Nirvana Effect (38 page)

“Styles,” said Seacrest, acknowledging him with a nod. 
Yes, I’ll have to watch this one,
thought Edward.

Edward looked behind him.  There was a car pulling over the nearest hill.  It was the first one he’d seen in a while.  Edward started the
Corvette
down the road. 
He could feel Callista
calling for him.

Edward felt an awful drop in his stomach when he reached the clinic.  The first thing he noticed was its front
door
swung wide. 
He braked the Corvette at the curb.
  Seacrest followed him
as he raced inside
. 

Edward raced
to the back
door
.  He still held out a glimmer of hope that they hadn’t found her, that somehow she was safe.  He imagined that he would simply swing open the basement door and take her into his arms. 

When he got to the basement door, he didn’t need to swing it.  It was already open. 

He saw that Callista had
built up quite a lab
beneath her clinic.  It had a great deal of equipment and he could see stores of medicine on the walls.
 
No
sign of conflict,
but
he knew
the Onge had definitely been here.
  He knew because there was no Callista, even though he called for her and checked the room three times.  No note, either.

The Onge
had her
. 

Edward forced himself to play out the scenario in his mind. 
As tired as he was, he could still make the connections if he willed himself to think. 

Ma
nassa
would value Callista because Tomy would tell him he’d seen her with Edward.  He would know she was a doctor and try to use her as he planned to use Seacrest.  Ma
nassa
would suspect a relationship
as a matter of course.  If
Manassa discovered her name
, however…he had all of Edward’s journals.

Edward put himself in Manassa’s shoes. 
What does Manassa want?  Manassa wants me dead.  He’ll do anything to kill me, at this point.  I’m the only threat to him, and a thin one at that.

Edward shook his head clear.  He was too tired, and his thoughts were running together.  He really needed someone to talk to, to bounce his ideas off of.  He only trusted Cali f
or that.  H
e
’d
already had to tell Seacrest too much.

“I need a safe
place
to rest,” said Edward.

“Sure,” said Seacrest.  “I know just the
spot
.”

“Can you drive?”
asked Edward

“Sure.”

Edward slammed the door as he got in.  “Dammit!”

“We’ll get her, old boy.”

“Right.  Any idea where they might be keeping her?”

“You think she was abducted?” asked Seacrest.

“Yes.”

“Sure she’s just not out on a stroll or something?”

“No, they got her, Seacrest.  Got it?”

“
Got it…”

“Any idea where they’d be keeping her?”

“
Not a clue.  You’re the Onge expert.  The only thing I know about them is that o
ne of them hit me over the head
.
 
Everything else I’ve heard from you
.  But a safe place to rest, we can start there.”

Edwar
d leaned back as Seacrest drove
but refused to close his eyes.  In a few minutes,
Seacrest pulled up by the inn Edward
had used the night before.

“That’s a no-go.  That’s
only place in this town I
know
isn’t safe for me.”

“Come on, I know it looks rough.  But it’s the perfect spot.
” joked Seacrest.  “Nobody would look for you there.”

“Right.  Let’s go to spot number two.  I need t
o rest.”  He yawned.  “Wait!” Edward
s
aid
.  Seacrest hit the brakes.  “Go!  Go!”  The Corvette lurched forwards again. 

“Chr
ist, man, what’s your problem!?
”

“The Onge, they’re in the inn.
  The same car that was at your house, it’s in the parking lot.
”  Edward looked back
.  The car was empty.  “Park here.
”  He pointed out an inconspicuous side street.  “
Let’s go scout them out.”  Edward led.

“Aren’t you tired?”

Edward scoffed.  He was practically d
ead.  Yet what was another half
hour at this point?

“What is it about this inn?”
asked Seacrest.

“They know I went there my first night in town.”

“When was your first night in town?”

“Two nights ago.”

“Why do they know?
  I thought they spotted you later.
”

“It’s complicated.
  Do you see them?” asked Edward.

“What do they look like?” asked Seacrest.

Obviously, he hasn’t seen them
. 
I’ve got to sleep
.  “Two are in suits, two in casual wear. 
  All four dark, Onge. 
Short.  The two in suits had briefcases.”

“Perhaps with photographs.”

“Perhaps.  I doubt it, but perhaps,” said Edward.

“I don’t see anyone, period,” said Seacrest.  He was right.  The streets were pretty dead.  There was no activity at the inn. 

“Let’s wait ‘til they come out.  They have no reason to sleep there.  They’ve got your place and probably a few other
bases
ar
ound the city,” said Edward.

Seacrest looked the street up and down.  “We’re pretty much in the open right here
in broad daylight
.  If they saw you, they’d recognize you?”

“Yeah.”

