Storm cycle, p.28
Storm Cycle, page 28
“Who does?”
“This was different.”
“Because it was your fear instead of someone else’s?”
“Yes. There’s nothing wrong with being selfish. I’ve made a practice of it for years. I felt so damn helpless. I wasn’t even the one who got you out of that car.”
“You were coming back to help us.”
“That’s not good enough.”
“It’s been a long, terrible day. Spit it out. What are you trying to say, Demanski?”
He was silent a moment, then said awkwardly, “I want to be Galahad.”
She covered her eyes with her hand. “Oh, God help us.”
He dropped to his knees in front of her and jerked her hand down so that he could see her expression. “Don’t give me that crap. Do you think I like the idea of playing the fool?”
“Then back off, Demanski.”
“I can’t do it,” he said between his teeth. “I know you don’t want to hear it, but I’m not exactly subtle. I have to be up-front with you.”
“You’re right, I don’t want to hear it.”
“Tough. Here it is anyway.” He looked into her eyes. “I’m not going to say anything stupid. I like you. Hell, I may do a hell of a lot more than like you. You’re funny and honest, and I want to be with you. But you keep pushing me away because you think I’m going to pity you. I don’t pity you. Why should I? You’ve got us all beat. Someday, if I see you tired or fading, I’ll hurt, and I’ll do my damnedest to help you. But not because of pity. I’m too selfish. I’ll just want to stop whatever is tearing me apart.”
“There’s a solution,” Allie said unevenly. “You know what it is.”
“That’s not an option. I decided that when I couldn’t find you in that damn water. So I have to find other options.”
“Galahad?”
“Hell yes. You haven’t seen anything like the Galahad I can be. Give me a chance, and I’ll find your damn Holy Grail.”
Tough and smart and yet at this moment very vulnerable. She was unbearably touched. “Maybe after you’ve found it, you’ll lose interest.”
“Then you’ll have to take your chances. You don’t want promises. You’ll run if I don’t move very carefully. So I’m creeping forward at a snail’s pace.”
“You’re too big to creep. You’d look ridiculous.”
“Allie?”
“And you’d look ridiculous as a Galahad. It’s not your style. Not sophisticated enough.”
“Then find me another role. Because I’m going to be around a while.”
“Look, I’m having a good period right now. But it gets nasty. I never know when it’s going to take me down. I could go blind, become a cripple, have brain damage, and become a vegetable.”
“I’m duly warned. You’re not scaring me, Allie.”
“Dammit. I’m not one of your Hollywood ladies.” She pulled the towel off her wet hair. “I don’t glitter. Look at me. Sometimes I look pasty as biscuit dough. That’s okay with me. I can handle it. I know what I am inside.”
“I like biscuit dough.”
“Demanski.”
“And I know what you are inside, too,” he said quietly. “And you do glitter.”
She stared at him helplessly. He meant what he was saying, and it was hard not to let those words sway her.
She should tell him no. She didn’t need a man like Demanski disturbing the tempo of her life. She had a difficult enough time riding the ups and downs that comprised her days.
But she didn’t want him to go away. When she was with him, she forgot everything but the moment. Moments were important.
She said slowly, “I suppose we could try to see how it goes.”
He smiled. “I suppose we could.”
“And I’ll never question you if you decide to walk away.”
“That’s very good of you,” he said solemnly. “I’ll keep it in mind.” He sat back on his heels, gazing up at her. “Don’t feel uncomfortable. We didn’t commit. We just clarified.” He got to his feet. “And now I’m going to find a way to prove that you’re wrong about my Galahad capabilities. I don’t blame you for doubting since I’ve not done anything impressive since I left Las Vegas. I’ll have to remedy that.” His brow was furrowed with concentration as he pulled a sheaf of papers out of his jacket and moved toward the computer on the desk. “Call room service and order dinner, will you?”
RURAL HALL, NORTH CAROLINA
10:40 P.M.
