The Golden City fr-3

by John Twelve Hawks

  “Is everything all right?”

  “We got lost,” Alice said.

  “That’s not always a bad thing, Alice. Getting lost means you’re trying a different path.”

  He turned away from them and that was it. No words for her. Not even a smile. I’m carrying your child, Maya wanted to say. Just thinking it made her nervous. She pressed her lips together so the words wouldn’t burst out of her mouth.

  Gabriel stood in the middle of the restaurant. When he raised his hands slightly, everyone stopped talking. “This is the first meeting of the worldwide Resistance. I want to thank all of you for coming. According to Jugger, our Japanese friends are stuck in Frankfurt Airport, but we do have delegates from the United States, Canada, Australia and Poland.

  “You are the core, the foundation of our group. I want all of you to get to know each other after I explain the next step in our evolution. The people in this room have different backgrounds and speak different languages. Some of you have unconventional political views while others see yourselves as liberals or conservatives. This issue unites all of us. It transcends conventional political labels. The real division in our society is between those who are aware and those who choose to remain blind.

  “Every person in this room has had a moment when we’ve looked at the world and have realized that a permanent system of surveillance is being created by the new technology. This system is able to track your movements and monitor your actions. In a few years, it would be able to control your behavior and destroy the privacy of thought that is essential for any democracy. We call this system the Vast Machine, and we are attempting to destroy its power.

  “Surveillance technology is the most visible sign of a fundamental change in human society. We are approaching a time when each of us could become another bar-coded object in a world of objects. Distracted by fear and the stress of our contemporary lives, we could only pretend to make free choices. I say ‘pretend’ because the direction of our lives would be manipulated from birth.

  “The people in this room have taken the first step. You’ve seen what’s going on and realized that our freedom is about to be lost forever. The obvious question is: how can stop this from happening?

  “The Tabula and their allies have the power to crush any conventional sort of protest group. They’re like Goliath standing on the battlefield with an enormous sword and shield. The only way to defeat them is to act like a modern David. We need to surprise our enemy with quick, decisive action. We need to conceal our organizing efforts until the last possible moment so that our movement will not be compromised or crushed.

  “Most of you have heard about the Nighthawk-the person who created our encryption code. He’s also developed and released a program called the Revelation Worm, which will allow me to speak to people all over the world. Eric, could you give us some more information…”

  The Nighthawk moved his wheelchair a few feet from the table. Although his body was still crippled, he seemed happy that he had finally left his dormitory room. “Revelation was released six days ago. I estimate that it’s currently hiding in eight to ten million computers, and millions more are being added every day. Remember, this worm can only be activated once, and then security patches will be developed to block it. Think carefully before you pull this particular trigger.”

  Gabriel nodded, and the Nighthawk rejoined his friends. “The moment I make this speech, the Resistance has to appear and assert itself throughout the world. Some of you feel comfortable about taking part in public demonstrations. Consider yourself the ‘Voice of the Street.’ Other people here know how to influence the media and members of the government. You’re the ‘Voice of the Forum,’ and should focus on the activities of the Evergreen Foundation.

  “Both groups are necessary for our success. You need start organizing as soon as possible. Send a brief description of what you plan to do to Linden. He’s in charge of strategy and will make sure that the different groups don’t duplicate activity.”

  A few people nodded and spoke quietly to their friends. Maya stared at Linden, but the Frenchman avoided her eyes. Harlequins weren’t supposed to get involved, but it was clear that Gabriel had pulled him into the Resistance.

  “Most of you have heard about the anthrax scare in Japan and the museum bombings in France. These attacks come from unknown groups with vague objectives, but I don’t believe that these are terrorist actions. In both countries, legislation was immediately proposed by politicians with past involvement with the Evergreen Foundation’s Young World Leaders Program. The new laws would end anonymous activity on the Internet and require mandatory biometric I.D. cards. There’s also been similar activity in the United States. Simon Lumbroso has been monitoring the American media, and he’s going to explain the situation.”

