“A situation on the ground that they will only study from outside the atmosphere,” Mikel said disgustedly.
“At last, you understand,” Bundy said.
The barrel-chested scientist departed. Siem had also left, leaving Jasso and Dr. Cummins alone.
The glaciologist rose suddenly. “Come on.”
“Where?” Mikel asked, startled from his sudden dejection. He wasn’t looking forward to trekking out there.
“To the garage,” she said. “Your friend is preparing one of the trucks.”
“My friend?”
“Siem. Good lord, I hope you read archaeological signs better than you read human ones,” she said. “Dr. Bundy is a scientist. A good one. He wants answers as much as we do, and he wasn’t saying no. He was simply abrogating responsibility for the decision I made to take you out there. Meaning, it’s my ass if we screw up. Your friend Siem was watching, saw my eyes give the order, and left.”
Mikel continued to stare at her. Dr. Cummins was correct. He had missed every piece of that.
“I understand that you work for a woman, the head of a small research organization,” Dr. Cummins went on, rising with some effort; she too was tired. “Going forward, we are not, are we, going to have a problem as to who is in charge?”
“We are not,” Mikel said, “with one caveat.”
The woman froze, her mouth turning up in a not very surprised half-smile. “You’ve got spine, I’ll give you that. What’s the caveat, Dr. Jasso?”
“You defer to me regarding a single matter.”
“Which is?”
“The ancient civilization that once held absolute sway over this continent,” he replied.
She took a moment, just staring at him. Then she said, “A… civilization?”
“Yes, quite large and advanced well beyond where the Aztecs and Mayans were at their height,” Mikel said. “A civilization that is not quite dead and is definitely not quiescent.”
CHAPTER 7
Standing in the sunny but otherwise empty living room, Ben was not just tired and angry, he was perplexed. The Langloises were definitely gone; not only couldn’t he hear her jewelry here or in the hall—he opened the door to check—but he noticed Arfa emerge from under the sofa and leap gracefully onto the windowsill. The cat skillfully nestled in the small space between the flowerpots.
Against his strongest instincts, Ben Moss phoned Eilifir. He couldn’t think of anything else to do.
“Mr. Moss, what can—”
“Have you been watching the building since I went in?” Ben asked.
“Yes—”
“Did you see the Haitian couple leave?”
“No—”
Ben swore and ended the call. Eilifir called back but Ben ignored him. He tried to think of where the Langloises could have gone—and then it occurred to him: they would have followed the energy. Not that of the smoke snake, but the one Madame Langlois herself had referred to.
Leaving Anita in the apartment, Ben dashed up to the roof. Madame Langlois was now sitting on a lawn chair that was bolted to the roof and Enok was behind her. She was facing south. The smell of cigar smoke reached Ben as he approached.
“I thought you said you had no matches.”
“Someone had a birthday recently, there were matches in the kitchen,” she said.
Ben noticed them, now, in Enok’s hand. “It was Dr. O’Hara’s birthday,” he said absently, longingly. He had to admire the woman’s resourcefulness. “What made you come up here?”
“You never know where a habit may take you,” she said.
Ben eyed the woman. “Is that all?” he asked. “This is just a place to smoke?”
“Smoking is never just to smoke,” she replied. “It helps me think. And I think that Dr. O’Hara was up here.”
“Many times,” Ben replied.
“I say recently,” she said, raising her arm and pointing to the southeast while she puffed on her cigar. “Very recently. The snake flows there. It tells me of a death.”
“In the past or future?”
“It already happened,” she said.
Ben peered out. “That’s the direction of the park where Caitlin was found.”
“It is not she who is dead,” Madame Langlois said confidently.
“Do you know exactly when she was here?” Ben asked, approaching her under Enok’s watchful eye. “Or rather, was she here in body?”
“In body and soul,” Madame Langlois assured him.
Ben looked back at the woman, disapproval in his expression. “Madame, I’m sure you understand how frustrating this is for me.”
“You are in love.”
“Yes. Yes, I am. You say Dr. O’Hara is alive but in danger, yet that isn’t much to go on. Can you please tell me anything more?”
It was Enok who answered. His eyes were hard, his voice even harder.
“You must learn to listen,” he said as the smoke from his mother’s cigar swirled past his face. “You do that for your livelihood, I am told, yet you are lost in words and not meaning.”
“I don’t agree,” Ben said. “I struggle every minute with nuance and subtext—”
“You deconstruct, that is all you do,” Enok said. “Dr. O’Hara tried. She was fully committed. She heard. You talk about going to your job. You only hear your own voice.” He touched his own forehead, right between the eyebrows.
“The third eye?” Ben said. “That’s a Hindu concept, the seat of wisdom—”
“It is present in many cultures,” Enok told him. “I was with the doctor when she heard other voices. Heard, not just listened.”
“I was with her on one of those occasions as well,” Ben shot back, “and Dr. O’Hara—Caitlin—has now paid a price for ‘hearing’ without fully understanding.”
“She saved the child from the serpent,” Madame Langlois said pleasantly. “We here are not ready for it.”
“Are you talking about a cult?” Ben asked. “Snake worshippers?”
It sounded trivial as he said it. Not silly, but small. Madame Langlois confirmed this impression.
“Not worshippers,” she replied. “The most important loa himself.”
“The god?” Ben said, making sure he understood.
“It is so.”
“What is he doing?”
“You saw,” she replied. “Damballa, the serpent loa, the Sky Father, the creator of all that live—he sent his herald. His endless coils that fill the heavens—they are coming.”
“I saw lights inside the smoke,” Ben said. “I thought those were what you meant by ‘they.’”
“The loa’s skin will be shed again, not to create the seas but to create new living things,” she continued as if she had not heard. She blew smoke at the sky. It formed a sinuous shape before dissipating to the southeast. She cackled low in her throat. “He is gone. He must go to his job too.”
Ben was more confused than ever. He did need to go to work, not just to work but also to clear his head. He turned to Enok.
“I have to leave and you cannot stay up here,” he said.
“Why not?” Enok asked.
“Because Dr. O’Hara’s father is coming and he will not understand. Would you agree to go somewhere else?”
Enok deferred to his mother. She shrugged. “Okay. Loa knows me. He will find me wherever I am.”
Ben didn’t like that, and now he wasn’t sure he wanted to take them to his apartment. He did not believe his renter’s insurance would cover the kind of damage a giant Damballa made of smoke could inflict. He also wasn’t sure his neighbors would understand. But he suddenly had another idea.
Motioning them to come along, Madame Langlois carefully extinguished her cigar on the roof then tucked it back in her pocket. Then the Langloises followed Ben down the stairs, Enok hovering attentively by his mother as she descended between the two men. Ben stopped by the apartment to let Anita know he had found the couple and was taking them somewhere else. Then he texted Eilifir and told him to meet them at the front door of the brownstone at once. When Eilifir asked why, Ben said he would let him know when they got there.