Journey Into the Flame (28 page)

The silence was broken by the sounds of footsteps and a door closing.

“Remove their hoods and bindings,” a female voice ordered. “There’s little need for us to treat our guests so harshly. I am certain they will be most civil.”

Immediately, the restraints were removed from Logan’s hands, and the sack was removed from his head. He rubbed his wrists to regain circulation and allowed his eyes to adjust to the light. He was in the parlor of a historic old house, Federalist era, he figured, judging by the furniture and the size of the windows, which were open, letting in a welcome breeze. To his relief, he saw Valerie seated to his right. They exchanged a quick glance and then both looked at the people around them. The woman he recognized; she wore the same red hood she had worn during the auction. She was flanked by a young dark-haired woman wearing a short skirt, a tank top, and high heels and a tall blond man in jeans and a black T-shirt. Logan recognized him, too; he was the strange man from the museum. Off to the side stood two more men, large and muscular, the ones who had abducted them.

“Andrea,” Logan said in a low voice, as a chill ran down his spine. He was now face-to-face with the woman he believed had helped murder his parents.

“And you’re Monique,” Valerie said to the young woman. “We have been looking for you.”

“And you—you were stalking me at the museum,” Logan said, turning to the tall blond man.

“Stalking? We were only talking,” the man replied. “Perhaps you’re referring to your meeting with Fenquist on the street. Now, that was stalking. You should have reported that to the police.”

“Be quiet, Lucius. We have business to attend to.” Andrea stepped closer to Logan. “You do look like your father, but you have your mother’s eyes. They disappeared so mysteriously all those years ago, I wasn’t even able to say good-bye to my friends after all we had achieved together. How are they these days?”

“You know good and well how they are!” Logan shouted. He couldn’t hold back. He lunged forward, only to be pulled back roughly into his chair by one of the mercenaries standing behind him. “Who murders people and calls them their friends?”

“You shouldn’t throw accusations like that around,” Andrea said. “We were friends once.”

“Let’s cut out the pleasantries,” Valerie interrupted.

Andrea turned to her. “And who might you be, my dear?”

“They were together in the park,” Monique answered. “We had no choice but to bring her in, too.”

“You look familiar.” Andrea lifted Valerie’s chin with her finger.

Valerie slapped Andrea’s hand away. “My name is Valerie Perrot. I work for the WCF, and it would be in your best interest to let us go.”

“Ah, yes, I thought I’d seen you before,” Andrea said, continuing to gaze at Valerie. “Yet there’s something else about you. Lucius, do you recall seeing her before?”

“No,” Lucius replied. “Only from the news broadcasts.”

“It will come to me.” Andrea pulled her hood back a bit and turned her attention back to Logan. “You say that your parents were murdered? A shame that they met such a fate. They were upstanding people. And what of their friend? What was his name? Robert—Robert Tilbo. What of him? I would very much like to speak with him.”

Logan didn’t like where the conversation was headed. Quickly he said, “He’s dead. He died of a heart attack many years ago.”

Andrea gave no response. Just a short, pensive nod.

“You have to let us go,” Valerie warned. “This place is going to be surrounded by agents very soon.”

“I doubt that.” Lucius threw two disabled PCDs onto the desk next to where Logan’s backpack lay. “They’re probably still searching the park. They have no idea where the two of you are.”

A part of Logan was relieved to see his backpack. “What do you want with us?” he asked.

Andrea took a seat behind her desk and stared at him. “I can
definitely see your father in you—always direct and to the point. So let me also be direct and to the point. Do you know why your parents were murdered?” She paused, but only for a moment. “They were weak-minded people. They had a need to save everyone they met. They were probably killed by some homeless man they rescued on the street and invited into their home.” She shook her head. “The
Chronicles
can’t save everybody. Sometimes, well, you just have to let people die.”

“Sounds like you still harbor some resentment for their derailing your plans,” Logan said. The mercenary standing behind him grabbed him by the hair and tugged on it. His neck twisted back in pain.

“Resentment?” Andrea raised her hand, signaling to the mercenary to ease up. “No, I have no resentment. Your parents lacked vision, they lacked purpose, they lacked the leadership skills required to make the Council what it could have been. What it
should
have been.”