  Simon stood up beside the table and checked a slip of paper with some notes. “Fourteen children have disappeared in California. As the new head of the Evergreen Foundation, Gabriel’s brother, Michael, appeared in Los Angeles and made a speech that received a great deal of publicity. Michael used this crisis to set up something called “The Guardian Angel” system. RFID chips are being placed under the skin of all children under the age of twelve. They are the first generation of people that can be scanned and tracked like merchandise in a department store.”

  Gabriel nodded as Simon sat back down. “What’s going on in California seems to have created conflict within the Tabula, and this might give our side a unique opportunity. One of their leaders, an Englishwoman named Mrs. Brewster, died a few days ago in mysterious car accident. In addition, Alice Chen is going to tell us about her conversation with the foundation’s Head of Security, Nathan Boone. As some of you know, she was taken off a train and held captive at the Evergreen building here in London. During that time, she received a phone call from Boone. Alice, please tell us what he said.”

  Alice stood up. “Mr. Boone asked if I was okay and if liked the food and if I was comfortable. He said he wasn’t in control of the guards at the building, but that I would be safe because he needed to ask me some questions.”

  “Go on…”

  “He said; ‘I once had a little girl in my life and I always wanted her to be safe.’”

  “What happened after that?”

  “He hung up.”

  “Thank you, Alice. You can sit down. After I talked to Alice, I asked Simon to do some research on Nathan Boone.”

  “That wasn’t difficult,” Simon said. “It’s all public information.”

  “Boone has been one of the Tabula’s most effective weapons. They might not realize it yet, but he’s now become their biggest vulnerability. We know that Boone is currently in Los Angeles. He can be seen in the video footage of my brother’s speech. I plan to travel to Los Angeles with Maya as my bodyguard. If we can figure out a safe way to do it, I’ll find Boone and talk to him.”

  ***

  Maya’s face showed no emotion. Boone had killed her father, and now the Traveler wanted to sit down and chat with him. But there was no need for her to express her anger. Almost everyone in the room objected to Gabriel’s proposal. They didn’t trust Boone and felt it was dangerous for the Traveler to be separated from his friends in London.

  Gabriel listened to their arguments, but he refused to change his mind. Throughout the discussion, Maya concentrated on her bandaged leg and tried to appear indifferent. Once, she glanced across the room at Linden, and the Frenchman nodded to show his approval of her behavior. Let the citizens and drones argue about what to do. The Harlequins were calm and steady. They would honor their obligations.

  The meeting finally ended two hours later. The various groups began to leave the restaurant and the bearded gnome bustled about picking up cups and dishes. Gabriel accepted a glass of water and sat down at the table next to Alice Chen.

  “ Alice, I know you like to be with Maya, but she’s going with me to Los Angeles. Linden has agreed to protect you, but it’s easier for him to do this in Paris.”
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  Alice glanced at Maya as if to ask: Is this all right with you? After Maya nodded, the little girl got up from her chair approached Linden. “Will you teach me how to fight like Maya?”

  Linden looked startled for a second, and then he actually smiled. “That can be arranged.”

  ***

  Maya followed Gabriel out of the restaurant and into Winston’s van. They were silent on the way back to Camden Town, silent as they followed the familiar route through the marketplace to the drum shop hidden in the catacombs.

  Winston unlocked the door to the secret apartment. “Will you be all right, Mr. Corrigan?”

  “There’s nothing to worry about, Winston. Maya is guarding me. Go home and get some sleep.”

  “Ahhh, yes.” Winston’s face brightened. “Sleep would be a delightful activity.”

  Maya went over to Linden ’s folding cot and pulled off her leather jacket. She placed the sword carrier on the bed, followed by her two knives and the 9mm automatic she’d been wearing in an ankle holster. As usual, it made her feel vulnerable to be without her weapons. A small mirror in an ebony wood frame had been attached to the wall and, if she moved back and forth, she could see sections of her face. She hadn’t washed her hair in three days. No makeup. And she looked tired. It doesn’t make any difference, Maya told herself. She could be wearing a designer gown and the Traveler would still see the truth in her eyes.

