Kingdom Keepers VI (9781423179214) (5 page)

“Yes!” Amanda said.

“Of course!” echoed Jess.

It is why all of you are here.

F
INN MET
S
TOREY
M
ING
outside the Radio Studio just after three that same morning, the sun far from being even a pink smudge on the horizon.

Finn had sneaked out of his stateroom, feeling a bit like a traitor for leaving Philby behind.

“This seems a little cloak-and-dagger to me,” Storey said. “Aren't we basically going behind Philby's back?”

Her concern about Philby made Finn wonder about her motive. Was she interested in Philby?

All things girl confused Finn. Specifically, Amanda confused him. They hadn't had a chance to talk the night before. Finn wanted so badly to get things right with her again, but he had no idea how to rewind and reset his life.

And was he more interested in Storey than he'd admitted?

Storey challenged him with a take-no-prisoners look. “He put this call through last time, right?”

Finn hoped the heat he felt in his face wasn't showing. “Right.”

Now he got it. She wasn't suggesting that she
and Finn liked each other and were cutting Philby
out. Storey feared that Finn was betraying the other Keepers by asking her, not Philby, to connect him with Wayne.

“It's just…like a phone call,” he said. “Think of it as a phone call.”

“But then why couldn't Philby do it?”

“Is this about Philby?” Finn said, wondering who had made those words come out of his mouth. What a stupid thing to say!

“Is
what
about Philby?” Now Storey was blushing. “I'm not complaining. Am I whining? It's early, if I'm whining—”

“You're not whining.”

“There aren't a lot of guys I would get up early for, Finn, if that's what you're asking. People,” she said, attempting to correct herself. “Not a lot of people.”

“I guess we should do this,” he said.

She stepped to within an inch of him, their faces almost touching. The landing outside the Radio Studio had felt chilly until that moment. “You think?” she whispered. “Me too.”

If he dropped his chin or leaned forward they would kiss. Until then Finn hadn't realized how phenomenally perfect her eyes were. They seemed oversized and bottomless. He wanted to dive in there and swim around inside her thoughts and discover what she was really thinking.

Storey reached up and stroked his neck and ear. He felt shivers rip through him. “You are an incredible person. You know that?”

“You're the one who keeps saving us.”

“I mean as a person. How you care so much about everyone. Think of them first. Put other people first all the time.”

“That's not exactly me…” How could she smell so good so early in the morning?

“And you're modest, on top of everything else.”

“You have me confused with a secret agent who looks an awful lot like me.”

“And funny.”

This was it. He was supposed to kiss her now. Everything inside him was telling him that; everything but his brain, which was screaming for him to turn an about-face and scram.

The elevator dinged.

Storey swiped her crew member ID badge to the left of the door and the Radio Studio unlocked. She grabbed Finn's hand and pulled. She eased the door shut.
Click
. She paced her index finger in front of her very full lips and kept him quiet—though Finn hardly needed to be told; he couldn't think, much less speak.

Soon, Storey had made contact with Lou Mongello of WDW Radio, whose Web-based radio show served as an interface to shipboard communication with Wayne. Lou, who sounded enthusiastic despite the early hour, patched them through. Soon Finn heard Wayne's scratchy voice come through the headphones.

“We have managed to encrypt the transmission this time,” Wayne said. “No need for code speak.”

“O…kay. Is that why it sounds like you're on the North Pole?” Finn said.

“Actually, I'm much closer than that. Much.”

“You're on the sub!” Finn said.

Storey's eyes went wide. Then she put on her own set of headphones, and Finn could hear she'd cranked up music so as to not eavesdrop. He thought all the more of her for doing that.

“I cannot confirm or deny my current location,” Wayne said. “What I can tell you—because we haven't much time—is that your situation has taken a precarious turn.”

“As in dangerous.” Finn told him about the hyena attack on Jess.

