by Sue Duff
By the time the sun leaned toward the ocean and the energy of the earth replenished Ian’s core, confidence filled him with peace.
Part Two
Illusion is the art of creating the impossible.
David Copperfield
{26}
Patrick left the coffee shop and chose a patio table next to the sidewalk as instructed. It gave Tara a clear view from the roof. He panned the buildings across the street, trying to locate which spot she’d chosen.
“Stop looking for me,” Tara said in his earpiece.
“Sorry.” He lowered his face to his cell screen. “I just wanted to verify you were where you said you’d be.”
“Focus on what you need to be doing and don’t worry about me,” Tara said.
He swiped the screen. “You’re used to this, I’m not.”
“You’ve begged Ian to let you be more involved. This is an opportunity to prove yourself.”
“Right. No pressure there, whatsoever.”
Tara cleared her throat. “Here she comes.”
Carlene crossed the street with a small boy in her arms. Patrick rose and pulled the chair out for her when she entered the café’s patio by the street gate.
She settled in the seat with an appreciative smile. “Bry don’t you want your own chair?”
The boy dug himself deeper in his mother’s lap and peered at Patrick like he was an unwanted nap.
“Bry, this is my friend, Patrick.”
“Hey, sport. Your mommy’s told me a lot about you.”
Bryant Donovan closely resembled Carlene with matching brown eyes and hair that shimmered auburn in the bright af-ternoon sun. His innocence dispelled the last of Patrick’s resistance at getting involved.
“I never realized how close our mothers were. She really enjoyed seeing you again.”
“I’m sorry she never got a chance to see how much Bry has grown.” Carlene wrapped her arms around her son.
He melted into his mother’s embrace, and his eyes smiled at Patrick. A sheepish grin crept up his face. Patrick winked at him.
“Mommy, I’m twirsty.”
Patrick got up. “I’ll get it. What would you like?”
“Duce,” he said.
“Juice,” Carlene translated. “Apple if they have it.”
“Coming right up, sport.” Patrick stepped inside and stood in line. He tilted his head and scratched behind his ear. “Does it look like anyone’s tailing her?”
“Not yet,” Tara said. “Stick to the plan, Patrick.”
Patrick rubbed his sweaty palms together. He got the apple juice and brought it outside. He pulled a napkin out of his pocket and set the drink down on it in front of Bryant. “Here you go.”
“What do you say?” Carlene said.
“Tank you.” Bryant grabbed the cup with both hands and slumped back against his mother, sipping through the straw with loud slurps. The slurps soon turned to bubbles.
“Here’s Ian’s autograph that you asked for.” Patrick slid a small book toward her with a picture of Mickey Mouse on the cover.
“Thank Ian for me,” she said. “I hope Bry can see one of his shows someday. He’s amazing.”
“Ian’s just full of surprises,” Patrick said.
“Stop improvising,” Tara snapped in his ear.
Patrick cringed. He smiled at Carlene when she threw him a puzzled expression.
They chatted until Bryant drained the glass. Carlene pushed away from the table. “I’m sorry, but we need to run. Thank Ian again for the autograph. Give your mother my best the next time you talk to her.” She picked up Bryant and settled him on her hip. “What do you say, Bry?”
He hid his face in her shoulder.
“Sorry, he’s like this with strangers.” She grabbed her purse and slung it over her shoulder. “Let’s try and keep in touch.”
“Let’s.” Patrick remained standing while she walked to her car. Bryant peeked at him from over her shoulder. When he waved, the boy grinned and hid his face, then looked again a second later. He played the game all the way to their car.
“Sit down and finish your coffee,” Tara said.
Patrick plopped down in his chair and watched Carlene climb into her car to secure Bryant in his car seat. “Anything?” Patrick said behind his coffee cup.
“Nothing that screams she’s being followed.”
“Then we should head back.” He tossed his empty cup in a nearby trash can.
“I’ll meet you at the car,” Tara said.
