Six (15 page)

Parker!

Dad, I'm—

You have to listen to me!

I'm sorry, Dad—

I don't have time! Listen!

What?

You have to listen to me—Get your hands off me!

Dad?

Parker, I haven't got long—they're taking me in.

Taking you in where?!

Get Emma! Find a man called Solomon Gladstone. Did you hear me?

Why—

Did you hear me?

Yes.

Solomon Gladstone. Say it.

Solomon Gladstone. Dad, what's—

Don't trust anybody except him. Tell him I've been taken to SIX. Did you hear that, Parker? SIX. He can help you.

I don't—

Get that needle away from me!

Dad?!

Solomon Gladstone. Don't trust anybody else. You . . . you . . .

Dad?

Find him
 . . .

Where is he?

He's at the . . . the . . . I'm . . . I . . .

Dad? Dad!

The call went dead.

Bowveld stared down at the body of Dr. Banks, collapsed in a heap on the ground.

“Take him in.”

Clay, the taller of the two men, nodded and placed the now empty syringe on the table next to him. He squatted down and wrapped his arms around the top half of Dr. Banks's body. The other man, Darin, grabbed Dr. Banks's feet, and then, without a word passing between them, the men stood up at the same time and carried the body in the direction of the Avection chamber.

*  *  *  *  *  *

Bowveld pressed the gold button at the entrance of the first capsule in the chamber's corridor, and the doors whooshed open to reveal a small black room containing only a single black padded leather table.

“Just lay him down on the bed,” he said, stepping aside to let the men through.

The men, both now struggling with the dead weight they were carrying, waddled into the center of the room. With a mumbled “one, two, three,” Dr. Banks's body was lifted up and dumped unceremoniously onto the table—or bed, as Avecto Enterprises preferred it to be called.

“Should we secure him, sir?” asked Darin as he rearranged Dr. Banks's body so that it lay straight.

Bowveld waved his hand to dismiss the idea. “No need. By the time he wakes up, it'll be too late. Let's go.”

The men nodded and walked out of the room. Bowveld took one last look at Dr. Banks's sleeping body and frowned.

“Don't let me down, Dr. Banks. I expect you back within the month,” he muttered as he pressed down on the gold button once more.

The doors glided firmly closed.

*  *  *  *  *  *

It was only once they had gone through the procedure of locking the main doors of the Avection chamber and were halfway up the steps to the control room that Bowveld realized he had forgotten something very important.

“The purse!” he said, turning to Clay.

“Sir?”

“The purse for my sister, you idiot. Where is it?”

“I don't know, sir. You didn't tell me—”

“Is that it?” asked Darin, pointing to a fuchsia pink shopping bag sitting on one of the rows of leather seats in the waiting lounge below.

“Open up the chamber, Clay,” said Bowveld as he rushed down the stairs. Clay didn't move as he watched Bowveld reach into the bag and pull out an expensive-looking purple purse with a gold chain strap.

“Sir,” said Clay, “couldn't we send it with the next shipment? We've already closed the doors.”

Bowveld glared up in disgust at Clay's insolence. “My sister is not a patient woman. She expects her treats with every shipment and she's going to get them. Or I'll be the one paying for it. Understood?”

Clay knew better than to argue. “Of course, sir,” he said. He came back down the stairs and took the bag from Bowveld.

*  *  *  *  *  *

There was plenty of space for the three men in the control room, but—partly for security, partly for discretion—Clay and Darin stood on either side of the doors as Bowveld strode up and down the control unit, filling the room with an uneasy tension. He muttered to himself as he tried to remember in what order Dr. Banks had told him to do everything. At the front of the room, a row of television screens were mounted side by side on the wall. Below each one hung a black plaque with the name of the capsule it pertained to printed in thick white lettering. Only one of the screens was on—the one labeled
SAPPHIRE
.

Bowveld glanced up at the live video feed of Dr. Banks lying still under the purple ultraviolet light of the room.

