"On target?" Jack said.
She sighed and he saw her nod in the dim light. "Yeah. "
He'd figured if she hadn't already thought of that, it wouldn't be long before she did. Might as well get it on the table.
"Just promise me, Dawn, that the only window you'll peek through is one of those upstairs, okay?"
A reluctant tone: "Okay. But somebody needs to look in that house. "
"I agree. And that would be me. Dark is the best time. In fact, I'll take a look right now. "
FRIDAY Chapter 8
The bayfront mansion occupied an oversize lot - at least triple, maybe quadruple. The excess land on either side had been left untended and filled with a tangle of wild bayberry. The leaves had dropped in the fall and the bare branches scratched and tugged at Jack as he made his way toward the west side of the house.
Before approaching the mansion, he'd done a quick reconnoiter of the neighborhood. Half a dozen houses occupied this end of the street. He already knew about the mansion and the O'Donnell house, so he checked out the others. All four were empty. Still had to be careful, though. Never knew who was going to drive by.
When he reached the yard proper, he encountered an expanse of three-quarter-inch gravel that substituted for grass out here.
Good thing it was March instead of summer. No way to cross those stones in silence. If the windows were open, he'd be busted. But even though they were all shut tight against the cold, he moved as carefully and silently as he could.
The icy wind off the bay cut at him as he peeked through a lighted side window that looked in on the house's great room. Probably should have been called a huge room. It had a high, raftered ceiling and took up the entire waterfront side of the first floor. An unbroken line of sliding-glass doors faced the water; the stained plank walls were bedizened with all the standard beach house paraphernalia: framed seascapes, sailboat-racing pennants, mounted fish, and an assortment of nets and buoys suspended among the rafters.
Two people - a heavyset gray-haired woman on the sofa and a big guy in an easy chair - watched an appropriately large flat-screen TV.
And off to the side . . . a white bassinet.
Isn't this cozy. Just a down-homey, Norman Rockwelly domestic scene.
Okay, the guy had to be Georges, and the woman fit Dawn's description of Gilda, the housekeeper. The baby himself wasn't visible and no tentacles coiled in the air above the bassinet. But after Dr. Heinze's visit today, the mere presence of the bassinet was enough.
Only one thing missing: the Master of the house. Where was - ?
He stiffened at the sound of a high-pitched screech from within. Not human, and not like any animal he'd ever heard. Something between, that tickled the hairs on the back of his neck.
He saw Georges jump in his chair - the screech had to have been much louder in there - but he didn't rise. He looked like he'd heard it before. The woman, however, bounced her thick body off the couch and hurried in Jack's direction. Another screech sounded as she approached and he saw her press her hands over her ears. He ducked back as she neared. When he peeked back in, Georges was still in his chair, eyes on the screen, and Gilda was nowhere in sight.
That noise . . . had to be Dawn's baby. But what kind of baby had a cry like that? Jack had spent some time with Gia down in the St. Vincent's pediatric AIDS ward before the hospital shut down. He'd heard a lot of distressed babies but never one that sounded like that.
The sound didn't repeat. Jack watched until Gilda reappeared from a side room. He'd hoped to see her carrying a baby but she was empty-handed. She returned to the sofa where she and Georges had a brief conversation before fixing their gazes on the screen again.
Lowering to a crouch and stepping carefully, he moved around to the south side to what he estimated would be the window into the room she'd visited. He couldn't stay here long because it faced the street where he was exposed to anyone driving past, but he felt compelled to peek. The streetlight behind him cast a skewed quadrangle of light across the floor within, ending at the legs of a crib. He saw the shadow of his head moving within the light, but the crib lay beyond it, sheathed in darkness.
He spotted two bright points behind its railing - not glowing, merely reflecting the light from the window. Little eyes? But they seemed too high in the crib to belong to the baby. He'd have to be standing upright for them to be at that level. Jack's knowledge about babies was on a par with his grasp of quantum mechanics, but he was pretty damn sure infants couldn't stand at only two weeks of age.
