Island of Time, page 4
Jackson watched the head on the bed, saw now how Luca was constantly tasting the air. ‘Luca, how much time do we have?’
As if in response, Luca froze, his sightless eyes turned towards the open door. ‘Too late. They are here.’
EIGHT
There was a certain type of bureaucrat that Jackson had detested since his first day on the job. Jackson’s response had been instantaneous, like a guard dog growling at the scent of a guy it knows is bad. Such officials did not live by the rules; they were defined by them. They were rigid in their views and arrogant in their attitude to all outsiders. Their dress, their speech, even the way they moved was constipated. Their entire world was black or white. Us or them. And not one possessed a sense of humor.
The doctor who entered was exactly like that. He demanded in German-accented French, ‘Who are you?’
‘Detective Simeon Baehr, Doctor, at your service.’
‘I do not care for your service. In fact, I do not care for your presence at all. Surely you are aware of the hospital code.’
Simeon shrugged. ‘So many rules, no?’
‘Only immediate family! Even a policeman can understand this.’ The doctor’s white coat was so starched the shoulders shone blue in the fluorescents. His name was meticulously sewn into the pocket containing a plastic pen holder. His creases held a military edge. ‘Now get out!’
‘Most certainly, sir.’ Simeon did his best to pretend at meekness. Jackson thought he gave a valiant effort. ‘I will just gather my things and be on my way.’
The doctor dismissed him with a sniff. ‘Nurse, what was so urgent that I was pulled from my duties?’ He pulled Luca’s file from the slot at the end of the bed. The nurse stepped in close behind.
Only it was not the same nurse.
The woman who entered the room behind the doctor wore a mockery of a nurse’s uniform. The outfit was tailored to accentuate her curves, which were impressive indeed. Her skirt was too high, her stockings palest cream. Her raven hair was thrown back as if tossed by a professional wind. She positively radiated sexual heat.
Simeon did not quite turn his back on the scene as he pretended to rummage inside the patient’s closet. Jackson watched from his cover, his vision somewhat hampered. But he could see enough to know the fingers of Simeon’s right hand hovered by his weapon.
The doctor was so intent on the file that he remained blind to the woman standing behind him. Jackson watched as the woman’s heat gradually increased, rising from a magnetic allure to something far more deadly.
The woman’s skin roiled as if angry beasts burrowed just under the surface. Knotted humps flitted across her face, causing her features to writhe.
The doctor said, ‘Step back, Nurse.’
The nurse growled.
‘You are crowding …’ The doctor glanced up then and gasped.
The nurse was building in size. Especially her eyes, which now glowed with ravenous fury.
The patient’s records clattered to the floor. The doctor tried to back up, but he rammed into the foot of Luca’s bed.
The only reason the doctor survived was that the nurse scarcely noticed him at all. Her gesture was a casual act, as if she flicked aside a gnat. But the strike catapulted the doctor off his feet. He slammed into the wall beside the exit and slumped to the floor.
The nurse’s hands grew talons. Jackson watched her claw at the covers draped over Luca’s bed. She flung the blanket aside …
Revealing Jackson lying there in Luca’s place.
He grinned at the beast that the nurse had become. She appeared utterly flummoxed. Despite the danger, her astonishment held a comic edge. Jackson gave a three-finger wave. ‘Well, hi there.’
The nurse responded with a vulture’s scream.
Simeon’s Taser hit a fraction of a second before Jackson’s. But the two strikes were so close together that they probably felt like one. Simeon’s darts stabbed the nurse’s rear left shoulder just as Jackson’s Taser struck her gut.
The nurse’s body rippled again, tight spasms that shredded the scream. On and on the sound went, impossibly long, as though the beast was capable of yelling without the need to draw breath.
The nurse expanded further as it convulsed, and a second being was formed from the scream.
This new entity possessed no physical body, just the shimmering figure of a gargoyle, shaped from electric ferocity.
The roar was no longer anything that resembled a human sound. The shriek was almost metallic. Its claws reached towards Jackson, and the talons grew across the distance, snakes that hissed with a force all their own.
