Paladin Prophecy 2: Alliance (28 page)

“We’ll let you two get caught up,” said Hobbes, signaling the others to follow him out.

Will waited for the door to close before he dropped down beside her. He gently put his hands on her shoulders and waited for her to look at him. Her blond curls fell around her face in soft piles. She looked deathly pale, exhausted and lost, but even with all that her beauty still made his heart skip a beat. She seemed confused until her eyes sparked with tender recognition.

“Will.”

She leaned into him, cradling her head on his shoulder as he put his arms around her. Will noticed a series of locks down the back of the straightjacket.

“What happened?” he whispered in her ear.

She leaned back slightly so she could look at him. “I ran back through the cave. I didn’t know where I was or where I was going. I must have been lost in there for an hour.”

Her lips were chapped and she sounded parched. Will poured a glass of water for her and held it as she took a few sips, then nodded her thanks.

“I saw some light and ran toward it,” she said. “They were waiting when I came out.” She shuddered. “I don’t know what happened after that.”

“Did you see any of the others?”

She shook her head. “I woke up in an operating room. Hobbes was there. He told me what they were going to do to us.” Her voice trembled with fear. “To each of us. He said it so calmly. How they were going to hurt us … what he was going to do to my hands if you wouldn’t go along with what they wanted.”

Will felt his insides churn, his worst fear curled around his heart.

Not this. Not Brooke.

“Did he tell you what that was?” Will could hardly hear his own voice.

She shook her head. “He wouldn’t tell me anything else. Only that cooperating with them was the only way for you to save all of us.” She looked up at him, and he forced himself to hold eye contact with her. “Will, I’m so afraid.”

Until one of them tries to convince us to cooperate. They’ll appeal to our feelings, and also our reason. They’ll try to make us see it’s the only way we can save our friends.

“I hate to think of you giving in, in any way,” she said. “But I think he might be right.”

Will stayed absolutely still. “Do you?”

“I don’t even know what they’ve done to Nick and Ajay or Elise or where they are … What have they done to you? Are you all right?”

“They haven’t hurt me,” he said.

“Thank God.”

“Not physically, at least.”

He could tell she thought that sounded curious. Just the slightest crack in her elaborate façade, and then she was back on message.

“I’m so glad,” she said, leaning her head on his shoulder again. “I was so worried about you.”

What should I do?
he thought.
How do I move from this moment? How do I ever move on from here?

RULE #32: EVEN THE SLIGHTEST ADVANTAGE CAN MEAN THE DIFFERENCE BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH. NEVER GIVE IT AWAY.

“They’re watching us right now,” Will whispered in her ear. “Listening to every word we say.”

“What are we going to do, Will?”

“I don’t know yet …”

Better yet: go on the offensive.

“But I’ve figured something else out,” he said, “and you’re not going to like it.”

“What’s that?”

He put his hands on her shoulders, held her close, and lowered his voice further. “I think it’s possible that somebody, one of us, has been cooperating with them all along. Since the first day I got here.”

She froze for the slightest moment before responding. “Oh my God, Will.”

“You can see how dangerous that could be for us.”

“Of course.”

“I mean, who can we trust if we can’t trust our friends?”

“I can’t believe it,” she said. “Do you have any idea who it is?”

He lifted her gently off his shoulder and looked her straight in the eyes so he could watch carefully. “I think it might be Elise.”

Her pupils contracted, a small muscle twitched just under her left eye—relief—and then she simulated shock, so expertly that it took his breath away. An intake of air, her mouth forming a small O, eyes widening, eyebrows lifting ever so slightly.

And then, the dagger. “Will, I think … that’s so terrible, but I think you might be right.”

“You do?”

“I’ve suspected something, that something was wrong about her but I couldn’t fit my mind around how that could be, for the longest time.” She paused, furrowing her brow.

“Really?”

“How could she have fooled us so badly? But if you think about it … how else would they have known we were going to be at that cave?”

“Exactly,” said Will, hardening his heart.

Don’t forget: they know everything she knows. And she knows almost everything.

“I’m sure if we thought it through, we’ll come up with other evidence.” She shook her head in disgust. “They might even try to make you believe she’s in danger.”

“They’ll stop at nothing,” said Will.

“We mustn’t say a word to anyone,” she whispered urgently.

“I won’t.”