Patrick strolled along the sidewalk feeling pretty smug. This cloak-and-dagger stuff was fun. When he entered the parking lot, he hit the remote. The car beeped and the lights flashed. He got in and shut the door.
“How’d it go?”
Startled, Patrick grabbed the steering wheel with both hands. He found Ian’s reflection in the rearview mirror. “I thought you weren’t coming?”
Ian passed one of his sleight-of-hand performance balls be-tween his fingers. “Just checking.”
“You coached the hell out of us, Ian. We all know what to do.”
“Props and equipment are predictable,” he said. “People aren’t. The stalker is the wild card. I don’t know anything about him. He could turn this entire thing sideways without a moment’s notice.”
Patrick half turned in his seat and regarded Ian. There was something bothering him. He would often get moody, brooding, right before doing a new illusion. But this was different. “You okay?” Patrick asked.
“Something’s been bothering me, like an itch that I can’t scratch.”
“What?” Patrick asked.
“Carlene told me they’d arranged for a babysitter in their suite. But from what we overheard in the hallway the other night, Donovan chose to take Bryant to that business meeting. Why?”
Ian’s question gave Patrick pause. If Donovan was con-ducting business with a powerful Sar, why risk endangering the boy? “What do you think it means?” Patrick said.
“Maybe nothing. Perhaps everything.” Ian stared out the side window. “Tell me about the child.”
{27}
Jaered watched Carlene Donovan exit the hotel.
He left the lobby a few steps behind her and crossed to the opposite side of the street. The woman often glanced over her shoulder and paused in front of shop windows while studying her surroundings. Did she suspect her husband was having her followed?
It wasn’t difficult to stay off her radar. Jaered spent his life living that way. Born Aeros’s son, forever linked to the man who destroyed an entire planet’s ecosystem, had dictated it. Surviving his childhood had been a challenge.
She lingered next to a bus stop cubicle and pulled a small book out of her purse with a picture of a mouse on the cover. She flipped through the pages and then paused as if reading.
Jaered raised his face to the sun. Even after a year and a half of living on Earth, its gentle rays continued to fascinate him. Its ability to nourish a thriving planet, instead of devastating everything it touched, remained a foreign concept to him. Everyone on Earth, the Weir and humans alike, took so much for granted.
Whenever he brooded like this, his thoughts dwelled on the souls he couldn’t forget, forever lost in the struggle to save their dying planet. Those still alive on Thrae were the fuel that drove him to follow a young mother caught in the middle of a battle she knew nothing about, and to do the unthinkable.
She entered a shop. He stepped off the curb and crossed the street. Dressing rooms and back alleys were opportunities.
Carlene was sorting through piles of shirts on a table when Jaered entered. She didn’t look up at the tinkling bell announcing his arrival.
“Welcome,” the young woman said from behind the counter. “Let me know if you have any questions, or if I can help you find something.”
Jaered glanced about the shop. To his dismay, it was a children’s boutique. Scratch the dressing room. Two women walked in and brushed past him. They stopped at the sale table
and took a break from texting to check out some garments next to Donovan’s wife. Jaered turned to escape before suffocating from the whimsical décor and candy-colored garments. It was as if the tinkling bell snickered on his way out the door.
He slipped into the bus stop cubicle at the curb and leaned against the glass-paneled wall. He closed his eyes. For the greater good, he recited over and over, but there was nothing great, or good, about any of this.
“I don’t want excuses, I want assurances.” Donovan’s voice came from behind. “If you can’t have the shipment ready on time, I’ll find someone who can.”
Jaered gazed beyond the cubicle partition. Donovan strolled toward the shop. He had his cell pressed to one ear while a small boy trailed from his other hand.
His wife stepped out of the boutique with a shopping bag.
“Mommy!” The child let go and hopped on his toes the rest of the way. She gathered him up into her arms. They touched foreheads in greeting. He held up a dinosaur. “This finger got ate by the dino.” He held out his pinky on the same hand that clutched the toy.