  Gabriel was making a pot of tea when she returned to the kitchen. “Are you hungry?” he asked. “We’ve got crackers and dry sausage, a pot of marmalade, two apples and a can of sardines.”

  “Food is food, Gabriel. Anything’s okay with me.”

  Maya thought about her father as Gabriel rummaged through the cupboard and poured hot water into the teapot. Whenever Thorn came back from a long trip, he would buy food at the market, stand in the kitchen and cook an elaborate meal for her mother. Sometimes, a throwing knife would still be strapped to his arm, but he talked softly as he chopped up peppers and cooked pasta.

  “Here we go.” Gabriel placed the teapot and two plates of food in the middle of the table. Then he sat in the opposite chair and poured her a cup of tea.

  “Do you really want to find Nathan Boone?” she asked. “He killed Vicki and my father. And now you want to talk to him as if he was an ally.”

  “It’s an opportunity. That’s all.”

  “If we find him, you can have your conversation. But when the talking is over-he’s dead. You’re too idealistic, Gabriel. You don’t know who Boone is.”

  “I know what he’s done in the past. But all of us have the power to transform our lives.”

  “Is that what you learned in the Sixth Realm?”

  Gabriel poured some cream into his tea and watched a bubble drift across the surface. “I reached the golden city, but all the gods had vanished. There was only one person there-my father.”

  “What happened? What did he say?”

  “I asked him to return, but he couldn’t do it. He’s been away too long and doesn’t feel attached to this particular reality. I’m not like my father. Because of you, Maya, I’m still connected to this world.”

  “Is that good or bad?” Maya forced a smile.

  “It’s good, of course. Love is the Light within all of us. It can survive even when our physical bodies are lost forever.”

  What’s he telling me? Maya wondered. Is he going to die?

  Gabriel got up from the table and stood beside her. “We can regret the past, but we can’t change what happened. We can anticipate the future, but we can’t control it. All we have is this moment-here in this room.”

  No more words. She stood up, and they held each other. The Traveler embraced her doubts and hesitations; he embraced all of her at that instant. We’re here, Maya thought. Here.

  37

  Nathan Boone established his command post at the Shangri La Hotel in West Los Angeles. He was about ten minutes away from where Michael Corrigan was staying-a pretentious place on the beach called the El Dorado. Boone saw no benefit to living in the same hotel as the Traveler. It would only make it easier for Michael to interfere with the current operation.

  Boone liked the bland décor of the rooms at the Shangri La. There were no bright colors-nothing that would agitate the mind. But the best feature of the building was that visitors could enter through the parking structure and avoid the desk clerk. Boone didn’t want someone like Martin Doyle sitting on a couch in the lobby.

  At this moment, Doyle was watching television in the suite’s living room; he particularly enjoyed the news updates about the lost children. Carlo Ramirez, the Peruvian mercenary working as Doyle’s handler, sat beside the little table in Boone’s bedroom. He kept fidgeting and avoiding Boone’s eyes.

  “It was only about five minutes, Mr. Boone. I swear to you-”

  “I don’t care if it was only five seconds. As I told you several weeks ago, your main responsibility is to watch Doyle.” Boone scrawled a few words on a notepad, and Ramirez looked terrified. Perhaps he thought the notepad was some kind of death list.

  “He’s got scars.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Doyle has scars, here and here.” Ramirez touched his breast bone and the back of his hand. “If he’s got two tracer beads inside his body, you can hunt him down at any time.”

  “Mr. Doyle is like a special kind of weapon that helps us achieve our objectives. But that doesn’t mean I want him roaming freely through this city. What are you going to do next time Doyle gets away from you?”

  “I’ll find him and destroy him, sir.”

  “Destroy him immediately.”

  “I understand, Mr. Boone.”

  “Good. Now send him in here.”