Brooke stared up at him, the sunlight from the high windows glancing across her cheeks, filtering through her golden hair, angelic. Now even the perfection of her beauty seemed like a lie. A single tear gathered in each eye and rolled gently down her face.

She’ll tell me she loves me now.

“I love you, Will,” she whispered. “I should’ve told you before … but I’ve never said that to anyone.”

Will cradled her face in both his hands, looked her deeply in the eyes, and allowed himself one truthful moment.

“You’ll never know how much you meant to me,” he said.

Whatever else they do to me, it can hardly be worse than this.

Then he kissed her softly on the forehead. She raised her face and closed her eyes, ready to be kissed.

The door opened. Hobbes strode back in, followed by Courtney and Halstead. Will stood up abruptly, as if shocked, but he’d expected them. He was actually relieved they’d come in when they did. Now he had to keep selling the idea that he was in the dark about Brooke.

“You leave her the hell alone,” said Will, putting himself between them.

“I can arrange that,” said Hobbes.

“If you hurt her or any of my friends, whatever I agree to goes away. All bets are off. And from now on that includes Raymond. And I need to know that Elise is all right.”

“That sounds perfectly reasonable,” said Hobbes.

Will glanced at the screens. He saw Todd Hodak and Iron-Hands Davis step into view near the cage where Nick was being held. Nick stood up, ready for a fight.

“Then call off your dogs,” said Will.

Hobbes touched an earpiece in his ear and whispered softly in a mic concealed up his sleeve. Todd and Davis stopped, put hands to their ears to listen, and then moved back out of the frame. Nick looked disappointed, then looked up at the camera, realizing somebody was watching. He flipped off the camera before Hobbes made a gesture that turned off Nick’s screen.

Courtney and Halsted helped Brooke to her feet and walked her roughly toward the door. Brooke sought Will out with her eyes. He met her gaze for only a moment, but used it to try to reinforce their “pact” before turning away.

Will pointed to the other screens, at the image of Ajay.

“Once I know they’re safe, you can take me to whoever makes the decisions. Because I know it isn’t you, Edgar.”

“What am I to tell them?”

“That I’ll listen.”

Hobbes straightened up and looked at Will from a few feet away. Appraising him thoughtfully, without rancor. Hobbes spoke softly in his mic, then gestured at Ajay’s screen and it went dark.

“They might be right about you,” he said, then headed for the door. “Wait here.”

The door closed loudly behind him. Will was alone. He moved to the windows and looked down toward the docks. Stan Haxley’s seaplane was moored offshore again, bobbing in the water.

Haxley is here.

Will wondered how long it would take him to arrive. He must have been watching and listening from somewhere nearby.

How long will they make me wait?

The door opened.

Mr. Elliot had walked into the room. Alone. Dressed in an elegant three-piece tweed suit and a natty bow tie. A smile on his face. He raised his hand in a cheerful greeting as he entered, then folded both hands behind his back, his tall angular frame bent forward as if leaning into a stiff wind.

“Here you are, Will,” he said.

Will didn’t know what to say.

“By the by, thank you for such an excellent recommendation about your friend Ajay,” said Elliot. “What a bright fellow. He’s going to be a
lot
of help to you with sorting out all those files.”

Will just stared at him:
Is he crazy or senile? Did he just wander in here by accident?

Elliot didn’t seem to notice or mind that Will wasn’t responding to him. He puttered over to the table, picked up the old wooden box, and set it down closer to Will.

“Here’s something I believe you already have an interest in, Master Will,” said Elliot, opening the box. “Come take a look.”

Will stepped closer as the lid drew back. The ancient brass astrolabe rested inside. Elliot lifted it out of its crushed velvet bed and held it up for them both to admire its elaborate gears, discs, and levers. Will noticed the faint hum of an energy source issuing from somewhere inside it. All the various pieces of the device seemed to vibrate in gentle harmony.

“Go ahead,” said Elliot. “Touch it again if you like. It won’t harm you.”

This is just too weird.

But Will felt the same mysterious pull toward the object that he’d experienced when he first found it in the castle’s basement. He put one finger on the brass, cool to the touch, but agreeable. He liked the way it felt. A lot. He ran his hand over its smooth weathered outer ring.

“Hold it,” said Elliot, offering it to him. “Both hands. You’ll get the hang of it.”