“Then why did you and Fendral threaten the members of the Council?” Logan lashed out defiantly. “Is that the type of leadership you had to offer?” Andrea remained silent, but a hint of surprise flickered across her face. “My parents left because Fendral would stop at nothing to exert his control. They split up the Council because they couldn’t let you and that tyrant implement your so-called vision.”

“You sound just like your father!” Andrea said, raising her voice in amusement. “This is precisely what I meant when I said your parents lacked vision.”

“We know what you’re up to,” Logan continued. “You want all the books. That is why you murdered the Council members.”

“Logan!” Valerie said, trying to stop him from saying too much.

“No, please don’t interrupt him,” Andrea urged. “I am most amused by this story.”

Logan stopped.

Andrea waited a moment for him to say more, but when he didn’t, she smiled and continued. “It is true that we are passionate collectors. And when the books came up for auction, why shouldn’t we have
been enthusiastic about securing them? They do, after all, represent a memorable part of our lives. And clearly, you benefited from the proceeds.”

“What about Cairo?” Logan demanded, refusing to back down. “What moved you to steal those books and kill three people?”

“Collateral damage,” Lucius muttered.

“Silence, Lucius!”

“What difference does it make, Mother? It’s over for these two anyway. They have little value to us at this point.”

“So it’s true, you were behind the Cairo theft and the Council murders,” Valerie said contemptuously, turning her gaze to Monique. “And those were your footprints we found in the tunnel.” Monique did not answer. “No need to deny it; you’re still wearing the same shoes—a size six and a half pair of Pierre Masus.”

Monique’s eyes darted quickly to Andrea and then back down to the floor. The room remained silent for a moment.

“I fear my son is correct,” Andrea said. “It is time that we are rid of the two of you.”

Lucius pulled out his gun, anticipating his mother’s next instructions.

“They are all yours, Lucius.”

“You don’t want to do that,” Logan said.

“And why not, pray tell?” Andrea asked.

“If you kill us, you’ll never find the fourth set of the
Chronicles
.”

Andrea paused. Her eyebrows lifted slightly. “What could you possibly know about the fourth set?”

“I know where it is.”

Valerie looked at Logan, surprised by what he was up to.

“I know where Deya hid them,” he continued. “She told my father the secret.”

“No one knows what she did with the River Set,” Andrea said. “I don’t believe you.”

“Are you willing to take that chance?” Logan asked. “Are you going
to tell Simon you killed the only person left in the world who knows Deya’s secret hiding place?”

Andrea looked at Logan long and hard while Lucius kept his gun pointed at him. “Go on,” she said to Logan.

“You think I’ll tell you where the books are without getting something in return?”

Annoyance flashed in Andrea’s eyes, but she smiled sweetly. “Very well, I’ll play your game a bit longer. What do you want?”

“First, let Valerie go.”

“What are you doing?” Valerie gave him a stern look.

“If I let her go, what guarantees do I have that the books are going to be where you say they are?” Andrea asked.

“What guarantees do I have that you will let her go?” Logan retorted.

“Enough of this!” Lucius said angrily. He pulled out a small pen knife from his pocket and stabbed Valerie in the thigh.

Valerie screamed. Logan jumped out of his chair to help her, but a mercenary grabbed him in a head lock and pushed him down. He saw Valerie grimacing in pain as blood flowed down her leg.

“If you don’t tell us where the books are in five seconds, we’re gonna slice her,” Lucius said, holding the bloody penknife in front of Logan’s face. Logan watched helplessly as a mercenary drew the large hunting knife that was strapped to his thigh and pressed the blade to Valerie’s throat.

“Stop!” Logan shouted, still struggling to free himself.

“Don’t tell them anything!” Valerie said, pain clear in her voice. “They’ll kill us anyway if you do.”

Logan looked at Lucius, who seemed to be enjoying this morbid game of cat and mouse. He turned then to Andrea, attempting to mask his fright with calm resolve. “Kill us both if you have to. You’ll never get your hands on those books.”

Andrea, who had stepped back, allowing the drama to unfold, clapped her hands loudly. “Yes, exactly like your father! He, too, would
never have given up the books for anyone. Maybe that’s why he’s dead.” She looked from Logan to Valerie, then back to Logan. “Actually, I have a much better plan for the two of you. Lucius, have our men transport them to G-LAB first thing in the morning. Dr. Malikei can extract the information we need.”