“There was a problem,” Kilcher said when Dawson picked up the phone. “Tavak and the others are still alive. I lost two men. When Weitz didn’t call me to tell me that he’d completed his mission, I drove back to check.”
“You idiot.” Dawson’s hand tightened on the phone. “What kind of blunderers did you send out with Tavak?”
“I’m not an idiot,” Kilcher said. “I don’t take that from you or anyone. It happened. I’ll either reimburse you or work another job for you. What do you want from me?”
“I want you to erase all signs of what happened at that lake. Then I want you out of my life. And you’ll damn well reimburse me.” Dawson hung up the phone.
He should have handled Tavak himself. The perfect opportunity, and Kilcher had blown it. Okay, keep calm. He’d have another chance at Tavak. Right now he had to concentrate on getting that mastaba wall decoded.
He sat in the back of the company Jeep, trying to steel himself for the even greater bumps and jostling he knew were coming. It was a Jeep because no other vehicle had a chance of negotiating the hilly terrain between the tiny airstrip and Mills Pharmaceuticals’ secret research center in the North Carolina mountains. It had begun to rain, and the vehicle was sliding over for what passed for a road.
Damn John Tavak. It was all very well to tell himself to forget the bastard for the time being, but he was having trouble doing it.
Screw Theodore Mills and his squeamishness. Dawson should have let Kilcher do it his way. A quick burst of gunfire would have settled matters once and for all. Add ten gallons of a high-temperature liquid-combustion agent, and Tavak’s merry band would now be little more than scorch marks on the face of the earth.
Next time.
The Jeep rolled to a stop outside the complex, which had been constructed for Mills Pharmaceuticals’ most sensitive and important research projects. At any given time, there might be thirty to fifty researchers living on-site, totally isolated from the outside world. In the interest of security, cell-phone frequencies were jammed, and all other personal telephone conversations were monitored and transcribed. The scientists were well compensated for their inconvenience, but Dawson couldn’t imagine living that way.
He climbed out of the Jeep and ran through the now-pounding rain to the entrance. He paused at a retina scanner, and within seconds, the doors slid open.
Dawson made his way to a lab at the back of the complex, and after yet another retina scan, the doors opened to reveal the Hermitage mastaba wall on a tall platform, illuminated by high-wattage lights from every direction. The walls were covered by life-size photographic blowups of the three other carved walls, and several large computer monitors were placed under each.
Dr. James Wiley stepped down from the platform and pulled off a pair of green-framed magnifying goggles. “Good evening, Mr. Dawson.”
“Any progress?”
“Mostly just getting a lay of the land. Imagine my surprise when I walked in here and was shown this.” He motioned toward the stone wall. “You didn’t tell me I would be dealing with stolen property.”
“Really, aren’t all these kinds of artifacts stolen? I’m sure this nobleman didn’t intend for his monument to be carted away and sold to a Russian museum.”
Wiley smiled. “There’s a certain logic to that argument. But this is a much bigger job than I originally thought. Your original offer, while generous, doesn’t really compensate me for the sheer scope of the project.”
Dawson pursed his lips. “What do you want?”
“Five hundred thousand should cover it.”
Dawson stepped toward him. “You wouldn’t be trying to blackmail me, would you, Professor?”
Wiley’s gaze shifted hurriedly away. “No. Of course not. I just think—”
“Good. We’ll discuss your total compensation when you give me results. What have you found out?”
“Well, I’ve been retracing your steps, seeing how you put together the pieces of the puzzle. Each piece gives you a heavily coded section that details a portion of Peseshet’s cure, then a somewhat simpler section that leads us to the next piece.”
“Correct.”
Wiley turned to the message in flames from Hearst Castle. “Here’s the third part of our puzzle, but there are only a few characters that are legible in any of the photographs here. What I don’t understand is how this led you to the Nimaatra exhibit at the Hermitage. It’s obviously the next piece, but what took you from ‘C’ to ‘D’? There’s nothing here that tells me that.”
