34

Charlie and Irma took the funicular back from the lake. The cog train pulled its way up the steep-sided hill, drawing them into nothingness. Midway up the mountain, they entered clouds so tightly clamped to the forest and the rocks that nothing could enter. No light, no sound. The air grew damp and wintry cold. When they arrived in Brunate, they walked an empty street. Nothing moved. No cars, no people.

Irma did not speak until the gatehouse appeared, when she called softly, “You there, sport?”

Julio’s shape coalesced in the mist. “You want spooky, try standing here alone for three hours, wondering if they might’ve kept a couple of guys in reserve.”

Irma asked, “Everything quiet at the house?”

“Totally. I went in for breakfast, they were all just hanging out. They know something went down last night. Don’t ask me how. But they know.”

Charlie said, “You were superb last night. There is nobody I would rather have watching my back.”

Not even the day could dim Julio’s pleasure. “You want to tell me who that ghost was?”

Irma said, “I already asked. The man ain’t talking.”

“I just wanted to wait until Julio could hear. His name is Benny Calfo. He was my NCO in Iraq.”

“He was a Ranger?”

“The best.” Charlie described Hobo Harbor, which pretty much explained everything they needed to know about Benny. “You won’t be seeing much of the guy.”

“He’s still here?”

“Up in a cave above the roofline. Benny’s not one for people. Or enclosed places.”

“How long is he staying?”

“Long as we need his help, and not one second more.” He asked Irma, “Think you could go take Julio’s place? I need to address the troops and I’d like Julio to hear what I say.”

“No problem. Though I doubt standing guard will do much good. I couldn’t find a bad guy in this fog unless he fell in my lap.”

When they entered the house, Charlie found the team bunched around the kitchen table. It was a battered affair, centuries old and scarred by hard use and eons of arguments like the one they were waiting to start with him. Outside the huge window was nothing save a dim, grey void.

Gabriella demanded, “Will you tell us what happened?”

“We were attacked,” Charlie replied. “We took them out.”

Brett said, “I, for one, am not satisfied with that answer.”

Charlie took his time. Poured himself a cup of old coffee. Poured another for Julio. He leaned against the wall by the fireplace next to the kid. Then he gave it to them. Flat, hard, straight.

Elizabeth said, “Is this what you normally do, scare your clients into submission?”

“There is no normal. Every situation is unique. But the answer is no. Most of my clients couldn’t handle the truth.”

The super-still Brazilian, Jorge, asked, “So that’s what you’re giving us, everything?”

“You ask, I give.”

Gabriella wore an old sweater the color of the stone walls and the day. “Where have you been?”

“Last night Julio and I delivered the attackers to the police. This morning Irma and I went down to meet a possible ally.”

Elizabeth asked, “Was that smart, drawing attention to ourselves?”

“It all came out in my last ascent. The officer we spoke with is part of our future. Maybe.”

“Who were the people that attacked us?”

“No idea. Pros. At this point, that’s all we need to know.” Charlie sipped coffee he did not want. “We don’t think this was a hit. They didn’t come to take us out.”

“I’m fairly certain I heard gunfire,” Elizabeth said.

“You did. But only after they were attacked. Their weapons of choice were supercharged Tasers and batons.”

Milo said, “Nine men shoot up our front yard in the middle of the night. What would you call it?”

“They wanted you alive. Ransom, probably.”

Milo’s eyes could not have been any bigger and remained inside his skull. “This is good news?”

“It is what it is.”

“So what now, we pack up and leave again?”

Gabriella said, “Charlie’s last ascent did not suggest that.”

Brett scowled. “Oh, so it’s Charlie’s ascent now.”

This time Gabriella did not bend. “That’s right. Your life is in his hands. Deal with it.”

Brett started to respond, then noticed that Elizabeth was grinning at him. “You find this humorous?”

“I find it hilarious.” She asked Charlie, “So what now?”

“Go back to work. Nothing’s changed. You stop, you let them win.”

“Can we do that?” Milo asked. “I mean, are we really safe?”

“This attack has been foiled. We are doing our best to establish a new ally with the local force. For the moment, that’s all I can say for certain. But that is not the only issue here.”

