by Mel Odom
Only the hum of the NanoDyne electromagnetic engines filled the ATV’s interior. Simon couldn’t help remembering his own experience with demonic books.
“That was when I snapped,” Macomber said. “I burned the manuscript. Unfortunately, I also apparently burned the apartment where I was living and set the building on fire. I’m told that the fire department almost didn’t get the blaze out in time.” He paused and took a sip of his water. “My wife, bless her, didn’t know what I had been through. She had me committed. I didn’t blame her then, and I don’t blame her now.” Tears showed in the old man’s eyes. “The television news stories made her out to be some kind of monster. But she wasn’t the monster. I have seen monsters.”
“It must have been very hard,” Leah said gently.
Macomber turned his head to focus on her. He smiled. “You’re very pretty.”
Leah smiled back. “Thank you.”
“Do you know where to find the book?” Simon asked. “I don’t mean to sound insensitive, but—”
“You’re not insensitive,” Macomber said. “I saw the pain in your eyes when you told me about your father’s death. It’s just that these are hard times. We have to acknowledge that and go on.” He drew a breath. “As I said, I’ve never seen the true manuscript, but I do know where it can be found.”
Simon stared at the map of the city of London on the wide-screen monitor in front of him. If Macomber had known how to use the armor’s AI system and if Leah had been privy to all the Templar systems instead of just the comm frequency, they could have worked over the HUDs.
But the ATVs carried redundant systems. The monitor was one of those and intended for use in times that non-Templar personnel were aboard.
“When you’re in a madhouse,” Macomber said with all seriousness, “you meet all kinds of people. There are some in there who have serious problems. I can tell you truthfully many times the medication, the treatment programs, and the lack of empathy on part of the personnel contribute to those problems.” He leaned closer to the screen. “There’s a sanitarium somewhere around the East India docks. I believe the name is Akehurst Home for the Criminally Insane.”
Simon initiated a search onscreen. The results came back in seconds. There was no Akehurst Home for the Criminally Insane, but there was an Akehurst Brighter Days Rehabilitation Clinic.
“I guess the new name might seem more hopeful to patients,” Leah said. “Or at least to their families. Probably more likely, though, the insurance companies felt more at ease writing out the monthly checks for care and rehab.”
Voice commands brought up the history of the place as well as images. Property records indicated that Akehurst Brighter Days Rehabilitation Clinic had until 1953 been doing business as Akehurst Home for the Criminally Insane. According to the tax records, the same family owned the property and the business.
The images showed a gray box of a building that squatted like an ancient dog in the middle of landscaped grounds surrounded by a high wrought-iron fence. Three smaller outbuildings surrounded the main building.
The map showed that the rehab clinic was only a few blocks from the Thames. With it in such close proximity to the river, Simon knew demon patrols would be a serious problem.
“Why is the manuscript there?” Simon asked.
“You have to understand that it’s not the original manuscript,” Macomber said. “It’s only a copy.”
“Will a copy work?” Leah asked.
“What I read, what drove me insane there for a time, was just a copy.” Macomber looked at both of them. “You need to understand the kind of power you’re dealing with. Replication doesn’t dull that power or dilute it in any way.” He paused. “Understand also that if you choose to go after this manuscript—”
“We don’t have a choice,” Simon said.
“—your lives will be in the greatest jeopardy you can imagine.”
“They already are,” Leah said.
The suit’s AI broke in as Simon tried to assemble his thoughts and put a plan together.
“Warning. Nine unidentified vehicles are on an approach path with this convoy,” the female voice said. “Efforts to communicate with them have failed. All precautions should be taken at this time.”
Simon closed his faceshield and pulled up the HUD’s radar screen. The sensor drones had already reached the unidentified vehicles.
A schematic of one of them popped on screen. The design was immediately familiar.
“It’s an ATV,” Nathan said.
“Military or Templar?” Danielle asked.
Simon studied the ATVs. The indicator display showed that they were two miles out and closing rapidly.
“Hail them,” Simon said. “Let’s see if they answer.”
As soon as hail went out, there was an immediate response. Terrence Booth’s image formed to the right on the HUD.
Booth was the High Seat of House Rorke, the hereditary leader position within that house. The last four years had evidently been more demanding on him than Simon might have guessed. Although he was only four years older than Simon and currently in his early thirties, Booth’s dark hair and goatee now showed silver streaks. His face and gotten more round and his dark eyes looked more close-set, and lent him a sour look.
The broken nose hadn’t changed a bit. Simon took pride in that. He had been the one to break Booth’s nose. Both times. Once when they were younger and then again four years ago when Simon had last seen the High Seat.
There had been no love lost between them when they were teenagers, and there was less so now. Four years ago, Simon had disobeyed Booth’s direct orders and left the Templar Underground. Several of the Templar had accompanied him.
Simon couldn’t imagine what had brought Booth out of the Underground. But even more puzzling was how Booth had found him here now.
Booth’s presence could only mean that Simon had a traitor in his midst.
