The Upwelling, page 29
Well, Kurt had hardly been a friend—or mate, as Ian put it.
Ian added, “If you want help adjusting to your new mindset, my people can help.”
“Your people?”
“The group to which I belong. We’ve been dealing with the Players for countless generations and we have loremasters who know as much as is humanly possible to know about them.”
“Well, if they know so much, why aren’t they out telling everybody? This is something people need to know.”
“The same reason I didn’t tell you anything when you arrived and said you were connecting with Samuel and his crew. Tell me true, mate: If I had told you all this when we sat down with that bottle of cab on Thursday, what would you have thought, eh?”
“Well…”
“You’d’ve thought, ‘He’s a daft twat! I’m not staying here!’ And who could blame you?”
“But—”
“But the real truth of the matter is that people don’t want to hear it. It’s been that way all through history. They’re glad to believe in miracles and can blindly accept things like the transubstantiation, but back in the day, if you went around telling people that we’re the playthings of vast, nameless, faceless entities that don’t give a shit about us, they’d burn you at the stake or stretch you out on the rack. Those dear old days are gone, fortunately, so nowadays they only brand you as a wazzock or dismiss you as a conspiracy nut.”
Chan had to admit he had a point.
“But why would your people want to help me?”
“Well, first off, because you’ve had a direct encounter. You’d know from firsthand experience that they’re talking truth. And secondly, your rantings last night made it abundantly clear that you’re a sensitive. We’re always interested in sensitives.”
“I’m assuming by ‘sensitive’ you mean pretty much the same as Samuel when he calls me a ‘tairongo.’”
“‘Tairongo’? That’s a new one on me, mate. What language is that?”
“No idea. But I’m gathering it’s someone who can sense the mood of what you call the Players.”
“Well, then, we’re talking about the same thing. And believe me, our Lodge would love to have a sensitive as a member.”
“Lodge? You mean like the Masons or the Elks?”
Ian made a face. “Hardly. But like them we have lodges all over the world. The closest one is in Lower Manhattan. I’ll be glad to take you there and introduce you.”
Chan sensed he was getting the hard sell from Ian. Why? Was he that valuable? He didn’t want to commit to anything anywhere right now. Too many balls in the air, especially with Danni and Pam on their way here, and that DNA test in the offing.
But something else was bothering him. Now that Ian, via Chan, had confirmed the presence of the so-called Squatter, what did he plan to do about it?
“What’s the next step for you and your fellow servants of the Contender, Ian?”
A casual shrug—perhaps too casual? “Dunno. I’ll inform my people of the Squatter’s whereabouts and leave the rest to them.”
“What’ll they do with that info?”
“It’s a mere point of information more than anything else. We knew the Squatter was trapped and hiding on Earth but we didn’t know where. Now we do. And while the Squatter plays at the Game, it’s not a real contender in the Game, so not of any great importance to us. The Owner seems to be the one with the grudge against the Squatter, and we’re not interested in advancing its agenda. If anything, we want to thwart it.”
That was good to know. He didn’t want to be responsible for yet another disaster. But then again, how far could he trust Ian?
Chan said, “If the Squatter has merged with the mountain, where are the Owner and the Contender?”
Ian swept a hand at the ceiling of the car. “The major Players—the Owner and the Contender and the rest—are out there, frolicking in the dark matter and dark energy, I guess.”
Frolicking?
“But isn’t the Owner in the ocean? That’s where it came from, as part of the Atlantic upwelling.”
“It only appeared that way. It directed a miniscule part of its consciousness toward the Atlantic and plowed a path of destruction toward wherever it was you and your lads exposed the Squatter. The Owner arranged for a little fun along the way but the delay backfired. It never reached the Squatter. You can count on it taking a much more direct approach if the Squatter is ever exposed again.”
Not while I’m around, thank you, Chan thought. Nor anyone else if I can help it.
“Let’s hope that’s not today,” he said. “I need to lie down for a while and mull all this.”
Ian put the Mercedes in gear. “You should be right knackered. I don’t think you got much kip last night.”
“I don’t feel like I did.”
He did feel like taking a nap, but had no intention of indulging. His real plan was to drive up to the mountain and beard Samuel in his den, but he wasn’t about to tell Ian. Ian would have a dozen or so questions and none of this was his business. Chan had a feeling that Ian knew too much about him already.
5
Ian was removing a block of Semtex from his footlocker when someone knocked on his bedroom door.
“Who is it?”
“Erica.”
He unlocked it and let her in, then relocked it behind her.
“Camo?” she said, looking at his outfit. “Really?”
“Yes, pet. Really. I don’t want to stick out when one of their drones does its flyby.”
She was staring at the Semtex. “You told me you were just going to confirm the presence of the sigils and their locations. What’s that for?”
Might as well tell her.
“I’ve decided on a more decisive course of action.”
“Such as?”
“From Liao’s experience in the Jersey Pinelands, I gather that I need take out only four sigils to expose the Squatter.”
“Don’t bring them here. You heard what happened to Liao’s friend. I don’t want that happening here, thank you very much.”
