“I was in such a place earlier today when I tried to call you,” Tareef said. “Ali can tell you how to find it.”
Ali returned to the phone and gave John directions to Lake View Park and how to find the short trail that led to the overlook.
47
Mount Vernon, Virginia
Ron and Stony parked the car a block away from the motel and walked back to the cottage where Ron had spotted the Camaro. The lights were off in all the cottages and in the house that served as the office. The grounds were dark, no lights of any kind. The only illumination came from a street lamp half-way down the block.
Stony took the lead, pulling her Glock from her holster and approached the cabin, avoiding the gravel road that led to each of the units. Shrubs and small trees offered initial cover, but the last twenty feet to the cabin was across open ground. When they were still about fifty feet from the door, she turned and whispered. “You up for being our battering ram? I’d probably just bounce off.”
Ron smiled. “Sure.”
They broke into a run when they reached the open ground. Stony skidded to a stop beside the two steps that led to the door; Ron barreled up the steps and through the door is if it wasn’t there, screaming, “Secret Service! Nobody move!”
Stony piled in behind him, heart pounding, sweating, scanning the room for danger.
Protect the kid. Protect the kid.
The room was empty. The bed wasn’t made and the smell of mold and dust suggested that the rental hadn’t been used in a long time.
Ron jerked the bathroom door open, looked inside, and turned back. “Either we got the wrong car or this is a decoy.”
“Shit. They could be anywhere.”
“Freeze!”
Stony whirled toward the door, trying not to pee on herself, to confront a scarecrow with grey hair pointing a shotgun at her head.
The scarecrow had a colorful vocabulary. “Drop your guns, assholes. I’ve called the fucking police.”
As Stony slowly put her Glock on the floor, Ron snarled from behind her, “We are the fucking police, old man. Put down the goddamned shotgun.”
“Not gonna happen,” Scarecrow said. “Put your guns down or I’ll empty both barrels into the girl.”
“Don’t argue with the man, Ron. Put your gun down.”
Three police cars, sirens blaring, blasted up the gravel road and skidded to a stop outside the open cabin door. The first officer out of his car apparently knew Scarecrow and convinced him that Stony and Ron were federal agents. When the man had surrendered the shotgun, the officer looked into the cabin and smiled. “Old man Grissom here is famous for his aggressive self-defense of his property. You guys ever heard of waiting for backup to arrive? We could have saved you the embarrassment.”
Ron picked up his weapon, holstered it, and shook his head. “You want to handle that question, Stony?”
She flipped Hammer the bird, walked down the stairs and out of the cabin, and stared up at Scarecrow. “Good to meet you Mr. Grissom. Does the Camaro in back belong to you?”
“Belongs to the guy in the last unit. Don’t know what it’s doing up here.”
“What’s this guy look like?”
“Like he’s a goddamned albino, that’s what. Has a young boy with him.”
She showed him a picture of Robert Lee.
“That’s him.”
Stony jerked around and stared at the cabin on the end of the access road. “Shit.”
The local police assumed control of the scene. After ten minutes of hushed planning, while Stony fumed about the delay and tried to explain that Wells must have left already unless he was deaf and blind, the police surrounded the cabin, broke down the door, and stormed inside. They called for the two agents a couple of seconds later.
“They’re gone.” The Mount Vernon police lieutenant in charge of the assault seemed relieved.
Stony fought the urge to compliment him on his power of deduction.
“Maybe Wells is coming back,” Hammer said, pointing to a pile of clothes in the corner of the room.
Stony frowned. “Or maybe he doesn’t think he’ll need any clothes after today.”
Hammer searched the bathroom. “Coffee maker is turned off, but the pot is hot. They haven’t been gone long.”
Stony walked over to the side of the bed and picked up a tri-fold brochure that was lying on the table. She scanned through it, stopping on the back page where the hours of operation were listed.
She showed the brochure to the lieutenant. “Where’s this canoe rental located?”
“It’s on the Potomac, not far from here.”
“Can you get to DC by the river?”
Hammer had come out of the bathroom and was staring from the brochure to Stony.
“Sure. It’s a beautiful view, at least until you get to the heart of the—”
“The bastard is going to force GT to destroy the city, then float along and enjoy his handiwork.”
“Now?” Hammer asked.
Stony stuffed the brochure into her pocket and yelled at the cop. “Get us there as fast as you can.” When he just looked at her, she screamed, “FUCKING NOW, goddamnit.”
They piled in the police cars for a blood-curdling convoy to the banks of the Potomac. The canoe livery operator had heard the sirens and walked out of his office to see what the commotion was about.
Stony and Ron slid, stumbled, and fell down the banks of the river to the wooden pier.
She held out the picture of Robert Lee. “You rent this guy a canoe?”
“Just did. Him and his boy.”
“Shit. Shit. Shit. How long ago?”
“Ten, maybe fifteen minutes. What’s this—“
“You got a boat with a motor on it around here somewhere?”
“Rowboat with a trolling motor. It’s not real fast, but it’s faster than a paddle.”