“Is that so?” Brett snorted. “We were attacked last night, but our security is not the point?”

“If anything should be clear from last night, it’s that I’m going to keep you safe. That is my job and I’m good at it. Your job is to get on with your work.”

Gabriella cut off Brett’s response by announcing, “I must go to Milan.”

Charlie knew she was waiting for an argument. Ready for it. But he didn’t say what he thought, which was, Extremely bad idea. “I suppose you’ve got a really good reason for taking that particular risk.”

“Of course I have reasons. Do you suppose I’m going on a whim?”

Charlie adopted his bland monotone, oil on troubled waters. “Just asking.”

“I am going to work. That is what you told us to do, yes? Fine. I must meet my trial subjects. I have to do this in order to continue my research.”

The Tibetan woman, Dor Jen, added softly, “It has been far too long since we last collated data. We need to formally track their progress.”

“This is a vital step,” Elizabeth agreed. “If we want to offer anything to the global scientific community, we have to follow their rules. Danger or not.”

Charlie studied the faces around the table. Not even their evident fear erased the sense of unified need. Even Brett was in agreement. All of them ready with more arguments.

Charlie replied, “I’ve got an idea.”

“Excellent.” Gabriella stood abruptly. “Charlie, I need to speak to you.”

“Shouldn’t we finish up here first and decide—”

“I want to speak to you now.”

When he got out in the hallway, the argument he expected wasn’t there. Instead, Gabriella told him, “I can’t ascend.”

“What do you mean?”

“Exactly what I said.” Gabriella’s features were stretched to the limit. Lips compressed, veins on her neck as visible as tattoos. “I’m trapped inside my own skin.”

Charlie led her through the double doors and into a parlor filled with lumpy furniture and the smell of beeswax. “Give me that one more time.”

Gabriella entwined her hands and wrenched her fingers so hard he heard the knuckles pop. “I thought we needed to know what was going to happen next. You were gone. I asked Brett to help me.”

Charlie wanted to say, That’s your problem right there. But he didn’t.

Even so, his face must have shown a trace of what he was thinking, for she said, “Brett was not the reason I couldn’t ascend.”

“You don’t know that for certain.”

“Oh really. You’re the expert now?” Her sweater was oversized and slipped down one shoulder, leaving her looking even more vulnerable. “I started to ascend. But there was a barrier. Like a shield that kept me in place.”

“Has this ever happened before?”

“Not to me.” Her expression defined desperate. “What if it’s permanent?”

He gave her hands a solid grip. “Let’s go find out.”

Gabriella did not want to try again, but Charlie insisted.

Not that it did any good. Five minutes into the ascent—less—she was up and tossing the headphones aside. Charlie watched her make several circuits around the room. He searched for something to say, came up flat.

When she was calmed down enough to operate, they switched places. The rushing wind filled his head. Charlie felt himself ease into the now-familiar calm. He heard Gabriella say, “I am beginning the count now.”

Then it happened.

He understood what she meant. The sensation was unmistakable. He rose up in time to her count. His senses elevated. Then there came the moment of separation, rising from the physical to the other.

And he was stopped.

The instant he started to ascend, he struck the barrier. It was like a vise compressed him back into his body. Or a fist.

He opened his eyes. Took off the headphones. Sat up and swung his feet to the floor.

Gabriella looked at him. “Not you too.”

Charlie was filled with a sense of inconsolable loss. Four ascents and he had come to accept this simply as a state of being. A part of him and his life.

He tried to rub the ache from his chest. Gabriella watched the movement of his hand and whispered, “What are we going to do?”

Jorge and Milo, the two technicians, together occupied the largest of the top-floor bedrooms. Their office looked exactly as Charlie expected. Dump techies together and they’d cram the space full of wiring and flat-screens and electronic paraphernalia and a language only clan members could comprehend.

Charlie said, “So you’re in communication with your previous test subjects?”

Milo said, “We were until the problems started. Initially we had two more chat rooms available to everyone. We could slip in and monitor without them noticing us. Gabriella used the chat rooms to observe who was interested in what we were doing, or wanted to sign up or just talk about the process. But they’ve stayed sealed since we left Vero Beach.”

