“I’m in charge of security,” Boone announced, then realized that he was talking to a computer. He waited for a few seconds, just to assert his independence, and removed the handgun from his shoulder holster. When he placed it in the desk drawer, three lines of light surrounded the weapon in a precise triangle. The drawer glided shut, and Boone returned to the couch. Boone didn’t mind being scanned by a machine, but it annoyed him to be treated like a criminal. Obviously, the program hadn’t been calibrated to show different levels of respect.
He stared at the large painting on the wall in front of him. It was a pastel blotch with legs that resembled a squashed spider. Three doors, each painted a different color, were at the end of the room. There was no way out except for the elevator, and the computer also controlled that system.
“The meeting is about to begin,” the voice said. “Please go through the blue door and walk to the end of the corridor.”
Boone stood up slowly and tried not to show his irritation. “And you have a nice day,” he said to the machine.
The blue door moved smoothly into the wall the moment the sensors detected his body. He walked down a hallway to a stainless-steel door without a visible lock or handle. When this door slid open, he entered a conference room with massive windows that gave a view of the Manhattan skyline. Two members of the Brethren’s executive board sat behind a long black table-Dr. Anders Jensen and Mrs. Brewster, the British woman who was pushing for the new Shadow Program in Berlin.
“Good afternoon, Nathan.” Mrs. Brewster acted as if he were some kind of servant who had just dropped by her flat in South Kensington. “I assume you know Dr. Jensen from Denmark.”
Boone nodded to Jensen. “We met last year in Europe.”
A third person was standing in front of the windows, surveying the city. Michael Corrigan. A few months ago, Boone had captured Michael in Los Angeles and transported him to the East Coast. He had seen the young man scared and confused, but now a transformation had taken place. The Traveler seemed to radiate confidence and authority.
“I’m the one who asked for this meeting,” Michael said. “Thank you for joining us at such short notice.”
“Michael has become part of our effort,” Mrs. Brewster said. “He completely understands our new objectives.”
But he’s a Traveler, Boone thought. We’ve been killing people like him for thousands of years. He wanted to grab Mrs. Brewster and shake her as if she had just started a fire in her own house. Why are you doing this? Can’t you see the danger?
“And what are our new objectives?” Boone asked. “The Brethren have done everything possible to establish the Panopticon. Has that goal changed in the last few weeks?”
“The goal is the same, but now it’s becoming possible,” Michael said. “If the Shadow Program works in Berlin, we can expand it throughout Europe and North America.”
“That involves the computer center,” Boone said. “My job is to protect the Brethren from attacks by its enemies.”
“And you haven’t done a very good job of that,” Dr. Jensen said. “Our Westchester research center was infiltrated and nearly destroyed, the completion of the quantum computer has been delayed, and last night Hollis Wilson assaulted several of your men at a Manhattan dance club.”
“We expect to have some attrition of our contract employees,” Mrs. Brewster said. “What bothers us is that Hollis Wilson escaped.”
“I need a larger staff.”
“Gabriel and his friends are not the immediate problem,” Michael said. “You need to concentrate on finding my father.”
Boone hesitated, and then spoke carefully. “These days I’m receiving different instructions from different sources.”
“My brother has never been capable of organizing anything. He was just a motorcycle messenger in Los Angeles when your men tracked us down. My father has spent his life as a Traveler, and we know he’s inspired alternative communities. Matthew Corrigan is dangerous and that’s why he’s the objective. You have your orders, Mr. Boone.”
Mrs. Brewster nodded slightly, giving her assent. Boone felt as if the massive window had just shattered and there were shards of glass everywhere. A Traveler, one of their enemies, was speaking for the Brethren.
“If that’s what you want…”
Michael walked slowly across the room. He was staring at Boone as if he had just heard every disloyal thought. “Yes, Mr. Boone. I’m in charge of finding my father, and that’s what I want.”
23
Gabriel heard the door of the storage hut slam open and hard-soled boots clomping up the staircase. Still wrapped in a heavy quilt, he rolled onto his back and opened his eyes. Sister Faustina, the Polish nun, came in with a wooden tray. She placed his breakfast on the floor, then stood with her hands on her waist.
“You asleep?”
“Not now.”
“Your friends are awake. After breakfast, please to enter the chapel.”
“Thank you, Sister Faustina. I’ll do that.”
The big woman remained near the staircase, studying Gabriel as if he were a new species of sea mammal that had washed ashore on the island.
“We talk to your father. He is a man of faith.” Sister Faustina continued staring at him and sniffed loudly. Gabriel felt like he had just failed an inspection. “We pray for your father every night. Perhaps he is in a dark place. Perhaps he cannot find a way home…”
“Thank you, Sister.”
Sister Faustina nodded and then stomped back down the staircase. There was no heat in the storage hut, so Gabriel got dressed quickly. The nun had brought him a pot of tea, a loaf of brown bread, butter, apricot jam, and a thick slice of cheddar cheese. Gabriel was hungry and he ate quickly, pausing only when he poured a second cup of tea.
Had he really made love to Maya last night? In the cold storage room, with sunlight pushing through the round windows, the moment in the chapel was distant and dreamlike. He remembered the first long kiss, the candle flames trembling as their bodies came together and then parted. For the first time since they had met each other, he felt that all of Maya’s defenses had melted away and he could see her clearly. She loved him and cared for him, and his own emotions flowed back to her. Both Harlequin and Traveler were already set apart from the ordinary world, and now these two puzzle pieces had somehow touched and locked together.
Pulling on his jacket, he left the storage hut and followed the stone pathway past the other buildings. The sky was clear, but it was a raw, cold day with a northwest wind that pushed through the scurvy grass and saw thistle. Peat smoke trailed out from the cooking hut’s stovepipe chimney, but Gabriel avoided the comfort there and went directly to the chapel.
He found Maya sitting on a bench with her sheathed sword resting on her legs. Wearing a black turtleneck sweater and black wool pants, Mother Blessing paced back and forth in front of the altar. The conversation between the two Harlequins stopped immediately when he entered the room.
“Sister Faustina said I was supposed to come here.”
“That’s right,” Mother Blessing said. “Maya has something to tell you.”
Maya glanced up at Gabriel and he felt as if he had been jabbed with a knife. The young Harlequin’s aggressive confidence had disappeared. She looked sad and defeated, and Gabriel realized that somehow Mother Blessing had found out about last night.
“It’s dangerous to have two Travelers in the same location,” Maya said. Her voice was flat and unemotional. “We’ve contacted Captain Foley on the satellite phone. You’ll leave this morning with Mother Blessing and go back to the mainland. She’ll take you to a safe house somewhere in Ireland. I’ll stay here and guard your father.”