But then again, this was no ordinary baby. This little guy was full of oDNA, damn near a q'qr. Maybe . . .
No way. But damn, they looked like eyes, and they seemed trained on him . . . but they didn't blink.
He ducked away for fear of triggering another screech.
He shook off a chill. The previous Norman Rockwelly scene had taken an Addams Family turn.
He returned to the great-room window and the really important question: Where was Rasalom?
What did he do in his downtime, when he wasn't plotting the end of the world? Hang upside down from a rafter? Jack couldn't help a glance up to check among the junk up there.
The rest of the house was dark, so he had to assume that Rasalom was either sleeping or absent. Jack couldn't buy sleeping, so he'd have to go with his being somewhere else.
But where? When was he coming back? Did he ever visit?
The presence of his driver was a good indication that he did. But hell, he could be a couple of continents away on some extended jaunt. If so, how long could Jack keep Dawn reined in?
Dawn . . . she worried him. She was the weak link here. He wished he could send her back to the city and tell her to wait while he took care of everything. But that would never fly.
That infant seat in the back of her car spoke volumes: She wasn't leaving here until she had a baby in it.
The question now was how much to tell her? Mention the bassinet? Would that send her flying across the street?
He needed more info on Rasalom's whereabouts and knew of only one place to get it.
FRIDAY Chapter 9
"I'm glad you called," Ernst said when he recognized Jack's voice. He meant it. "I have uncovered some information and didn't know how to contact you. "
"I'm all ears. "
"I proceeded in a circumspect manner, pretending to look for one thing while really looking for another. "
"And?"
Impatience was already creeping into Jack's tone. Well, too bad. Ernst's information could not be fully appreciated without the details of the quest.
He glanced around his apartment. Hard to believe that only twenty-four hours ago Jack had invaded his home and threatened him. In the ensuing hours Ernst had become responsible for the deaths of three of his brothers in the Order and had joined forces with Jack against the One. An almost unthinkable turnaround in any length of time, but a day?
All the One's doing, of course. He had deserted Ernst, not the other way around.
"Do you know the name of the One's housekeeper?"
"Gilda. "
Ernst felt his eyebrows lift. Odd that Jack would know. Only the very upper echelons of the Order were aware of that. Well, here was something he would not know . . .
"Are you aware of her last name?"
"Not a clue. "
That was a relief, in a way.
"The Order has supplied logistical support and personnel to the One for millennia. His current driver/assistant - "
"Georges. "
"Yes . . . correct. "
Did Jack have a source high up in the Order? His friend Edward Connell would be privy to none of this. Who then?
"Georges is a member of the Order. When the One needed a female to deal with a certain matter - "
"That matter being Dawn Pickering, right? Does this train have a caboose?"
Of course - the pregnant Pickering girl had lived in the
One's house and was no doubt in touch with Jack now. She was the source.
He felt better.
"Since the Order does not admit female members, a relative of one of the brothers was recruited for the housekeeper position. Gilda's son's name was Kristof . . . Kristof Szeto. "
"Ah. Like mother, like son, I gather. But so what?"
"Well, I could not very well draw attention to myself by going to the High Council and inquiring directly as to the One's whereabouts. Instead I asked about Kristof Szeto's mother so that I might offer my condolences, seeing as how her son and I had such a close working relationship. "
"Pretty close dying relationship too. "
"Yes, well, be that as it may, I learned her location but I was instructed not to approach her. She's still being used by the One and has not been informed of her son's demise because it might distract her from her duties. "
A short, bitter laugh. "You guys are all heart. "
"Never mind that. She will be told at a later date. The important thing is that locating her is the same as locating the One. "
"Not necessarily. I've been to the Nuckateague place - she's there, but he's not. "
The words shocked Ernst.
"You know about Nuckateague? How can you possibly - ?"