  Still sweating, Ramirez left the room. Boone sipped ice tea and gazed out the window at the shoreline park on the other side of Ocean Avenue. During the last twenty years, winter storms had eroded the cliffs at the edge of the park. In certain places, sidewalks and flower beds had fallen down the slope to the coast highway. Boone was starting to think that everything around him was falling apart. A few days ago, Mrs. Brewster and her driver had gone off a cliff near the Portreath airport, and the authorities still hadn’t pulled the car out of the water.

  Martin Doyle swaggered into the room and shut the door. Since leaving Thailand, he had lost his bloated appearance. Now he resembled an unemployed actor who worked part-time as a trainer at a gym. Doyle made a point of eating special meals that included fat-free cheese, pomegranate juice and steel-cut oatmeal. He was a walking refutation of the theory that a healthy diet led to a virtuous life.

  “It looks like you tied up Ramirez and dunked him in the pool.” Doyle chuckled as he sat down. “Good for you, Boone. Guys like that need to be kept in line.”

  “We were talking about you, Mr. Doyle. I learned that you wandered away from the rest of the team.”

  “That was no big deal. Just a little mistake. Nothing to worry about.” Doyle leaned back in his chair. “So how we doing, Boone? Are people scared enough? Or should I scare them a little bit more?”

  “I don’t want you to do anything for the next few days.”

  “Maybe I should go out to the desert.”

  “No.”

  “What’s out in the desert is the only thing that can hurt us. I created a story for you. A fairy tale about a monster. But the story needs an ending.”

  “Mr. Ramirez is taking you to a hotel in Culver City. Stay there until you receive instructions.”

  “Does this new hotel have an exercise room?”

  “I think so.”

  “Good. I’m trying to get back in shape.” Doyle stood up, glanced at Boone’s open suitcase, and then sauntered back to the door. Suddenly, he turned, and there was a different expression in his eyes-that same mixture of shrewdness and hate that Boone had seen in Thailand.

  “Are we doing what we’re supposed to do?”

  “What do you mean by that?”

  “I’m f
ollowing orders, being a good soldier. I just want to make sure that all of us are moving in the right direction.”

  Instead of showing anger, Boone took off his steel-rimmed glasses and cleaned them with a tissue. “Do you remember when we hunted you down like a runaway pig? Remember how you lay on the dirt, screaming?”

  Doyle’s hands clenched as the demon kicked and scratched inside his brain. “Yeah. I remember.”

  “Good. That’s good, Mr. Doyle. Just checking.”

  ***

  Boone didn’t relax until he heard Doyle and Ramirez leave the hotel suite. Then he went out to the living room, got a bottle of vodka from the mini-bar, and poured it into his glass of iced tea. Right now he was vulnerable. Doyle sensed that weakness. What’s out in the desert is the only thing that can hurt us. Well, that’s not exactly true, Boone thought. I’m the only person who is in danger. Even this hotel room wasn’t safe. If the police arrived, they would find a manila envelope that contained black-and-white photographs of the kidnapped children. It was painful to look at their frightened faces, but Boone didn’t have the strength to destroy the images.

  His fingers touched the little bottles of liquor in the rack, and then he turned away from this temptation. For the first time in a great many years, he wanted to talk to someone about what was bothering him, but that was impossible. He didn’t have any friends; it was a mistake to reveal yourself to another person. Of course there were always a few people who already knew you well.

  Boone returned to the bedroom, switched on his computer, and began to answer email. But certain memories pushed through his mind with such power that his fingers were frozen on the keyboard. Maybe he should go see her and confront the weakness that she represented. If you had an enemy, you should destroy that person, even if it was just another aspect of yourself.

  ***

  Anthony Cannero and Myron Riles were the other two members of the team working in Los Angeles. Boone called both men and told them he was going to evaluate a site for a meeting. Then he left the hotel in his rental car and turned onto the coast highway. Route One marked the transition point between the continental United States and the blue-green expanse of the Pacific Ocean. Boone felt like he was passing through a borderland with surfboard shops and seaside villas. He drove a little faster as the morning fog burned away and patches of reflected sunlight appeared on the water.