Death Wave (40 page)

A meteorological map sprang up, with isobars and a big red L hanging over London. As they watched, the low-pressure system slid away to the southeast and the synthesized voice of the forecast computer told them the next three days would be warm and sunny.

Jordan's smile widened. “We can go to Cornwall on Sunday. I'd like you to see where I was born and raised.”

Aditi nodded agreement, but asked, “What about our three guests? And their, ah … escorts?”

“Nick and the ladies can stay here, there's plenty to see and do. Cree will keep watch over them.”

“You mean we could be alone?”

“Yes. In the cottage that's been my home for as long as I can remember.”

“Privacy,” Aditi breathed. “We haven't had much of it.”

Jordan suddenly realized that she was less than happy. “Dearest, I suppose this trip hasn't been easy for you.”

They had crisscrossed much of North America over the past three weeks, visiting one city after another, meeting with local and national organizations, where Jordan spoke about the need to protect Earth from the coming death wave, and to save the other worlds that were in danger.

Everywhere they went, Nick Motrenko and his two young women accompanied them. Together with ten or twelve Unicorn security agents. Hamilton Cree was with them constantly, even though the people under his command changed with each city they visited.

In Chicago they dined with Mitchell Thornberry, who seemed strangely distant and aloof. Too busy making money, Jordan thought. It was Aditi who realized that Thornberry had been bought out by Anita Halleck, once Mitchell started enthusing about his development of faster-than-light communications.

“Do you really think he's sold out to Halleck?” Jordan had asked, incredulous, as they prepared for bed that night.

“He certainly seemed less than enthusiastic to see you,” Aditi had replied. “Conflicted.”

Sadly, Jordan nodded, agreeing with her. Mitch has made his choice, he thought. I hope he's happy with it.

Jordan insisted on making a side trip to the Native American reservation in North Dakota, to visit Paul Longyear. To his surprise and delight, Longyear treated them to a celebratory dinner that included hundreds of the reservation's family. For two days, Jordan was able to forget his responsibilities and enjoy their hospitality.

Even Nick Motrenko had been impressed. “They really like you,” he'd said, with a tinge of awe in his voice, as they returned to Chicago and took the rocketplane for London.

Standing beside him in front of the rain-streaked hotel window, Aditi leaned her head on Jordan's shoulder. “I don't mind the traveling,” she murmured. “I know that you're trying your best to save those other worlds.”

“But?”

“But we don't have any privacy. Not really. Not with Nick and the girls with us every minute of the day. And Cree and his people. It's like traveling with a big family—a family of strangers, really.”

Jordan looked down at her and lifted her chin gently. “It will be over soon. By Christmas, I promise you.”

“Six weeks from now.”

“We're booked to appear in Paris, Rome, Moscow, Stockholm, and Barcelona. After that it's home to Cornwall for a good old-fashioned Christmas.”

She smiled wanly. “At least I'm seeing your world.”

“And my world is seeing you. That's important, you know.”

“I suppose so.”

“It will all be over soon, I promise.”

“The election is in January.”

“Yes. Then we'll know if we've succeeded or not.”

Aditi's smile warmed. “You'll succeed, Jordan. And I'll do everything I can to help you.”

“Even putting up with our guests?”

“And a hundred more, if I have to.”

He kissed her. “That's my beautiful wife,” he whispered.

Someone knocked on the door to their suite.

Aditi sighed. “That must be Nick.”

“Yes,” Jordan said, heading into the sitting room. “I suppose it's time for today's interview.”

*   *   *

Walt carefully followed Jordan's travels, recognizing the pattern of a political campaign. He's damned clever, Walt said to himself. He's bringing Nick over to his side.

Still in his apartment in Oakland, Walt had debated the possibility of contacting Nick, and decided to forego it—for the present. The security team that was protecting Kell would listen in on any phone call he made, and a personal contact seemed out of the question. So he bided his time.

Now Kell and his wife—together with their little entourage—had flown off to England. For the next few weeks he'd be campaigning in Europe, under the guise of pleading for help in sending expeditions out to the stars.