“Worry not, pet. Nothing and no one will be coming after them because I intend to blast them out of existence—into the proverbial smithereens, as it were. And then you and I can just sit back and watch the fireworks.”
She stood silent, her expression troubled. “I wish you’d reconsider.”
“I see no reason to.”
“Then you’ll give me advance warning before you start your fireworks?”
“Of course. I wouldn’t want you to miss the show.”
“Oh, I very much intend to miss the show. I plan to be far away.”
“Going on holiday, are we?”
“A brief sojourn to a warmer clime.”
“Afraid?”
“Frankly, yes. These Players have a rather cavalier attitude toward collateral damage, don’t you think? Twenty-five thousand dead in Atlantic City? I mean, really!”
“We’re just bugs to them, pet. You know that. They don’t care if they squash some. Plenty more available.”
“You’d be wise to plan a trip of your own.”
“You might well be right, but before I can go anywhere I must collect the sensitive and deliver him to the Lodge.”
“Speaking of the Lodge, have you informed the boys down at your club what you’re planning to do?”
“I plan to tell them all about it—once it’s a fait accompli.”
“So…you’re not cleared for this?”
Ian couldn’t help bristle at her tone.
“As you damn well know, I’ve been a member of the Order for most of my adult life. I don’t need ‘clearance.’ I’ve earned the right to make command decisions in the field.”
“Now-now, Ian-baby, don’t get your knickers in a wad. I’m just asking if you’re sure that’s wise. You told me your boys have special members for matters like this.”
He’d had enough of this daft cow.
“Shouldn’t you start packing?”
Her eyebrows rose. “When are you planning to start your fireworks?”
“Tomorrow morning.”
“Why wait?”
“Because I don’t want to miss anything in the dark of night. I want to watch it all go down and enjoy every minute.”
“Then maybe I should indeed start throwing some things together.”
She unlocked the door and let herself out.
So…you’re not cleared for this? Damn her. Her comment still rankled, but he shouldn’t have let that set him off. She’d asked a good question. And the answer was no, he wasn’t cleared for something like this. If he inquired at the Lodge about whether or not he should take action, he knew their answer: We’re sending an Actuator to sort it. Do nothing until he arrives, at which time you will stand ready to supply whatever assistance he requires.
Bollocks to that. He was the one who had sat up all night listening to Liao’s ranting. He was the one who had gleaned all the pertinent facts, like the location of the sigils and how many had to be removed to expose the Squatter. After all that effort was he about to hand over all his intel to some prima donna Actuator and let him take the glory? Not bloody likely.
The Order would want the Squatter eliminated. Though it posed no threat to the Order’s mission, it muddied the waters. The fact that they could effect its removal via their rival entity was a definite bonus.
But doing this on his own had its risks. No question about that. If it all went pear-shaped, he would suffer repercussions. The potential for enormous rewards, though, far outweighed the risks involved. If he showed up at the Lodge tomorrow with a sensitive in tow after single-handedly causing the elimination of a pesky rogue player, he’d have proven beyond a doubt that he could take decisive action. Here was a brother who could get things done. His elevation to Actuator status would be assured.
Erica stuck her head back into the room. “I thought you’d like to know, dear brother, that I just saw our guest take off in his car.”
“Why didn’t you stop him?”
“And how was I going to do that? Besides, he was already on his way out the drive when I spotted him.”
“Which way did he turn?”
“Left. Not to worry. He’s left all his gear here.”
Probably going to the mountain to see Samuel. What Ian wouldn’t give to be a fly on the wall of that confrontation. Liao wasn’t at all happy about having his memories suppressed.
But Ian had more important concerns. He had to locate four of the sigils and wire them with Semtex, all without being seen. The job might well take him the rest of the day.
He grabbed his remote detonators from their insulated box and stuffed them in a leg pocket of his camo pants. He needed daylight to get this all properly sorted, so he’d better get started right away.
6
Chan waved to Henry as he stopped at the gate. They exchanged a few pleasantries and commented on the weather, then Chan said, “I need to see Samuel. Is he here?”
“He’s pretty much always here, but not today. He passed through on his way out just about an hour ago.”
“Where’d he go?”
Henry laughed. “Like he tells me, right?”
“Yeah, okay. I get you. Did he happen to say when he’d be back? I need to discuss a few things with him.”
“That he did say: late tonight.”
Damn. He’d have to put off the confrontation until tomorrow.
Chan thanked Henry, then turned his car around and headed back.
7
Ian had just reached the top of the fence when he heard the hum of an approaching drone. With no time to climb down, he launched himself backward into the brush, threw his camoed arms across his face to hide it, and lay still.
He heard it cruise past along the inside of the fence at a leisurely pace, and then its hum faded away.
The wankers! When had they changed their drone schedule? Over the years he’d been up here on numerous occasions to time its rounds. It used to run at 10 a.m., 4 p.m., and midnight. Here it was only 2:30. Why had they—?