TWENTY-TWO
S imon opened a public comm channel rather than going private as Booth’s communiqué had requested. During his leadership role, Simon had chosen to keep all his people informed and up to date. There weren’t going to be any secrets, no divisions of loyalty.
And yet, he told himself, you’ve still managed to bring along an informer. He pushed the thought off. It was something to be dealt with at a later date. And he wasn’t going to go on a bloody witch hunt to find out the informer was.
“You’ve come far afield of your normal stomping grounds, haven’t you, Booth?” Simon asked. He offered no sarcasm, but it was there in his words all the same.
Booth frowned. “I don’t want to make this complicated. And you don’t have to be egregious.”
“No, I don’t have to be. I throw that in for free.” Simon muted the comm for a moment. “Nathan, see if you can break this interception path.”
Immediately, Nathan took a new heading. The ATV crashed through underbrush of an over small trees. The ride became decidedly more bumpy.
On the HUD, Simon watched as the other two ATVs changed course to follow Nathan’s lead. They plunged through the night in single file.
Just as quickly, though, Booth’s vehicles altered course and again pressed for an interception.
“You’re not going to get away that easily,” Booth threatened.
“I wasn’t aware that I was trying to get away,” Simon said. He motioned for Leah and Macomber to resume their seats. “The last time I saw you all, I was under the distinct impression you never wanted to see me again.”
“If I had my way, I wouldn’t see you again.”
“What can I do for you, Booth?”
“Since you haven’t seen fit to die fighting the demons, and you haven’t left well enough alone, I’m forced to have this little meeting with you.”
“And if I should decline?”
“That’s not one of the choices,” Booth said.
The indicator figures showed that 0.473 miles remained between the two groups of vehicles. Tha
t distance diminished quickly.
“It’s come to my attention that you’ve been dealing with that young woman you brought to the Underground,” Booth said. “I’ve been told that you’ve got a man named Archibald Xavier Macomber with you. A professor of linguistics who was, until late, a guest of a Parisian sanitarium.”
Simon was surprised that Booth knew who Macomber was. As a young man growing up, the current High Seat of Rorke hadn’t been one to study. He hadn’t had to. The position was hereditary and his father had been young. At the time, Booth hadn’t figured on becoming High Seat until he was an old man himself.
“That’s none of your business,” Simon said.
Booth shifted in his command chair easily, then leaned forward so that his face filled the vidscreen. “Tonight it is my business. I’m making it my business.”
A chill threaded down Simon’s spine despite the even heating and cooling supplied by the armor. Anger wrenched at his stomach and made his head hot.
“What do you want?” Simon demanded.
Booth shrugged. “I want the professor.”
“Why?”
“For the same reasons you do, of course.”
Simon doubted that. During the last four years the Templar Underground had chosen to remain invisible. They remained hidden within the vast subterranean complexes and kept separate from the living and dying that happened within the ruins of London.
“You’ll understand why I choose not to believe that,” Simon said. “I haven’t seen you take part in striking out against a demon in the last four years.”
Anger mottled Booth’s features. He didn’t like being castigated, much less in public. It hurt even more, Simon supposed, when what was said was true.
“You don’t have a choice about turning the professor over to us.” Booth’s words were cold and threatening. “If you don’t turn Macomber over to me, I’ll take him by force.”
Simon broke off the communication with Booth’s vehicles. He looked around and his team. He couldn’t help wondering if one of them was Booth’s informer.
“Someone sold us out, mate,” Nathan said.
“That isn’t the problem we have to deal with right now,” Simon replied. He watched the progress of the two waves of vehicles approaching each other. They were less than thirty-seven seconds apart.
“You can’t give me to them,” Macomber said hoarsely. Panic echoed in his words. Terror widened his eyes. “I don’t know them.”
“Can we outrun them, Nathan?” Simon asked. Then he activated the defensive shields.
“We’re evenly matched,” Nathan replied. “And if Booth really wants to push this to a physical encounter, we’re outnumbered three to one. Not only that, but after that encounter with the demons, we’re limping back home.”
“Warning. Impact imminent.” The AI’s voice sounded strangely calm in spite of all the tension that filled the command center.
Before Simon had time to say anything, the proximity numbers relaying the distance between his vehicle and the lead ATV of Booth’s forces zeroed out. The thunderous crash echoed within the command center.
Simon knew from the sensor drones that the collision pushed the ATV up on its side. The onboard computer revealed that the armored vehicle rose up to a twenty-nine degree angle. Despite the impact, the command center revolved within the nanofluid environment, keeping everyone inside in their upright positions.
The ATV’s defensive shields took a seventeen percent loss. Even as he registered everything going on with his own vehicle, Simon saw the other two ATVs get struck as well.
The vehicle that had hit him stayed locked on and pushed the ATV sideways into a copse of trees. Some of the trees shattered on impact and bared white flesh under the bark. Others stood firm.
The seat restraints bit into Simon’s shoulders as they called him up short. The ATV came to a sudden stop.
“Weps ready,” Danielle reported angrily. “I have a target and can fire on your mark.”
“Warning,” the AI said. “Other vehicles have target lock on this vehicle.”