“I want it here a minute ago!” Stony yelled.
She looked at the Mount Vernon lieutenant, who’d scrambled down the bank to the dock. “You got a rifle in the trunk of your car?”
“No. Only shotguns.”
Stony shook her head. “Goddamn shit piss fuck. Forget it. Not enough range.”
The rental operator brought the boat alongside.
“I need you to run this thing for me,” Stony said. “It may be dangerous, but we’re trying to save a city full of people. You up for that?”
The man didn’t hesitate. “Get in.”
Stony climbed into the boat and Ron started to follow. She shook her head. “We’ll go faster without the added weight. See if you can find another powerboat somewhere and follow us.”
Hammer didn’t look happy, but nodded and didn’t argue.
She pivoted on the bench seat and faced forward as the boat churned and moved out into the current.
Please God, Let us reach them in time.
48
Lake View Park, Islamabad
John stood at the entrance to Lake View Park, trying to get his bearings. He’d left the embassy security guard at the SUV after a brief, sharp argument about entering the park alone.
A paved lane, wide enough for cars to pass, ran through the heart of the recreation area. Scattered trees and a few flower beds dotted the landscape but the concrete road made the place look like an upscale commercial center. A large sign post pointed the way to a half-dozen different scenic views. He ignored it; the place he was looking for wasn’t marked.
He jogged a quarter-mile into the heart of the park and found a slender young man standing at the left side of the road, reading a thick math textbook. He looked up at the sound of John’s shoes on the pavement.
“Ali? I’m John, Tareef’s American friend.”
Ali smiled and nodded. “A tall white man with lavender eyes and carrying a cane, who else could you be?” He shook John’s hand, the gesture awkward, unpracticed. “Tareef is at the end of this path.” He nodded toward a narrow dirt trail that disappeared through the trees covering a
nearby hill.
The climb was only a couple hundred feet in elevation, but John was breathing hard as he broke through the pines at the top, where he found Tareef sitting on a bench overlooking the huge reservoir.
He stood and stared at John with the same preternatural calm that John had noticed when they met at the boy’s mountain home. Tareef smiled and stepped forward, hand extended, as if their odd encounters were the most natural thing in the world.
Now what do we do?
Tears flooded John’s eyes. He reached out to take Tareef’s hand, but surprised himself by wrapping the child in a fierce embrace. A booming voice reverberated in his mind as soon as they touched.
YOUR JOURNEY HAS NOT ENDED. TWO PEOPLE, ONE MIND. FEEL THE POWER OF THE EARTH THAT HAS NURTURED YOU. FEEL THE POWER OF THE MAGIC THAT WILL SAVE MANKIND. FEEL THE UNQUESTIONED LOVE BETWEEN A MAN AND A CHILD.
The hilltop transformed into a vast, open pasture of knee-high grass, waving in the warm breeze of a violet sunrise. Tall flowers on thin stalks danced above the grass, their trumpet-like blooms glowing an iridescent lavender in the soft light.
On The Potomac River, Virginia
“One last time and your troubles will be over,” Robert Lee said.
GT was in the front of the canoe, Asshole in the back. The fog was lifting, swirling aside to reveal a scarlet sunrise peering through the trees that lined the banks of the river.
Robert Lee leaned forward and handed GT a piece of paper. “Do I need to tell you what will happen if you fuck this up?”
GT shook his head and took the paper. He was beyond caring. He wanted to make the noise of Asshole’s constant threats go away; make the pain and tiredness and the fear go away.
He read the words.
God forgive me.
"I invoke my birthright to the Power granted by Transition. I beseech this Power to grant my request. I honor the requirements of Transition and affirm…
"That I make my request with respect and humility…”
On The Potomac River, Virginia
“There they are!” Stony said. Her voice was quiet, intense.
The canoe was fifty yards in front of her and starting to sweep around a turn in the river. Robert Lee was in the stern; she’d caught a glimpse of GT in the bow. He appeared to be slumped over.
She looked back over her shoulder at the frightened man operating the trolling motor. “Can’t you make it go any faster? We’re too far away. I can’t get a good shot.”
He shook his head. “We’re flat out.”
Stony faced forward, popped the strap from her holster, and pulled the Glock.
Robert Lee must have heard us, but doesn’t seem the least bit concerned. Not paddling faster, nothing.
She could only think of one reason he’d be so calm. GT must have finished using magic or was nearly finished. She screamed so loud that it felt like her throat was tearing. “HALT! DTS! IT’S OVER, ROBERT LEE. PUT THE CANOE ASHORE.”
He continued to ignore her.
Out of time.
She could make the shot if she was on solid ground, but she was bobbing like a cork She was just as likely hit GT or miss everything.
No choice.
She held her breath, aimed for Robert Lee’s center of mass, and tightened her finger on the trigger.
Islamabad, Pakistan
REPEAT MY WORDS, THE WORDS OF A RITUAL NOT HEARD FOR MILLENNIA.
IN THE NAME OF THE POWER THAT RULES TRANSITION,
Tareef’s voice, uttering the words at the same time, echoed through John’s mind. An ebony cloud, filled with flickering scarlet lights, had formed over the pasture in which they stood.