And then he knew: All the trouble Chan and company had caused by stealing the sigils in the pinelands. That had been a couple of months ago. Ian would bet his last penny that was when the increased vigilance had started. Which meant he’d have to be extra vigilant as well.
He got up, climbed the fence again—the chain link made it easy. And with no concertina wire along the top, getting over was a piece of cake. When he landed on the other side, he found himself face to face with one of the sigils. Like the two he’d already wired, this one was decorated with another odd-looking squiggle.
Before leaving the inn, he’d pre-cut the Semtex into roughly one-inch-square bricks. Now, as with the preceding sigils, he stuck a wad of the malleable, reddish plastique against the rear of the plaque. Then he inserted the business end of the remote detonator cap into the wad and clear-taped it down.
Very risky using a remote-controlled detonator cap in a city where the air was chock-a-block full of RF signals. But out here in the wilds of the Catskills, the chance of a random RF signal matching a detonator’s was vanishingly slim to none. He’d left the controller back at the inn sans batteries. No way its signal could ever reach this far, but that was the sort of person he was.
All righty, he had three wired now. The gate was at the south corner, so obviously the sigil there was not a candidate. He’d started on the southeast corner, then moved to the east corner, and now he’d just finished the northeast corner.
For all he knew, that might be enough. According to Chan’s rambles, though, his mate Aldo had revealed the Squatter by nicking four of them. Yeah, destroying three might do the job, but Ian wasn’t going to risk it. He’d do four for sure.
He climbed the fence again and headed for the north corner. Samuel’s security people had cut a path along the inside of the perimeter for when they did foot patrols or needed a closer look at something they’d spotted with their drones, but Ian wasn’t about to risk that. The deer trail outside the fence made hiking through here almost as easy. These hills were lousy with deer and every time a herd came up against the Squatter’s perimeter, they moved parallel to it, looking for a way past. But they never found an opening. The only break was at the gate and they weren’t about to brave that. So around and around they went, following the same path over and over, flattening the undergrowth with their hooves, breaking off branches with their flanks. All of which allowed someone like Ian to move at very near a trot.
The north corner sigil would bring the total of those ready for demolition to four. He had six detonator caps so, just for good measure, he’d wire a fifth at the northwest corner if he found the time before dark.
8
Chan had just pulled to a stop in the Cliff House parking area when Danni called.
“Hey,” he said. “I’m almost afraid to ask.”
“You mean how it’s going? It’s actually going pretty well.”
He heard Pam shout, “We’ve bonded! We’re fucking BFFs now!”
“Did you hear that?” Danni said.
“How could I not? Color me surprised. Or as Pam would say, ‘fucking shocked.’ How’d this come about?”
“Well, once she realized I was on her side, we relaxed with each other and found out we had a lot in common.”
“Except the lesbo thing!” Pam shouted. “I’m not into chicks!”
Chan tried to imagine the conversation in that car to this point and immediately got a headache.
“What’s your ETA?”
“Eighty-six minutes, according to WAZE. That’s why I’m calling: Where do we stay?”
“I’m at a nice little B and B called Cliff House. It’s off season so I’m their only guest. Plenty of room at the inn, so to speak.”
“How do you feel about a B and B?” he heard her say to Pam.
Faintly, Pam said, “Fine with me—as long as you don’t think we’re sharing a room.”
To Chan, Danni said, “Sounds good. Where is it?”
“On Route 23. Call me when you reach Wyndham Mountain and I’ll guide you in.”
“Got it. Over and out.”
Chan went inside. He’d noticed Ian’s car was gone so he looked for Erica. When he knocked on her door she opened it a crack and peeked out.
“Can I help you?”
Chan spotted an open suitcase on the bed behind her.
“Yes. I’d like to reserve two rooms for later today. Some friends are coming.”
“How nice,” she said with a smile. “Reservations are hardly necessary at this time of year, but meet me at the desk and I’ll be glad to take their names.”
Chan moved down the hall and waited for her as instructed. A few seconds later she joined him and he gave her Danni and Pam’s names.
“Going somewhere?” he said as she wrote them down.
Her pen stopped writing, then restarted.
“Yes. A bit of a holiday. I like to get a change of scenery while things are slow.”
“Sounds nice. Where?”
“I don’t like to plan these getaways. There’s a travel agent in Catskill I use. I just pop 'round and see what bargains she can find for me in the southern climes.”
“When are you leaving?”
“Tomorrow morning. But not to worry: Ian will be here to take care of everything.”
Chan wished her bon voyage and headed for his room. Something different about her today. He’d met Erica only forty-eight hours ago, and she’d struck him as someone who had herself under rigid control. Today she seemed tense and anxious. And the way she’d opened her room door… as if she didn’t want him to see that she was packing for a trip. Why try to hide it?
He gave a mental shrug as he entered his room and flopped on the bed. He had more important concerns. Because here in the quiet, without distractions, a deep sadness tightened his throat. With no memory of those hours, he’d been able to deal with his missing friends. Yes, Mac and Aldo were presumed dead, but presumed lacked certainty. Hey, they could be alive. Presumed dead wasn’t definitely dead.
