Liza thought back to Peter’s shocking revelation of this morning. It had felt like a betrayal, and she had to know what else her boyfriend was hiding.
“Do it anyway,” she said.
“Whatever you say. Once I log in, you’ve got ten minutes to find what you’re looking for. Then we get out of here. Agreed?”
“Agreed.”
Snoop clicked his mouse. “Okay, we’re in the FBI’s system. Nice home page. I’m typing the Order of Astrum into the search engine. You hit pay dirt. They’ve got a file on them.” He spun the laptop around, and slid it across the table. “The clock’s running. Go!”
Liza started reading. Her skin was tingling, and she felt like Alice jumping down the rabbit hole. The first paragraph practically knocked her sideways.
“Holy cow,” she said. “It says the Order of Astrum has been linked to several ruthless dictators who are enemies of the United States, and they are considered a threat to national security.”
“You were expecting the Boy Scouts of America?”
She tossed a peanut at Snoop, and continued reading.
“This is amazing,” Liza said a few minutes later. “According to this, the Order of Astrum wasn’t always bad. There are five members, four boys and one girl. In 1942, when they were little kids, they used their psychic powers to help the British fight the Nazis. It says a group of American generals asked for a meeting, and were taken to a town called Marble in southern England. The children conducted a seance, and made furniture move around the room. When the seance was finished, the children told the generals which towns the Germans were stationed in. It says this information was used to plot the Normandy invasion.”
“Sounds like there’s a movie here,” Snoop said.
Another peanut hit Snoop in the face.
“Better hurry. You’ve only got a couple of minutes left,” he cautioned.
“Afraid of the men in black running you down again?”
“You think I’m kidding? Just wait.”
Liza went back to reading the file.
“Oh, my God,” she said. “It says that the Order of Astrum went silent after the war. In 1988, the FBI’s New York field office was contacted by a British couple who claimed to be members of the Order, who had fled England with their son to escape the other members. The couple’s names were Claire and Henry Warren.”
“So?” Snoop said.
“Those were Peter’s parents.”
“What? Are you sure?”
“Positive. Peter showed me their pictures.”
“Let me see that.”
Liza slid the laptop across the table. Snoop found the spot, and read aloud.
“‘The Warrens claimed the other three members of the Order were selling their services to the highest bidder, and were in league with the Devil. When the Warrens were asked to rejoin the group, they refused, and were threatened by the other members.’
“The FBI protected the Warrens for six months. Right after the protection was lifted, the couple were abducted and murdered after attending a show in New York. The FBI believes the Order was behind the killings.”
Snoop looked up from the laptop. “Wow. Do you think Peter knows any of this?”
Liza shook her head. Peter had confided in her that he knew little about his parents. Now, she thought she understood why.
“Who’s going to tell him?” Snoop asked.
“I guess it’s up to me.”
Snoop looked at his watch. He slid out of the booth, and made a bee-line for the front door. Going outside, he looked back at her through the window and rapped loudly on the glass.
“Damn it,” Liza swore.
She wanted to read the file again. There were still many things she didn’t understand. The town of Marble had produced five psychic children. Two of those children had produced Peter. She tried to imagine what could have happened in that small town to cause such an amazing thing to occur. Had something mysterious happened that had caused the children to become psychics? And if something had happened, what was it?
Snoop was jumping up and down, waving at her. He’d already been arrested by the FBI once, and she didn’t want him to get arrested again. She joined him outside.
“Did you turn the laptop off?” he asked.
“No-was I supposed to?”
“Yes. Leaving it on makes it easier for them to find us. We need to get out of sight.”
They crossed Second Avenue and ducked into an alley where they stood hidden in the shadows. Soon the ground was littered with peanut shells.
“Maybe they’re not coming,” Liza said.
“Fat chance.”
A black GMC Terrain sport-utility vehicle braked across the street. The doors sprang open, and four figures wearing hoodies piled out, and entered Ball Four.
“Is that the FBI?” she asked.
“Sure is. They always drive GMC vehicles. The hoodies are new.”
A deafening noise came out of the sky. A black chopper without visible markings hovered over the office buildings on Second Avenue like a giant insect waiting to strike.
“Chopper’s new, too,” he added.
A minute later the four figures emerged from the bar. There were three men and one women. The man in charge was a stocky African-American, mid-forties, with graying temples and a deep scowl. Cradled against his chest was Snoop’s laptop. He talked into a cell phone while staring across the street into the alley where they were hiding.
“He sees us,” Liza squeaked.
“Maybe not. Just be still,” Snoop replied.
The four FBI agents got back into the van. As it drove away, the chopper rose into the sky, and was swallowed by the dark clouds. The air trapped in Liza’s lungs slowly escaped. She wouldn’t have believed this if she hadn’t seen it with her own eyes.
“Sorry I doubted you,” she said.
They emerged from the alley. Liza checked both ends of the street. Something didn’t feel right, only she couldn’t get a handle on what it was. The city seemed almost too quiet.
They headed up Second Avenue, ducking raindrops.
“That was intense,” Snoop said.
“I really didn’t mean to get you involved with this.”
“You don’t have to apologize.”
She squeezed his arm. “Thanks.”
They had reached 62nd Street. As they came around the corner, they both stopped dead in their tracks. The black Terrain was parked by the curb, and the four FBI agents stood on the sidewalk, wearing laminated badges around their necks. The man in charge pointed an accusing finger.
“You’re both under arrest,” he declared.
“Shit,” Snoop swore. “Busted again.”
19
Peter had walked from the Lower East Side to his brownstone uptown in the rain. It had given him time to think about what had happened outside Lester Rowe’s apartment. As a kid, he’d never been much of a fighter, preferring to talk his way out of tight situations, or take off running. So how had he managed to beat Wolfe to a bloody pulp? And how had the walking stick flown out of his hand like it had a mind of its own? He didn’t know. But Max did. He’d sent his teacher several texts, and had not heard back. Max was avoiding him.
The front door to his brownstone opened. Peter bounded up the steps, thinking it was Liza. She’d sent him several texts, and he needed to apologize to her for not responding. A man built like a baseball umpire came out, his body thick and solid.
“Who are you?” Peter asked.
“Special Agent Garrison, FBI. You must be Peter Warlock.”
Peter froze. What was the FBI doing inside his house? He decided to make light of the situation, for no other reason than he didn’t know what else to do.
“That’s right. I’d invite you in, but I see you’ve already made yourself at home.”
“Cut the comedy. I’m not in the mood.”
Garrison looked as mean as a junkyard dog. Peter entered the brownstone, and the snarling FBI agent slammed the door behind him.
“Start walking,” Garrison said.
Peter went down the hall with Garrison on his heels. He entered the kitchen to find Liza and Snoop sitting at the breakfast table with three grim-faced FBI agents hovering around them. His friends flashed brave smiles.