Gregg Hurwitz: The Tower

Charging out to the garage, Jade hopped into his car. He was backing up when he braked suddenly and got out, leaving the engine running. He went back into the house and directly to the living room, where he grabbed his pistol, spun it once around his finger, and jammed it into the back of his jeans.

His car laid tracks as he peeled out backward from his garage. His head smashed into the headrest on his seat as the back of his BMW plowed into a car pulling into his driveway. The other car spun around in a one-eighty, landing halfway on his front lawn. Yanking the pistol from his jeans, Jade stepped out of his car and found himself aiming at Darby's head. She didn't seem to notice.

He lowered the pistol and walked over to her as two dark sedans drove up the street and pulled over on the far side of the road. A sideways glance at his car revealed that it was still drivable. The bumper was loose and the brake lights on the left side were smashed, but with the exception of a few wrinkles in the black metal of the trunk, the body of the car was surprisingly intact.

"They told me… they told me not to come," Darby said.

For a moment, Jade mistook her shock for drunkenness. Her eyes were glazed and her voice had a foreign flatness to it. But there was an awareness beneath the fog. She always knows what she's doing, Jade thought. Even now.

"Thomas?"

"Don't. They don't know. He's getting… help." She shook her head and looked around the dark street before her eyes settled on the gun in Jade's hand. "You're going, aren't you? To my son."

Jade nodded. The air seemed too thick for words.

Darby reached a trembling hand up to Jade's shoulder. She squeezed it tightly, almost lovingly, then reached across to his necklace. She wound one finger in the thin silver chain, made a fist, and yanked it. The chain broke and dangled from her hand.

"Go," she said.

Darby felt the chain swinging in her hand as Jade's car backed up and shot down the street, one of the dark sedans following close behind. She lowered her head and her mouth opened in a silent scream. Her shoulders shook with sobs.

Jade raced up 280 all the way to San Francisco and cut across town to Sutro Heights. The FBI tail followed him all the way. He knew they'd wait to see the direction he was headed and then call in backup. Hopefully, he could have a few critical moments alone with Allander before they arrived.

Eventually he pulled off the main street and moved up winding roads into the hills. It was getting hard to keep the road in view as darkness set in, especially around the hairpin turns. He could no longer spot the tail behind him. He heard a helicopter somewhere in the distance, but its noise faded away.

The car almost got stuck on one embankment, the wheels turning listlessly in the dirt for a few seconds before catching and jerking the car ahead. The road cut back and forth up the hill in fierce crisscrosses. Jade strained, his head out the window, to look up, but couldn't see where he was headed.

Finally, he saw a green sign that indicated the turnoff for Taos Drive. Moving off the road, he drove to the mouth of a long driveway that led to a secluded house. The mailbox flashed the number 23 in gold letters.

The house was shaded by a small forest that crept into the front yard. Pulling over close to the main road, Jade got out of his car and gazed through the woods. He scanned the area slowly, his eyes straining to see through the leaves and branches. Waiting. Waiting for the slightest crack of a twig or crunch of a leaf. Somewhere, a stream moved against its banks, its melodic flow tickling Jade's ear. A soft roll of thunder issued from the distance.

As he looked, Jade turned in a full circle. When he'd returned to his starting position, he headed toward the house. He moved forward and sideways, never taking his eyes off the front door.

If Allander's here, he's watching me right now, Jade thought. And something told him that Allander was expecting him.

The chopping of a helicopter sounded overhead. It approached swiftly, its searchlight zooming across the landscape. It would pick up Jade's car and direct the backup. Anger swept over Jade. He wanted this one alone.

He walked boldly up the front walk to the house, then sprinted for the door. Clearing the three stairs, the small porch, and kicking down the door with a single flying leap, he landed beside the door, inside the foyer, balanced in a boxer's stance.

He stood motionless as the dust settled around the stark interior. The furniture covered with dust cloths and the rolled-up rugs leaning in the corners of the rooms made the house look like it belonged in a ghost town. Tools lay scattered about the floor.

A small mound of dirt was fanned in a semicircle at the base of the stairs. Jade walked over to it and pinched some in his fingers, raising it to his nose. Fertilizer. Probably tracked in during the landscaping makeover. He rose from his crouch and looked up the stairs.

Complete silence. Outside he heard another rumble of thunder, closer now.

Jade moved quickly, overturning the covered desks and chairs, smashing doors open and kicking through closets. He ran upstairs and sprinted from room to room. There were no signs of life.

Only the master bedroom remained to be searched; he looked down the length of the hallway at the closed door. With his Sig Sauer leading the way, Jade stalked toward it, cushioning the sound of his footsteps by walking toe to heel.

The door left its hinges entirely when he kicked it, crashing to the floor. The light from outside was fading rapidly, and much of the bedroom was cloaked in shadow.

An antique mirror stood in the corner of the room, next to an enormous maple wardrobe with intricately carved handles. Jade aimed his raised pistol at the wardrobe. He was ready. He approached it slowly.

His finger was white-knuckled against the trigger as he nosed the wardrobe door open. It swung outward on creaky hinges. He leaned back and fired once into the dark interior. A single wire hanger dangled from the bar, lit with the flash from Jade's shot. That was all.

The house was empty. It had all been a wild-goose chase. In his excitement, he had forgotten that the green paint and remodeled house only had been part of a theory, and that this had been one of only several possible houses.

Rage filled his body, and he spun to face the room. Catching his dim reflection in the mirror, he glared at himself-his hard, green eyes, his ineffective body.

Cursing, he hurled the pistol at his reflection. The mirror shattered and the wooden board behind it swung to the side like a window shutter, held there by two bent nails. As the mirror fell away in shards, it seemed that Jade's reflection still remained, his eyes peering back at him. Then the eyes blinked when his did not, and a smile crept across the face of Allander Atlasia.

The element of surprise decidedly in his favor, Allander stepped through the shattered frame and pounced on Jade, pressing the point of a screwdriver to his throat. Jade swallowed roughly as the probing tool dug into his Adam's apple.

Allander smiled. After all this time, he and Jade were together. Here at the new house. His house. Allander felt a chill teasing his legs, and his testicles tightened. The dance had begun.

The noise of sirens outside escalated, and red-and-blue lights flashed through the window. Jade tried to talk, but the screwdriver was pressed so tightly against his windpipe that he only choked.

He looked into Allander's face, savoring the feeling of his flesh against his own. After so much distance and time, the two men were finally touching. The beat of Allander's heart pounded in Jade's ears, and for a moment, he could not distinguish it from his own.