Journey Into the Flame (36 page)

They asked many questions about the
Chronicles;
they wanted to know what I thought of certain passages and how I interpreted certain others. I was glad to offer my perspectives. They had questions about the Satraya Flame and the other fundamentals presented in the books. I told them a little about my flame work, but I dared not tell them everything that Baté had taught me, for I was not yet a master of it.

Our host continued to pour his expensive scotch for everyone. How he could afford it, I didn’t know. What they really wanted to hear was the story of how I found the books. I had told that story a hundred times before, and I was most happy to share it with such a congenial group. Even though these people did not have anything to their names, they had embraced the very essence of what the
Chronicles
attempt to impart. They reminded me so much of the misunderstood Forgotten Ones. I recounted the story of my long drive home, my narrow escape from the marauders, and my journey into the forest. I told them of my experience with the mysterious blue orb, and how it levitated me off the ground. I told them of my encounter with the Forgotten Ones, and how I unexpectedly fell in love and eventually married one of their kind. The woman who first spoke out to me in the darkness. The one who convinced the Forgotten Ones to put down their weapons.

My description of the orb was of great interest to them, but not for the reasons I assumed. They told me that they, too, had witnessed a blue light. It had engulfed the station, they said, and they all pointed to track number seven. They said it had happened around six years ago. I found it noteworthy that it coincided with my discovery of the books and also Deya’s and Madu’s discoveries. I told them that Fendral never spoke about his experience with the blue orb. They were confused by the reports that Fendral had found a copy of the
Chronicles
at the train station. They told me that the blue light they had witnessed there had been directly experienced by a man named Giovanni Rast. No one by Fendral’s name had ever lived at the station. When I showed them a picture of Deya, Madu, Fendral and myself, they confirmed they had never seen Fendral.

I asked them to tell me more about Giovanni Rast. They said that he lived in the number fourteen car on track seven. Marilyn seemed to have the closest relationship with him. She said that after everyone saw the blue light coming from the car, she went to investigate its source. She found Giovanni in his car reading from some books. He told her that he had found them enclosed in a tin can on the tracks outside his car. When he opened the first book, a blue globe of light appeared. I asked if they had ever witnessed the blue light again. Everyone there said that the blue light had never returned; they had only seen it once. This was consistent with my story and those of Deya and Madu. I asked Marilyn to continue. She said that afterward, Giovanni’s life began to change. He somehow came into some money but nonetheless continued to live in his train car. Our host told me that Giovanni had given him the wonderful scotch that we were enjoying right before he disappeared. The others told of similarly expensive presents that Giovanni had bought for them before he left. I asked where he had gone, but no one could answer that question. I asked Marilyn if she would take me to the train car in which he had lived, and she agreed without issue.

It had been a while since Marilyn had last visited Giovanni’s car. While we were alone, Marilyn told me something that she hadn’t shared with the others. She knew where Giovanni’s money came from, she said, but he’d sworn her to secrecy. Marilyn told me that one hundred gold coins fell from one of the books he’d found. Giovanni explained to her that after the blue orb disappeared back into the book, gold coins magically fell from the pages. She promised never to tell anyone, but because I was Camden Ford, who had also discovered one of the original copies of
The Chronicles of Satraya,
she felt compelled to break that promise. Giovanni didn’t know what to make of it. He said the books were special.

The gold coins she mentioned confirmed something that I had suspected for many years. The blue orb and the books seemed to give to the finder the very thing or ability he or she needed most at that moment. Giovanni received treasure, Deya was healed, and I received hope. I cannot write what Madu received because I promised him never to reveal it. Nonetheless, in all cases, the books somehow knew what to provide.

Logan paused for a moment. The last few lines reminded him of something that Sebastian had said to him at the auction. It was that same phrase that had haunted him ever since: “Where the books will
choose
to go.”
These books seem to be governed by some mystical law and purpose
, Logan thought. He continued to read his father’s account.

I asked Marilyn if she knew where Giovanni was. She didn’t; she’d never heard from him after he disappeared. Marilyn did remember, though, that just before Giovanni found the books, he had taken a job as a handyman for a well-to-do family living in the city. They paid him a meager wage, but people didn’t complain back then. I asked if she knew the name of the family; she did not. But she did remember that Giovanni continued to work there even after he’d found the books and had been given the gift of the gold coins. She told me he would take the books everywhere with him, even when he went to work.

I looked around the converted train car. Giovanni’s bedding was in the corner; a blanket and a pillow were neatly stacked. Next to where he slept was a small nightstand with a candle on it. I wondered if he had been working on the flame technique. He had secured a short pole from the ceiling of the car where he hung some clothes. Judging by the condition of his space, Giovanni may have been homeless, but he was not destitute. He did what he could with the circumstances in which he found himself. Displayed on a shelf were some trinkets and a picture of a woman and three children. Marilyn told me the people in the picture were Giovanni’s wife and children. They had been casualties of the Great Disruption.

As I continued to look around, I spotted something in the overhead baggage compartment of the car. I reached up and brought down a box. Marilyn told me it was the tin box that had contained the books. With her approval, I opened it. Inside I found a folded piece of paper, which was a help-wanted advertisement for a handyman, and, more surprisingly, many of the gold coins. Both Marilyn and I asked the same question. Why would Giovanni disappear with the books and yet not take the coins with him? They were certainly worth a great deal; they could be used to start a whole new life. I put the job posting in my pocket and gave all of the coins to Marilyn. I told her to keep what she wished and to give the rest to the others. I asked her then if I could keep the tin box, and she agreed. I left the passenger car and exited the Hauptbahnhof through a back door. Then I continued my quest in the city of Zurich.