“Okay, I think I know what to do,” said Bowveld, mostly to himself. He pressed his thumb down on the small square black scanner and waited until the machine came to life.

Bowveld withdrew his hand from the scanner and stepped over to the computer screen.

WELCOME, DIRECTOR BOWVELD.

PRESS 1 TO COMMENCE AVECTION.

PRESS 2 FOR LAST AVECTION DATA.

PRESS 3 FOR MORE OPTIONS.

Bowveld nodded and pressed down on the button marked 1.

FOR SECURITY PURPOSES, PLEASE RESCAN THUMBPRINT AND ENTER YOUR CLEARANCE CODE AT THE SAME TIME.

“Hmmm,” said Bowveld as he reached out and placed his left thumb back on the scanner. With his right hand poised over the keypad, he turned his other wrist—carefully so as not to lose contact with the fingerprint scanner—and began to slowly read out the numbers written on his palm in blue ink.

“One . . . nine . . . I can't read that,” he mumbled. He turned his hand some more, and the machine beeped.

DO NOT REMOVE THUMB UNTIL CLEARANCE CODE IS ACCEPTED.

“I know that!” shouted Bowveld at the computer screen.

“Would you like me to read it out for you, sir?”

“Um. Yes,” said Bowveld. “Good idea.”

Bowveld placed his thumb back on the pad and, as Clay called them out, he typed each number in turn and then waited until the computer responded.

IDENTITY CONFIRMED.

BEGIN AVECTION?

PRESS 1 FOR YES. PRESS 2 TO RETURN TO MAIN MENU.

Bowveld smiled and stood up. He rubbed his hands together, then reached out and pressed 1.

SELECT CAPSULE FOR AVECTION.

1—SAPPHIRE. 2—DIAMOND. 3—TOPAZ. 4—RUBY.

5—EMERALD. 6—OPAL. 7—AMETHYST. 8—CARGO.

Bowveld pressed 1.

YOU HAVE SELECTED

1—SAPPHIRE.

IS THIS CORRECT?

PRESS 1 FOR YES. PRESS 2 FOR NO.

Bowveld turned to Clay and Darin and rolled his eyes. “Is this really necessary?” he asked. He pressed 1.

Bowveld waited.

AVECTION READY TO COMMENCE.

A green light in the center of the panel began to flash. Bowveld gave a wry smile.

“Good of Dr. Banks to make this so easy for me,” he said.

He reached out and, with his hand hovering over the glowing button, looked up at the television screen.

“Bon voyage, Dr. Banks.”

He slapped his hand down.

A loud beep sounded, followed by the sound of a woman's voice coming through the loudspeaker.

“Avection commencing in ten seconds. . . .”

Bowveld looked over at Clay and Darin and gave them a thumbs-up.

“Nine . . . Eight . . . Seven . . . Six . . . Five . . .”

Bowveld picked at his manicured nails impatiently.

“Four . . . Three . . . Two . . . One . . . Avection initiated.”

The image of Dr. Banks flickered briefly, and then the screen turned black.

He was gone.

“Pull over!” shouted Parker.

Brendan looked up at the rearview mirror.

“Everything okay?”

“Pull over!”

Brendan didn't ask again. He swerved to the side of the road and switched off the engine. Then he turned around in his seat, a look of concern on his face.

“I can trust you, right?” said Parker to Michael. He was shaking.

Michael looked over at Brendan, as if hoping he might give him an explanation.

“Can I trust you?” shouted Parker.

Michael snapped back around to face Parker and nodded quickly.

“And him?” asked Parker, looking over at Brendan.

“Yes,” said Michael quickly. “With your life. Parker . . .”

“What's wrong?” asked Brendan.

“You can't tell anybody,” pleaded Parker.

Brendan and Michael nodded.

“Anybody,” repeated Parker. “I promised.” There were tears in his eyes.

“Nobody's going to say anything,” said Brendan. “Tell us what's wrong.”