WITH PURE HEART
The cloud exploded. Scarlet lightning blasted the ground around them, the wind tugged at John’s grip around Tareef. If they were separated, they would fail and die.
AND WORTHY PURPOSE.
A vision of Molly filled John’s mind. Not in her hospital bed, but playing in a field near his childhood home.
WILLING TO SURRENDER OUR LIVES,
The wind screamed, staggering him. Tareef began to slip from his grasp.
WE BANISH THE CORRUPTION THAT THREATENS MANKIND’S CHILDREN
Molly’s image faded, replaced by an old man sitting with a boy under a nighttime sky near a small campfire. Stars burned in the sky. The old man had grey curly hair and green eyes.
TO THE PITS OF HELL FROM WHICH IT CAME, THERE TO REMAIN FOR ALL TIME
The storm vanished.
YOUR EYES WILL ALWAYS GIVE EVIDENCE TO A PROMISE FULFILLED
The glorious voice was gone. John released Tareef and stepped back. “Could you see into my mind like I could yours?”
Tareef nodded. “The girl was pretty.”
“She was.”
On The Potomac River, Virginia
“Where’d he go?” Stony asked. She’d been an instant away from pulling the trigger when Robert Lee Wells had disappeared from the boat. He hadn’t fallen over, he’d just disappeared. They were close enough to the canoe now that she could see GT. He had a huge smile on his face.
She called across the water. “Did you do that?”
He nodded and called back. “I changed the words. You know what else?”
“What?”
“My feet don’t hurt. Will you take me home?”
Islamabad, Pakistan
John and Tareef sat on the bench and talked about what they’d just experienced, about what had happened to each of them since they’d met in the mountains. But mostly they talked about the idea that had come to each of them during the storm and how much they liked that idea.
John took his phone and called Akina. “It’s Benoit.”
“John! It’s gone. Whatever you did, whatever somebody did, T-Plague is gone. We’re getting flooded with calls. The eyes of the affected kids have changed to lavender and the disease seems to have vanished.”
“Obviously Washington is okay. How about Detroit and Windsor?”
Akina’s pause answered his question. “No change. They’re gone.”
“I’m not surprised,” John said. “The kids were sick with corrupted Transition, but it wasn’t magic, so they could be cured. Detroit and Windsor were destroyed by magic and that can’t be reversed.”
“I just heard from Stony,” Akina said. “GT’s okay and Robert Lee has apparently been disappeared by GT’s T-Plague magic.”
“That’s a story I want to hear. I’m anxious to get back to the states but I need your help with a favor before I can leave.”
“Name it.”
“It’s no biggie. Something that I’m sure is within the scope of your vast power.”
“Uh huh. How much am I not going to like this?” Akina asked.
“Tareef and I have agreed that he should come to the US with me.”
For a moment, John thought that the connection had dropped.
“Why in the world would you want to uproot a boy who lives in one of the most isolated parts of the world and drop him into the middle of the US? What are you thinking?”
At least she didn’t retreat to bureaucratic bullshit.
“Tareef and I have discovered that we have a unique connection as a result of what we’ve experienced together. We’ve shared minds and memories, Akina. He no longer has roots in Pakistan; his father is dead and his tribe shuns him because of his eyes. You can ask him yourself, but he’s excited about becoming an American. As far as the issue of potential culture shock, he’s proven time and again to be a very adaptable young man. One who’s rescued the US from the threat of magic on two separate occasions, I might add.”
Again, there was a pause before the DTS director spoke.
“Any conversation I might have with Tareef would be a waste of time. I know you, Dish. You’re an excellent coach. By now I’m sure you have this all worked out and the two of you could handle questions from a dozen experts.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment. Thank you.”
Akina snorted. “W
here would he live, Dish? A foster home? An agency? He’s a kid.”
Got her. Now we’re just negotiating the details.
“With me, of course. I’m calling in all my chits, Akina. With you and with the president, if necessary. Get Tareef on the plane with me and get expedited adoption proceedings underway. Tareef Kahn Benoit is going to be my son.”
Akina’s response was immediate, like she knew the answer to the question she was about to ask. “Are you sure?”
“I’ve never been so certain of anything in my life.”
Afterword
Thank you for reading The Ebony Finches, the third book in the transition magic series. If you enjoyed the book and have the time, may I ask you to leave a review? I’d appreciate it. Reviews help other readers find books they may enjoy and are critical for the success of books like The Ebony Finches.
For more about transition magic and a complete listing of books in the series, please visit JHopkinsBooks.com.
About the Author
Born on the leading edge of the baby boom, J. E. Hopkins won an elementary school contest with an article on Wilkie Collin’s The Moonstone. The article was published in the local county newspaper and was his last publication for more than fifty years.
Which is not to say that the intervening years were a complete waste--his career taught him toilet paper design, software development, educational technologies for assessing student learning, and bumblebee energetics.
The Ebony Finches: A Transition Magic Thriller Page 26
