Apocalypse to Go

  “Well,” he said. “That was a bit upsetting.”

  “Just a bit?” Jan said. “Ah, you Jamaicans! So fond of understatement!” He paused to turn in a slow circle and look over the living room. “But not fond of beds for overnight guests, I see.”

  “Quite the contrary,” Spare14 said. “Agents use this apartment now and then. I have several air mattresses for those occasions. I suggest we allow O’Grady and Nathan to have the privacy of the bedroom, such as it is. Did you bring a bag?”

  “Yes, I stowed it in the kitchen.” Jan paused to yawn. “It seems obvious that you never cook, and so I assumed it would be out of the way there.”

  I decided to interrupt the banter. “One question. Ari just put a bullet into someone’s house. What’s going to happen about that?”

  “Nothing,” Spare14 said. “If the householders are wise, at any rate, and I suspect they are. You noticed, I’m sure, how quickly the light went out again.”

  “In SanFran,” Jan put in, “you don’t question men with guns.”

  “I see. Okay, I just wondered. I think I’ll clean up a bit.”

  I washed off my itchy makeup in the bathroom sink, dried off with a fraying towel, and did other necessary things. When I finished, Ari and I carried our gear into the bedroom. Ari opened the suitcase and brought out a small glass cube—a travel lamp. It provided the only light in the bedroom besides what came through the window from the street. I knelt on the floor and straightened out the blankets on the narrow mattress.

  “It’s a good thing I love you,” I told Ari. “We don’t have a lot of room on this.”

  “True. You can have the pillow.” He hesitated, then sat on the floor opposite me. “You’re holding back something about Michael, aren’t you?”

  “What is this? You’re suddenly psychic, too?”

  “No. I just know your moods by now.”

  I considered, but I was too tired to lie.

  “Is this room bugged?” I said.

  “No. I’ve been all over it, and frankly, I don’t think Spare14 would eavesdrop on one of his agents.”

  “Let’s hope not.” Still, I kept my voice low. “Michael seemed to be having entirely too much fun at that party. I’d like to believe it was all an act to put the gang off their guard, but the girl on his lap seemed to think it was real enough.”

  “Ah. You didn’t mention the girl before.”

  “Damn right I didn’t, not in front of the others. She was wearing a miniskirt. Nothing else, not even a bra.”

  “Mike is sixteen, almost seventeen now, yes, but still. At that age, he’s going to take whatever a girl offers, no matter what the circumstances are.”

  “I suppose so. You would have, huh?”

  “Quite right.” He grinned at me. “And don’t tell me you’re shocked.” He let the grin fade. “I think we can trust him to do the right thing when we come to get him out of there, wherever that is. He wouldn’t have smiled when he sensed you if he’d truly gone over to Storm Blue’s side.”

  “You’re right, aren’t you?” I felt relieved, at least about Michael. What troubled me still was the image of Sean, slumped and exhausted with that miserable collar around his neck. At least the gang was keeping him where he and Mike could see each other. For that much I could be grateful.

  I took off the top I’d been wearing and laid it into the suitcase. When I unhooked my bra, I examined the radiation badge by the light of the travel lamp. A thin blue line had appeared on the pink gel—a bad sign, I figured.

  That night I dreamed about my family. I received no psychic messages, no clues, just fragments of memories, happy ones, mostly: running across lawns in the park, playing video games with Sean, taking care of baby Michael. In most of them my father appeared, smiling, good-looking in a macho kind of way, with better cheekbones than your average Irish guy has. Generally, he was patient with all of us, which, when you’ve got seven children, makes you a candidate for that first step on the road to sainthood. If you broke one of his rules, you got a hard slap for it, but that was always the end of the incident—one single slap, no recrimination, no taunting, no reminders. I had missed him bitterly for over thirteen years.

  Yet I woke up remembering that he was also my mother’s brother, genetically speaking, and that he must have known it all along.

  Gray fog light shone through the uncurtained window. Ari had rolled off the mattress onto the floor, but he stayed asleep on his stomach, his head pillowed on his arms. I wondered if he’d slept that way on maneuvers with the army, lying right on the desert ground that had meant so much to his people for so long that he was willing to die for it.