Parker nodded as he stared down at the single remaining light on his wrist. He had no choice. Despite what his father had asked of him, he knew he needed help. He opened his mouth to speak and then closed it again. He had no idea where to begin.

“Take your time, son,” said Brendan.

Parker nodded again and wiped a tear from his cheek. Then he held up his wrist.

*  *  *  *  *  *

“And your sister?” asked Brendan after Parker had finally finished explaining everything. Parker was surprised at how easily both Brendan and Michael had accepted his explanation. The flashing wrist, he suspected, had helped. As crazy as his story sounded, the physical evidence was hard to ignore.

“She's at a swimming thing,” said Parker. “She doesn't wear her glasses in the water, so she can't answer my call.” He was hardly aware of Michael holding his arm and examining his wrist.

“I
knew
it wasn't just a twin thing,” mumbled Michael to himself. “I knew it.”

“Do you know where she is?” Brendan asked.

Parker shook his head.

“And you have no idea who this Solomon Gladstone is?”

Parker shook his head again. “I've never heard of him.”

Brendan looked away. He removed his hat to reveal his thinning silvery-blond hair and rubbed his face in thought.

“You're going to tell someone, aren't you?” asked Parker.

Brendan turned back again but didn't say anything.

Parker leaned forward. His red eyes were wide and pleading. “You can't do that.
Please
. You promised!”

Brendan nodded slowly. “I know I did, son. But if this is true, then . . .”

“
True?
You don't believe me?”

“I'm not saying that,” said Brendan, choosing his words carefully. “It's just not something you hear every day.”

“My dad wouldn't lie.”

“No, of course. I'm not saying that.” Brendan thought for a moment. “Okay. So let's say it's true . . .”

“It is.”

“And your dad has been taken somewhere and you've got nobody at home. No family to look after you. Then what am I supposed to do: leave two kids on their own?”

“They could stay at my house,” said Michael.

“Your parents are going to ask questions,” said Brendan.

“They don't have to know. They could stay in the tree house,” said Michael.

“Really?” asked Parker.

Michael shrugged. “It's not like they're ever home anyway. What do you think, Brendan?”

Another pause. Longer this time. Parker felt like he was going to explode with frustration.

“I have to go find Solomon! My dad needs help. Just leave me back at my house if you don't believe me. I'll work something out.”

Brendan shook his head and turned around. He started the car.

“We're going to your house,” called Brendan as he pulled back out onto the road. “You can get what you need for you and your sister for a few days. You have a key?” He looked up at the rearview mirror. Parker nodded.

“Keep trying your sister. Tell her I'll pick her up from school when she gets back.”

Parker nodded again.

“I'll help you as much as I can. And I won't say anything. But if nothing's happened in a few days, you're going to have to report it to the police.”

“Okay,” said Parker. His eyes began to fill up with tears again.

“It'll be all right, son,” said Brendan, looking at Parker's reflection in the mirror. “We'll find him.”

“I'll look up . . . Oh. My cell phone's out of battery. Brendan, can we use your phone?” asked Michael.

Without taking his eyes off the road, Brendan leaned over to the passenger seat and picked up what looked like a gray brick.

Michael took it and turned it over in his hand in horror. “When did you get this? 1965?”

“It does everything I need it to do,” said Brendan.

“Does it have the Internet?” asked Michael. He pressed down randomly on some of the thick rubber buttons.

Parker sighed. “I don't think they had the Internet in the sixties.”

Michael shook his head in disbelief and handed the phone back to Brendan. “We'll have to wait till we get mine back.”

Deflated, both boys leaned back in their seats. They spent the rest of the journey to Parker's house in silence, with Parker trying Emma on Effie at regular intervals while Michael stared at Parker's wrist.

*  *  *  *  *  *

“What is
that
?” asked Brendan.

“I can't leave her,” said Parker as he ushered Polly up his driveway. “Is it okay?”

Michael laughed and then stopped abruptly as he realized nobody else was finding the situation amusing. He shrugged apologetically. “It's a white pig.”