And then she told Isaiah where.
Owen knew Javier didn’t agree with his decision to trust Griffin, but he also knew this was the only way. And contrary to what Javier assumed, Owen was actually aware of the pull of Varius’s mind inside his, perhaps leading him to trust Griffin more quickly than he should have. But that didn’t change the fact that Owen and Javier had very few options available to them. The Templars had captured the other four, and Monroe was missing. They couldn’t go home, and they were basically on the run.
But there was another, more personal reason. The Abstergo agent from the night before had indicated that he knew something about Owen’s father. The only way Owen figured he could find out more about that would be to become a part of the game.
Griffin looked up from the log where he was sitting. “What do you say?”
“You want us to go with you?” Javier laughed. “I say, no freaking way.”
“What do you mean by go with you?” Owen asked.
Griffin leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. “I’m assuming Monroe found Assassin ancestry in one of you? Or Templar? Maybe both?”
Owen nodded.
“So what?” Javier asked.
“So,” Griffin said, “that means you may have Eagle Vision ability. You know what Eagle Vision is, right?”
Owen nodded again. This time, so did Javier.
“Good,” Griffin said. “So look at me.”
“We are looking at you,” Javier said.
Griffin shook his head and held up his empty hands. “No, I mean really look at me. Eagle Vision can help you discern whether another person is a threat or an enemy. So discern me. What do you see?”
Owen hadn’t tried to use his Eagle Vision since leaving the Animus simulation. But he remembered how Varius had done it when he located the dagger in the Aztec Club, and now Owen tried to do the same. He extended his awareness, opening his mind, studying Griffin’s face, his features, the way he held himself, the tension in the smallest muscles in his body that could not lie. Owen’s Eagle Vision told him that Griffin wasn’t a threat. At least, not at the moment.
“Go on,” Owen said.
“I’m assuming you actually saw the Piece of Eden in the Animus?”
“We both did,” Owen said, at which Javier’s eyes opened a bit in surprise and anger.
“Then that makes you the best candidates for the search,” Griffin said. “I’ve never seen the thing. You actually know what you’re looking for, and you may have the perception to find it. So I need your help.”
“Why should we help you?” Javier said. “I’m not sure anyone should have that thing, even Monroe. But he’s probably already halfway there.”
“I get it,” Griffin said. “Who knows what Monroe has been telling you about the Brotherhood. But hear me out for a minute.” He held out the flat of his hand, and with the other he ticked off fingers, one by one. “Alexander the Great. Julius Caesar. Attila the Hun. Genghis Khan. The Russian tsars. Do you know what they all had in common?”
Javier rolled his eyes. “Pieces of Eden?”
“That’s right,” Griffin said. “Anytime a Piece of Eden appears, someone uses it to seize power, and the free will of the people suffers. It’s unavoidable. That’s why I don’t want to use it. I want to keep someone else from using it. How do you know Monroe won’t turn around and become a dictator?”
“He won’t,” Owen said.
“How are you so sure of that?” Griffin asked.
Owen wasn’t sure. The truth was that he did have doubts about Monroe. But he wanted to trust him, just like he wanted to trust Griffin. Because he felt as though he needed them both.
“Do you know anything about my father?” Owen asked.
“Your father?” Javier stepped toward Owen and tugged on his arm. “What are you talking about?”
“I only know some of what happened to your father,” Griffin said.
“So he wasn’t an Assassin?”
“No.”
“But that Abstergo agent you took out said—”
“Your father was involved,” Griffin said. “I don’t know how. But I can help you with those questions.”
“How?” Owen asked. “Monroe said my DNA won’t work. I need my dad’s DNA from after he got arrested.”
“I can get into places Monroe can’t,” Griffin said. “The police may have your father’s DNA on record. From his arrest. They may even still have a sample locked up in evidence. You help me find what I want, and I’ll help you find what you want.”