Leaning back in his favorite recliner, Walt pondered the situation. Life can be very strange, he thought. Since childhood he'd watched broadcasts about how someday the human race would go beyond the solar system and reach out for the stars. And now we're on the verge of doing it. Why? Not for science, and certainly not for profit. We're going to the stars on missions of mercy. Or so Kell says.

How can I get Nick back on the track? he asked himself. How can I convince him that Kell is actually selling us out to an insidious alien plan of conquest?

The kid was willing to murder Kell once. But that was when Kell was an abstraction, an idea, a concept of deceit and danger to the human race. Now he's seeing Kell every day, seeing a living human being, not an abstract concept.

How to convince him that he's being duped? How to show him that Kell is an evil that must be eradicated?

The buzz of his phone interrupted Walt's train of thought.

“Mr. Castiglione calling again.”

Walt grunted. Even the computerized phone seems fed up with Rudy. He's been calling every damned day.

With a sigh, Walt told the phone to tell Castiglione he was unavailable and to take his message. He knew what the message would be: When are you going to get your people to assassinate Kell?

Walt thought wearily that his answer might have to be: Never.

 

CORNWALL

“It's beautiful!” Aditi said.

“Rather small, actually,” said Jordan.

“Quaint.”

Smiling, he nodded. “Yes, I suppose that's the word for it. Quaint.”

They were standing at the gate of the cottage that had been Jordan's childhood home. The trees were bare, the grass littered with dead leaves, the wind coming in from the nearby sea was sharp and cold.

But, as he looked at the old cottage for the first time in nearly two hundred years, he saw that Aditi was right. It certainly was lovely.

On an impulse, he leaned down and swooped Aditi up in his arms. She squealed with surprised delight.

“It's customary to carry the bride over the threshold,” he said, happy that she felt so light in his arms.

*   *   *

In London, Nick, Rachel, and Dee Dee had found an amusement park.

The three of them were spending their Sunday exploring the city, and were drawn to the Eye, the huge cantilevered observation wheel that dominated the riverfront skyline. Cree was walking with them, sober-faced, intent, while his team of guards—Nick thought of them as guards—seemed to have blended into the crowd of fun-seekers thronging the park.

“Where's your people?” Nick asked Cree as they edged through the crowd closer to the giant wheel.

“They're around, don't worry. They can see you, even if you can't tell which ones of these people are Unicorn agents.”

Dee Dee asked, “Are they supposed to be guarding us or protecting us?”

Cree's stolid face eased into a tight grin. “A little of both.”

Rachel insisted that they had to ride the wheel. “Halfway to the stars,” blared the recorded spiel that rang out above the hubbub of the crowd.

“It's just a big Ferris wheel,” Cree said, squinting up through the bright morning sunshine.

“The oldest one in the world,” said Dee Dee.

“You sure you want to try it?”

“Yes!”

Nick disliked heights, but he didn't want Rachel to see his fear. If she and Dee Dee went up and he stayed on the ground, he'd be humiliating himself.

So, trying to hide his reluctance, he climbed into one of the passenger-holding glass capsules with the two young women. Cree stayed on the ground, a sardonic, slightly bemused expression on his face.

Nick was stunned to see Walt sitting inside the capsule, clean-shaven, his hair clipped short, wearing an impeccable light gray suit and a beaming smile. He looked like a well-groomed British businessman.

“Hello, good people,” said Walt as the three of them gaped at him.

“What're you doing here?” Nick asked as he took a seat facing the black man. Rachel sat beside him, Dee Dee beside Walt.

“Actually, I've come to see you.” And the wheel started into motion, lifting their cage off the ground.

“All the way to London?” Dee Dee asked.

“All the way to London,” Walt replied amiably. Looking into Nick's eyes, he asked, “How are you, friend? How is the star traveler treating you?”

Feeling a little confused and more than a little wary, Nick muttered, “Fine.”

Rachel offered, “He's on Nick's blog just about every day. Nick has millions of followers, thanks to Jordan.”

