Panacea (44 page)

“Well, will you look at that,” Rick said, pointing up.

Laura looked but didn't see anything. “What?”

“Follow the shoreline, right near the tops of the trees. We've got company.”

And then she saw it: a dark object with an odd shape gliding through the air.

“What is it?”

“A drone—hover model. And you can bet it's got a camera trained on us.”

“Who, 536?”

“Stahlman says they're high-tech. But this…” He shook his head. “They've gotta be well connected to do this.”

“What do you mean?”

“Think about it. Counting the U.S., in the last week we've been in four countries on three continents and they've been in every one as well. You'd almost think they had someone in my old outfit keeping track of us.”

“The C—?”

His hand shot up. “Uh-uh. Voices carry, remember? But yes, that's who I mean.”

“That's comforting. I—”

“Nothing like relieving oneself against the wall of this abbey,” said Leander as he returned from his rest stop.

“You've no love for the friars, then?” Laura said.

He shrugged. “They were gone from here long before I was born. I have no love for interlopers in general. They came here, killed people, and set up house as if they were entitled.”

“Isn't that the story everywhere throughout history?”

“It is. And I will gladly pee on those buildings too, if given the chance.”

Rick laughed. “You're okay, Leander.”

The old man put his hands on his hips. “Well, I suppose you'll be leaving now. Thank you for your company. I do not get much of it.”

“Thank you for all the information,” Laura said.

She felt a little bad that she had harbored doubts about him. Just a harmless and lonely old man.

“Safe trip,” he said, “wherever your next stop may be.”

Yes, Laura thought. Wherever that may be.

She couldn't wait to get to their maps and find out where they were headed.

 

6

Sent by Laura Fanning 13:52 GMT/UTC/DST
+
2:00

STILL getting bounced from the phone. Did you call ATT? Texting is fine in a pinch but I'd prefer to hear Marissa's voice. The good news on this end is that I think I'm entering the last phase of the journey. Tell Marissa I rode on a helicopter today and visited a crater where a comet hit over a thousand years ago. It's now a lake. Tonight we head out to Scotland and tomorrow we visit one of the Orkney Islands. Have Natasha help Marissa look them up on the map later. Thanks again for taking care of her, Steven. As usual, give Marissa all my love.

Received by Steven Gaines 14:02 GMT/UTC/DST
−
4:00

STILL getting bounced from the phone. Did you call ATT? I need to TALK about this. I DON'T BELIEVE WHAT'S HAPPENING! I reached the airport early and was on line to board when the flight was cancelled. Can you believe this? There's some huge front pushing through and it's going to be storming here all day! I'm trapped and I want to scream! Going to try to get a night flight but everybody else in the airport is trying the same thing. I'll let you know what happens. Meanwhile get back to me ASAP on Marissa's condition. I'm so frustrated I don't know whether to cry or kill someone.

Sent by Steven Gaines 14:07 GMT/UTC/DST
−
4:00

This is unf***ing believable. Oh look my phone is censoring me. Just great. Marissa not good. The pneumonia's getting worse. She seems a little confused at times. I know u want to be here more than anything. I know theyre not telling me everything or maybe softpedalling it all. Theyll be straight with you cause ur a doc too. I get the feeling the cmv is out of control. We need u here. I think hearing ur voice will do her a world of good. Please find a way home asap. Please.

Received by Laura Fanning 14:10 GMT/UTC/DST
+
2:00

The last phase? Thats kinda bittersweet. Marissa and i are having a great time. I think we needed a little more bonding and this has been just the ticket. I guess what im saying is, do whatever u have to do over there and don't worry about us. She misses you but shes fine. Orkney islands? Can you bring me back one of their single malts? I hear theyre excellent. Marissa wants to know if ur going to loch ness to see Nessie.

Sent by Laura Fanning 14:13 GMT/UTC/DST
+
2:00

No time for Loch Ness, I'm afraid. Glad you two are getting on so well. Can't wait to get home. See you soon.