“Why don’t I keep scouting it
out and you go back to the car?
  You can catch a nap in the event it takes more than a few minutes, and I can
wake you up
as soon as I see any activity here.  That way they won’t know we saw them.”

“I want to tail them,” said Edward

“I know.  So do I.  I want those photographs.  I’d much rather the photographs than having to hide in your luggage.  I could go back to plan A,” said Seacrest, his eyes occasionally darting to the inn’s door far on the other side of the street.

I want you to have those photographs, too. 
Edward weighed the factors involved.  He did not trust Seacrest, but he was increasingly unable to trust himself, either.  He had to rest, even if for fifteen minutes.  Moreover, the doctor was right.  If the Onge came out, they
had a better chance of recognizing him than the doctor
.

He
trust
ed
Seacrest to serve his own ends and
protect what was left of
his car.  For these two reasons, Edward
felt safe leaving the watch to him.

He dragged himself to the passenger seat of the car, leaned back, and closed his eyes.
  The sun was hanging overhead, but it felt like glorious night.

Callista had little difficulty pretending she didn’t know Tamil.  Their pronunciation was so bad, it was difficult to understand
their questions
anyway:

“Why did
white man meet with you?”

“Who
Edward Styles to you?”

“What know
about
nectar?”  Maybe she didn’t hear that last word correctly.

They were Ong
e, she presumed.  Dark faces, an apparent
mix of Indian and Chinese.  She was bound in a rough-hewn wooden chair.  She just kept squinting at them, at whoever was speaking loudest, occasionally saying, “I only speak English.  Does anyone speak English?”  No one had hurt her.  She hoped Edward was coming.  She hoped he wasn’t dead. 
She felt he wasn’t
.
  Maybe that was just hope.

She didn’t know where she was - some sort of warehouse.  They’d blindfolded her when they’d brought her in. 
They’d carried her up two flights of stairs to get her to this room.  She knew because she counted.

There was a single window that faced toward the city.  The way the sun was seeping into the room, she
figured
that she was on the east side of
Lisbaad
. 
Her
mind was making needless calculations.  There were only a few that were really relevant.

First of all
was that she sat bound in a barren room with
a
concrete floor
,
a torn out ceiling,
and
at least twenty different Onge in and out
all
day. 

Second
, they were all armed
and alert. 
S
he had no hope of escape.  There was only one door
in the room.  Who knew where that might lead.
 
Probably past more Onge.

Third,
the Onge were buying
her not understanding their language. 

Fourth
, they hadn’t hurt her
yet
.

Still, she felt sick.
  She wanted to crawl out of her skin.
  She didn’t let on.  But at any moment one of those natives could get a funny idea in his head and shoot
her with his rifle.  It would be all too easy.
 
She controlled her breathing.  At least she could control that.  Hysteria was not an option. 
At least, not yet…

One
Onge
seemed to
be the
lead
er
.  He had a khaki hat on
which made him look like a safari guide
.  He wore clothes as one might wear a costume
; he
definitely didn’t seem used to them. 

The native
walked back into the room.  He had a book in his hand, and he was quite intent on it. 
His
gaze perturbed her.  It
looked
as though h
is eyes were devouring his book, one page at a time.
 

Finally he dropped the book on the floor and bent down to eye level with her.

His speech was broken, pronounced horribly, but understandable.  It shocked Callista.  Only an hour
ago,
he was only able to yell at her in Tamil a
nd five other dialects she didn’
t recognize.  This time he spoke English, biting out each word. 
“
I…speak…English. 
You… answer…my questions.  I… beat you…until…you answer.”

She screamed.  He slapped her, then put his face just inches from hers, holding her by the collar of her shirt.

“Why…did…Edward Styles…the…white man…why he…meet you?”

For the last time, the tribe
assembled
on the holy grounds.
The priests had been playing their instruments for a
while, long enough to have to light the torches to fight off the dusk
.  Manassa ran into the clearing through the more obvious entrance, this time, giving an opportunity for his followers to scream and bow and wave as he walked up to his tree. 

Manassa had hung a small rope from the lower branches of the tree. 
It was dyed the exact color of the bark so no one could see it.
Manassa
used it to run
up the side of the trunk before leaping up to the branch and walking out to be seen.  It looked as though he’d defied gravity.  The crowd went into uproar.  Manassa acknowledged them with a wave.  Finally, the gongs of his priests demanded silence.

“MY PEOPLE!” shouted Manassa.

“MANASSA!” shouted the crowd.  They resounded more deafening
ly
than ever
before
.  He was the savior of his people.  He exalted in the electricity of their fervor.
 
And I had been worried they wouldn’t want to move. 
He had elevated himself above tradition.

“YOU ARE THE CHOSEN!” he screamed, filling up the heavens with his words

“As are you, our god!”  Manassa had to wait a long time before the crowd was quiet enough for him to continue.