. Now he was staring at Monique de Raison and hearing her tell the world that boxes of the drug that would kill millions was boxed and ready for shipment. Maybe shipped already. Maybe it was in the back of some transport plane now, being baked by the hot sun. Mutating.

  The sum of his predicament shoved him out of his chair.

  “Thomas.”

  “Did you hear that?”

  “Sit.”

  She pulled at his arm. He sat. The reporters were asking her questions. Bulbs kept flashing.

  “We have to stop that shipment.”

  “She said she’d talk to us afterward,” Kara insisted between clenched teeth. “A few more minutes.”

  “What if she won’t listen?” Thomas asked.

  “Then we try the authorities again. Right?”

  He’d considered the possibility that Monique was a brick upstairs and would scoff, but, listening to her, she seemed far too intelligent. He really hadn’t considered anything
other than her willingness to cooperate. That’s the way it went in dreams. Ultimately, it all really does work out. Or you wake up.

  Suddenly he wasn’t sure of either.

  “Right, Thomas?”

  “Right.”

  “What does that mean?” she asked.

  “It means right.”

  “I don’t like the way you said—”

  A smattering of applause rippled through the courtyard. Thomas stood. Monique was finished. Music swelled. This was it.

  “Let’s go.” He headed to the front, eyes fixed on Monique, who was straightening papers at the podium. A rope lined with three security men now separated the platform from the dispersing audience. Several reporters were summarily turned away when they approached the platform.

  Monique caught his eye, looked away as if she hadn’t noticed, and headed stage right.

  “Monique de Raison!” Thomas called. “A moment, if you don’t mind.”

  Heads turned and the hubbub eased.

  Here they went again. Thomas walked straight for her. A guard moved to intercept.

  “It’s okay, Lawrence. I’ll speak to them,” she said quietly.

  Thomas stared the man off. They were wearing guns, this one on his waist. Thomas stepped onto the stage, helped Kara up, and crossed to where Monique had stopped. He had no doubt that if he hadn’t made a scene she would be in the limousine already. As his sensei was fond of saying, there was no better way to disarm an opponent than with an element of surprise. Not necessarily through timing as most assumed, but as often through method. Shock and awe.

  Despite the fact that Monique looked neither shocked nor awed, he knew he’d gotten under her skin at least. More important, he was talking to her.

  “Thank you for your time,” Thomas said. The time for shock and awe was now passed. Diplomacy. “It is most kind of you to—”

  “I’m already late for an interview with the TIME magazine bureau chief. Make your point, Mr. . . .”

  “Hunter. You don’t have to be rude.”

  She sighed. “You’re right. I’m sorry, but it’s been a very busy week. When a man walks up to me and lies to my face, my patience is the first to go.”