The Golden City Page 22

  The sun was directly above the mountains when he finally emerged from this maze and stepped out onto the third terrace. Wandering through the towers, he found shards of broken mirrors and then a spot between two towers where someone had used mirrors to build something that resembled a solar oven. Would gods make something like this? Gabriel assumed they could just wave their hands and objects would appear.

  Cautiously, he passed between the towers to an open section of the terrace. Fifty yards away from him, a man was sitting cross-legged on a bench. Like a stone idol, the figure waited for Gabriel to approach him. He looked smaller than Gabriel had remembered and his hair was much longer—almost touching his shoulders.

  “Father?”

  Matthew Corrigan stood up and smiled. “Hello, Gabriel. I’ve been waiting for you.”

  “That could have been a long wait. I almost died a few hours ago.”

  “Hope grows from faith. I always believed that you and Michael would find your way here.”

  His father’s certainty, his calmness, was infuriating. “Is that why you disappeared?” Gabriel asked. “So you could live in this empty place?”

  “After those men burned down our house, I hid among the trees near the top of the hill. When the three of you came out of the cellar, I made the decision to leave. I knew you would be safer without me around.”

  “Mom was never the same after the fire. It destroyed her life.”

  “When I married your mother, I didn’t know that I was a Traveler. All that came later. The Tabula found out and put me on their death list.”

  “So where did you go after the fire? Were you hiding out in this world while we wandered around like bunch of homeless people?”

  “I was teaching others. I tried to show them a different way.”

  “Yeah, I know all about that. Remember the New Harmony group in Arizona? The Tabula executed everyone living there. They destroyed the entire community—the men, women and children you ‘inspired’ to change their lives.”

  Matthew bent slightly forward as if taking the pain and sadness into his body. “What a terrible crime. I’ll pray for all of them.”

  “Prayers can’t change what happened. Those people are dead because of your ideas. And you want to know something else? Michael became a Traveler, but he went over to the other side. Now he’s running the Evergreen Foundation.”

  Matthew stood up, walked to the edge of terrace and gazed out at the mountains. “Your brother was always angry. He wanted to be just like everyone else, but that wasn’t possible.”

  “Michael is going to turn the world into an enormous prison. And I’m the only one who can stop him. Was that part of your plan? Did you know we’d be on opposite sides?”

  “I can’t predict the future, Gabriel.”

  “People are risking their lives because I’m a Traveler and they think I have an answer. Well, I don’t have an answer. I wake up at night and wonder if I’m just going to create another New Harmony for the Tabula to destroy.”

  “Hatred and anger are like two men standing in the street and shouting for revenge. Sometimes, it’s difficult to hear the softer voices.”

  “I know all about hatred and anger. I’ve been to the dark city. In fact, I’ve met the crazy museum director who is still waiting for your return. But that’s your style, isn’t it? You never stay long, not even for your own family. Just one short visit and then you’re hiding in some distant world.”

  “The realms aren’t distant, Gabriel. They’re parallel to our lives. A student sits in a classroom. An old woman cuts a slice of bread. They think they’re light years from a different reality, but those new worlds are right there if they could only reach through the barriers.”

  “Most people don’t want to cross over. They’re more concerned with the problems they’re facing right now. The Vast Machine is becoming more powerful, more pervasive. A few individuals realize they’re about to lose their freedom, and they’re joining the Resistance. If I make a mistake or say the wrong thing, they’re going to get hurt.”

  “That’s possible. We can’t control the future.”

  “What about the gods? This is the golden city. Aren’t they supposed to appear and tell us what to do?”

  “When I first came here, I searched for them. I explored the mountains and the canyons. I tapped my knuckles on these towers, searching for passageways and secret rooms. There’s nothing hidden here, Gabriel. The Light that created the universe endures forever, but the gods have vanished.”

  “What happened?”

  “They left no message, no explanation. I’ve come up with my own theory. Their disappearance is an opportunity.”