Dawson should have known that Wiley would painstakingly go through every bit of the process. “You don’t have to know that. I certainly have no intention of telling you. Perhaps you should realize that I have sources other than you that I can tap. Now what progress are you making on the cure itself?”
Wiley shook his head. “I haven’t been able to make any headway on that yet. It’s like no code I’ve ever seen.” He gestured toward the Hermitage exhibit. “I’ll focus my energies on this to find the final piece. Once we gather all the pieces, maybe it will make more sense.”
“ ‘Maybe’ just doesn’t cut it. This whole thing is just an academic exercise if we don’t get that.”
“I understand.”
“I’m not sure you do. This is a race, Professor. You’re not the only ace in my deck, just the one I prefer using. It allows me a certain amount of independence from my employer that I may use to my advantage.” His lips tightened. “But if you’re not capable of taking me across the finish line, I’ll find someone who can.”
“Do you know, I’ve never spent a night with a woman without sex,” Tavak said. “It’s been kind of eye-opening.” He pulled her closer. “You’re an extraordinary woman, Rachel.”
He was the one who was extraordinary, she thought. Complex and vital and ever-changing. These hours spent together in the darkness had not been like anything she had ever before experienced. They had talked for hours, first about Ben and Allie, then they had gradually drifted into memories and an exchanging of ideas and philosophies. She had thought she knew Tavak, but she had only scratched the surface until tonight. “I don’t know if that’s a compliment or not. But I’ll take it as one.”
“It’s not a compliment, it’s truth.” His lips brushed her temple. “You’re truth. Clean and bright and without a trace of subterfuge. Do you know how rare that is?” His arms tightened. “I’m having trouble with our ‘exception’ relationship. I don’t think I can go on with it. I didn’t think I’d ever become possessive about anyone. I didn’t believe I had the right. But things are changing with me.”
“You’ve just gone through an experience that may have put you a little off-balance.”
“Stop analyzing. I’ve already done that, and that’s not the reason. I’ve been heading in this direction since I started thinking about you in Kontar’s tomb. I believe I’m going to have to start working to make you come along with me. If I’m lucky, you’re halfway there already.”
More than halfway, she thought. She had never felt as close to anyone as she had to Tavak during these hours. “We’re both in an overemotional state of—”
“Shh.” His fingers touched her lips, silencing her. “Give in to it, Rachel. Hear the music. I have a feeling it can lead us to incredible places.”
Hear the music.
He had said that she was without subterfuge and in this moment she could not hide the truth even to protect herself at her most vulnerable.
“I hear the music,” she said unevenly. “I do hear it, Tavak.”
“Good.” He kissed her. “That’s all that’s important right now. Go to sleep. There’s no hurry. We can start with the slow steps and go on from there.”
Rachel grabbed her buzzing mobile phone from the bedside table and hit the TALK button before she was even fully awake. “Yes?”
“Rachel, it’s happening. Jonesy’s doing it!”
Val’s voice, Rachel realized. She snapped wide-awake. Tavak sat up in the bed next to her.
“Do you hear me? It’s happening!”
“Calm down, Val. What’s happening?”
“Something clicked. Jonesy started cracking major portions of the code, and the rest have been falling like dominos.”
“Hold on, I’m putting you on speaker. Tavak is here with me. Go ahead.”
“It’s looking like each one of the carvings has a different purpose. The first one presents Peseshet’s treatment as an offering to the gods to allow her passage into the afterlife. The second one is an ingredient list. Plants, mostly.”
“What plants?” Tavak asked.
“Simon is researching them now.”
“I’m here!” Simon picked up on a telephone extension. “You’ll need a botanist to go over this, but I’m afraid at least one of these plant ingredients may be extinct.”
Rachel turned to Tavak. “No.”
He placed a comforting hand on her arm. “It doesn’t mean anything. The active ingredient is probably present in other plants.”
“What if it isn’t? What if after all this—?”
“Stop it. We’ll make it work. Through gene splicing, cellular manipulation, whatever it takes.”