Then Simeon’s Taser pinged ready, and he shot a second time.
When the darts struck, the beast became surrounded by a yellow swarm. The clanging screech grew higher still, right to the edge of hearing. Jackson knew it would have shattered his brain if he had remained the target, but the beast convulsed to the left, and its claws tore a jagged hole in the wall.
Daylight punched in with the dust. The beast ripped the darts from its back and leaped through the opening.
Simeon opened the bathroom door. The blind man remained crouched on the floor where they had deposited him. ‘How is our patient today?’
NINE
They spent an hour and a half with the local police, pretending to inspect the crime scene and answering questions about the terrorists who somehow slipped past the hospital guards. The doctor and nurse recalled nothing and grew angry when the police continued to demand answers neither had. When the press arrived, Jackson retreated to the ER cubicle where they were holding Luca. As a rule, Interpol officers never appeared in the public eye. They had no powers of arrest. They were present in an advisory capacity only. A good Interpol officer was a specialist at remaining invisible.
Luca kneaded the handle of his ever-present cane and waited until the nurse slid the curtain shut to ask quietly, ‘Are we alone?’
‘For the moment.’
‘Where is the Swiss officer?’
‘Right now, Simeon is being thanked in front of the television cameras by Geneva’s deputy chief,’ Jackson replied. ‘For saving your sorry hide.’
‘We need to leave,’ Luca said. ‘Immediately.’
This time, Jackson did not object. ‘Any idea where we can keep you safe?’
‘This is not about safety.’ Luca’s hands ran across the steel rails of his portable bed. ‘This is about timing. We must travel to a village in the north Rhone and return before midnight.’
The Rhone was a picturesque valley that opened at the lake’s other end. It was a two-hour journey each way, even with traffic. ‘What about the fiend that attacked us?’
‘That particular enemy has tracked me for years. She saw my moment of great weakness as a long-awaited opportunity. She will not try again.’
‘So … we’re good.’
‘I did not say that. I said this specific enemy will not risk decades of secrecy and clandestine acts on a second attack. Especially now that I am no longer unconscious.’ Luca clutched his cane, and his knuckles shone white. ‘Please, Jackson. It is vital we leave now.’
Jackson checked his watch. It was just after one in the afternoon. ‘The drive there and back shouldn’t take more than four hours.’
Luca snorted. ‘You are still thinking that the forces against us can be seen.’
Jackson found no need to argue. ‘Why the Rhone, and why do we need to return before midnight?’
‘If you will arrange this one journey, I hope everything will become clear to us both.’ When Jackson did not respond, Luca’s face twisted with the same desperate urgency he had shown before the attack. ‘Please. This is the only way we will ever confirm what I fear has taken place.’
Simeon pulled some strings and obtained a black Mercedes S500 from the diplomatic corps. Geneva was home to the United Nations’ European headquarters. Black Mercedes were almost as common as taxis.
They settled Luca into the rear seat. Jackson then placed Luca’s right hand on the door-controls that adjusted the seat’s position. Luca’s hand was distinctly warm, which surprised him. Jackson had assumed that when not playing the human lightning rod, Luca would possess all the circulatory heat of a mushroom.
Simeon insisted on driving, which was fine by Jackson. He liked being able to settle into the luxurious leather, stretch out his legs, and work on digesting recent events.
Simeon waited until they had slipped through the city traffic and were flying down the lakeside highway to ask, ‘Will you tell us what happened back there?’
‘I will tell you everything you want to know,’ Luca said. ‘The time for subterfuge is over. Our success depends upon total clarity.’
Simeon glanced at Jackson and lifted his eyebrows. Jackson nodded in response. This was new.
Luca went on, ‘But I would ask you to wait until we arrive at our destination.’
‘Why is that?’
‘Because only then can I speak with any certainty of being right,’ Luca replied. ‘And if my assessment is correct, it is also the only way you will believe what this case is truly all about.’