Before Nathan could reverse the electromagnetic engines, another ATV slid in behind them and blocked them. Nathan tried to break free of the trap but couldn’t. The tires chewed the turf but couldn’t find enough purchase to dig out with the extra weight of the other ATV.
Simon opened the hail he received from Booth.
The High Seat grinned. “Give him to me. You don’t have a choice. Give him to me and I’ll let you and your people go free. Fight me and I’ll take you all down. That’s a promise.”
A glance at the HUD’s radar image relayed from the sensor drones showed Booth’s ATV well back of the firing line. Disgust weighed heavily on Simon. He’d had no way to expect what had happened, no way to prepare. He had been blindsided.
“We can stay inside,” Nathan pointed out. “They’ll still have a hard time peeling us open.”
“They don’t have to peel us open,” Danielle growled. “All they have to do is wait until we get hungry or thirsty. Then we’ll come out on our own.”
“With the provisions we have, we can stay inside for three or four days,” Nathan said. “More if we want to stretch them. If I know Booth, and I do, he’s not going to want to wait around out here that long because he’ll be worried about demons finding us.” He turned from the steering section and looked at the Simon even though he didn’t have to with the HUD operational. “In a game of nerves, we’ll win.”
Simon looked at the High Seat’s image. “This isn’t about nerves. For whatever reason, Booth thinks he has to win. That’s always when he’s at his most dangerous.” He paused, but in the end knew that they had no real choice. “If he has to, he’ll kill us.”
“There are a lot of Templar who wouldn’t put up with something like that,” Nathan said. “Despite the fact that we’ve defied orders, we’ve got friends there. They know what we’ve been doing in the city and how many lives we’ve saved.”
Simon felt certain that was true. But if they forced the issue, Booth would be able to get his troops to open fire.
“That’s probably the only reason Booth didn’t try to have us killed outright,” Simon said.
“Then we brinkmanship him,” Danielle stated.
Simon glanced at her.
“We, and the other two ATV crews, train our weapons on Booth’s vehicle and tell him where going to shoot him if he tries anything. He doesn’t particularly care to have his neck on the chopping block.”
“That would also mean firing on other Templar,” one of the warriors in the sling-seats said. “I’m not comfortable with that.”
Neither am I, Simon told himself. He racked his brain for another way out of the situation, but just couldn’t find one.
“Simon.” Macomber’s voice was soft and unsteady. He looked sick and gray. “These are other Templar, correct?”
“Yes.”
“Why, then, are you at odds?”
“Because Booth and most of the other Templar want to remain in hiding and pretend they have been defeated,” Simon said. He felt compelled to tell the old man the truth. Macomber deserved to know what was going on.
Macomber nodded. “To grow their strength back from all they have lost.”
“Yes.”
“It’s a good plan.”
“Except the demons are going to be growing stronger too. And the Burn is going to be changing our world more and more, providing them even better and more user-friendly terrain to find us on.” Simon shook his head. Waiting isn’t a good idea. Waiting isn’t going to save people still trapped in the city.”
“I understand that, and I empathize with what you’re trying to do.” Macomber took a deep breath and shuddered just a little. “These men—this man Booth—none of them wish me any harm, correct?”
“I don’t think so,” Simon answered.
“If they did, they would have already attacked us with their weapons.”
Simon nodded, and hoped that he w
as right.
“What do they want from me?” Macomber asked.
“I don’t know. Maybe they want to know what you know. Or maybe they just don’t want me to know what you know.”
“They want to stop you?”
“Booth and the others are afraid I’m going to make things worse.”
“How can you make anything worse?”
“I don’t know.”
Macomber cursed in English and French. “That man is a fool. Everything you can find out about the demons early on is better. That was one thing your father and I agreed on. That was why he came to me when I started translating the demon texts. Knowledge is the best kind of power.”
“My father used to say that knowledge was the sharpest weapon you would ever have in your arsenal,” Simon said.
“Intelligent man, your father.”
“Smarter than I thought he was. But I never got the chance to tell them that.”
Macomber unbuckled his seat and walked over to Simon. The professor put his hand on Simon’s shoulder. “I’m sure your father knows.”
Simon hoped so.
Macomber drew a deep breath into his lungs then let it out. Of he offered Simon a smile. “Then let me be as brave a man as Thomas Cross was in this instance. Let me out of here and I’ll turn myself over to this man Booth.”
“I can’t let you do that,” Simon said.
“You don’t have a choice. Not from your enemy, nor for me. This is my undertaking. Let me do it while I’m still brave enough.”
“Simon,” Leah said, “what he says makes sense.”
Simon knew that, but it still made him angry that he was forced into the situation.
“Please,” Macomber said.
In the end, there really was no choice.
TWENTY-THREE
W hen Simon gave the command to open the control center and allow Macomber outside the ATV, he went with the professor. As Simon stood on the rear deck and stared at Booth’s ATV, the guns of the other vehicles tracked on to him. If he was wrong and Booth decided to eliminate any further problems from him, Simon knew there was a chance that the first round to hit him might not penetrate his armor and only knock him from the ATV.
