Mercer understood then. The way she’d been talking, with a kind of reverent fatalism, it should have been obvious. She belonged to an environmental group, one with a radical arm that decided to forgo passive protesting and turn to violence. Like some fringe right-to-life groups whose members began to gun down abortion doctors, it was inevitable that extremist environmentalists would eventually target those they considered the ecosystem’s worst enemies. He still carried the scars from dealing with a similar group in Alaska a few years earlier.
“So your people think I’m Earth’s enemy number one and that by killing me a few acres of desert will remain unspoiled for future generations to ignore?”
She considered his accusation for a second. “Quite the opposite, actually. I do belong to a group, called the Order, and we do strive to protect the planet, but not in the way you think. We don’t chain ourselves to trees or chase whaling ships in rubber boats. Our work is more” — she searched for the right word — “consequential.”
Mercer scoffed. “And you consider me consequential enough to kill?”
“I never wanted you killed,” Tisa said fiercely. “But others do.”
“Because I’m a successful mining engineer,” Mercer interrupted. “And you think my work damages the environment?”
Tisa eyed him again. “With the exception of a few extreme cases, Doctor, one person cannot affect the environment in any appreciable way. You should stick to being modest. It suits you better. Very little of what you’ve accomplished has required any kind of adjustments on our part.”
Mercer had no idea what she meant by adjustments. He was about to ask when she continued.
“I’m afraid you were targeted because you stand in the way of certain people learning what happened four months ago deep under Area 51. Until they, no, I should say we — in a way I am part of this — until we learn the nature of what happened, people within the Order feel there is a tremendous risk.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
She nodded. “You don’t have any idea how much you don’t know. And I’m afraid I don’t have time to explain it to you. Well, I have the time, but you would never believe me.”
He was beginning to think his rescuer was more than a little insane. Nothing she said made sense.
“And I do want you to believe me.” Her eyes caught his, held them in the dim glow from the dashboard. The anguish had faded, but there remained a gentle sadness, a sort of pervading melancholy that softened her features. He saw that her words were an intimate confession. “By saving you I hope I’ve demonstrated that you can trust me, at least a little bit. Had I known their plans earlier, I would have gotten a warning to you, I swear. I am sorry about that hotel guest you mentioned. What time is it?”
“I’m sorry?”
“The time?”
“Oh.” Mercer glanced at his watch, noting that the dash contained a digital clock. “Eight thirty. Why? Is something going to happen?”
“No,” she said absently. “I just don’t wear a watch. I saved you because I thought it was time for someone to take a stand. Our group never started out this way. Using violence, I mean. This has only come about recently and I’m afraid it’s going to get worse.”
“Why haven’t you gone to the authorities?”
“That’s just what I’m doing. I’ve come to you. You have the experience and understanding to grasp what I will show you and hopefully the influence to prevent it.”
Mercer’s senses went on alert. “Prevent what? A terrorist attack?”
“Nothing so simple, I’m afraid. I’m going to rely on a little of that trust I hope you feel and say that I can’t tell you yet, but I can give you a demonstration.” She looked at him sideways. “You must understand that what I’m about to tell you breaks a code of secrecy dating back more than a hundred fifty years.”
She took a breath. Mercer was at a loss to explain who she was or what her group wanted, but it was clear she was fighting a battle of conscience. She seemed more reluctant to break her vow than she did to endanger her life by rescuing him.
“Can you meet me on the Greek island of Santorini on the twenty-seventh?”
“I suppose,” he said cautiously.
“There’s a tramway that carries people from the harbor up to the town. I will meet you at the upper terminal at five in the evening.”
“Tisa, I’m sorry, but you haven’t given me any reason not to think that this is all an elaborate setup of some kind.”
“And there’s nothing I can say or do until the twenty-seventh,” she countered, then reversed herself with a yelp. “Wait! Yes, I can.”
Such was the transformation that to Mercer it seemed like another person was driving the car. Her eyes, far from being dim and haunted, came alive.
“Something is going to happen in the Pacific Ocean in a couple of days. I’m sorry I don’t know what, only that it’s some kind of natural phenomenon that’s never happened before. Whatever it is, I’m sure you will recognize it. If it happens, will you meet me?” She was almost pleading.
“This something, it has to do with your group, what did you call them, the Order?”
“Yes.”
“But not a part you’re involved with?”
“No. It’s… it’s the same faction that attacked you tonight.”
“If I meet you, will you finally explain who you really are?”
“Once you see the demonstration, you’ll understand.” She paused again, as enigmatic as ever, but beguiling in way that Mercer knew he shouldn’t trust. “People call you Mercer right, not Phil or Philip?”
“Yes.”
“May I call you Mercer, too.”
“If we’re to meet again on one of the most romantic islands in the world, I think it’s the least you could do.”
Her facial muscles contorted as she fought to contain a smile. “Mercer,” she said softly, as if trying out the name for the first time.
Tisa suddenly brought the car to a stop. “Here we are,” she announced.
They’d left the highway at least an hour ago. A milky moon silhouetted the barren mountains to the east while overhead the stars burned cold and indifferent. Nearby, tall utility poles marched to the horizon like stick-figure soldiers. For as far as they could see there wasn’t any other evidence of human habitation, no lights, no buildings, nothing.
“You call this place a ‘here’?”
“Not exactly the Gare du Nord at rush hour, but this is your stop.” Tisa noticed Mercer tense and reached over to place a hand on his arm. Her fingers were long and slim. She said nothing for a second, just studied the pale outline of her skin against the dark material of Mercer’s sports coat. “Relax. We’re on an access road that leads into Area 51. About a hundred yards farther up is the perimeter. Once you pass the marker, security cameras and heat-tracking devices will detect you. It should take base security only a couple of minutes to find you. It may take a bit longer for you to establish your identity, but I think you’ll be all right.”
“What about you?” Mercer asked, more concerned than he thought he’d be. “Are you going to be all right?”
“So long as you meet me in a couple of weeks in Santorini, everything will be fine.”
“What about…?”
“The — what should I call them, the rogue faction? They won’t dare touch me. Don’t worry.”
He stepped from the car and closed the door, finding no context in what had just transpired. If asked to explain the past hours, he couldn’t. As the taillights disappeared around a bend, he realized there were two ideas he could cling to. One was that Ira Lasko had better have some answers for him when they met. And the second was that despite the skepticism he’d shown Tisa, he didn’t doubt her sanity. Too much had happened for him to think there wasn’t something much larger going on. The explosion in the mine, Donny Randall’s disappearance, the attack at the Luxor. There was a connection, but he had no idea what and wouldn’t allow himself to speculate. That would come later. For now he drew his damp jacket tighter across his shoulders and began his trudge up the chilly road. A third idea came to him and he glanced over his shoulder to where the wind had swallowed the sound of Tisa’s car. He felt certain that whatever she knew, or thought she knew, it was worth pursuing.