Simeon was unimpressed. ‘I would have thought that surviving a magical blast would be enough for anyone to dispel doubt.’
Luca’s only response was to turn and face the side window.
Simeon adjusted the rearview mirror to look at the man seated behind him. ‘So tell me. We are going to Bouchon’s home village, correct?’
‘Yes, Detective.’
‘You think there will be something so potent hidden there that we will accept whatever mystery you refuse to reveal? A trove of illegal documents, perhaps?’
Luca did not respond.
Simeon glanced at Jackson. ‘Am I asking an improper question, Jackson?’
‘Not as far as I can tell.’
‘You tell us that you are going to be open. And yet—’
‘We do not travel north to discover evidence,’ Luca replied. ‘We go so we can confirm for ourselves the new definition of reality.’
The Rhone River entered Lake Leman at Aigle, a nondescript farming community that served as a transit point for the luxury ski resorts of Chamonix and Leysin. The town had no view of the lake itself. The river at this point was slow and sullen and largely encased in concrete; in the distant past, Aigle had been mostly marshland. Aigle was flat and boring and quite possibly the least attractive town in Switzerland.
The Rhone Valley had been carved by glaciers. These ancient beasts of ice and snow had deposited a rich blanket of topsoil upon their departure. Now the valley served as the nation’s breadbasket. The surrounding terrain was a verdant springtime green, dotted with Swiss farming villages. The Alpine slopes rising to either side were flecked with the skeleton branches of vineyards, and above that glistened sharp-edged peaks and snows that defied the lowland seasons.
The road ran straight down the valley’s heart. As they drove away from the lake, the flatland narrowed and the mountains closed in. When they finally arrived in the village of Fuern, the place was already locked in shadows.
Simeon remarked, ‘This strikes me as an excellent town to leave behind.’
Jackson said, ‘I thought you told me Bouchon was rich.’
‘Bernard Bouchon was born to the farming branch of a powerful family. A distant relative owned and ran the watch company. The company owner saw potential in Bernard and promoted him over the heads of his own three sons.’ Simeon showed Jackson a humorless smile. ‘Not all was harmony and triumph in the Bouchon realm.’
Luca spoke for the first time since Geneva. ‘I sense a presence.’
Simeon hit the brakes. Jackson gripped the dashboard and reached for the gun he was not permitted to carry.
But there was nothing. No living thing. Theirs was the only car on the village road.
Luca leaned forward. ‘Roll down your windows.’
When they did so, the only sound came from the local watering trough. All Swiss towns had at least one, a throwback to the country’s agricultural heritage. Every settlement, no matter how small, was legally required to offer strangers and locals alike fresh water. Water spilled from a pipe forged in the shape of a dragon’s mouth. The sound was constant, gentle.
Luca turned sightless eyes to Simeon. ‘You have been to Bouchon’s home before?’
‘Twice.’
‘Drive us there.’ Luca settled back in his seat. ‘If you can.’
TEN
Half an hour later, Simeon had no choice but admit defeat. ‘I don’t understand!’
Jackson agreed. ‘This village only has six streets.’
‘And yet we remain more lost than I was my first time in Paris!’ Simeon hit the brakes and demanded. ‘Tell us what is happening!’
‘Explanations mean nothing,’ Luca replied. ‘That is why we came. Events founded upon Ancient magic can only be revealed. Now that we have confirmed its aftermath, I must use magic for us to proceed.’
Simeon showed no surprise. ‘You are asking me to go against our country’s constitution.’
‘Look around you, Detective. The laws are already broken. We have no choice now but—’
‘All right, all right, do what you must!’ Simeon softly pounded the wheel. ‘I require answers!’
‘Very well.’ Luca lifted his cane so that the handle met with his forehead. The white stick glowed like steel drawn from the forge as he pushed it out between the seats. ‘You may drive to the Bouchon home now.’
Which was precisely what they did.
Like many of the old Swiss clans, the original home had been expanded into a sprawling manor, part chalet and part working farm. As youngsters grew up and opted to remain on the family land, what once had been stables and cottages for farmhands were turned into proper homes. Simeon parked in front of the main house and cut the motor. ‘What are we doing here?’