  “So no one’s here?”

  “If the gods have left the stage, then it’s just the two of us.” Matthew stepped toward his son. “So who are you, Gabriel? And what kind of world do you want to live in? I’m not going to tell you what to believe. All I can do is guide you forward, and make sure you don’t turn away from your own vision.”

  29

  L ying on the bed in Hollis Wilson’s rented room in Camden Town, Maya nibbled on tea biscuits and stared up at the crack in the ceiling. Like a mechanic checking a race car, she stretched her body and evaluated its current strengths and weaknesses.

  She had grown up seeing ads of pregnant women advertising everything from vitamins to bank loans. Once she had spent a rainy afternoon at the National Gallery contemplating Renaissance paintings of the pregnant Virgin Mary. Now she realized that both the painters and the magazine photographers had it all wrong; she certainly didn’t feel like standing around with her hands on her belly and a mysterious smile on her face. Her fatigue had disappeared and her leg wound had finally started to heal. She felt strong, aggressive, ready for battle.

  Her mobile rang and she picked it up off the floor. “Good morning,” Simon Lumbroso said. “Remember the package we lost at Euston Station?”

  “Is there any new information?”

  “Apparently our young friends have tracked it down. They want to hold a sales conference at their business office. Is twelve noon a good time for you?”

  “I’ll be there,” Maya said, and switched off the phone.

  The “young friends” Simon had mentioned were Jugger and the other Free Runners. The “business office” was their apartment in Cheswick and Alice Chen was the “lost package.” Maya wondered if Alice was still alive. Killing a child in a public place would have drawn attention from both the London police and the media; it was a better idea to take Alice off the train. The Tabula could question her—and execute her—in a secret location.

  As Maya got dressed and ate a bowl of cold cereal, she wondered how to present the problem to Linden. Her thoughts weren’t focused that morning, and her mind wandered in painful directions. The fact that the Tabula had captured the little girl reminded Maya of her own captivity in the First Realm. She could see the gas flares wavering back and forth, the wolves with their clubs and spears, and Pickering’s body swinging from a rope. Can the baby feel that? she wondered. Are all these memories trapped within my body?

  Linden didn’t care about anything unless it directly involved the Traveler. She knew what the Harlequin would say when she mentioned Alice Chen: the child was dead—or not important. It was logical to forget about this person and move on.

  But Gabriel had shown her a different way to look at reality. What was supposed to be logical was not always what was fair, right or inevitable. Fighting the Tabula was not particularly logical, and yet people all over the world were joining the Resistance. And what about this child growing within her? Was there anything logical about bringing a new life into this chaotic world? She shouldn’t keep it, wouldn’t keep it, absolutely can’t keep it. But yes, she thought. Yes. I’m going to do it anyway.

  With the sword case hanging from her shoulder, she strolled over to the drum shop in Camden Market. Her first objective was to get Linden’s permission. That wasn’t going to be easy.

  The French Harlequin was sitting in the kitchen of the secret apartment when she came through the door. The room smelled of spilled win
e and the sugary odor of the French Harlequin’s handmade cigarettes.

  “How is the Traveler?”

  “No change.”

  “I’ll check on the body.”

  Maya walked to the room where Gabriel’s body lay on a narrow bed. She closed the door so that Linden wouldn’t surprise her and then touched Gabriel’s face with the palm of her hand. “I’m pregnant,” she whispered. “What do you think of that?”

  The Light had left his body, and Maya knew Gabriel couldn’t hear her. She leaned forward, kissed his forehead, and then returned to the kitchen. “Still alive,” she told Linden. Her voice was calm and matter-of-fact, as if they were talking about an article in the newspaper.

  Linden got up from the table and turned on the gas burner. “Coffee?”

  “Yes.” Maya took the sword carrier off her shoulder and hung it on the back of her chair. “I got a call from Simon this morning. The Free Runners know where the Tabula took Alice Chen.”

