F Wilson - The Dark at the End

Only one thing missing: the Master of the house. Where was-?

He stiffened at the sound of a high-pitched screech from within. Not human, and not like any animal he’d ever heard. Something between, that tickled the hairs on the back of his neck.

He saw Georges jump in his chair-the screech had to have been much louder in there-but he didn’t rise. He looked like he’d heard it before. The woman, however, bounced her thick body off the couch and hurried in Jack’s direction. Another screech sounded as she approached and he saw her press her hands over her ears. He ducked back as she neared. When he peeked back in, Georges was still in his chair, eyes on the screen, and Gilda was nowhere in sight.

That noise… had to be Dawn’s baby. But what kind of baby had a cry like that? Jack had spent some time with Gia down in the St. Vincent’s pediatric AIDS ward before the hospital shut down. He’d heard a lot of distressed babies but never one that sounded like that.

The sound didn’t repeat. Jack watched until Gilda reappeared from a side room. He’d hoped to see her carrying a baby but she was empty-handed. She returned to the sofa where she and Georges had a brief conversation before fixing their gazes on the screen again.

Lowering to a crouch and stepping carefully, he moved around to the south side to what he estimated would be the window into the room she’d visited. He couldn’t stay here long because it faced the street where he was exposed to anyone driving past, but he felt compelled to peek. The streetlight behind him cast a skewed quadrangle of light across the floor within, ending at the legs of a crib. He saw the shadow of his head moving within the light, but the crib lay beyond it, sheathed in darkness.

He spotted two bright points behind its railing-not glowing, merely reflecting the light from the window. Little eyes? But they seemed too high in the crib to belong to the baby. He’d have to be standing upright for them to be at that level. Jack’s knowledge about babies was on a par with his grasp of quantum mechanics, but he was pretty damn sure infants couldn’t stand at only two weeks of age.

But then again, this was no ordinary baby. This little guy was full of oDNA, damn near a q’qr. Maybe…

No way. But damn, they looked like eyes, and they seemed trained on him… but they didn’t blink.

He ducked away for fear of triggering another screech.

He shook off a chill. The previous Norman Rockwelly scene had taken an Addams Family turn.

He returned to the great-room window and the really important question: Where was Rasalom?

What did he do in his downtime, when he wasn’t plotting the end of the world? Hang upside down from a rafter? Jack couldn’t help a glance up to check among the junk up there.

The rest of the house was dark, so he had to assume that Rasalom was either sleeping or absent. Jack couldn’t buy sleeping, so he’d have to go with his being somewhere else.

But where? When was he coming back? Did he ever visit?

The presence of his driver was a good indication that he did. But hell, he could be a couple of continents away on some extended jaunt. If so, how long could Jack keep Dawn reined in?

Dawn… she worried him. She was the weak link here. He wished he could send her back to the city and tell her to wait while he took care of everything. But that would never fly.

That infant seat in the back of her car spoke volumes: She wasn’t leaving here until she had a baby in it.

The question now was how much to tell her? Mention the bassinet? Would that send her flying across the street?

He needed more info on Rasalom’s whereabouts and knew of only one place to get it.

“I’m glad you called,” Ernst said when he recognized Jack’s voice. He meant it. “I have uncovered some information and didn’t know how to contact you.”

“I’m all ears.”

“I proceeded in a circumspect manner, pretending to look for one thing while really looking for another.”

“And?”

Impatience was already creeping into Jack’s tone. Well, too bad. Ernst’s information could not be fully appreciated without the details of the quest.

He glanced around his apartment. Hard to believe that only twenty-four hours ago Jack had invaded his home and threatened him. In the ensuing hours Ernst had become responsible for the deaths of three of his brothers in the Order and had joined forces with Jack against the One. An almost unthinkable turnaround in any length of time, but a day?

All the One’s doing, of course. He had deserted Ernst, not the other way around.

“Do you know the name of the One’s housekeeper?”

“Gilda.”

Ernst felt his eyebrows lift. Odd that Jack would know. Only the very upper echelons of the Order were aware of that. Well, here was something he would not know…

“Are you aware of her last name?”

“Not a clue.”

That was a relief, in a way.

“The Order has supplied logistical support and personnel to the One for millennia. His current driver/assistant-”

“Georges.”

“Yes… correct.”

Did Jack have a source high up in the Order? His friend Edward Connell would be privy to none of this. Who then?

“Georges is a member of the Order. When the One needed a female to deal with a certain matter-”

“That matter being Dawn Pickering, right? Does this train have a caboose?”

Of course-the pregnant Pickering girl had lived in the One’s house and was no doubt in touch with Jack now. She was the source.

He felt better.

“Since the Order does not admit female members, a relative of one of the brothers was recruited for the housekeeper position. Gilda’s son’s name was Kristof… Kristof Szeto.”

“Ah. Like mother, like son, I gather. But so what?”

“Well, I could not very well draw attention to myself by going to the High Council and inquiring directly as to the One’s whereabouts. Instead I asked about Kristof Szeto’s mother so that I might offer my condolences, seeing as how her son and I had such a close working relationship.”

“Pretty close dying relationship too.”

“Yes, well, be that as it may, I learned her location but I was instructed not to approach her. She’s still being used by the One and has not been informed of her son’s demise because it might distract her from her duties.”

A short, bitter laugh. “You guys are all heart.”

“Never mind that. She will be told at a later date. The important thing is that locating her is the same as locating the One.”

“Not necessarily. I’ve been to the Nuckateague place- she’s there, but he’s not.”

The words shocked Ernst.

“You know about Nuckateague? How can you possibly-?”

“Vee haff vays.”

If that was supposed to be a German accent, it was terrible.

Ernst felt unaccountably crushed. He thought he’d been quite clever in ferreting out the location without allowing the slightest hint of what he was really looking for. And here Jack had found it without him.

“So if he’s not at the house,” Jack said, “where is he?”

Ernst wanted to say, You mean there is something you do not already know?

“I do not know.”

“Then what good-?”

“But I know where he will be.”

“Where?”

“JFK Airport at six P.M. tomorrow evening. Georges is scheduled to pick him up then and drive him to the Nuckateague house.”

During the ensuing silence Ernst thought of how fortuitous it was that the High Council required Georges and Gilda to log in regarding their duties. Gilda was apparently taking care of the Pickering baby now, while Georges had what could only be described as a cushy assignment-few duties in luxurious surroundings. With the One away-no one knew where-he quite literally had nothing to do.