This was what Owen had gone to Monroe about in the first place, which had proven to be a dead end. But Griffin was offering Owen a chance to maybe, finally get some answers. To Owen, that wasn’t even a choice.
“I’m in,” he said.
“Owen,” Javier said. “Don’t—”
“I’m in,” Owen said again, more forcefully. Now that he knew what Javier had been going through, he felt guilty that he hadn’t been there for his friend. But that didn’t change the fact that this was still something Owen had to do. “He’s not our enemy. Come with us.”
“What about my mom, man?”
“That’s easy,” Griffin said. “You call her and tell her you’re safe, you just needed to get away for a while. She’ll probably call the police and tell them you’ve run away, but that’s not a problem. We can avoid the police.”
“It’s not like we can go home,” Owen said. “Either we go with Griffin, or we hang out up here in the hills. She’ll worry about you either way.”
Javier looked around at the trees. He swatted at that stupid fly again. “I don’t like this.”
“I know,” Owen said. “But you don’t even have to trust Griffin or Monroe. I’m asking you to trust me. You don’t need Eagle Vision for that. We’ll be in this together.”
Javier hung his hands on his hips and studied the dirt for a full minute. Then he looked up. “Okay. I trust you. Let’s do this.”
“Okay,” Owen said.
“Good,” Griffin said. “We’ve already wasted too much time. Both of you get on that bike and meet me at the bottom of the road.”
“What?” Owen said.
But Griffin had already set off, free-running through the trees, and a few seconds later he was gone.
“Well, this is off to a great start,” Javier said.
Owen strode toward the motorcycle. “Come on.”
He climbed on the vehicle, and Javier got on behind him. The engine gave a slight quiver as it stirred up, like the beating wings of an enormous beetle. They pulled their helmets on, and then Owen sped them back down the packed dirt road they’d climbed a few hours ago, churning a wake of dust behind them.
When they reached the bottom of the hills, they found a vehicle waiting where the paved road began, a nondescript white sedan that drew little attention to itself.
The driver’s window rolled down and Griffin leaned out. “Follow me.”
Then the car peeled away, faster than Owen would have expected, and he throttled the bike after it. They flew down the country roads, past orchards and groves, the trees creating a strobe of shade and sunlight across the visor of Owen’s helmet. Then they hit the freeway, and Griffin led them back into the city, eventually pulling into a gated lot of storage units. Owen wondered what they were doing there as they eased down one of the rows, and Griffin came to a stop.
Griffin climbed out of the car and walked over to one of the storage units. He looked up and down the row, and then unlocked the roller door and raised it. After he drove his car inside, he came out and motioned for Owen to pull the bike in.
“Is he serious?” Javier asked.
Owen felt some misgivings, too, but he drove the motorcycle into the unit and parked it behind the car. Griffin waited for them until they were back outside, and then pulled the door down.
“Is this a hide-in-plain-sight kind of idea?” Javier asked him.
Griffin bent down and locked the roller door. “You could say
that. Come on, we’re in here.”
He stepped over to the unit next door and opened it up.
Storage shelves stood inside against the walls, stacked with metal and plastic crates. A worktable sat in the middle of the floor beneath a bare lightbulb, spread with tools, blades, and a few gauntlets reminiscent of the one Varius had worn. There was a computer in one of the far corners, and a cot with a sleeping bag across from it.
“Step inside,” Griffin said. “Pull that cord over the table to turn on the light.”
Owen did what he asked, Javier just behind him, and then Griffin stepped inside and pulled the door closed. The unit grew dark, except for the harsh, sideways light thrown by the low-hanging bulb.
“Probably not what you were expecting, is it?” Griffin said, propping his hands against the worktable.
“Not exactly,” Owen said.