  I got dressed without waking him, then crept out of the bedroom. I could smell coffee. In the living room, I found Jan and Spare14 already up and awake. Spare14 turned his desk chair around and smiled at me.

  “Great news!” he said. “Administration agrees that your father should be paroled. There are formalities, of course, but they’re proceeding with all possible speed.”

  Both men were watching me expectantly, smiling a little, sure I’d be pleased.

  “Wonderful!” I managed to stammer out the word. “How will he get here?”

  “Davis and Javert will bring him when they come through. I doubt if it’ll be today, thanks to those formalities, but soon, very soon.”

  I tried to smile, but tears filled my eyes and spilled. I covered my face with both hands.

  “Sorry,” I stammered. “I’m just so glad to hear it.”

  I knew by their SPPs that they believed my lie, but even as I wept, even when I managed to choke it back and force a smile, I heard in my mind the grotesque laughter of the woman from my trance vision, laughing at my tears.

  CHAPTER 13

  TO HIDE MY FEELINGS I went into the kitchen and made more coffee. It took some effort to figure out how to use the weird metal coffee pot Spare14 had, a thing called a percolator. Whether it was me, the canned grounds, or the percolator, the brew tasted awful, but it was coffee. I took two mugs into the bedroom. Ari woke, sat up, sniffed the air, and held out his hand. I gave him one of the mugs and stood by the window to drink mine.

  “Dad’s going to be released,” I said.

  “How do you feel about it?”

  “I don’t know. I honestly don’t know.”

  Ari let it go at that. There are reasons I love him. Once he dressed, we rejoined the others. Over a breakfast of leftovers, Spare14 gave me more details about my father’s release.

  “Once the courts approve, Davis will have temporary custody for prisoner transport. Your father is also still wearing a StopCollar. Davis will bring the code that releases them.”

  “They don’t trust Dad, huh?” I said.

  “Of course not.” Spare14 paused for a wry smile. “They do assume that once he sees you, he’ll know that we’re telling the truth about the danger his sons are in, and then he won’t just walk away from us.”

  “You mentioned formalities.”

  “Yes, a court hearing, entering data into the system, and checking him out of the halfway house where he’s been staying. That sort of thing. Once he’s free, Davis and Javert will go to Five to fetch him.”

  “How long will all this take?”

  “Normally, at least a week, but we’re trying to rush it through as an emergency. At the most, I hope, two days. Much depends on whether there’s a magistrate of the right sort available.” Spare14 paused to think. “I suppose he or she would be roughly equivalent to a superior court judge in your system.”

  The wait meant time for Ari and me to return to Mission House. I made sure my makeup looked convincing before we left. Thanks to a bloated orange sun punching holes into the yellow mists, the day was hot and humid. Ari took off his sweater and substituted a beaten-up old denim shirt, worn untucked, that hid the shoulder holster from casual glances. Anyone who meant trouble, however, could spot it if they were careful and back off. If they weren’t careful, Ari would deal with them.


  As we walked down to Sackamenna Street, Ari warned me that my father would have changed in disturbing ways.

  “It’s not just the passing of time,” he said. “Prison does things to men. I’m afraid that with your talents, you’re going to receive a painful impression.”

  “I’ve read about it, but yeah, that’s not the same as experiencing it.”

  He caught my hand and gave it a comforting squeeze.

  At Mission House a formidable young woman, tall and muscled, wearing black pants, maroon tunic, and the black headscarf, stood just inside the door. When we told her we wanted to see Major Grace, she told us to go right up.

  “May God and Sophia bless you,” she said.

  “Well, may they bless you, too,” I said.

  “Oh, they already have.” She smiled, a thing of pure joy, like a small child’s grin when she sees a Christmas tree all lit up, utterly caught by the moment of delight. I envied her, but only briefly. Faith: the best drug in the world.