“Jordan?” Walt echoed. “He's not Mr. Kell anymore.”

“He's been very good to us,” Rachel said.

“Naturally.”

“What do you mean by that?” Nick asked.

Walt shrugged his narrow shoulders. “Why shouldn't he be good to you? You're giving him worldwide publicity every day, you're showing everyone that he's a sweet, peaceable, trustworthy gentleman.”

Nick heard that tinge of sarcasm in Walt's tone.

“Well, he is … kind of.”

Walt nodded knowingly. “Of course he is, as long as he's running for election. But what happens after he gets himself onto the World Council—with your help?”

“He said we'd be free to go home.”

“And the charge of attempted murder that's still hanging over you?”

Rachel said, “We'll be on probation.”

“Probation. You'll have to report to a probation office. They'll tell you what you're allowed to do, where you're allowed to go. Like captive animals.”

“It's better than being frozen,” Rachel said.

With a philosophical tilt of his head, Walt admitted, “Yes, I suppose it is.”

Nick saw that they were high above the ground now. But aside from the river threading through the city, there wasn't much to see aside from the clustered towers of Greater London that stretched out all around them, dwarfing them, making Nick feel like a guinea pig in a spinning cage.

We wouldn't be here if it wasn't for Jordan, Nick reminded himself. We'd be frozen bodies, in permanent storage.

“Jordan's treating us okay,” he said to Walt. “Nobody else lifted a finger to help us.”

Walt gave him a pitying smile. “I admit that Kell has played his little game expertly.”

“Game?”

“He wants to convince the world that the aliens are no threat to us. Getting elected to the World Council is part of his plan.”

“You think?” Dee Dee asked.

“What other reason does he have for treating you so magnanimously?” Walt hesitated barely a moment before adding, “Unless it's to get close to Rachel and Dee Dee?”

That stung Nick. He heard himself say, “He's got a wife, for cripe's sake.”

“An alien, from another world.”

Rachel said, “He's never come on to me. You, Dee?”

Dee Dee shook her head. “I wish.”

With a cynical smile, Walt said to Nick, “And where is the saintly Mr. Kell now, may I ask?”

“He took the day off,” Nick answered. Almost sullenly.

“He's showing his wife where he grew up,” Rachel said.

“In Cornwall,” Dee Dee added.

“Very romantic,” said Walt. “If that's what he's actually doing.”

“You don't think so?” Nick challenged.

“I have no way of knowing. Do you?” Walt's stare bored into Nick. “After all, you're the ones who are under guard, not him. He's free to go and do what he wants.”

An icy silence filled the capsule. The wheel was swinging downward now. Slowly, slowly, they were returning to the ground. Walt sat silently, watching Nick intently. It made Nick uncomfortable, but he tried to hide it, tried to keep from squirming.

At last Walt spread his long arms and said, “Well, I really came to see if you were all right. You appear to be in good shape.”

“Yeah,” Nick muttered.

“Good. Enjoy yourselves. While it lasts.”

The wheel stopped and a robot attendant opened the door to their capsule to let them out. Walt helped Dee Dee to her feet while Nick sat unmoving, the expression on his face a mixture of puzzlement and resentment.

As he stepped back onto terra firma, Walt turned and extended his hand to help Rachel step onto the platform. And he saw's Nick's face scowling at him.

The seed's been planted, Walt thought. Now to help it grow.

*   *   *

Aditi and Jordan stood at the edge of the cliff and watched the sun go down into the surging sea, turning the sky into a magnificent palette of violet streaked with glowing pink streamers of clouds.

“The ocean was much lower when I was a lad,” Jordan said. “It's climbed halfway up the cliffs. No beach left at all.”

“It's so beautiful,” she murmured, leaning against him.

Jordan wrapped his arms around her waist. “I knew you would like it.”

“How could I not?”

With a wry smile, he asked, “How would you like to spend the rest of your life here?”

“With you.”

“Of course with me. Who else?” he mock growled.

“There's no one else in the world for me,” Aditi said.