  “I’m sure that she’s already dead.”

  “We don’t know that.”

  “It’s the logical conclusion.”

  “I think we need to consider every possibility.”

  Linden opened up a tin and began scooping out teaspoons of ground coffee. “If she’s dead, there’s nothing to be done. If she’s alive, we’re not going to waste our resources finding her.”

  “When I was growing up, my father lectured me about the tensions between Travelers and Harlequins. They don’t like us. Not really.”

  “I do not give a damn what they think,” Linden said. “Soldiers go to war even though they may disagree with certain political parties within their country. We Harlequins defend a difficult group of people. But we have accepted that obligation.”

  “If we do nothing to help Alice and she dies, Gabriel will walk away from our protection. You know him, Linden. You know that’s true. If we don’t save the child, we lose the Traveler.”

  The kettle started whistling and Linden poured boiling water into a French press. He waited a minute, then pushed the plunger down. “You might be right.”

  “I’ll handle the problem,” Maya said, and tried not to smile.

  Linden gave her a cup filled with a coffee so thick that it reminded her of chocolate cake frosting. Maya resisted the temptation to add sugar and took a sip of the black sludge.

  “Too strong?” Linden asked.

  “Just right.”

  * * *

  She left Camden Market, waved down a taxi, and told the driver to take her to suburban Chiswick. During the journey, she counted every surveillance camera the taxi passed on the street. Some of them simply recorded images, but others used sophisticated face-scanning programs. A few of the citizens noticed there were more cameras—yes, they just put up that new one in the square—but the walls of the new prison were invisible. In Britain, the plan to centralize all databases was called Transformational Government, an innocuous phrase that implied that this sort of change was both positive and necessary. These changes were being made For Your Protection, For Efficiency and Modernization. They were Styrofoam words—light and unsubstantial, packing materials to blunt the sharp edges.

  When the taxi reached Chiswick, she got out near a school, and then walked three blocks to a street lined with tidy row houses. There was a faded Harlequin lute chalked on the pavement in front of the second house from the corner. The Free Runners had been living in the ground floor flat for the last few months.

  Simon Lumbroso had already arrived and was sitting gingerly on a saggy couch in the living room. He seemed out-of-place amidst the cast-off furniture and the rubbish bins overflowing with crushed beer cans and fast-food cartons.

  The only neat and organized area was a long work table with three monitors attached to a homemade computer. One monitor showed cars driving past the entrance to Wellspring Manor—the country estate owned by the Brethren. Another showed the entrance to the Evergreen Foundation office building near Ludgate Circus. The third was the main page of a secret website set up by the Polish Free Runners; their Internet team had accessed the security cameras near other properties owned by the Foundation. Six small boxes on the monitor displayed street scenes in four different countries.

  Roland, the quiet young man from Yorkshire, sat at the table answering email while Jugger bustled about the room. His appearance hadn’t changed since joining the Resistance; his T-shirt was too small and revealed a patch of his flabby stomach.

  “Tea?” he asked everyone. “How about a nice cup of tea?”

  “Not right now.” Maya sat down on the couch. “Tell me what you’ve learned about Alice Chen.”

  “Yesterday afternoon, I talked to the nun who was traveling with Alice,” Simon said. “Apparently, a man and a woman got on the train at Crewe and entered the compartment. They injected the nun with a powerful sedative right before they arrived in London The man wore a tweed suit and had a Welsh accent. They were carrying a large rolling suitcase.”

  Jugger scratched his stomach. “After Simon gave us that description, we searched through the images taken by one of the City of London traffic cameras near the Evergreen Foundation office. Go ahead, Roland. Show Maya what we found.”

  Black and white images appeared on the screen along with a time stamp at the bottom right hand corner. The city-owned camera took a photograph every five seconds, but most the images only showed the street and the entrance to the Foundation building. As Roland searched through the images, Maya noticed that several of the foundation employees had been tagged with nicknames and other information. “Susie Secretary arrives at 8:20hrs. Friends with Mr. Bald Head.”

