Authors: Susan Squires
His fingers stroked the keys, so lightly. He wasn’t pounding them, demanding anything. He didn’t even push them down. He just stroked them, as though he was asking for their secrets.
It almost seemed like his fingers were sinking into the keys, becoming the keys. They were a part of him and he was a part of them. In his mind’s eye the scrolling data stopped and began to run backwards slowly, so slowly and he could see everything: all the data, every little piece of code, just as though his eyes weren’t closed.
There you are, you precious thing.
The code that had escaped him a moment ago was the firewall that prevented outside manipulation of the data. He stroked it with his mind, bending it. It seemed to flex and preen. Then it changed. Just one little section flipped and he was in, cruising through the data, seeing everything, understanding everything. Down corridors lined with snapping jaws of security, through elegant grids of code into spaces alive with swirling ones and zeroes. He could feel his way down through that code, avoiding the guard dogs, sliding unerringly toward the haze of living code coiled in the center, as though waiting for a big bang. As he passed through the fog of code, he reached out to caress it, changing it.
Then he was enveloped by the haze of code, immersed in the soup of its life. He’d never felt so
at one with anything. It pulsed around him like a living being, embracing him. And he wanted to embrace it back, be part of it—never to leave this place where he knew who he was, where he belonged. The code tightened around him, like a lover clinging a little too hard. Kemble felt constricted. Some small part of his mind registered that there was a danger here. It was too comfortable, too beautiful, too perfectly in tune with him. The code was only a phantom lover after all, and he already had a lover. Jane.
He had to get back to Jane.
He pulled away and backed out, around the helix spirals, through the bars of security. The haze of code drifted after him like fingers of fog, but he was determined. He pushed himself back into the little piece of code that had opened for him and popped out through the other side, as though he had never been through the looking glass.
He knew he was sitting at his desk. He could feel his fingers moving over the keyboard. He took a gasping breath. When he realized tears were streaming down his cheeks
, he opened his eyes. The office around him seemed flat and ordinary. Gray colors, dust in the corner because he never let the cleaning service in here, his favorite pen made of wood on the desk—it all seemed unbearably heavy and tangible compared to the wonderland of swirling code.
He blinked at the knock on the door. It sounded so loud and crude.
“You in there?”
Jane. Jane was why he came back. He tried to say
“Yeah,” but nothing came out but a croak. He cleared his throat. “Yes.”
Jane pushed in through the door, carrying a tray. Light haloed her figure. He squinted.
“I thought you might like some lunch. I knocked earlier with breakfast, but I didn’t like to disturb you.” She set down the tray.
“
What . . . what time is it?” he asked, like that really mattered.
“
About noon.” She was dressed in a khaki-colored skirt and vest and a white blouse. “You need some light.” She bustled over to the draperies and pulled them back. The May sun slashed across the room. He held up his hand against it.
Jane
herself was squinting as she turned around and stopped still. “You look a little peaked. Are you okay?” she asked, hurrying over to him.
He nodded. Yeah. He was okay. Probably.
“I brought you a sandwich,” she said, touching his shoulder. Ah, Jane’s touch. It shot a charge through his circuits that jolted him more firmly into the here and now.
“
Thank you. Just what I needed.”
His mind started to work again. What the hell had just happened to him? And how had he been de
ad to the world for probably seven or eight hours? He glanced to his computer screen. It showed a performance dashboard of various security operations Knight was running. Kemble knew exactly which graph represented the museum. And he knew that while it looked like all was green for go, there was actually no security at all behind the graph. Over at the museum the right lights would blink on the access pads, and the right cameras would be shifting their eyes across the terrain. At the moment they’d even be sending pictures back to Knight, though he could stop that whenever he chose. The lasers would look ready to catch an intruder unawares and sound the alarm. But in reality, anyone could just walk right in and take whatever they wanted from that exhibit.
“
How’s it going?” she asked, frowning at him.
“
It’s done,” he said simply.
“
You got in?”
“
We’re a go for tonight.”
“
Oh, Kemble. I knew you could do it.” She bent over him and gave him a hug and a big kiss on the cheek. He smiled. The world of swirling code beyond the computer screen faded a little bit more.
“
You were the only one,” he said.
“
Your father knew too. But that doesn’t matter. The fact is you did it.”
He had. And he wasn’t sure how.
*****
Jane watched as Kemble’s eyes drooped.
“You are exhausted,” she said, clucking. “We’re getting you right over to your old room so you can get some rest.”
“
Yeah,” he muttered. “I’ll need that, I guess.”
Jane took his biceps, feeling that surge of life and sexual fervor leap through her body, and helped him out of his chair. He was actually staggering as he made his way out the office door. They took the shortcut across the small courtyard between the office wing and the
main house.
“
You’re good to me, Jane,” he said, looking down at her. His face was lined and drawn with fatigue. And to think he’d propositioned her for a quick bout of sex to keep him going. The only thing that was going to keep him going was a good long nap.
Brian was hurrying down the stairs as they passed the living room on their way to the Bay of Pigs. He looked wired and anxious. As well he might. The looming expedition had them all worried, and the fact that Drew was having disturbing visions wasn’t helping, even though they might not be related to tonight. Everyone knew that with Drew’s visions, nothing was certain.
“How’s it going?” Brian barked to Kemble. Couldn’t he see that Kemble was dead on his feet? He didn’t mean to be unkind, but that tone of voice his children called his “Captain-of-Industry” voice was part of the reason Kemble always felt like second best. She should leave it to Kemble to answer, but he was just beat.
“
He’s done,” she said. “And exhausted.”