Rachel nodded and tried to pull herself together. He was right. Her whole life was about solving problems, and she could solve this one. One crisis at a time. “Val, what was in the third message, the one at Hearst Castle?”
“That one seems to be about cultivating and preparing the ingredients. But it also tells you how to unlock the treatment’s secret from the fourth set of wall carvings, the one from the Hermitage Museum. Any luck in finding it?”
“We’ve had a bit of a setback. We’re having to regroup. What do we do when we find it?”
“We’re working on that now,” Val said. “I mean me, Simon, and Jonesy. But it looks like it involves an Egyptian sunset.”
“Okay, now you’re just messing with me.”
“I wish I was. That part isn’t entirely clear yet, but we have Jonesy mapping the relation of the sun to the mastaba wall in its position in Saqqara. We’ll have more for you later.”
Rachel shot a glance at Tavak. She knew that expression, intent, thoughtful. She spoke back into the phone. “Fantastic work, guys. Keep me posted.” She cut the connection and turned to Tavak. “What’s wrong?”
He climbed out of bed and pulled on his pants and shirt. “Nothing. Jonesy’s doing a good job, but we have to offer support. We have to get that mastaba wall back.”
“Any ideas?”
“No, but I’d better get one quick.” He leaned forward and brushed a kiss on the tip of her nose. “Thank you.”
“Thank you,” she said in return. “It was a special night.” So special that she wanted to reach out and hold on to it, hold on to him. “But next time, I think we’ll add the skyrockets.”
He went still. “Whenever you’re ready.”
She was ready now. But it wasn’t the time. She nodded. “I’ll let you know.”
“Do that,” he said softly.
“Tavak.” Demanski called him fifteen minutes after he reached his room. “I need to talk to you. I’ll be down to your room in three minutes.” He hung up before Tavak could reply.
Two minutes later Tavak opened the door to Demanski and Allie. “I’ve got an idea.” Demanski strode into the room. “And I think it might work.”
“Track down Wiley’s plane and maybe strong-arm or bribe the pilot to tell you where he flew him?”
“I suppose that’s an option.” Demanski’s eyes were sparkling. “But I’ve got a better one.”
“Do you?”
Allie nodded. “You should listen to him. I think it’s a good idea. Demanski and I spent last night looking through the documentation that the Hermitage Museum gave him with the artifacts. That mastaba wall was X-rayed in the late nineties, and we have copies of the films. There are no hidden panels, false fronts, or anything like that. Whatever message it holds, it’s somewhere on the surface.”
Tavak nodded. “Like the carvings at Hearst Castle.”
“Right,” Demanski said. “So why go chasing after that mastaba wall . . . when we can make our own?”
Tavak went still. “And how do you propose we do that?”
“Have you ever heard of Pixel Dance Incorporated?”
“The special-effects company. They’re the geeky guys who win the visual-effects Oscars every year.”
“They’re geniuses. I was one of their original backers, but all their revenue goes right back out to R&D and hardware upgrades. It’s a terrible business. I let them buy me out for a song, so they owe me huge.”
“What good is that to us?”
“They think they can help. A few of their best and brightest are giving us half a day tomorrow. We need to be at their facility in northern California at 7 A.M. tomorrow.”
Tavak’s excitement was growing the more he thought about it. He’d heard what miracles those techs could pull off. By God, it could work. “It’s worth a shot,” he murmured. “Good job, Demanski.”
“Damn straight,” Demanski said complacently. “And damn brilliant.”
“I won’t even argue with you on that point.” Tavak let out a long breath. “Every minute that Dawson has those carvings that we don’t, he’s that much closer to getting his hands on Peseshet’s cure.” He glanced at Allie. “Are you on board with this?”
Allie was looking at Demanski. “Yes. Let’s do it.”
Demanski smiled. “Give me twelve hours, Tavak. If it doesn’t work, my jet will be warmed up and waiting to take us anywhere you want to go. We’ll strong-arm pilots and sundry other villains to your heart’s content.”
“You’ve got it.” Tavak nodded. “Let’s go tell Rachel.”