A smile came to Lucius’s face as he put the knife back in his pocket. “Mother, that is an excellent idea!”

As Logan looked at Valerie, who was in great pain and still holding her leg, he experienced a welter of emotions, from fury at Lucius and Andrea to concern for Valerie and himself.
What is G-LAB?
he wondered.
And who is Dr. Malikei?

32

You are new warriors who have joined an ancient battle.

—THE CHRONICLES OF SATRAYA

SOMEWHERE OVER THE ATLANTIC OCEAN,

4:00 A.M. GMT, 3 DAYS UNTIL FREEDOM DAY

Mr. Perrot would have welcomed a few hours of sleep on the twelve-hour nonstop flight to India, but he was beset by too many concerns to rest. His eyes were closed, but his mind was racing.
First we need to go to Deya’s house and search the garden. But what if the books aren’t there? What if Deya moved or the garden has been dug up?
He ordered himself to stop. He knew he needed to remain calm and focused on his goal: finding Deya’s books before Simon did. It was foolish to dwell on the dire consequences of Simon’s getting his hands on them first.

He opened his eyes and looked over at Jogi, who was seated next to him, engrossed in a documentary about the days preceding the Great Disruption. Mr. Perrot realized how he could put this time to better use. He undocked the entertainment display from the seat in front of him. Each seat was equipped with a mini HoloPad device that allowed passengers access to just about any kind of data they wanted. Mr. Perrot used his device to navigate to the literature section. Many works, both popular and scholarly, had been written about
The Chronicles of Satraya,
but he was interested in only those that dealt with the discovery of the original sets. After a little searching, he found an old article from a newspaper in Deya’s hometown of Banaras that told her story.

June 21, 2034. Deya Sarin stood waist-deep in the slow-moving river. The many ancient ghats provided a colorful and mystical backdrop to her daily routine. There was a sad, empty look on her face this morning, because she knew that very soon she would be leaving her son and her husband for good.

As they had done for thousands of years, people went to the great Ganges River to pray and to greet the rising sun. This day started out no differently for Deya. Each morning, the young mother would swiftly make her way through the busy streets, walking for a half-hour from her home in Banaras to the Ganges. It is said that the meek shall inherit the earth; that statement could not have been truer than in our city of Banaras. For after the Great Disruption, when most people around the world suffered from its devastation, those who had nothing to lose lost nothing, and their lives quickly adjusted to the new reality. While electricity and other conveniences were lost, most of the rural people of our great land simply continued to do what they had always done: they lived off what the gods provided.

The water of the Ganges was warm that morning. Deya unwrapped an old scarf from around her neck and ran her fingers over the long surgical scar on her neck. It reminded her each day of her imminent death. The doctors had been unsuccessful in removing all of the cancer from her throat. Only a few more months of life, only a few more sunrises to witness. She could see the fires of the cremation ghats along the river, their smoke rising high into the sky, another reminder of what was coming for her. As the glow of morning was coming over the eastern horizon, Deya stood motionless, her eyes closed, her head slightly bowed, her hands pressed together in prayer. No sound could be heard from her lips as she recited an ancient Sanskrit mantra. Even if she’d wanted to recite the words aloud, no one would hear her, for the cancer had taken her voice, the musical voice that had once sung lullabies to her son. The sun was beginning to break over the horizon, its light illuminating the faces of all the greeters as they also stood in the river. “Please, God, take care of my son when I am gone. Please, God, take care of my husband after I pass.” Deya’s mantra was simple and sincere. Over and over she repeated these words, her lips forming them as tears flowed down her face, falling into the timeless flow of the river.

The heavily populated cites of Delhi, Mumbai, and Bangalore had suffered inconceivable destruction. Many had died in those cities, and the few survivors scattered to the countryside looking for food and water. Many stood in the river that day praying for salvation, praying for deliverance from the devastation and tragedy they’d endured during the last three years of their lives. What had they done to bring such karma upon them? Where were the gods of Brahma, Shiva, and Vishnu? Why had they abandoned the world?