“Sixteen years ago,” Griffin said, “a Templar sleeper agent infiltrated the Brotherhood. He learned our secrets. The locations of all our safe houses and training facilities. Then he murdered the Mentor, our leader, and returned to his Templar masters. We call the time that followed the Great Purge. The Templars initiated an extermination campaign, using everything the traitor had learned. They slaughtered us, and not just the Assassins, but our families, too. Children, husbands, wives. The Brotherhood nearly went extinct. Since then, we’ve had to change tactics and adapt to survive. No more permanent locations. Now we stay mobile, agile, and invisible. Our numbers have rebounded, but they’re not even close to what they were.”
“My God,” Owen whispered.
“The Templars want the world to see Abstergo as a benevolent corporation. But they are as ruthless as they ever were, if not more so. Those are the people who have your friends.”
“What do we do?” Javier asked.
“First,” Griffin said, “you tell me where to find the Piece of Eden, and we retrieve it. Then we can talk about a rescue.”
“We think it’s somewhere around the cottage where Ulysses Grant died.”
“Right,” Griffin said. “Well, that makes sense. Let’s get you fellas outfitted.”
He walked over to one of the storage shelves and hefted a black crate onto the table. Then he popped the latches and flipped the lid open. Inside were several smaller cases, which he pulled out and laid on the table.
“There’re some clothes in the trunk by the cot,” Griffin said. “Grab yourself a uniform.”
Owen and Javier walked over to see what he meant, and found clothing similar to what Griffin wore. Military fatigues, boots, hoodie, black leather-and-canvas jackets. Owen found a set of everything that fit and changed into them, while Javier did the same. When they returned to the worktable, Griffin had opened up all the cases.
“We’re going to fill your pockets,” he said. “First, grenades.” He pointed to a series of metal spheres about the size of a golf ball. “These are smoke and these are flash, for distraction and cover. These are sleep grenades, if you need someone unconscious for a little while. These here are EMP grenades. They give off a localized electromagnetic pulse. Templar agents have plenty of computerized countermeasures, but these will knock them out and fry them.”
He loaded Owen and Javier up with several of each, which they stashed in the pockets of their pants and jackets.
“Now, weapons.” Griffin moved down the table to the next set of cases. “I’m not going to force any of these on you. Take the ones you feel comfortable with, but make sure if you pick it up, you know how to use it.”
One of the cases contained a set of throwing knives, and Owen felt one of those bubbles Monroe had talked about expanding in his mind, a Bleeding Effect from Varius. He felt as if he knew how to use them, but he wasn’t actually certain that he did. He took them anyway, along with a couple of other blades. Javier took a few knives, as well as a crossbow pistol.
“Does this shoot darts?” he asked.
“Yes,” Griffin said. “There should be some with it.”
“Do we get one of those?” Owen asked, pointing at the hidden blade gauntlets.
Griffin reached over and picked one of them up, turning it over in his hands. It was different than the leather weapon Varius had worn. This one was made of some kind of molded metal, with electronic controls and functions Owen couldn’t even guess at.
“You haven’t earned this,” Griffin said. “The gauntlet is a symbol as much as a weapon. One day, if you decide you want to join the Brotherhood and swear yourself to the Creed, you’ll receive one of your own. But until that time, you’re not worthy.”
“That’s pretty harsh,” Javier said.
“Harsh or not,” Griffin said, “that’s the way it is. I spent years watching my grandfather and my father strap on their gauntlets before I was finally able to put on one of my own. It’s a matter of honor, and I take that very seriously.”
He set the gauntlet back down on the table, out of Owen’s reach. “Now,” he said, “when you have everything you—”
A soft ping came from the computer. Griffin looked toward it and checked his watch. Then he walked across the storage unit and sat down in front of the monitor. A few clicks of the mouse, and a video chat opened on the screen. The man looking back appeared somewhat haggard and gaunt, with thick, graying dark hair, and a beard. The background behind him seemed to be aboard some kind of boat.
“Griffin,” the man said. “Status report.”
“I have two of the subjects,” Griffin said. “We’re just preparing to go recover the Piece of Eden. Isaiah captured the other four—”
“I know. Rothenburg has reestablished contact.”