Will took it in both hands and felt the weight of his crushing worries and fears melt away.
How is that possible?
This ancient piece of technology—inscrutable and foreign—somehow filled him with confidence and a sense of peace he could hardly begin to fathom.

Some willful impulse of resistance prompted him to set the astrolabe back down in the box, but he found himself instantly regretting it. He wanted to pick it up and hold the thing again, wanted to feel that feeling again.

“I’d like you to have this, Master Will,” said Elliot kindly, moving the box slightly toward him. “My gift to you. As a token of our appreciation for the fine work you’ve done, in helping us organize the archives.”

“But I haven’t finished yet,” said Will, the only objection he could think to offer.

“Don’t you worry. I suspect that with you and Master Ajay working together, you’ll have the job done in no time.”

About time I start working on my own rules,
thought Will.

#1: GIFTS FROM STRANGERS? I DON’T THINK SO.

Will put his hands on the lid and, with a supreme act of self-discipline, closed the box. “I don’t know what to say,” he said, then forced himself to take a step back from the table.

“That’s perfectly natural,” said Elliot, smiling benignly. “I daresay we’ve all felt the same way, in our own time.”

“I thought Haxley would be coming to see me,” said Will, tearing his eyes away from the box.

“Ah, yes,” said Elliot, looking down at him, amused. “I can certainly understand how you might have reached that conclusion.”

“But it’s not him at all. It’s you. You’re in charge. You’re the Old Gentleman.”

All Elliot did was shrug modestly and smile. Relaxed and untroubled.

“Tell me what I’m doing here. What do you want from me?”

“It’s not so much a case of what I want from you, Will. It’s what I want
for
you. Will you walk with me for a moment?”

Will nodded, then followed Elliot into the hallway. Elliot indicated Will should turn left, and they moved along a windowed passage. Will caught glimpses of the island and other parts of the castle as they proceeded. Sharp beams of sunlight angled down through the windows, bathing the creamy marble with deep rays that seemed to carry an almost palpable weight.

“I certainly have my regrets about how we’ve come to this pass,” said Elliot, eyes ahead. “Apologies are in order, sincerely, no question about that, for lapses in judgment that should never have occurred.”

“I’m listening,” said Will.

“The late Lyle Ogilvy, for one. Lyle’s treatment of you was uncalled for, from the beginning. He was spoken to, reprimanded, warned repeatedly. A severely unstable young man. One always holds out hope you can guide troubled souls back into the full light of their being. Promising as he was, sadly that was not the case with Master Ogilvy.”

“What wasn’t he supposed to do?” said Will.

Elliot led him up a curving flight of marble stairs, their footsteps echoing.

“He wasn’t supposed to try to kill you,” said Elliot more plainly. “Heavens no, Will. We gave him a simple supervisory and observational responsibility. Lyle was expressly forbidden, more than once, from resorting to violence. He was never authorized to attack you in any way, far from it. But the person in charge of Lyle failed to interpret the severity of his derangement.”

“That would have been Mr. Hobbes?”

“Exactly so, Will,” said Elliot, seeming pleased. “You comprehend that situation
precisely
as it is. As if one needed any further confirmation of the acuity of your mind.”

“Lyle wasn’t the only one who tried,” said Will. “Even before I got here, they came after me in the hills outside my house and attacked my plane in midair.”

“Tremendously regrettable. How shall I explain?” Elliot looked up, searching for words. “We have
associates
in this enterprise, Will. Distant partners, or independent contractors, if you will. They’re unpredictable and not entirely ours to control.”

“Because they’re not human,” said Will.

Elliot looked surprised, as if he hadn’t expected Will to know so much.

The Other Team. So Dave was right about them. And if he was right about that, maybe he was right about everything.

“So these ‘independent contractors’ weren’t supposed to kill me either?”

“Heavens no. And once you arrived, believe me, that was immediately corrected.”

“So why am I here?” asked Will.

As they reached the top of the staircase, Elliot held up a hand, asking for patience. “Allow me to address that more fully in a moment, but let me say just this much and I hope you’ll accept it with a certain amount of faith: Because you
belong
here.”

Elliot walked to a nearby door, pausing with his hand on the knob.

