“Sounds like a plan.”
She leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. “Thanks, Jack.”
She gave him a quick hug, then she was out of the car and bustling toward the Camry. When she was inside they both waved and took off.
Jack watched them go, keeping an eye out for anyone who might be following. He’d taken note of the cars that had pulled into the service area during the first five minutes after they’d arrived. He’d watched them do their business and pull away. None had stayed. No one pulled out and followed Eddie.
Jack sat and thought about L.A., and how he knew no one out there and even less about the place. But Abe would. Abe could set him up with some iron while he was out there.
And who knew? Maybe he’d be discovered and start a new career as a movie star.
Or not.
19
“Mister Thompson,” Drexler said, “I believe we have achieved the required state.”
Hank looked at him from between his heavy lids. The only illumination was the faint ice-blue glow from the Orsa lying a half dozen feet away. They’d each downed three stiff absinthes—Hank chugging and Drexler sipping—and he was definitely feeling it. Drexler looked fine, however.
“Required for what?”
“To see what I wish you to see.” He rose and motioned to Hank. “Come. We must be closer.”
Hank wanted to stay put. He had a strange notion that Drexler was luring him close to the Orsa, and when he reached a certain point a glowing tentacle would whip out and snag him. He’d wind up trapped inside the thing like Darryl.
Drexler was standing by the Orsa, motioning to him with his cane. “Come. What are you waiting for?”
Well, he couldn’t tell Drexler about the tentacle, and getting up and moving about might not be a bad thing.
He pushed himself out of his chair and stepped toward the Orsa. He noticed an odd, floaty feeling as he moved; not exactly light-headed; more like light-footed.
As Hank stopped at his side, Drexler made a flourish with his cane toward the Orsa.
“Observe.”
At first Hank had no idea what he was supposed to see. And how was he supposed to look at anything else but Darryl? The poor guy’s expression looked strained. His eyes were closed—thankfully—but his mouth was wide open, as if frozen in mid-scream.
“He looks dead.”
“I assure you, he is not,” Drexler said.
“He’s not breathing.”
“The Orsa is breathing for him. Now please disregard him and concentrate on the surface of the Orsa.”
Hank ripped his gaze from Darryl and studied the Orsa’s hide—could he call it a hide? What did—?
And then he spotted the little red and white dots scattered across the dimpled surface. They almost seemed to glow. He stepped closer. They were glowing, with a faint, pulsating light. And now that he was near he could make out hair-thin red lines arcing out from the red dots in an intricate, crisscrossing pattern. It looked like someone had played connect the dots with an ultra fine–tipped pen.
“When did these show up? They weren’t here earlier.”
“Tradition has it that the Nexus Grid appears when the Orsa wakes, but an observer requires what might be described as an altered state of consciousness to perceive them.”
“You mean, drunk?”
“No. Alcohol alone will not do it. The special blend and balance of ingredients in what we’ve been drinking induces the necessary changes in perception.”
Hank squinted at the dots and lines. He noticed now that the white dots outnumbered the red by a good deal.
“Okay. I’m altered. I see them. So what? What am I seeing?”
“Opus Omega . . . which was supposed to lead to the end of history.”
“You mentioned that before. I still don’t know what you mean.”
Drexler glanced at him. “Your father told you about the Others, beings waiting outside and wanting to come in and remake the world.”
Hank nodded. Daddy had talked about that a lot. And how those who helped open the door for them would be rewarded.
“Yeah. That was why he put together the Plan to make the baby—the Key to the Future. But now . . .”
“The baby is thriving inside his mother, who is being well taken care of.”
Hank smiled. “Then the Plan is still a go.”
“You must realize there are many plans, all geared toward achieving the same end.”
“Bringing the Others in?”
“Technically, there are no ‘Others,’ only one. It has no name, but we call it the Otherness. And yes, that is the goaclass="underline" Allow the Otherness mastery over our corner of reality.”
“And when that happens, we’ll be in the catbird seat, right?”
“Not ‘we.’ The catbird seat, as you call it, is reserved for the One, a man who has been the Otherness’s instrument on Earth for . . . well, for longer than you would probably believe. We serve through him, and we shall receive our rewards through him.”
“That’s not the way my daddy explained it. He never mentioned anybody called the One.”
“That is because your ‘daddy’ had an agenda of his own that ran contrary to the wishes of the One. He was going to use the child, your so-called Key to the Future, against the One. And that is why your ‘daddy’ is no longer among the living.”
“This the guy we talked about earlier? The one who took Dawn and the baby? The one who says ‘jump’ and your High Council says ‘how high?’ ”
Drexler nodded. “Precisely.”
Hank could believe it. Something more than human about that guy—or maybe less than human. He’d admitted killing Daddy, and said how much he’d enjoyed watching his lingering death. Hank felt his insides twist in a mix of fear and anger.
“So it’s best to be on his good side.”
“The One will require loyal assistants after the Change. Those who have helped bring him to power will be rewarded.”
Well, that made sense, but something else didn’t.
“Why’s he want Dawn’s baby? If it was supposed to be used against him—”
“The One does nothing without a reason. Perhaps he sees a possibility where it might be of use to him. He knows all of the Secret History. It is futile to second-guess him. I advise you to expend your mental resources in more fruitful pursuits.”
“Will do.”
Drexler pointed to the Orsa with his black cane, bringing the tip to within an inch of a red dot.
“This and its other red brethren indicate nexus points. A veil of sorts separates our reality from the Otherness. There exist across the planet small areas where the veil is very thin. Under certain, fleeting conditions, some of the Otherness can leak through, but that is not our concern here. What I want you to notice is the network of lines running between the nexus points. Every nexus point is linked to the others by one of these fine lines of force.”
“Okay. But what about the white ones? They’re connected too.”
“The white spots are placed wherever three or more lines intersect. Each white indicates the location of a buried pillar.”
Hank stepped back for a broader look. There were hundreds, maybe a thousand white dots.
“You mean someone buried a pillar in every one of those spots? But that’s . . . that must have taken—”
“A long, long time?” Drexler’s lips curved. “Quite. Opus Omega has been under way for millennia. And it’s almost completed. Only a few sites—indicated here by black dots—remain where a pillar must be buried.”
“What happens then?”
“The veil will lift and the Otherness will flood through.”
“But what if someone starts going around taking pillars out of the ground? Doesn’t that undo something and set this Opus Omega back?”
“One would think so, but once the pillar is buried, the damage is done. If you went around the globe and dug up every single one, it would not change things.”
“Damage? Damage to what?”
“Far too complicated to go into now. Suffice it to say that Opus Omega has slowed to a crawl.”