“There’s not much missing. He wasn’t too hungry.” She kissed it.
“How much more?” Donovan pursed his lips. “But you will guarantee it’ll be ready? Very well. Add the personnel that you need. I’ll approve it.”
“Problems at work?” she asked.
“I have a lot riding on this project. Everything, in fact.” Donovan looked up from his cell screen and tapped his son’s nose. “But some things are worth the outcome.” He eyed the shopping bag. “What’s that?”
“Something for Bry.”
Donovan shook his head. “Women and shopping.”
“It’s in our genes.” She gave him a relaxed smile.
“Park, park, park,” Bryant said and hugged his mother.
“Looks like you’ve got your hands full,” she said to Donovan. “I’ll take him so you can go to the office.”
“Here’s the car key.” He dangled it in front of her. When she reached for it, he grabbed her hand in a tight fist. “Wait, on second thought.” Her eyes widened. Her lips parted. He kissed her, not affectionately, but rough, wielding power over her. Donovan let go. She pulled her son tighter to her chest. He rubbed the boy’s head affectionately. “Going to the park sounds like a great way to spend the afternoon as a family.”
Fear flickered across her face. She regained her composure. “I thought you had a lot on your plate?”
“Family time is what’s important in life. Am I right?” He waved his cell phone. “I’m only a call or text away if they need me.”
When Donovan turned, he glanced at Jaered through the smoky glass partition. If he was surprised to find Jaered there, he didn’t show it. The young family strolled back toward their hotel. Carlene Donovan hugged her son close to her chest.
When they reached the parking garage, Jaered headed for his car. A sleepless night and a lengthy phone call with Eve hadn’t yielded any alternatives. Getting Donovan to hand over the formula, and stopping his father’s shipment, took precedent over any obstacle.
Even if it meant that a young mother had to die.
{28}
The park bustled with activity thanks to the warm, sunny afternoon. Patrick leaned against the car, stretching his calf muscles. “The fickle finger of fate has rammed up our butts.”
“I’m sure if she could have slipped away as planned, she would have.” Tara sat inside the car with the small binoculars up to her face.
“What other glitches are on the horizon?” Patrick said.
“Welcome to Ian’s world,” Tara said. “If you want to be a part of it, you’ll learn to go with the obstacles life throws at you.”
“Obstacles I can dodge. Train wrecks are something else.”
“Stop with the drama,” Tara said, but the edge in her voice gave away her concern. Carlene was supposed to rendezvous with Tara and Patrick at the park. Donovan hadn’t been in this part of the equation. They were waiting for Ian to contact them with a revision.
Patrick dried his sweaty palms on his pants. “Why couldn’t Ian just shyft them to some secret hideaway halfway across the world and have this done by dinner?”
“One. Carlene is human. Ian’s not about to violate Weir law and disclose his powers to her. He’s in enough hot water with the Primary as it is. Two. Carlene and your mother are expecting Ian to use his skills as an illusionist to pull this off. He needs to keep up the ruse for their benefit.” Tara lowered the binoculars. “But it’ll also buy us time.”
Patrick paused in the middle of his stretch. “Time for what?” What hadn’t Ian shared with him?”
“Ian intends to infiltrate Donovan’s company. And this way—”
“Donovan will be too busy trying to find his wife and kid to pay attention to what’s going on at the office.” Patrick’s strained muscles started to unwind.
“Carlene’s hoisting Bryant up on the monkey bars,” Tara said. “Patrick, go. He’s climbed to the top.”
“But we haven’t heard back from Ian, yet.”
“Carlene doesn’t know that. She’s sticking to the original plan,” Tara said.
“Donovan could recognize me from the masquerade ball.” Patrick hesitated.
“You’ve got a hood. Use it.” Tara gestured. “Go!”