  “This is the feed two days ago when the little girl was kidnapped,” Roland said. “I remember these people because of their suitcase.”

  The image on the monitor showed that a London taxi had stopped in front of the entrance. A middle-aged woman wearing a rain hat stood on the curb watching a man lift a black suitcase out of the trunk.

  “I recognize them,” Maya said. “When I arrived at the station, they had just left the train with the other passengers.”

  In the next five images, the couple maneuvered the rolling suitcase onto the sidewalk and pushed it into the building.

  “Return to the third image,” Maya said. “No—the one after that.”

  The monitor showed the man using two hands to pull the suitcase onto the curb.

  “See that? It’s heavy because Alice is inside. That’s how they got her out of the train.”

  “We’re fairly sure that she’s still in the building,” Jugger said. “None of the subsequent images show either a child or a large container being removed from the area.”

  “Where’s Nathan Boone?” Maya asked.

  “We hacked into the computer of the woman who handles travel arrangements for the Evergreen Foundation,” Roland said. “Boone traveled to Thailand on a commercial flight six days ago.”

  “Boone wants to question the child,” Maya said. “They’ll keep her alive until he returns to London.”

  “So what are you going to do?” Jugger asked. “Ever since the attack in Berlin, the Tabula have increased their security. Even at night there are at least four armed guards in the Foundation building.”

  “Alice Chen is the only surviving witness to what happened at New Harmony,” Maya said. “But there is a larger issue. When Gabriel met the Nighthawk, he said that the Resistance is more than just destroying the Vast Machine. We need to believe that each individual life has value and meaning.”

  Jugger nodded. “Sure. I think that’s right.”

  “Alice’s life has value and meaning, and that means we’re going to save her. I’ll need your help to break into the Foundation building.”

  “Sounds like you’re talking about Harlequin business,” Jugger said. “We don’t go around fighting people.”

  “I saved your life, Jugger. I pulled you and Roland and your friend Sebastian out of a burning house.”

  “Yes, and we—we appreciate that,” he stammered.

  “You have an obligation.”

  “We’re grateful, Maya. Everybody’s g
rateful. All I’m saying is that we’re not like you and Linden. I’ll go on the Internet and organize people, paint slogans on walls—things like that. But I’m not going to be part of an attack on a Foundation building. That could bloody well get us killed.”

  The anger she had felt all morning surged through her body and she jumped up from the couch. The heels of her boots clicked across the floor as she approached Jugger and pointed her finger at his face.

  “I just said something. But I guess you didn’t hear me.”

  “I’m—I’m listening.”

  “Good. Because when a Harlequin says ‘you have obligation,’ that does not mean that there’s a choice. I’m not wishing for your help. I’m not hoping for some benevolent impulse. I’m expecting your help now.”

  “Right. No problem. Glad to be helpful.” Jugger was sweating. “But it’s going to be difficult to get into the building with a weapon. After you pass through the door, there’s an L-shaped hallway that leads to the security desk. I’m sure they do a backscatter scan of all their visitors.”

  “If we can’t go in the front door, then we’ll have to break in from the top, the bottom or the sides.”

  “The walls are too thick,” Simon said. “And we would have to gain access to a nearby building.”

  “What about a hot air balloon?” Jugger seemed desperate to offer a solution. “You could float across the Thames and land on the roof.”

  “Underground?” Maya asked Simon.

  “Possibly. This is an old city—like Rome.”

  “Hold it! Wait! I know what you need!” Jugger said. “You need an incredible disguise.”

  “A few months ago, this old lady was at the Hope Pub,” Roland said with a solemn voice.

  Jugger looked annoyed. “We don’t want to hear about some old lady. We’re trying to solve a problem here.”

  “She was handing out pamphlets—about freeing the rivers.”

  “What rivers are you talking about?” Simon asked gently.