The vent cover bent, then fell as a boot kicked it down, and a sleek body contorted out, flipped around and landed on the table feet-first like a cat.
“Don’t my dear me, Xavier. That wasn’t as easy as it looked.”
“I don’t doubt it, Nina. All this security, tricky for anyone without psychic powers. Or a tank. Good thing you had one of those.”
“Actually,” she said, moving to quickly undo the chains and cuffs binding Montross to the table, “my tank was Orlando Natch.”
“That kid?” Montross couldn’t feign his surprise.
“Ghost in the Machine. I’ll tell you later.” The chains dropped and they stepped over the general, heading for the door. Montross knelt and took the keycard off Asiro’s body.
“We’re not out of this yet,” Nina said. “But something tells me you’ll soon be with a certain astronomer again, causing all manner of romantic mischief.”
“Don’t get jealous on me, Nina.”
At the door, Nina gave him a once-over. “Those days are gone, sir. Don’t much care for the new body. Don’t senators work out once in a while?”
“Ugh, don’t get me started. Not enough time in the day. Now, where the hell is Caleb? I can’t see anything about him, not even the blue shield.”
“No. We’re working on that, but first, more important shit to deal with, like saving the world.”
Montross shook his head and followed her.
“Yeah. What else is new?”
10
She lifted her sweatshirt hood, donned her sunglasses — big dark ovals in the Audrey Hepburn style — and started walking up the Foggy Bottom-GWU Metro station stairs and into the bustling street.
Phoebe wasn’t as concerned just now about discovery and apprehension, although she had seen her share of 24 and CSI-like shows to know that cameras and facial recognition programs were everywhere. Hence the glasses and hood, but she also knew to be safe she needed to get out of the main areas fast.
Had to get somewhere more secluded to think, to let her mind free to seek out answers. To follow the breadcrumb trail of glimpses she had been shown for the past few hours.
A forbidding desert. Earth scorched and red…
Nevada? Death Valley?
Not distinguished enough.
Where was Caleb?
Mongolia perhaps, but missing the mountain ranges that should have graced the horizons.
She was trying to keep her focus narrow. Find Caleb. She was his sister. That connection was lifelong and powerful. They weren’t twins, not like her children or Nina’s, but close enough that the bond was there, and strong. She could always feel him, and could sense when he was in trouble. Like now. Teetering between life and death. Choices of such magnitude thrust upon him.
However, there were other objectives, other targets that needed to be found. Phoebe hoped Nina could free Orlando. But what about Xavier and the others on the team, so many strong psychics, each with great strengths, chosen not only for their abilities but for their backgrounds? They had each weathered so much personal turmoil in their lives, to have come this far and found a home for their unique skills, she couldn’t let them now suffer for it.
Behind it all though, something deeper pulled at her mind, drawing her visions toward a target not on any of her lists.
She thought of the mountain caves of Afghanistan, and the call of Shamballa. The whispered echoes in the gloom, the alluring music from the depths and the views of magical cities beyond belief. What was all that?
Now she wondered if such visions were just of the same type as this Boris had done: mere projections thrust into her mind to convince her of a false truth, a beautiful realm where none such existed.
She passed through a crowd of people on the way to work, all chatting away on their phones. She even caught a snippet of a conversation about whether or not to believe the news, all this talk of spying and psychics, and then she ducked hard right, down a set of stairs into a shrub-lined alley where the scent of roses mixed with nutmeg and almond from a coffee shop below.
The Potomac was to her right now, lazily rustling under a bridge. She followed its western bank, continuing to think and focus and cast aside false visions. These came all too fast and sudden when she thought of Caleb. A scene of an ice-capped mountain retreat and a low, dull sun. Swiss Alps maybe? A convoy of black vehicles making the ascent up an icy road.
Nice try, she thought. Get us to think Iceland or something, and waste our time. Screw you, Boris and everyone else behind this farce.
Putting aside the loss to the world by their absence, the fact that they were now ‘blind’ to the vagaries of future disaster, terrorism and worse, she forced herself to stay with the plan. To trust Victoria, to trust Nina. To trust that her children were safe with Orlando’s mother and the shielding artifact, and that the others were in good hands. She had to get Caleb.
Or did she?
Aren’t you acting Head of Stargate now? What would Caleb do?
She paused, stopping under a magnolia tree. Two girls ran up ahead, chasing pigeons while their mother chattered on her phone.
What if the right thing to do isn’t to save your brother?
Where the hell had that thought come from?
Phoebe suddenly tensed, wishing there were shadows she could duck into. Feeling like she was in the sun’s spotlight, with unwanted eyes upon her, she scanned the promenade area. A sketch artist and a street vendor were up ahead. Two couples walked hand in hand. A business man in sunglasses… suspicious at first until he flagged down a girl selling flowers. Nothing, except…
A grimy old man in a wool cap and a faded army jacket curled against a wall, asleep. Looks like he’s slept there all night, if not all week. A cardboard sign next to him, with nothing but faded letters.
Phoebe found herself walking toward him, and more — discovered that he was not only awake, but eyes wide open and staring intently at her.
…just as a new vision burst like an opening sunflower into her mind. Without willing it or asking for anything to be seen, it came. Sudden but not intrusive somehow.
Rolling over the current fabric of reality, unfurled a vision of such cataclysmic force and horror that she reeled back and nearly collapsed.
The Washington skyline — the Capitol and the Monument clearly visible for a split second, before something like a missile streaked down from the western sky, struck and launched a blossoming shock wave rupturing everything in its path, sending a wall of water, and then fire and heat in all directions.
Phoebe nearly cried out, shook it away and stared at the old man — who had now sat up, slowly and painfully.
He took off his hat, revealing a smooth, bald head.
And kind, sad but familiar eyes that reached into her soul as if to say, sorry, but there is more you must see.
The words came this time, drawing substance only in her mind. Sharp and clear, preceding another kaleidoscopic series of visions, each more violent and terrifying than the last.
Come, he spoke in her mind, as the sights cleared just as fast. She was back on the street, with no old derelict man, just the regular people and normalcy.
Find me, came his voice. But hurry, they’re after you.
11