  We walked on down the long rose-colored hallway, cool and shadowed after the hot sun outside. A hand-lettered sign on the closed door to Dr. Dave’s clinic room gave the times that he’d be present. At the foot of the stairs, Ari paused and glanced around him. I ran a quick SM:L.

  “No one’s nearby,” I said. “What—”

  “Hush.” He took something out of his shirt pocket. He slid a small square of clear gel under the framed portrait of Sophia. When he took his hand away, the square stayed behind.

  “Safety precaution,” he murmured. “Tell you later.”

  We proceeded up the stairs. Major Grace’s office door stood half open. I could see her crouching down in front of a wooden filing cabinet while she stowed papers in the bottom drawer. When we walked up, she heard us and rose, smiling, to toss the last few papers onto her desk. I noticed that she’d left the drawer open. She had nothing to hide, I figured.

  “Ah, Rose and Eric,” she said. “Well, I do have news for you, and it’s not as bad as it could be.”

  “That’s something, huh?” I sat down in a chair facing her desk, but Ari stayed standing. He leaned against the wall just inside the open door, next to a framed poster of the Ten Commandments.

  Major Grace sat down behind her desk and took the red ledger out of a drawer. She flipped through it, then opened it at Sean’s page.

  “I asked around at dinner last night,” Major Grace went on. “As I suspected, some of our regulars heard things. Your brother is in the hands of Storm Blue, which is the very bad news. However, he’s still alive, which is good, and even better, one woman who has dealings with the gang says she’s sure they won’t kill him or sell him. She doesn’t know why he’s valuable, but she says that he is. She thinks that one of the men in the gang may have taken a fancy to him, but that’s only her guess.”

  “That don’t surprise me if it’s true. Sean’s like that with guys.” I was expecting her to have some reaction, but I saw none. “I guess she don’t know where he is, huh?”

  “No. Storm Blue has a couple of safe houses, but if your brother’s valuable, he’s not likely to be in one of those. Mostly they use them to sell drugs. No one knows where the Axeman himself lives. Some say it’s down near the beach, but that covers a lot of ground.” Major Grace took a piece of scrap paper from the wastebasket beside her desk. “I’ll give you the addresses if—” She paused. “Eric, you’re leaning against the Commandments. They’re not hanging straight anymore.”

  “Sorry. I’ll just fix that.”

  Ari turned around to fiddle with the picture frame. While he did, Major Grace wrote down the addresses. She held up the scrap of paper.

  “Rose, before I give this to you, you’ve got to promise me you won’t just go barging into these places. I don’t want you to end up in the same predicament as your brother.”

  “I won’t. I know it’s real dangerous. Maybe Eric could, like, pretend to want to make a buy. He’s kinda dangerous, too.”

  “No doubt.” Major Grace rolled her eyes toward heaven. “I don’t want to know, actually, what Eric may do.”

  Ari grinned at her. I took the scrap of paper from her and secreted it in my bra.

  “Thanks,” I said. “But I feel sort of hopeless.”

  “So do I.” Major Grace considered me with sad eyes. “I’m sorry, but you probably won’t be able to get him back, not without a great deal of help from Above, and I don’t mean Chief Hafner.”

  “Yeah, I figured. I just want to know what’s happened to him. I don’t got enough money to buy him back.”

  “If they’re even willing to sell. I’m sorry.”

  I let my eyes fill with genuine tears, then brushed them away. “Thanks,” I whispered. “I’m sure grateful.”

  “You’re very welcome. I’ll pray for him.”

  “Thanks. If anything’ll get him out, that will, I bet.”

  Major Grace smiled and raised her hand to bless or dismiss us, I wasn’t sure which. I thanked her again, and we left.

  I waited to ask Ari about the gel square until we were several blocks from Mission House. Or squares, I should say, in the plural, because I could guess that he’d slipped another one under the Ten Commandments.

  “Listening devices,” Ari told me. “They’ll pick up noises of a certain volume, like a scream or an argument with raised voices, and relay it to Spare14’s office and my comm unit.” He patted a jeans pocket. “By helping us, Major Grace has upped her danger quotient considerably. I don’t like that.”

  “Neither do I. Where did you get those things? From Tzaki?”