“The Abstergo informant?” Griffin asked.
“Yes. The intelligence he’s given us indicates the Templars are after more than one Piece of Eden. Rothenburg claims it’s the Trident.”
Griffin hesitated a moment before responding. “Understood, sir. We’re heading to New York. We believe the relic is somewhere near Mount McGregor.”
“Go,” the man on the screen said. “There will be a car waiting for you in Albany. Recover the piece, but know that this is only the beginning. You’ll have new orders soon.”
“Yes, sir.”
The screen went black, and Griffin slumped back in his chair.
“Who was that?” Owen asked.
“One of the leaders of the Brotherhood,” Griffin said. “Gavin Banks. He’s in hiding along with the rest of us. We keep our communications with him as short as possible.”
“What did he mean by the Trident?” Javier asked.
“He means that there are two other pieces out there exactly like the one you saw, and whoever combines all three together could conquer the world.”
Javier laughed, and Owen almost did, but he could tell by Griffin’s demeanor he wasn’t joking or exaggerating. The Assassin got up from his chair and walked toward the unit’s door, grabbing one of the gauntlets from the worktable along the way.
“We need to move out,” he said, pulling up the roller door. “Hit the light.”
So the three of them left, and Griffin drove them in his car toward a private airfield a couple of hours away, where he parked the car in the same hangar as a small jet plane. It was painted white with a blue stripe down the side, and looked as ordinary as the sedan.
“The Templars have you guys beat on the vehicles, don’t they,” Javier said.
“There are limits to what the Brotherhood could and should afford without drawing Abstergo’s attention,” Griffin said.
Shortly after that, they were airborne, flying toward New York. That thought created an odd sensation in Owen, since it seemed as if he had just been in New York earlier that morning. But that was the New York of the past, and he had no idea what they would find in the present.
It was night by the time they landed in Albany, and the car waiting for them was another regular sedan, though it was powerful and fast. They drove north along darkened, tree-lined roads, through several sleeping towns, and rea
ched Mount McGregor less than an hour later. Griffin parked the car some distance from the cottage.
“When we go out there, keep close to me.” He turned off the engine. “Templars could be here, too. Keep every sense you have sharp—Bleeding Effects and otherwise. Let’s get in, get the relic, and get out. Are you ready?”
“Ready,” Owen said.
“Ready,” Javier said.
They left the car and stalked into the trees, keeping silent in the near total darkness as they circled wide around the cottage. Owen tried to still the shaking in his hands, which quivered with the pounding of his own blood, and focused on Varius’s memories, extending his awareness first through every part of his own body, and then out into his surroundings.
Nothing happened at first. But Owen remained patient, listing, waiting, sensing, and gradually the world entered into a higher definition. Suddenly, Owen could feel the texture of the ground through his boot. He could hear the echoes of his own footsteps off the curvature of the trees. He glimpsed an owl take to silent wing, and he saw the shapes of Javier and Griffin beside him, moving through the wood.
When they reached the cabin, all seemed quiet and still. Griffin led them from the tree line, across an open lawn already wet with dew, and up to a back window, which proved no obstacle for the Assassin. He was soon inside, and Owen and Javier followed after him.
The floorboards creaked beneath Owen’s feet when he landed, and the stifled air smelled of old, smoked wood. They had come into a bedroom, but not Grant’s bedroom if the size of the narrow bed was any indication.
“It’s up to you fellas now,” Griffin said. “Do you sense anything?”
“I got nothing,” Javier said.
“Hang on.” Owen closed his eyes, and instead of looking, he tried to feel for the same energy that had led Varius through the rooms of the Aztec Club to the dagger.
“Anything?” Griffin asked.
“Not yet,” Owen said. “Just wait.”
“We don’t have a lot of time,” Griffin said.
“Just wait,” Owen said again, stepping away from them. Then he thought he might be getting something, and cocked his head a little sideways, as if to hear it better.