Received by Steven Gaines 14:15 GMT/UTC/DST
−
4:00

No flights until tomorrow and I'm on standby!!! Can you believe this? I'm sitting in the airport crying like a baby. I can't handle this anymore. I think I'm going insane.

 

7

“Fanning and company have booked a flight to Glasgow,” Bradsher said. “They're heading for the Orkney Islands.”

“The Orkneys? Why the Orkneys?” Nelson held up a hand. “Rhetorical. I know you haven't the faintest. But if they're going, then so are we.”

Bradsher said, “I had a feeling you'd say that. Orly is closer than de Gaulle and I believe British Airways flies out of there. I'll check.”

“Wherever she goes I want to be right behind her. So make this our last commercial flight. I want military from here on in.”

“Yessir. In that case, we'd be better flying into Heathrow and driving up to Mildenhall.”

Mildenhall … Mildenhall … then it came to him: The base in Sussex shared by the U.S. Air Force and the RAF.

“Good thought. Have one of the Brothers in the U.K. get up to Glasgow and follow their every move. I want to be on top of them when they reach the Orkneys, and I want heavy firepower along. Who knows what we'll run into?”

“I'll get right on it.”

“One more thing: Any word on who that old man might be?”

Bradsher shook his head. “With that floppy hat we had no clear shot at his face, so recognition software is off the table.”

“Not important now. Book us to Heathrow.”

Nelson was sure the trip to the Abbey had something to do with Brody's belt. Something had been written on it. But what? Did all the panaceans wear such a belt? The irony was not lost on him: Had the Leviticus Sanction not involved burning, they might have had one of those belts for themselves all this time.

Well, no matter now. The Lord had compensated for the Brotherhood's error and shown Dr. Fanning something that sent her scurrying off to Scotland.

A bolt of pain shot through Nelson's head as Bradsher held up his smartphone.

“Message from Israel, sir. Look who's coming to England later today.”

Nelson's vision had blurred with the pain but he didn't want to let on that he couldn't read the message.

“Yes. I see.”

“He'll be handy to have along if we confront the panaceans tomorrow. Shall I invite him?”

Israel … Nelson had a pretty good idea who he was talking about.

“Yes, of course. He'll make things interesting.”

Bradsher left and Nelson was finally alone.

 … if we confront the panaceans tomorrow …

If Nelson's instincts were right, the Lord had guided Fanning to the location of the panaceans' lair and she was headed there. So that might well happen.

The big question: Would they have any of the panacea available? And if they did, should Nelson partake? He had been told all his life that the panacea was anathema. But Nelson had asked for a sign from God. If he found a dose, would that be the sign? He was convinced so, for partaking would allow him to continue his service to the Lord.

The moral dilemma had been growing in his heart since watching Fanning wander the grounds of the Abbey—sacred ground that had put her close to the Lord. Had He inspired her there?

He shook off the doubts and questions. The option might never present itself, rendering all this angst wasted.

Nelson had to let Fanning lead him to the panaceans' lair, then step in and destroy their means of production … and send any of the pagans he might find to their ultimate punishment. And Hayden with them. That man certainly could not be allowed to continue as an ongoing liability.

As for the doctor herself … if things went as he hoped, tomorrow would be her last day on Earth.

 

CLOTILDE

 

1

“Another middle of nowhere,” Rick said as their boat plowed through the swells near the western border of the Orkney Islands. “What did you call it last night?”

Laura clung to a chromed railing in the cockpit. “The Orkney Triangle.”

Back at the abbey, Rick's estimate off the top of his head of the location of the coordinates on the belt had been on the money as far as being in Scotland, but he'd underestimated how far north they'd have to go. It turned out that 59° 3' north and 2° 44' west was situated in a seemingly empty expanse of sea in the center of a triangle formed by Stronsay, Shapinsay, and Auskerry Islands—practically in the North Sea.

“The good news is,” he said, “I've never heard of ships disappearing here.”

