“I never thought about it like that. I hope so.”
In a lighter tone, Jerusha asked, “So. How’s it coming with those guidebooks?”
“Oh, good. Real good.” She looked at the unopened books on his tray table, then cocked an eyebrow at him.
Wally’s sigh sounded like the release valve on an overheated boiler. “I don’t read much,” he confessed.
“Did you do any preparation at all for this trip before you called me?”
“Well, I have all of Lucien’s letters. And on Saturdays back home my brother and I used to watch those old Tarzan movies on TV. I’ve probably seen them all.”
“Tarzan.” Jerusha rubbed her eyes. “Great.”
“I can even do a pretty good Tarzan yell.”
Quickly she said, “Please don’t.”
“You’re not mad, are ya?”
“I’m not mad at you, Wally. I’m mad at…” She gave him a wan little smile. “I’m just a little tired, that’s all. I haven’t slept since yesterday.”
Wally didn’t know what to say, so he said, “Thanks.”
He picked up a guidebook. And when he woke up, they were in Rome.
Headquarters of Silver Helix
London, England
Noel sat on the floor of the file room, sucking on a Tootsie Roll Pop (part of the leftover Halloween candy stash, another peculiar American custom) and reading through the agency’s files on the Nshombos. He had quit the Silver Helix last year, and he and the organization had a fragile peace.
Noel’s statements to the Hague had led to the arrest of John Bruckner, aka the Highwayman, and Brigadier Kenneth Foxworthy, aka Captain Flint, for war crimes. A year ago, Flint and Bruckner had broken into his parents’ house, killed the ace “kids” Noel had sired with Niobe, and kidnapped an American boy whose uncontrolled nuclear power had governments all over the world trying to kill him or control him. Bruckner had delivered Drake to Nigeria, to stop the advance of the PPA army into that oil-rich nation. Thousands had died in the detonation, and ultimately Nigeria had fallen to the PPA anyway.
Foxworthy and Bruckner were now in custody in Holland. Bruckner was gobbling about how he was “just following orders,” but Flint had fallen on his sword for crown and country by taking all the blame. The Silver Helix knew that Noel had a huge file about the assassinations he had undertaken on behalf of the British government just waiting to be released if they made any move against him. Noel didn’t see why the “MAD” agreement couldn’t be extended to making use of the resources of the Silver Helix.
He scanned quickly through the pages, searching for something he could use to discredit the brother and sister. The brother was an abstemious man-no mistresses, no drugs, no alcohol. The sister was more sybaritic-she overindulged in food and sex. It was believed she slept with most of the men recruited into her Leopard Society. But she wasn’t the head of the state-exposing her excesses would do little.
Noel flipped up another page. The heading on the one below read assets. The Nshombos had three Swiss bank accounts-one guess who had two and who had one-but the numbers were unknown. In addition to the palace in Kongoville there was an apartment in Paris and a home on the Dalmatian coast. There was a yacht. A line caught his eye. The national treasury appears to consist of a mixture of gold bullion, platinum bars, and uncut diamonds held in the Central Bank of the Congo.
Suddenly the door opened.
Noel cursed himself for being so focused on his reading that he had missed the approaching footsteps. He glanced at his watch: 4:42 p.m. Outside, the winter sun was dropping into the fogs and fumes of Old London Town. But it wasn’t full night yet, and Noel was trapped in his real body and unable to teleport. The headshrinkers with the Silver Helix had never been able to help him overcome his psychological glitch so Noel himself could teleport like his avatars.
He reached under his jacket for his pistol. He really didn’t want to shoot one of his former comrades, so he just rested his hand on the butt.
“Noel, what the hell are you doing here, man?”
It was Devlin Pear, aka Ha’Penny. Since Noel was seated on the floor they were actually nose to nose. Dev was a midget. He could get smaller, a lot smaller.
Noel held up the file. “Just a bit of intel.”
“You can’t do this. Lady Margaret’s on the desk tonight. She’d have your balls if she knew you were here.”
And that was most certainly true. Lady Margaret, aka Titania, had nursed a desperate crush on the former head of the Silver Helix for years. Now Captain Flint was awaiting his war crimes trial, and Noel had put him there. “Well then, don’t tell her.”
“I’ve got to. You can’t just pop in here-”
Noel laid a hand on the file. “Look, I’m doing God’s work. Or at least England’s, which is almost the same thing.” He gave Dev a smile, but the little ace continued to look worried. “I’m looking for a way to remove the Nshombos that won’t have Western fingerprints on it. That can only help British interests in the area, right?”
“Why would you do that? You left the service.”
“I don’t give a tinker’s damn about the Silver Helix, but I’m still an Englishman. I just wanted some information.”
“That’s really all you want?”
“I swear.”
“All right, but don’t do this again.” The little ace hesitated. “Call me instead.”
They shook hands, Noel put away the files, stood, and checked his watch. It was still three minutes until full night.
“Wish you hadn’t left us,” Devlin said.
“I had to. I didn’t like what I’d become.”
Ha’Penny considered Noel’s role in the Silver Helix-assassin-and nodded slowly. “I can see that.”
It was time. Noel made the transition to Lilith. “The PPA’s the danger, Dev,” she said. “I just want to help.” And she teleported away.
5
Monday,
November 30
Paraguacu River
Bahia State, Brazil
His eyes snapped open to darkness.
The humid air remained hot long after midnight. Sweat rolled ticklingly into armpits that felt at once familiar and utterly alien. Insects buzzed like power-saw choirs. Poison-arrow frogs trilled to advertise their killer beauty. The river sighed and gurgled through the mangrove roots. The smell of the water, like strong tea and death, overwhelmed even the smell of sweat-soaked bedding.
Starlight through the open window confirmed his memory, still vague with transition, that the blur beside him was the sleeping face of Sun Hei-lian. Details of her incredibly fine features resolved slowly as his mind and vision focused. The lines that living left in her face somehow made her even more beautiful to Mark Meadows’s eyes.
Good thing she’s close, he thought. He’d always been nearsighted. And for the last fourteen years he had seen through eagle-perfect eyes.
It took him three breaths to dare to try to move his eyeballs. There was little left to see: the bed, the rough room with its few and deliberately raw furnishings of wood and coarse rope, the Coleman lantern they’d brought from Salvador, now dark. And the rest of the woman herself, pale and slender and exquisite.
That was a favor, anyway. If as much torment as pleasure. He knew that body’s every contour. Yet she had never known his touch. Only the touch of this body he inhabited. Isn’t that just my luck? he thought. I fall in love with a lethal lady Chinese spy. And she falls in love with the evil alter ego who’s taken over my body. Perfect.
It wasn’t the first time he’d made himself a fool for love. His obsession with his first love, Sunflower, had led him into the obsessive quest that resulted in his body being usurped by the Radical. Long after the love he’d felt for her had ended in divorce, acrimony, and Sprout.
Sprout -it was Hei-lian’s treatment of Mark’s daughter that made him fall in love with her. She had begun with coldness, almost loathing. Now she showed every sign of loving her. It was as if Sprout had awakened a capacity for kindness in a woman who had lived virtually her entire life professionally coldhearted.