Patrick pulled up the hood on his sweat shirt. He took off at a jog and kept one eye on the boy and his mother. Donovan had settled on the bench with his nose in his cell phone. Patrick navigated the path while silently pleading for him to stay there. Caution dragged his pace. It took only a second for him to realize he was taking too long. Bryant was halfway down the bars. Patrick picked up his speed and clenched his teeth as he approached the play area, dreading what he was about to do.
Something slammed into Patrick’s back. He landed on all fours. No! He couldn’t screw up before he got started.
Shrieks filled the playground. Patrick jolted to his feet. Saxon wore a seeing-eye-dog vest that covered most of the scorch mark. Something was wrong. It was as if the animal had gone rabid, jumping around and snarling at the scrambling bodies of children on the equipment.
Bryant fell through the middle of the bars and landed on the rubbery gravel. He screamed in terror at Saxon’s snapping jowls.
Patrick stared, dumbfounded.
“Get away from him!” Carlene rushed at the wolf, swinging her jacket at him.
Saxon turned and snapped at a girl clinging to the edges of the slide. The wolf turned and leapt at shoes racing toward him from the swings.
Donovan took off toward Saxon. His hand reached under his coat.
Alarms shrilled in Patrick’s head. Did Donovan carry a gun? He looked at Saxon, still focused on wreaking havoc. Patrick headed for the melee. He had to stop Donovan without bringing attention to himself.
Parents shouted with waving arms. Others rolled up maga-zines or newspapers and brandished them in the wolf’s direction. A couple of women threw handfuls of the rubbery pebbles from under the playground equipment. A dozen phones were whipped out of pockets—a couple were thrown at the animal, most snapped pictures. Donovan reached the monkey bars but paused at the social media blitz going on around them. He slowly withdrew his hand from under his coat. Saxon took off cutting in and out between bushes and trees. Brave fathers ran after him but held up at the edge of the park.
“Mommy,” Bryant whimpered.
“I’m here, sweetie,” Carlene said pulling him out between the bars and wrapping her jacket around him. A second later, he cried out in pain.
“What’s wrong?” Donovan said.
“I don’t know. I think it’s his arm.”
“Let me see,” Donovan said. He reached toward Bryant.
Patrick’s breath caught in his throat. Everything hinged on what would happen next.
“No, Mommy,” Bryant cried and buried himself in his mother’s shoulder. Carlene turned away from her husband and held him tight.
A young father grabbe
d his squealing son off the monkey bars. “I’ve never seen a dog that big.”
“It looked more like a wolf than a dog,” a grandpa said dragging an empty stroller across the rubbery gravel, headed for a white-haired woman clutching a toddler.
Donovan punched a button, then held his phone to his ear. “Come on, come on, answer.”
“Who are you calling?” Carlene said.
“His doctor’s office, who do you think?” Donovan snapped. He pulled the phone away. “Blast! I got a recording.”
“It’s Sunday,” Carlene said. “They wouldn’t be open. Be-sides, he’s halfway across town.” She turned for the parking lot. “The Children’s Hospital is nearby. We’ll take him there.”
Donovan blocked her path. “He only gets seen by his pedi-atrician. No one else. You know how I feel about that.”
“Really, Richard? When are you going to realize that your octogenarian pediatrician isn’t the only doctor in San Francis-co?”
“Our Children’s Hospital is the best in the state.” A young mother said, brushing dirt off her little girl. “Celia broke her ankle last year. They were wonderful.”
“Good luck,” another mother called out, carrying her child away from the equipment. “I hope it’s not too serious.”
Carlene stepped around Donovan and paused when she reached their car. With a disgruntled expression, he opened the car door and Carlene slipped into the backseat with Bryant. A moment later, they drove off.
Patrick retraced his steps and got in the car. Tara shifted into reverse. “Where did Saxon come from?” he asked.
Tara held up her cell. “Ian used my GPS. He deposited Saxon in the backseat a second after you took off.”
She drove to the far end of the parking lot and opened the back door. Saxon leapt inside, and they sped off.
“Oscar material,” Patrick said and rubbed the wolf behind the ears. “That rabid dog act had me fooled.”
