John Hawks - The Traveler

Boone stepped closer to the table like a police officer about to confront a suspect. “Perhaps this issue should be discussed by the executive board.”

General Nash looked down at the table and considered his options. He had avoided giving Boone all the facts about the quantum computer, but it had become impossible to keep the secret.

“As you know, we now have a working quantum computer. This isn’t the time to discuss the technological aspects of this device, but it involves suspending subatomic particles in an energy field. For an extremely brief period of time these particles disappear from the force field and then they return. And where do they go, Mr. Boone? Our scientists tell me that they travel to another dimension-another realm.”

Boone looked amused. “They travel with the Travelers.”

“These particles have returned to our computer with messages from an advanced civilization. At first, we received simple binary codes and then information of increasing complexity. This civilization has given our scientists new discoveries in physics and computers. They’ve shown us how to make genetic modifications in animals and create the splicers. If we can learn more of this advanced technology, we’ll be able to establish the Panopticon in our lifetime. The Brethren will finally have the power to watch and control an immense group of people.”

“And what does this civilization want in exchange?” Boone asked. “No one gives anything for free.”

“They want to come into our world and meet us. And that’s what we need Travelers for-to show them the way. The quantum computer is tracking Michael Corrigan as he moves between the different realms. Do you understand, Mr. Boone? Is it all quite clear?”

For once, Boone looked impressed. Nash allowed himself to enjoy the moment as he refilled his glass. “That’s why I asked you to find Gabriel Corrigan. And I’m not happy about your refusal to follow orders.”

“I pulled back the field agents for one reason,” Boone said. “I think there’s a traitor in this organization.”

Nash’s hand trembled slightly as he put down the wineglass. “Are you sure about this?”

“Thorn’s daughter, Maya, is in the United States. But I haven’t been able to capture her. The Harlequins have anticipated all of our actions.”

“And you think that a field agent has betrayed us?”

“It is the philosophy of the Panopticon that everyone should be watched and evaluated-even those in charge of the system.”

“Are you saying that I have something to do with this?”

“Not at all,” Boone said, but he stared at the general as if he had considered the possibility. “Right now I’m using the Internet team to track everyone who has a connection to this project.”

“And who will examine your own activities?”

“I’ve never had any secrets from the Brethren.”

Don’t look at him, Nash thought. Don’t let him see your eyes. He peered out the window at Michael’s body.

Dr. Richardson paced nervously beside his motionless patient. Somehow, a white moth had slipped into the climate-controlled environment of the Tomb. The doctor looked startled as it emerged from the shadows and fluttered in and out of the light.

Maya and Gabriel passed through the town of San Lucas around one o’clock in the afternoon and headed south on a two-lane highway. As each new mile clicked on the van’s odometer, Maya tried to ignore her growing tension. Back in Los Angeles, the message from Linden was quite clear. Drive to San Lucas, Arizona. Follow Highway 77 south. Look for green ribbon. Name of contact-Martin. Perhaps they had missed the ribbon or the desert wind had blown it away. Linden could have been tricked by the Tabula’s Internet group and they could be walking into an ambush.

Maya was used to vague directions that led to safe houses or access points, but guarding a possible Traveler like Gabriel changed everything. Ever since the fight at the Paradise Diner, he had kept his distance from her, saying only a few words when they stopped for gasoline and looked at the map. He acted like a man who had agreed to climb a dangerous mountain and was prepared to tolerate obstacles along the way.

She rolled down the window of the van and the desert air dried the sweat on her skin. Blue sky. A hawk riding a thermal. Gabriel was a mile in front of her and suddenly he turned and raced back down the road. He pointed to the left and signaled with the palm of his hand. Found it.

Maya saw a length of green ribbon tied around the steel base of a mileage marker. A dirt road-no wider than two wheel ruts-touched the highway at that point, but there was no sign indicating where it would lead them. Gabriel pulled off his motorcycle helmet and it dangled from the bike’s handlebars as they followed the road. They were passing through the high desert-a flat, arid land with cactus, clumps of dead grass, and cat’s-claw acacia that scraped against the sides of the van. There were two junctions in the dirt road, but Gabriel found the green ribbons that guided them east. As they gained elevation, mesquite and gray oak trees began to appear and there were holly-green bushes with little yellow flowers that attracted honeybees.

Gabriel led them to the top of a low hill and stopped for a minute. What had looked like a line of mountains from the highway was actually a plateau that extended two enormous arms around a sheltered valley. Even from a distance you could see a few box-shaped houses half hidden in the pine trees. Far above this community, at the edge of the plateau, were three wind turbines. Each steel tower supported a rotor with three blades that was spinning like a massive airplane propeller.

Gabriel wiped the dust off his face with a bandanna, and then continued up the dirt road. He traveled slowly, glancing from side to side, as if he expected someone to jump out of the undergrowth and surprise them.

The combat shotgun was lying on the floor of the van, covered with an old blanket. Maya picked up the weapon, pumped a round into the firing chamber, and placed it on the passenger seat beside her. She wondered if a Pathfinder were really living in this place or if he had been hunted down and killed by the Tabula.

The road turned directly toward the valley and crossed a stone bridge that arched over a narrow stream. On the other side of the stream, she saw figures moving in the undergrowth and slowed down.

Four-no, five-children were carrying large stones down the path to the stream. Perhaps they were building some kind of dam or swimming hole. Maya couldn’t be sure. But they all stopped and stared at the motorcycle and the van. A thousand feet up the road, they passed a small boy carrying a plastic bucket and he waved at them. They still hadn’t seen any adults, but the children appeared quite happy to be on their own. For a few seconds, Maya envisioned a kingdom of children growing up without the constant influence of the Vast Machine.

As they got closer to the valley, the road became paved with brownish-red brick, slightly darker than the surrounding soil. They passed three long greenhouses with glazed windows, and then Gabriel pulled into the courtyard of a vehicle maintenance area. Four dusty pickup trucks were parked inside an open pavilion that was used as a repair garage. A bulldozer, two jeeps, and an ancient school bus were lined up near a wooden shed filled with tools. Brick steps led up the slope to a large pen filled with white chickens.

Maya left the shotgun concealed beneath the blanket, but slung the sword carrier over her shoulder. When she shut the door of the van, she saw a ten-year-old girl sitting on top of a brick retaining wall. The girl was Asian and had long black hair that touched her narrow shoulders. Like the other children, she wore jeans, a T-shirt, and a solid pair of work boots. A large hunting knife with a horn handle and a sheath was hanging from her belt. The weapon and long hair made the girl look like a knight’s squire, ready to grab their horses as they arrived at a castle.