Triskellion 3: The Gathering (16 page)

Thanks to the information called up by the mystery hacker, the director now knew where the car they were after was headed. He watched the map open on his computer screen. A blue line had been plotted that joined New York to Cincinnati to Indianapolis. He watched it stretch across the country, following the three co-ordinates. It traced a diagonal line across the states into New Mexico.

The director allowed himself a smile. The children were driving themselves to exactly where he wanted them to be, saving him the trouble of taking them there. He logged back into the intelligence terminal, deciding to refresh and update his last message:

He added another line:

DO NOT INTERCEPT. DO NOT ARREST.

He was pleased with his day’s work. Things were beginning to swing in his favour. He started to compose an email to Crow in Alamogordo. The man might have an opportunity to redeem himself, the director thought.

As he was typing, Meredith handed him a piece of paper. She smiled, knowing that she had done something that would please her boss. “They traced the hacker to an internet cafe here in New York,” she said.

The director studied the data on the printout.

A code name was highlighted in red.

SHEILA.

“Well, well,” he said. “Laura Sullivan. Welcome back.”

R
achel, Adam and Gabriel sat in a small hotel room. The curtains were drawn and the room was lit only by the flickering light from a small TV set in the corner. The atmosphere between the children had been tense and the conversation all but non-existent since the exchange on the Greyhound.

Adam was doing his best to lighten the mood. He thrust his hand deep into a large bowl of nachos and ate noisily, talking as cheerfully as he could between mouthfuls. “It’s like being in a rock band or something,” he said. “Another town, another hotel room, you know? Like being on tour and not knowing which city you’re in.”

“St Louis,” Rachel said.

“Yeah, I
know
.” Adam brushed crumbs from the front of his shirt. “I’m just saying that’s what it’s like.”

“I guess.” Rachel was lying down with her eyes closed. She was not particularly angry with Gabriel any more; she was too frightened for that. She sensed that as they drew ever closer to this mysterious place in the desert that they seemed destined to visit, the danger would only increase, especially if what Gabriel had said about their powers being “blocked” were true.

Now they would not even be able to recognize their enemy.

In those brief periods when the fear for herself and Adam faded a little, it was quickly replaced by an even greater fear for their father. If she had harboured any doubts about what the Hope Project and those who worked for it were cap-able of, they had evaporated at the railway station in Ohio. If they could threaten a child in the way that woman had, then there would be no limit to what they would do to Ralph Newman.

Rachel’s only hope was that they would quickly realize that her father was of no use to them – but even that was of little comfort. She knew how ruthless Hope could be when it came to those who had become expendable.

Perhaps she and Adam were already too late…

“Maybe we
should
start a rock band,” Adam said. “I mean, if we can speak any language we like, then I could probably play the guitar like Jimi Hendrix.” He shoved in another mouthful of nachos, flicking through the TV channels at the same time. “And you can probably sing like Madonna. No, way
better
than Madonna. What do you think? Rachel…?”

Rachel was not listening.

“I’m going out,” Gabriel said.

Rachel opened her eyes and sat up. “Where?”

Gabriel shrugged. “I just need some air.”

“I’ll come with you,” she said. Gabriel was being evasive and she wanted to know why. But it was more than that – unwilling as she was to admit it to herself, she also craved time alone with him.

“No, it’s fine,” he said. “I think we’re starting to get on one another’s nerves anyway. I won’t be long. Will you two be OK?”

Rachel stared at him, but Gabriel wouldn’t meet her eyes.

“Yeah, no problem,” Adam said, still munching on nachos. “Bring back a few beers, will you?” He glanced up to see Gabriel heading for the door with no intention of answering him. “Worth a try,” he muttered.

At the door Gabriel turned. “Don’t do anything stupid.”

Adam raised his hands as if the idea were completely ridiculous. “Such as?”

“Anything.”

Rachel waited less than a minute after the door had closed behind Gabriel, before saying, “Let’s call Laura.”

“What?” Adam got to his feet. “You heard what he said.”

“He’s not being honest with us.” Rachel reached for her jacket. “And it’s not the first time. Come on; don’t you want to know if she’s heard from Mom?”

“Course I do, but—”

“We’ll go down to the lobby and use the payphone. Even if they
are
monitoring Laura’s cell, we won’t stay on long enough for them to trace it. Adam?”

“I guess it would be all right.”

They walked down to the lobby, nodding politely at the seedy looking man who had checked them in, believing them to be old age pensioners from Alaska.

A man was talking on the public phone. Rachel caught his eye, and without a word he hung up and walked away.

Rachel dialled the number.

“Mel Campbell…”

“It’s me.”

“Thank God.” The relief was plain in Laura’s voice. “Are you OK?”

“We’re fine,” Rachel lied. “Do you know where Mom is?”

“She’s right here,” Laura said. “Hang on.”