“So much happened, Will, before we realized how truly special you were. You see, we needed your father. That’s why we were looking for you and your family. Needed him so desperately, we were willing to go to any lengths to bring him back.”

“You’ve been looking for him all my life,” said Will.

“Indeed.”

“Because he and my mother went on the run, before I was even born.”

“Sadly, yes.”

“Needed him for what?”

“His work, of course,” said Elliot, and opened the door.

Will followed him out onto a spacious roof garden, a surprisingly open space perched on the roof of the gallery they’d been in below. Between the towers, high above the island, was a serene oasis of flowing shade trees, exotic flowers, stands of bamboo, and wild grasses, all possessing an uncommon beauty, bursting with a wild abundance of life. A koi pond bisected the garden, crossed by a filigreed bridge. Colorful songbirds flitted from branch to branch, their musical trills adding graceful notes to the mild breeze modifying the summer heat. Classical statuary had been installed throughout the garden—large Buddhist heads, busts of gods from a dozen ancient cultures. Elliot led them along a grassy path embedded with smooth paving stones.

“Your father is a very proud and extremely stubborn man,” said Elliot. “We decided that having you here would be the best way to persuade him to return.”

“You mean to blackmail him,” said Will.

Elliot smiled in an understanding way. “In time you’ll come to see there are less harsh ways to view this. However you wish to interpret it, we learned that as long as your father knew you were safe, he agreed to proceed with the work.”

Will had to stifle his anger before he responded. “Then why did he run to begin with? What work are you talking about?”

“You are aware of the work your father was involved with, aren’t you, Will?” Elliot looked almost puzzled.

“He never talked about it,” said Will. “All I know is it had something to do with genetic research.”

“I’m not talking about the insignificant drone he pretended to be for sixteen years,” said Elliot impatiently. “I’m referring to the man he was before. I believe you know who I mean.”

Elliot loomed over him, hands on his hips, staring at him with a commanding smile.

“His name was Hugh Greenwood,” said Will sullenly. “He used to teach here.”

“Hugh Greenwood was the finest scientific mind of his generation, Will,” said Elliot, lifting a finger. “I’m a little disappointed you haven’t learned to appreciate this. His groundbreaking efforts made everything we’re doing—all of this—possible.”

Will chose his words carefully. “You mean the Prophecy.”

“Exactly right,” said Elliot, looking pleased. “No one disputes the genius of Abelson’s original idea, but his methods were fatally flawed, a disaster when implemented. That is irrefutable. Our finest minds labored for decades but couldn’t crack the problems—years of wasted time and effort—until, can you imagine, it turns out that Hugh, and only Hugh, possessed the vision, depth of knowledge, and synthesis of thought to make the breakthrough we’d waited for.”

Will’s blood ran cold. “You’re saying Dad helped you willingly?”

Elliot gave a surprised laugh, mildly amused. “Not to worry, Will. Your father’s integrity remains intact. Hugh’s gift is in the realm of pure research. He’s always lived in and for the theoretical. He never knew what we were using it for.”

“So that’s why he ran,” said Will, feeling relieved. “When he found out.”

“Perhaps.” Elliot looked inward. “Or you could say he lacked the courage to see his ideas through to their logical and most useful conclusion. When one’s given a gift that could make life better for all mankind, can he rightfully refuse to use it?”

They’d come to a bench in the garden, on the far side of the pond. Will sat down, overcome by an immense weight that made it hard to move, struggling to incorporate what he was hearing into everything he already knew.

“Look around you, Will,” said Elliot, spreading his arms. “Every species of life in this garden has been utterly perfected by the hand of
man,
not God. Each one the product and beneficiary of your father’s insights into the most intricate workings of existence.”

He lifted Will by the arm and led him to what looked like a wide window on the far side of the garden, darkened by a shade on the other side. The school’s crest was carved into the stone above the sill. Elliot pointed to the words on the scroll below the image.

“Read that for me,” said Elliot.

“ ‘Knowledge is the Path, Wisdom is the Purpose.’ ”

“Wisdom,” said Elliot, grasping Will’s arm. “To be used for the benefit and
betterment
of man. This is and has always been our mission. This is why we needed your father to return, under
any
circumstances, to finish and perfect his work.”

“Why?”