"Vee haff vays. "
If that was supposed to be a German accent, it was terrible.
Ernst felt unaccountably crushed. He thought he'd been quite clever in ferreting out the location without allowing the slightest hint of what he was really looking for. And here Jack had found it without him.
"So if he's not at the house," Jack said, "where is he?"
Ernst wanted to say, You mean there is something you do not already know?
"I do not know. "
"Then what good - ?"
"But I know where he will be. "
"Where?"
"JFK Airport at six P. M. tomorrow evening. Georges is scheduled to pick him up then and drive him to the Nuckateague house. "
During the ensuing silence Ernst thought of how fortuitous it was that the High Council required Georges and Gilda to log in regarding their duties. Gilda was apparently taking care of the Pickering baby now, while Georges had what could only be described as a cushy assignment - few duties in luxurious surroundings. With the One away - no one knew where - he quite literally had nothing to do.
"Six o'clock tomorrow night," Jack said. "You're sure?"
"I'm sure that is what Georges told the Council. Whether or not it will change, I have no idea. "
"All right. Thanks. "
And then he was gone. Ernst laid his phone on the table.
Thanks . . .
No . . . thank you . . . if you succeed.
Would Jack make his move tomorrow? He seemed impatient to have this done with, but he also seemed very cautious . . . a careful planner.
But even the most carefully laid plan could go awry, usually because of the simplest little thing. Some unpredictable mishap, some unforeseeable variable completely outside the plan could change everything.
If Jack succeeded, excellent. If he failed, Ernst would stand ready to assist the One in any way humanly possible.
Yes, though he foresaw little chance of success, from the depths of his heart Ernst wished Jack luck. The best of luck. Eliminating the One would save the entire world from a terrible fate.
But most important, it would save Ernst Drexler.
FRIDAY Chapter 10
Jack pocketed his phone.
Tomorrow at six . . .
That didn't leave much time. He had the huge trunk of his Crown Vic stocked with the special ammo Abe had supplied, but it was garaged a couple of hours away in the city. He needed to get back to Manhattan, and hoped Abe had acquired the final items on his shopping list.
Dawn's Volvo sat in the O'Donnells' garage and would stay there. Weezy had hidden the rented SUV off road in the trees down by the highway and driven in with Dawn. Round trip from way out here to the city this time of year took about four hours. On a crowded summer weekend it could take that long just one way. Weezy could drive him in and head right back, but that would mean leaving Dawn out here alone for four hours. Not a good idea.
Then he remembered: The Hampton Jitney ran between Montauk and the city. Probably a limited schedule this time of year, but he could hop one of those early tomorrow morning and make it to the city without leaving Dawn unattended.
He took the steps to the second floor two at a time and slipped into the darkened front bedroom. Two figures sat by the window, silhouetted against the glow from the streetlight outside. Dawn stared out at the night, Jack's Leica Ultravid binocs pressed to her eyes. Weezy turned at his entrance.
"The lights are going out over there," she said. "Looks like they're calling it a night. "
"Are you sure you didn't see my baby?" Dawn said, still peering.
"I've a pretty good idea what a baby looks like, and I didn't see one. "
But I'm pretty sure I heard one.
He'd told her about seeing Gilda but hadn't mentioned the bassinet or the screech. He wasn't sure of the best way to play this, but that seemed like the way to go. The screech might get her all upset, thinking the baby was in distress or being mistreated, making her a wilder card than she already was.
She lowered the Leica. "Damn. "
"Hey, Dawn, it's late," he said. "Only the great room was lit. The baby was probably asleep in one of the dark rooms. Add Gilda's presence to the doctor's visit and it's almost a sure thing he's there. "
"I hope so. "
Weezy looked at him. "Just as you're almost sure Ra - " She cleared her throat. "Mister Osala is not?"
He glanced at her. She'd almost slipped there. Dawn knew nothing of Rasalom.