“I'm sorry to hear about Jezebel,” Wayne said, using a name the girl had once been given by Maleficent. It struck Finn as an odd choice for Wayne; he did not question it. “But I was actually referring to the incident on Castaway Cay. Ship radar has confirmed the landing of a plane.”

“Yes! Chernabog,” Finn said. “They've brought him on board.”

“Then you must find him. You must work with Bob—Uncle Bob, they call him. Security.”

“I've seen him around.”

“He may not believe you. That may pose a bit of a problem—”

“You think?”

“But now Tia Dalma's presence there makes much more sense.”

“Because?”

“She's…clever.” It wasn't often Wayne was at a loss for words. “She's powerful and cunning and, as you found out, no one to tangle with.” He paused. “To resist her power is futile. With her you must lose yourself to win.”

“What does that even mean?” Finn asked.

Finn heard noises in the background. Wayne rushed his next words. “How's your mother?”

The question hit Finn as awkward. “My
mother
?
I…ah…haven't seen her. I afraid she may have…vanished.”

“No, actually, she hasn't. Worry not. Certain factions loyal to our cause have hidden her. They are taking care of her.” Wayne often spoke cryptically. Whether to overdramatize or to motivate, Finn wasn't sure. But it bothered Finn because it worked. His heart sped up.

“You won't see much of her on this voyage,” Wayne continued, “if at all. But don't let that worry you. She's resting. Recovering. She's going to be fine.”

Finn knew better than to argue, but couldn't help himself.

“If it's all the same, I'd really like to see her,” he said.

“It's not advisable. We have concerns. Threats…”

“We always have concerns,” Finn countered. “She's not involved.”

“But she was seen as being part of it. She drove you to your meeting at Typhoon Lagoon. That
made
her part of it.”

“I want to see my mom.”

“And put her at risk? At additional risk? You saved her, Finn. Leave it at that for now. Allow her to fully recover.”

Finn didn't want his mother to be any part of this. As much as he wanted to see her—needed to see her—he wouldn't forgive himself he put in danger again.

“We have more pressing matters,” Wayne said. “First is the Base. We have signs that our friends are regrouping, possibly for a major offensive.”

The Overtakers had been attempting a siege on Disney World's Engineering Base for some time. Seizing control of Base would give them not only full control of the attractions and electronic security at all the major parks, but access to the DHI servers, which had recently undergone a software upgrade. DHI 2.0 eliminated bugs and exponentially increased hologram performance. Like going from a bicycle to a Porsche. Loss of the Base would cripple Wayne and the Imagineers in their efforts to keep the parks functioning as usual; it might also put the Keepers out of business for good.

“We doubt very much,” Wayne went on, “that any attempt will be made until the leaders are off the ship. But there's a catch: if they're able to restart their own holograms, all bets are off. Their DHIs could lead the battle for the Base while their bodies sleep on the ship, Finn.”

“I understand.”

“That must be prevented at all costs: they must not get a server restarted.”

“We lost their data.” Finn blurted it out for Wayne to digest. “It was…messy. We had it, and we lost it.”

“All the more critical, then,” a troubled Wayne said.

“I understand.”

“I hope you do.”

Wayne rarely scolded Finn, but Finn felt horrible nonetheless for letting him down. The old man didn't speak for several long seconds; Finn could have sworn he heard the hum of engines in the background. Again, he thought:
The sub
. He marveled at the idea that
King Triton might actually have saved him by summoning Captain Nemo, and that Wayne could possibly be on the
Nautilus
with him. As much as Finn was ready for his role as a DHI to end, for life to go back to normal, moments like this made him want it to go on forever.

“More pressing for the moment is this plane. You tell me Chernabog is now on board the ship. You must find him.”

“It's why they're on the ship, isn't it?” Finn asked. “Something to do with Chernabog. The journal. Tia Dalma being a witch doctor.”