‘Speak with the clan elder,’ Luca replied. ‘Ask about his son.’
But when Simeon and Jackson rose from the car, Luca made no move to join them. Simeon asked, ‘You’re not coming?’
‘It would only complicate matters for him to see me, Detective. And bring us no closer to realizing the truths we all seek.’
As they crossed the cobblestone forecourt, Jackson asked, ‘You know this elder?’
‘We have met twice, Monsieur Bouchon and I. The first time, he denied his son would ever do anything improper. The second time, I arrived with a search warrant. We had words. Quite a few of them.’ Simeon used the heavy iron knocker. ‘He will not be happy to see me.’
But the elderly gentleman who answered the door showed no recognition whatsoever. ‘Yes?’
‘Monsieur Bouchon, I am Detective Simeon Baehr.’
To Jackson’s eye, the man could not have looked more Swiss if he had been leading a cow by the bell. His iron-gray sideburns almost met at his chin. His rumpled corduroys were held up by suspenders decorated with the national flag. His eyes had the unfiltered blue of Alpine ice at dawn. ‘A detective? Here? What on earth for?’
‘Sir, we have spoken before.’
‘Really? Where was that?’
‘Actually … it was right here.’
The farmer settled one meaty hand on the doorjamb. ‘Are you sure it was me?’
‘Completely. We argued.’
‘No, no, that’s not possible. I am old, but I am not addled. I don’t forget a quarrel.’
When Simeon seemed unable to continue, Jackson said, ‘Sir, my name is Jackson Burnett. We wanted to ask you about your son.’
‘Burnett is not a Swiss name. Where are you from, young man?’
‘Originally, the United States. But I live in Geneva.’
‘There are so many foreigners in Geneva. My son, you say. Which one?’
‘Bernard.’
The name seemed to catch the old man off guard. His eyes clouded over, not in grief but rather in total confusion.
There was an instant, scarcely longer than a single heartbeat, when the world was rocked by the sound of an unseen wind. It rushed at Jackson from all sides, a great moaning agony of transition. But the air did not shift, nor did the old man seem to hear anything at all. But Simeon most certainly did, for he cast about with an alarmed gaze.
Then it was gone, and everything was exactly as before. Or so Jackson thought.
The old man said, ‘I … have no son by that name.’
‘Sir, that’s not possible—’
‘No, no, Bernard left here when he was fifteen. He claimed he was going to Sardinia, and we were not to seek him. He said he was changing his name and becoming an Acolyte at the Institute of Magic. Bernard cast aside his family and his nation’s heritage. My late wife begged me to find him when she neared her end. I tried. I failed. Bernard is lost to us.’
Jackson searched the man’s face for some indication he was lying. But all he saw was the remnants of old pain, the scars of a long-healed wound.
The elder Bouchon demanded, ‘You have news of one who claims he is my son?’
‘Sir …’ Simeon swallowed. ‘There was a report. But now …’
‘We need to go back and confirm some things,’ Jackson said.
‘I am not sure I want to hear more. My own son, studying magic! If that is so, I am glad he has taken a new name. You hear me? Glad!’
‘Bernard Bouchon,’ Simeon said. ‘A Talent.’
‘We are good Swiss! We have no truck with any such outlawed actions! If this is indeed true, we are well rid of him!’
After the elder Bouchon shut the door, Jackson asked, ‘Are you sure that was the same guy you met before?’
‘When I showed him the search warrant, he threatened me with a shotgun. I cuffed him and left him to stew in the squad car for almost two hours. It is the same man.’
‘Maybe he’s got a twin.’
‘He is the lone cousin of the wealthy Bouchon.’ Simeon scowled. ‘I think he is telling the truth.’
‘He sure looked that way to me,’ Jackson said. ‘Is any of this making sense to you?
‘Not yet.’ Simeon glanced back at the car. ‘We have much to discuss, that blind agent and I.’