That brought Brian up short.
“You breached the security?”
Kemble nodded.
“I’ll have to disable the lasers on site, or they’ll know they’ve got a problem. And of course, deal with the door locking mechanisms. The guards would test that as they make their rounds. But I’ve left myself a path through Knight’s defenses. There’s no reporting link back to their dashboard so they’ll think everything’s fine. The local guards can still call in the police directly, of course, but they won’t be able to contact Knight Central.”
Brian whistled. Then he shrugged sheepishly.
“Good job, son.”
Jane took great satisfaction in that reaction.
“Now, he needs a nap.”
To her surprise, Kemble agreed.
“Yeah. Because I need to go with you tonight. Not only for the lasers and the door locks. But if they notice something today and try to put a patch on it, I’ll need to launch counter measures.”
“
All right, son.” Brian nodded thinking. “You and your laptop are on the team.”
He was going tonight? Jane felt her stomach knot. The only way she’d gotten through last night an
d this morning was because she knew Kemble wasn’t going to be there. She looked up at him, her heart in her mouth.
He put his arm around her and squeezed.
“It’ll be okay.” He managed a cheeky grin. “I’m not going to leave you a widow just yet.”
“
You . . . you better not,” she sputtered. “Or I’ll never forgive you.”
“
Wouldn’t know it,” he muttered. “I’d be dead.” The man was swaying on his feet.
“
Okay, smart aleck. Too much talk. More napping.”
Kemble was asleep before his head officially hit the pillow. Jane settled a throw that had been tossed over the big chair in the corner over him and just watched as his breathing grew regular and he settled into sleep. She loved the smell of him. She’d never really noticed smells that much until just lately. Oh, sur
e, the smell of bread baking, and the scent of Devin’s surfboard wax had always been evocative. But now she was aware of more subtle scents, like Kemble’s. He smelled like man, and something uniquely him. Maybe this was what good sex did to you—made you more aware of your surroundings.
She could survive anything if he was okay. If the family got caught tonight and he went to jail, she’d visit him every day until he got out. If he were hurt, she (and Brina) would nurse him back to health.
It seemed ominous that he was the only one without magic going. And they were the only pair that would be separated tonight.
Why did she have such a bad feeling about this whole plan?
She’d go to Drew. Maybe she could make sense of Drew’s vision when Drew herself couldn’t. Maybe not knowing what disturbing image Drew was seeing was what had her on edge. If she could just rule out the fact that Kemble was in danger, then she’d feel better about the whole thing. She let herself out of Kemble’s room quietly.
Where was Drew? Jane stalked through the house. Tamsen had gone out to ride her horse earlier, thank God. That girl was a bundle of nervous energy. Jane admired her for not whining about not getting to go tonight though. She could hear Lanyon playing something entirely too mournful on his flute up in the music room. He’d been moping all day. Jane couldn’t blame him. His search for female companions
hip had not only been cut short, but been forgotten entirely by the rest of the family in view of the new crisis. Poor Lanyon. Tristram and Maggie were in the kitchen, along with Brian, making sandwiches.
A knock at the door sounded and Mr. Edwards let in Dr. Farley. Devin was still seeing him, though only onc
e every couple of weeks now. Devin had made good progress, but Jane knew that the effects of what had happened to him when they lost the Wand would be with him in one form or another for the rest of his life. She just hoped that sooner or later it would be more a distant curiosity than a raw wound.
“
Dr. Farley,” she greeted him. “Good to see you. We’re in a bit of a tither here this morning and I’d forgotten this was your day.”
“
No worries, Jane. I’ll wait down in the sitting room in the Bay of Pigs.” The phlegmatic-looking psychiatrist, with his small goatee, was actually anything but. He was the perfect person to help Devin, surfer dude extraordinaire, with his issues. Jane couldn’t even think about what poor Devin had suffered without shuddering. But Brina had Healed his body and Dr. Farley had been a Godsend. They were all grateful to him. He was enough of a family member to know that the boy’s wing (which housed only Lanyon on most days now) was traditionally called the Bay of Pigs. He and Devin used the sitting room at the end of the hall there for their weekly sessions because it was isolated from the rest of the house and therefore private.
“
I’ll find Devin for you. . . .”
But Devin could be heard thundering down the stairs.
“Hey, Doc. Sorry I’m late. I . . . uh, forgot today. Maybe we could skip?”
“
No reason to skip, Devin,” Jane said firmly. “You’re free until tonight.”
“
Start skipping sessions, and pretty soon you’re sitting with your thumb in your mouth in a padded cell, sonny.” Jane could never tell from his demeanor whether the doctor was serious or not, though of course he couldn’t be.
“
Nice talk.” Devin pretended to pout. “Like I haven’t spilled my guts to you.”
Dr. Farley punched Devin’s upper arm, a very un
-shrink-like move, as they turned down through the archway to the Bay of Pigs. “You have indeed. All over the floor, the couches, the coffee table. You’ve been doing a very good job.” Their voices faded. “Now, how about that imaging technique we talked about? Has that been helping the nightmares?”
“
Maybe. Actually, surfing and sex with Kee help most.”
Oh dear. Was she supposed to hear that? Jane had turned toward the kitchen to ask its occupants if they’d seen Drew when she caught a glimpse of Brina sitting in the bay window of the family room all alone. She was staring out the window, presumably over the ocean to Catalina Island. There were tears streaming down her face. Jane made her way quietly over to her mother-in-law. Her own fears would have to wait.
As she drew near, she saw that Brina had tarot cards spread out on the cushion of the window seat. “Bad news?” she asked quietly.