“I warned you before that the mission may involve resurrecting the beast. You have to understand, Finn. How do I put this? His powers, should they ever
return, should they ever be at the level Walt originally imagined… You see?
Fantasia
was as close as Walt ever got to showing us just how bad…to what degree this character is possessed by evil. You cross the Minotaur with a Central American bat god, and you get not only the most hideous, powerful physical features of both, but the power of two cultures as well. The Greeks. The Mayans. One had active imaginations, the other horrific practices and backward beliefs. Should the intention be to return this beast to its full abilities? Well, God help us all.”

“So, we find him…and then what?”

“So confident.”

“I'm trying. All I'm saying is we'll try.”

“And I thank you for that. Okay. First? Let's say you find him prior to whatever they have planned for him. To the awakening—if I'm right about that. In that case, Bob may have a hold that can contain him.”

“This ship is made of steel,” Finn reminded Wayne. “Of course it can contain him.”

“I see. You're suddenly the expert?”

“I didn't mean—”

“Finn, you lost the DHI data. And now you're not listening. If Chernabog regains his full cognitive and physical abilities, nothing you have—nothing anyone on that ship has—will stop him.”

“You're kidding, right?”

“You will recall your encounter at Expedition Everest, please. Even at twenty-five or fifty percent of his potential, he's still many times the strength and evil of anything you and your friends have encountered.”

Only Amanda had managed to save Finn from Chernabog. “But…”

“
Any…thing, any…one
you have battled. Maleficent is a mere pawn in comparison.”

Finn felt a chill.

“
C
hernabog
is the embodiment of evil and lethal force. We haven't seen the half of him.”

“So…?”

“They may have cut off their noses to spite their faces,” Wayne said. “They've brought him on board in order to transport him somewhere the cruise is going. I doubt seriously the awakening, if that's what's at play, is to take place on the ship itself. They could have awakened him on Castaway. But they've chosen to take him out to sea. If you can find him, if Bob can contain him—perhaps drug him—before he's fully conscious, it's at least possible that he might be drowned. Bats do not swim. If you can drown him… The ship may be our one chance. But once on land…”

“You're scaring me.”

“Good. Then I'm accomplishing something.”

“And Base?”

“We may need the five of you on a moment's notice. It depends what develops. Check your phones. Check back here with me as often as possible. It's fluid, Finn.”

The connection ended.

Storey was rocking out, virtually unaware of Finn. He pulled off his headphones, his vision blurring. He'd wanted to ask her about 2.0, about Wayne's apparent favoritism of Philby, about the rumor that the present Keepers would be retired in favor of “new models” once 2.0 was fine-tuned.

He wanted to ask a lot of things.

But not now. At the moment, he couldn't get a word out.

I
N THE WEE HOURS
of the morning, Luowski climbed a steel ladder inside the ship's forward funnel. Pausing once to look down, he decided never to do that again. It was a thirty-foot drop to a metal deck.

He probably should have considered an invitation to meet with Maleficent some kind of honor. But since it was delivered as an
order
, he felt uneasy about the whole thing.

The interior of the stack, including the ladder
he climbed, trembled from the vibrations of the
ship's motor. The claustrophobic space was overly warm, noisy, and dark. The higher he climbed, the
more it felt as if there might not be a way back down again.

Reaching a ladder, Luowski pulled himself up through the hole and stepped out onto a catwalk's metal grate. He gripped the handrail, mopping sweat off his face. A pale guy dressed like a pirate blocked his way—a henchman for the Overtakers. The man was most likely a crew member in costume, but Luowski wasn't about to insult him.

“And who might you be, lad?” the pirate said in a deep-throated rasp.

“Greg,” the boy said. “Luowski.”

The man shone a blinding light into his eyes. “Open 'em wide.”

Luowski did as he was told, revealing the deep-green irises. For a while he'd worn green contacts because Maleficent had told him to. Then, one morning he'd woken up and they weren't contacts anymore. From that day on, he hadn't felt like himself.

A voice behind him said, “Arms up. Feet spread.”

Luowski startled as he was patted down from behind. He didn't look back.

“Clean,” the unseen man said in a fake Jamaican accent.