Rachel was relaying the conversation back to Adam when she heard her mother’s voice on the line. “Mom? You OK?”

“Where are you?”

“Please don’t ask me that,” Rachel said. Tears sprang to her eyes. “I really don’t want to tell you.”

“Is Adam all right?”

“He’s fine. He’s right here.”

“I’m fine!” Adam shouted.

“What are you doing?” Kate asked.

“We think we know where Dad is,” Rachel said. “We’re going to find him.” She could hear that her mother and Laura were driving and she suddenly had the overwhelming sense that they were getting closer. “Are you in
America
?”

“We’re coming to get you,” Kate said.

“No!” Rachel shouted. “You need to go back. Turn round now and go back to Australia!”

“I can’t go back.”

“Why not? What’s happened?”

“Nothing. Look, I’m just so worried about you both.”

Adam was pointing at his watch. “That’s nearly a minute,” he said. “Time to hang up.”

“I’ve got to go, Mom,” Rachel said. “Love you.”

Adam snatched the phone from her and shouted, “I love you too…”

He hung up before his mother had had a chance to answer. The twins began walking back across the lobby. “She sound OK to you?” Adam asked.

Rachel knew there was little point in lying when her brother could read her mind so easily. “There’s something she’s not telling us.”

Adam was worried too but did his best to smile. “It’s starting to run in the family,” he said.

N
eon lights that spelled the word
FOX
shone in the night sky and cast a red glow over the several thousand Triple Wheelers filing in through the main doors of the building. Across the front of it, a huge semicircular billboard, painted to look like a clock, had been raised.

A banner read:
TICK-TOCK. TICK-TOCK – THE GATHERING DRAWS NEAR
!

The “Fabulous” Fox Theatre on Grand Boulevard had been built in 1929 on the site of what was once home to the Grand Avenue Presbyterian Church. The theatre was rightly known as the Pride of St Louis, and just as every major motion picture had been shown in its magnificent five thousand-seater auditorium, almost every great entertainer of the twentieth century had, at one time or another, entertained the people of the city from its vast stage.

Frank Sinatra, Glenn Miller, Elvis Presley…

Now Ezekiel Crane was slowly stalking its opulent corridors. He sucked in the air that was infused with a rich and magical history. He studied the photographs and playbills that lined the walls before stopping in front of a framed poster for a Fox production from over fifty years before. The line-up of artists that had appeared in 1955 had certainly been impressive.

But Crane was drawn to this poster for reasons of his own.

1955 had been a significant year.

It had been the year when visitors from a little further afield had come to the United States…

In the polished glass, Crane watched his smile disappear. He felt a tingle at the ends of his fingers. He felt it spread across skin that had been harvested from the dead years before and grafted on to his own flesh.

He had known this moment was coming, of course. It was necessary. It was part of the scheme of things. The presence of these two … no
three
… children, while a threat, was certainly a necessity – for without them the show Crane had planned for a few days’ time could not take place. It was to be the best and biggest show of all. And they were a vital part of the bill.

Ezekiel Crane’s smile reappeared, spectacular as ever. He lifted up his dark glasses and winked at himself in the glass, before going to join his closest disciples backstage. Crane did this before every meeting. It was not so much a prayer meeting, but a pep talk to get his team ready to go out and work the audience up to fever pitch before he appeared on stage.

“May you use this energy – my gift to you – and pass it on to the people so that they may feel it too,” Crane intoned in a dramatic voice. “Let them sing it from their hearts and believe it in their souls. I want to see eyes burning with zeal and mouths speaking in tongues. Reach out to every man, woman and child in the hive and let them know that they are the chosen few, the faithful remnant; they are my workers and my drones and their work has not been in vain. Let them know that I will deliver them. Amen.”

In unison, the circle of Crane’s closest followers mumbled “Amen.”

Crane waved a vague blessing at his devotees and they hurried away to prepare for the show while he returned to his dressing room with Brother Jedediah to put the finishing touches to his wig.

“Biggest crowd I ever seen out there, Pastor,” Jedediah said. He grinned obsequiously and rubbed his sweaty palms together.

Crane grunted. He knew the theatre would be full to capacity; tonight was going to be very special. He sat down in the padded make-up chair and rolled up his sleeve. He double-looped a rubber band round his arm, just above the elbow, and tapped his skin with two fingers, trying to raise a vein.

Jedediah was already going about his work; with hairspray and the pointed end of a styling comb, he was teasing the back of Crane’s hair into a blond roll over his high collar. “Got a new supply of venom coming in tomorrow,” he said. “Top quality stuff from Mexico.”

“Glad to hear it, Brother Jed.” Crane flashed his teeth. “I’m going to need all the strength I can get in the next few weeks.” He found a blood vessel and stuck the needle in, letting out a long sigh as he pushed down the plunger and the bee venom raced into his veins…