"I just got it on good authority that he'll be returning tomorrow night. "
"Excellent," Weezy said. "Then all the pieces will be in place and we can start to plan our moves. "
Jack already had a plan forming. If it worked out, Rasalom would never reach the house.
Weezy was rubbing Dawn's shoulder. "Won't be long now, Dawn. "
Jack took the glasses and checked out the mansion. All dark now. Early to bed and early to rise?
He focused on the window to the baby's room, remembering those two points of light in the crib. Could it have been standing at two weeks old?
He'd promised Dawn he'd help her get her baby back, but what exactly would she be getting? She'd had only a glimpse of the child right after delivery. Would she still want it when she saw it close up in the light of day?
The memory of its screech still rattled him.
SATURDAY Chapter 1
Weezy guessed this was what cops called a stakeout. How did they stand it? Boredom had her ready to scream.
She was sick of watching that place on the far side of Dune Drive but they had to track anyone coming or going - especially Rasalom or the baby. Rasalom - had to remember to call him Osala when Dawn was around - wasn't due in till tonight, and she hardly expected to see the driver or the housekeeper taking the baby for a walk in a stroller. Not in this wind and cold.
Still . . .
She trained Jack's Leica on the place anyway. She didn't know what these binoculars cost, but knew they were pricey. Worth it, though. She felt she knew every cedar shake on the house's siding, every shingle on its hipped roof. Even found a few that needed replacing.
After checking all the windows, she aimed the binocs at the yard. This window in the O'Donnell house offered a view of the west and south sides of the place, plus some of the bulkheaded yard along the bay. With a waterfront house, which was the front yard - water side or street side?
She tracked right to the bulkheaded lagoon that ran along the far side of the house. The cabin cruiser bobbed in the water, moored to the pilings of the small planked dock.
Farther right she came to the detached garage that sat at th
e end of the lagoon. Its siding and roof were identical to the house. Weezy hadn't looked, but assumed Rasalom's Mercedes rested within.
She angled her view up and left to the stormy water beyond the house. Out there among the whitecaps, maybe three miles off shore, sat Gardiner's Island - privately owned and big enough to have its own airstrip.
Lots of money out here. Some of it old, some of it new. But if Rasalom had his way, none of it would be of any use, no matter what the amount.
She lowered the glasses and stared at the gray clouds flowing over the bay. Comin' up a storm, as they said down south. Indeed it was. And that was where the nor'easter lay - to the south.
She glanced over at the bedroom's fourteen-inch TV where the Weather Channel's reporters were salivating over the storm roiling up the coast. D. C. and Baltimore were getting snowed in; Delaware, Jersey, and New York were next in line.
She hoped Jack got back before it hit too hard.
They'd left Dawn asleep in the downstairs bedroom and walked to where Weezy had parked the SUV. The short drive into Amagansett gave them a chance to talk. While they waited by the school for the jitney to show, Jack had told her about his conversation with Drexler.
"Can you trust him?" she'd asked.
Jack had shrugged. "As long as our agendas overlap, maybe. My agenda is stopping the One. Drexler's only agenda, now and forever, is Ernst Drexler. At the moment, stopping the One seems good for Drexler. He told me about the Nuckateague house, which we already knew to be true, so I think I can believe that Georges is scheduled to pick up the One at JFK tonight. "
"'The One' . . . I thought we were going to use his name - not around Dawn, of course, but between us. "
"That's okay back at Glaeken's place, but I'd like to avoid it out here. Even if he's no longer paying attention, he might still be aware of it. I don't want him to have the vaguest hint of what I'm planning. "
"But what is the plan? Dawn's going to be asking me. "
"It's still forming, but I can tell you I'm going to do my damnedest to hit him before he reaches the house. He'll be much harder to take down once he's inside. Plus, making a move on him in the house could endanger the baby. I promised Dawn I'd get her baby back, and that sort of implies alive and well. "
Something in his tone . . .
"And if you hadn't promised?"
He looked out the side window. "Let's not go there. "