Sheesh!
“Is this happening or not?” Luowski said, impatient despite his better judgment. He knew to keep his mouth shut, yet like so many things in his life, his brain said one thing and his actions came out the exact opposite.

“Chill,” said the one in front of him. Definitely not a pirate.

A blindfold was pulled over his eyes. Tightened, it covered his ears and dulled the sounds as he was guided forward. Straight for five paces. Left. He tried to memorize their movements in case he needed a quick exit.

“Up!” said the fake Jamaican, prodding him from behind.

“You're kidding!” he said.

But it was no use. Luowski climbed a ladder blindfolded. Not easy. Six rungs up. A turn right. Two steps. Left, three. Left again. He was losing track, already forgetting the turns they'd made. It grew noticeably colder, and the whirring of fans made it loud.

“You have it for me.” Her voice, like cracking ice.

The character of Maleficent in
Sleeping Beauty
was a tall, green woman in a pressed cape and nice clothes. The Maleficent Cast Member was nearly identical. But the Maleficent Luowski heard—he'd never actually
seen
her—sounded like an old, menacing hag, like the nastiest grandmother in the neighborhood, the one with thirty cats in her house and a brown, overgrown yard.

There was yet someone else standing nearby,
someone previously unaccounted for. Luowski resisted turning in that direction. The person was a mouth breather—a long-time smoker, maybe—and he/she gave off strange odors—moss, mud, human sweat. The smells didn't fit with what he thought about Maleficent. This was someone else. Someone…unforgettable.

Wanting it all over with, Luowski reached into his front pocket, withdrew the blood-and-guts encrusted USB thumb drive, and held it in his open palm.

Cold fingers plucked it away.

Maleficent needed the cold.

“Well done, young man,” the dark fairy said. “Well done, indeed.”

“It…we had to kill it.”

“Yes. Pity. The hyenas are so helpful.”

“Had to gut it.”

“Spare me the whining.”

“Yes, ma'am.”

The dry-throat breathing sounds came from his immediate right now. Luowski could
feel
whoever it was sizing him up.

“There is more to be done,” said Maleficent.

The other one wouldn't speak.

“We need you to collect one of them for us.”

“Collect,” Luowski repeated.

Now it was Maleficent holding her tongue.

“One of what?” he asked.

“Not what: whom.”

“You want to run that by me again?”

“Are you deaf?”

“No, ma'am. Your Excellency. Whatever…”

“Never mind that for now. But we will speak of this again.” A shiver swept through Luowski. “Presently,” she said, “there is a task at hand. Once on Aruba…you will be joined by an associate. Perhaps we will send Dixon. Perhaps Victor. It is hard to say. It is an important task. Of the utmost importance. To fail is…
unacceptable
.”

“What task is that?”

“I'm beginning to regret my choice of you,” she said. She muttered something. Luowski couldn't hear the words—they sounded like a gibberish, like a foreign language—but there was a soothing chantlike quality to them as well. He felt overwhelmed, like a blanket had been pulled over him. Pleasing, but disturbing. Something he knew better than to trust. Yet he welcomed it.

It was hard to think, like in the moments just before sleep. Luowski's thoughts were flat and soft. He saw arms wrestling the electrically stunned hyena onto its back; he saw the blade glint above his head. He shuddered as the camera of his imagination pulled back and he recognized the arm holding the knife as his own. He'd killed the poor thing. He couldn't think, couldn't grab a single thought. It was as if…

“You will do as I say,” spoke the cracked-glass voice. “You and your accomplice will get in and out with no one the wiser. Including the police.
Especially
the police. To fail is to disappoint me. I advise strongly against that.

“Now, you will listen, and you will listen closely, and you will remember everything I tell you as clearly as your own name.”

Greg Luowski had no comeback because he had no thought. What he heard, he knew to be the truth. What he was told to do had to be done. And he would do it. Just like the hyena.

He hated this woman—this fairy—for making him do whatever she wished, and in the same breath he loved her for it.

“I'm listening,” he said.