They'd chartered a flight from Glasgow to Kirkwall yesterday and spent the night at the Ayre Hotel. First thing this morning, Rick had headed for the docks and rented a twenty-eight-foot cabin cruiser, ostensibly for a leisurely cruise of the channels between the islands. He'd had to demonstrate his prowess at the helm before they'd let him take her out, and he passed with flying colors. His vaunted SEAL training, she guessed.

She said, “The bad news is, there's nothing here. Why does every destination have to be in such remote locations? Interior Quintana Roo, the Negev, the Pyrenees, and now somewhere among the Orkneys.”

Laura pulled her Windbreaker tighter around her. She'd worn it to fend off the chill wind. The sky was clear and she wouldn't have needed it onshore, but out here on the water was a different story.

Her fatigue magnified the chill. Too many time zones, too little sleep.

Rick said, “Well, Paris and Meudon weren't exactly wildernesses.”

“They weren't exactly destinations either. More like stops along the way.”

They followed the Kirkwall-Lerwick ferry out of Kirkwall harbor and east through the channel south of Shapinsay Island. Soon they were losing sight of land behind with nothing ahead but the ferry and open water.

“Approaching the two-degree, four-minute mark,” Rick said, eyeing his GPS. “Time to turn north.”

Unease nibbled at her. No land ahead, none visible behind, and only empty sea to the north. They were leaving the comfortable wake of the ferry and striking out on their own.

“Are we crazy?” she said.

“Could be.” He gave the wheel a slow turn to the left—okay, port. “But the coordinates sit north of here. We either head there or head back. Your call.”

She stamped her foot. “Why do you always
do
that?”

“Do what?” He looked amused.

“Put the decision on me.”

“First off, just to see you stamp your foot. Second, because this is your show. I'm here to help you get it done and see that no one gets in your way. I'm glad to point out options when I see them, but in the end the choice has got to be yours.”

“I'd feel a lot different if there was something on the map, but there's nothing.
Nothing
.”

He nodded. “Well, not completely nothing. We saw white on one of the photos. That could have been foam from shallows or something under the surface.”

“Like what? You're thinking we reach those coordinates and the
Nautilus
surfaces and Captain Nemo welcomes us aboard?”

“Or maybe he works for 536 and this was all a ruse to get us out on the water where he can torpedo us.”

“How comforting. Just when I was starting to enjoy your company.”

“Comfort is my middle name. Hey, wait—
starting
to enjoy my company?”

“Drive.”

What if she'd been wrong about the coordinates? What if they got there and found nothing? That was what frightened her. Because she was out of options. Out of clues. Out of trail markers and direction arrows. She'd have to go back to the States and pray she ran into another panacean—a live one—and hope he was in a talkative mood.

She watched the ferry cruise away toward the Shetland Islands, way up in the North Sea.

“How far from here do you think?”

He shrugged. “A league or two, I'd say.”

“You're expecting me to ask how far a league is, aren't you?”

He grinned. “Who, me?”

It just so happened she knew. Back in Mesoamerica a league was the distance a man could walk in an hour, but here at sea: three nautical miles—the average distance to the horizon when viewed at sea level. She knew because she'd had to look it up for Marissa when they'd watched
20,000 Leagues Under the Sea
.

“So if it's not visible now, it should be soon.”

He nodded with approval, although she sensed it might be the grudging sort. “You got it. The sea-level haze out here will interfere a bit. I saw a pair of field glasses in the galley. Why don't—?”

“Good idea.”

She hurried the three steps down to the cabin. It had a small kitchen and two very uncomfortable looking bunks. The binocs hung on a hook. She grabbed them and bounded back up to the deck.

She spotted a bulge on the horizon almost immediately. She blinked. Could it be?

“Got something,” she said.

“Where?”

“One o'clock.”

“Changing course thirty degrees to starboard, Captain,” Rick called out. He leaned forward, squinting over the windshield. “Thar she blows!”

“Don't say that.”