  “No, from Spare14. TWIXT is so far ahead of us technically that I’m amazed. They can set the nano-mechs in those squares to respond to a number of stimuli and report in to a variety of devices. The gel that holds the nano-mechs can match any color and be placed anywhere, nearly invisible.”

  “It’s amazing, all right. And dangerous.”

  A puzzled Ari glanced at me.

  “What if the police want to spy on their own people? Big Brother’s watching you. I wouldn’t want to live under that kind of surveillance.”

  “You have a point, I suppose.” He sounded unconvinced. “Depending on the government in question. Most people would value the safety the surveillance offers.”

  I baa’ed like a sheep. He gave me a dirty look but argued no further.

  We returned to the apartment to find Jan reading a newssheet on the couch and Spare14 at his desk talking on his landline phone, mostly in numbers. I sat down on a chair near the door while Ari went to the window, drew the Beretta, and began his stone-faced watch on the street below. Spare14 hung up the phone.

  “That’s step one completed. The court has approved the modification in your father’s terms of parole.”

  I tried to smile and failed.

  “You must be very nervous,” Spare14 went on. “It’s quite understandable, O’Grady. No need to be embarrassed.” He swiveled his chair around to look at Ari. “Any new intel?”

  “Oh, yes.” Ari turned from the window. “We need to discuss a possible operation.”

  Jan tossed the newssheet aside and sat up straight to listen. I dug into my bra, retrieved the paper with the addresses, and handed it to Spare14. While Ari explained about the safe houses, I fetched a pencil and my pad of oversized paper from the bedroom. Ari broke off what he was saying to the other agents.

  “Nola, you shouldn’t be—”

  “I’m not going to try a scan. I just want to diagram out the IOIs and other clues I’ve gotten. Sometimes I can see a data pattern that way.”

  “Very well, then. Wait for Javert’s backup before you run procedures.”

  “That’s what I’m doing.” I may have snarled. “Waiting.”

  Ari winced and let me be.

  I let myself sink to the edge of trance to work the pattern. On one sheet of paper I jotted down all the psychic clues I’d received since Sean and Michael had gone off. I’d had some big scores, such as the vision of Diana i
n the drugstore and the Maculates, as well as some minor mental twitches. I numbered each of them, twelve in all, not that the numbers ranked or did anything but identify them. For the second sheet, I shut my eyes and began letting my hand put numbers where it wanted.

  When I finished, I studied the sheet and realized I’d put down fourteen numbers instead of twelve. Number thirteen I grasped immediately; it referred to Javert. I looked up and saw Spare14 watching me while pretending not to.

  “Okay, Sneak,” I said, “what are you holding back?”

  Spare14 turned scarlet. Jan laughed—one mocking whoop.

  “Oh, very well.” Spare14 sounded like a man with a bad sore throat. “The Axeman either has a doppelgänger on Terra Six or a gate in his possession that leads there.”

  “A gate he couldn’t open until my brother fell into his hands?”

  “If it is a gate, yes.” Spare14’s color slowly ebbed back to normal. His voice eased as well. “We are honestly not sure. Either he or a doppelgänger has been spotted on Six.”

  “Does Javert know about this?”

  “Oh, yes. He doubtless would have let it slip sooner or later.”

  “Ah, a bit of consolation for you, eh?” Jan said.

  Spare14 refrained from answering. I couldn’t blame him.

  I scribbled this information under 14 on my list, then returned to the pattern. The more I studied it, the less sense it made. The goddess Diana and the Laughing Woman sat right in the middle with the other clues arranged around them in what seemed like a random scatter. I got up and put the papers away in the suitcase. If I let my unconscious mind and the Collective Data Stream process the pattern, it might make more sense later.

  My conscience nagged at me. I’d sneered at Spare14 for withholding intel, but I was doing the same to him. After seeing Willa at work, I knew what lay inside that set of brightly colored boxes I’d found in Dad’s desk. I did a quick Search Aura Field: Links and realized that no matter which type they were, the orbs had a profound significance for the matter in hand. I returned to the living room.