“Because we’re running out of time! The human race as an unregulated experiment in the field has run its course. It’s over, Will. Abject failure.” He pointed out over the walls of the castle. “You’ve seen the evidence out there. It’s all around us. Look with clear eyes, objectively. Our poor world, despoiled, consumed by the base, parasitic impulses of a greedy, selfish predatory species that’s run riot, proliferated to the brink of extinction, and brought us to the dawn of ruin.”

“Not all people are that way,” said Will.

“
People
are only as good as their
leaders,
and only a higher quality of human being, strong and wise and enlightened, can lead us out of this darkness we’ve made.
That
is the kind of person we can create now, but it doesn’t stop there. We have to mold and prepare and teach them how to save this world, and our species, from destroying itself.”

Will was terrified by the old man’s passionate zeal, by the too-bright light in his eyes. “So that makes what you’ve done all right? That justifies cutting a deal with demons that want us dead?”

“Who have you been talking to?” asked Elliot, eyes narrowing. “One of those old fools from the Hierarchy?”

Will tried not to show any surprise and said nothing.

“No, no, they’re so very dangerous, Will. You mustn’t listen to them,” said Elliot, quiet and sincere. “We outgrew the need for those deluded ‘babysitters’ ages ago. What have they told you? They claim to be responsible for the world’s well-being, yes? If you think they’re up to that task, look at the state they’ve left us in. They’re the ones responsible for this darkness.”

“You’ve got it backwards,” said Will. “The Other Team wants to destroy us, and you’re helping them—”

“No, son, listen. We’re in charge of our own destiny now—the stakes are too high—we must make alliances however we see fit. They may not be the most savory influence, but we remain in control.”

“That’s what you think,” said Will. “How much does the school know about this?”

“The school? Nothing,” said Elliot dismissively. “Why would we want to burden them? This is family business. They work for us, not the other way around.”

He’s crazy,
Will thought.
I should just pick him up and throw him off this roof.

“Don’t you know why you’re so important to us, Will? You’re living proof. The fact that you’re as extraordinary as you are is why we know we can succeed—”

“How can you say that?”

Elliot moved closer, almost whispering, his tone as soothing as a bedtime story. “Because with you on our side, Will, and your father returning to his work, everything is in balance. The Prophecy has come to pass. And that means no one needs to suffer anymore.”

“What about my friends?”

“All perfectly safe. Now I need you to tell them what I’ve explained to you. Tell them you’ve realized that you made a terrible mistake about us. Because we want them to thrive and prosper, every bit as much as we need
you
to.”

Will said nothing, staring at him, paralyzed by the possibility of another way out. No more fighting or struggle. He could save both his family and his friends. Let someone else worry about being in charge.

“Shall I make it easier for you?” asked Elliot kindly. “I know how challenging it is to cross this threshold. Allow me to help.”

Elliot knocked on the thick glass of the window. A curtain or blind parted on the other side, and all at once they could see into the room.

It was the surgical theater he’d seen on Hobbes’s screen, where he’d watched them strap Brooke to the table. All the lights were on, but someone else was lying on the table.

Elise. Unconscious, most likely drugged. Her head tilted back at a severe angle. Prepped for surgery. Judging by the lines they’d drawn on her neck, they were about to destroy her voice.

But there was more.

The only doctor in the room, standing over her, holding a scalpel, took off his mask and looked toward the window, toward Will, but he didn’t react or seem to see anything. Hobbes stood just to the side, holding a pistol to the doctor’s head. The doctor wore glasses. Pale and thin, a trim bread. His hair shorter and grayer than Will remembered. The man he’d known his whole life as Jordan West.

Will’s father, Hugh Greenwood.

Will banged on the window, shouting his father’s name. Hugh didn’t react.

“That’s one-way glass,” said Elliot. “He can’t see or hear you, Will. And you have my solemn word that if you just do as I ask from this point forward, no harm will come to him, or Miss Moreau, or any of your friends.”

Will’s whole body began trembling. He wanted to cry, or kill, anything to stop living in this moment. “Why should I believe you?” he asked, stalling for time. “Why should I believe anything you say?”

Elliot smiled down at him again, the most tender smile, and gently put a hand on his shoulder.

“Because, my dear boy, my name is Franklin Greenwood,” he said. “I’m your grandfather.”

RULE #100: STAY ALIVE.

Will didn’t hesitate and looked up at him decisively. “I’ll do whatever you say.”