Logan took from his backpack the tin box that he and Mr. Perrot had found under the floor in the basement of the Council of Satraya headquarters and set it on the coffee table. He wondered if this was the box
that had contained the original set of the
Chronicles
that Giovanni had found on the tracks. He set it back down to finish reading his father’s account.

The address on the job posting led me to an unoccupied private home on Bellerivestrasse, which I later found out at the WRF office was owned by Fendral Hitchlords. I looked through the logs for the deceased of that time, searching for any information concerning a man by the name of Giovanni Rast. I found the death notices for his wife and children but not for him.

All four of us had found our sets of the
Chronicles
on the same day, July 21. Giovanni had disappeared four months after his discovery. I had completed my investigation and confirmed my suspicions, but I was powerless to do much about it. I now knew Fendral never spoke of his experience with the blue orb because he’d never had one. Giovanni Rast had experienced the blue orb. While I don’t have any direct proof, I know in my heart that Fendral had something to do with Giovanni’s disappearance. How Fendral knew the value of the books and the exact events that took place may never be known. The bigger question that haunts me is, what am I to do with this information that I was so driven to discover?

Now Logan knew Fendral’s secret.

44

Would you follow your own advice?

—THE CHRONICLES OF SATRAYA

WASHINGTON D.C., 7:00 P.M. LOCAL TIME,

47 HOURS UNTIL LIBERTY MOMENT

“Do you really think that Andrea and Simon care about you?” Valerie asked Monique Sato.

The dark-haired young woman sat silently opposite Valerie at the table in the interrogation room at WCF headquarters. Alex Daniels, a ten-year veteran of the WCF who had been temporarily assigned as Valerie’s new partner, stood in the corner listening to every word. Cameras mounted in the upper corners of the room recorded everything that was taking place.

“We can place you at the Council offices the night of the murders,” Valerie said. “We know about G-LAB, the doctor, and the antigen that is being deployed. We even know that the attack is scheduled to take place on Freedom Day. We know that you, Andrea, Lucius, and Simon are all working together, and that somehow Randolph Fenquist is also involved.”

Monique was no longer wearing the red and white baseball cap that had ultimately led to her capture. The authorities had programmed the
airport security cameras to look for anyone wearing the cap she had stolen from the mother in the airport restroom. The cameras had shown someone discarding the cap and a baby stroller at a fast-food restaurant at the other end of the terminal. Authorities caught up with her trying to exit the airport near the international terminal. The hat and the stroller were in evidence now. Monique’s hair was pulled up in a knot, revealing the stressed expression on her face.

“Are you going to get me a lawyer or not?” Monique asked defiantly. She’d asked that question repeatedly since she’d been arrested. “I just want a lawyer.”

“I’m surprised that Andrea hasn’t sent anyone over to help you,” Valerie said. “Char—” She caught herself as she almost said the name of her dead partner. “Alex. Alex, don’t you think that if they cared about Monique, they would have sent their attorney over right away? They’re rich people; they should know a bunch of good lawyers.”

“I know I certainly would have,” Alex said, playing along. “If I heard you were arrested, I would do everything I could to help you out.”

“They are not going to send anyone, all right?” Monique lashed out. “You don’t understand.”

“Then help us understand,” Valerie said.

“I ran away. They were going to kill me.”

“We can protect you,” Valerie assured her.

“No, you can’t,” Monique said. “Not from them.” She shook her head, whimpered softly. “I just want an attorney . . .”

Valerie stood and left the interrogation room, followed by her new partner. They walked behind a two-way mirror where they could keep an eye on Monique.

“She’s not giving anything up,” Alex said. They had been interrogating Monique for more than two hours, and she had said very little.

“Well, at least we know why they haven’t sent a lawyer for her,” Valerie said. “She ran.”

“She’s scared, that’s for sure.” Alex looked at Monique, slumped over the table, her head resting on her arms. “And I don’t blame her. On the
one hand, she has them after her, and on the other hand, she faces the prospect of going to prison for a very long time.”

“Don’t feel too sorry for her—she helped kill four people,” Valerie said. “We need something to draw her out. Did we get any information about her past? Anything about the people she hangs with, family, friends, anything?”

“There’s not that much.” Alex pulled up a report on his PCD. “We know she’s a Japanese national. She came here when she was twenty-one and landed a job working for the New Democratic Party as a media director. After a few years there, she went to work for Cynthia Brown. She’s been Cynthia’s assistant for almost three years. She doesn’t have any priors. But there have been five large deposits that went into her bank account over the last two and a half years; we’re trying to trace where they came from. She sends money to her parents in Tokyo every month. Her father has some type of chronic disease, not sure—”

“Chronic disease? I wonder . . .” Valerie’s eyes lit up. “We know from Dr. Malikei’s journal that he was creating a designer drug to help Andrea and her son. What if they promised Monique to do the same for her father’s illness? I wonder if that was the special project he was referring to.”

Valerie went back into the interrogation room and took a seat at the table. Alex sat down beside her. “When was the last time you saw Dr. Malikei?” Valerie asked.

“I don’t know who you’re talking about,” Monique answered. She sat back in the chair and crossed her arms.

“That’s too bad,” Valerie said. “We were hoping someone could help us locate his family so we could tell them he was shot in the head.” Valerie brought up a picture of his corpse on her PCD. Monique uncrossed her arms and sat up in the chair, obviously unsettled. She stared at it. “I thought that might get your attention. I told you Andrea and Simon don’t care about you. One of their thugs shot the doctor right in front of me. And after everything he did for
Andrea and Lucius—even for you. He had a special project for you, didn’t he?”

“How do you know about that?” Monique said sharply. “Tell me! How do you know about that?”

“So you do know the doctor,” Valerie said. She projected a page of Dr. Malikei’s notes on her PCD and pointed.