Charlie’s inability to ascend had left him extremely disoriented. He was looking for mental handholds, searching for a way ahead. “What about your test subjects—they can still talk to each other?”

The two techies nodded in tandem. Milo said, “Back when interest started growing, Gabriella had us set up a dedicated chat room that’s only available to those who managed to ascend.”

Jorge spoke for the first time since Charlie had entered. “Anyone who passes on the entry codes to an outsider is banished. Not just from the chat room. From ever working with us again.”

Charlie said, “So you can still contact them.”

“Oh, sure,” Milo said. “That is, unless they’ve gone off the grid. Which I doubt.”

“They’re there,” Jorge said. “Most definitely.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“I speak a little Italian. Enough to monitor their discussions. They’re there, they’re waiting, and they’re impatient.”

“Desperate,” Milo agreed.

“How many test subjects are we talking about?”

“Two hundred and nineteen.”

A thought began working at his brain, a tiny electronic worm, digging away. Charlie tried to listen beyond the ache of loss, tried to tell himself it was ridiculous to react to the ascent barrier like this. He violently shook his head, ordering himself to focus.

Milo caught the motion. “I know what you’re thinking. Two hundred contacts, the bad guys are bound to be listening in. I’ve got two words for you. No way.”

“Dedicated comm site,” Jorge said. “Ultra-high-level barriers. We downloaded an encryption we designed ourselves. Only available to our test subjects.”

“Okay.” That was one thing Charlie could deal with. “Do you have a secure comm link to the outside world?”

Milo slid the computer mike toward him and began tapping keys. “Who are you calling?”

“Shanghai.”

Remy Lacoste answered with, “You got some nerve, I’ll give you that.”

“They hit us last night, Remy.”

“You got their ID’s?”

“They carried nothing on them that could be used for identification purposes. But a local ally says the attackers were tied to regional heavies.”

“You’re thinking the Combine?”

“Not professional enough. My guess is their contacts over here decided to take the initiative.”

“Who’s handling security with you?”

“I brought two friends from the States. A homicide detective and a local. Both very stand-up.”

Remy was not impressed. “Cops.”

“Benny Calfo is with me.”

“No fooling?” Remy coughed a laugh over the computer speakers. “I heard he was dead.”

“He might be soon enough. If you don’t help me out here.”

“Oh, so now you’re hitting me with the ‘my life is in your hands’ gig.”

“Pretty much.” Charlie turned to where Milo listened and watched. “Give him all your websites, the active one and those you’ve taken off-line.”

Milo asked, “Just exactly who are we talking to here?”

“His name is Remy Lacoste, and he’s the best there is.”

Milo looked at his friend. Jorge shrugged. Milo leaned toward the mike and read off the three electronic addresses.

“Okay, Eltee, I got them.”

Charlie said, “Two of the sites have been down for a few days, but my guess is the Combine still has them all on permanent surveillance. Can you ID the secret observers and trace them back without being caught?”

“This the same group that chased me when I went for the blonde?”

“Roger that.”

“She’s very nice, by the way. You send her my way, all debts are paid.”

“Can you send me a photo?”

“Natch. Give me an e-address.”

Milo read one off.

“Coming at you.”

Jorge hit a few keys, and Reese Clawson’s face popped onto the largest flat-screen.

Milo said, “Whoa.”

“Told you,” Remy said.

Jorge asked, “This woman, she is a bad guy?”

“Bad as they come,” Charlie replied.

Remy added, “She’s got herself quite an ops team, by the way. Real scum of the earth.”

“Any ID’s and background would be a big help.”

“Got four now, I’ll send more as they come.”

Jorge set the men on the flat-screens around the blonde woman. The room went very quiet until Remy asked, “You recognize any of them, Eltee?”

“The blond guy. He was head of the security detail that met me at Harbor Petroleum, then wore the fake FBI jackets and attacked my house.”

“They’re all Delta except one. That particular standout is a real gem. He’s the one who looks like his skin is only partly glued on. Actually got kicked out of the Foreign Legion. Must have done something truly amazing.”

The four grim menaces that now surrounded the beautiful blonde woman silenced the room. Charlie heard Milo swallow hard. He settled a hand on the guy’s bony shoulder.

Finally Remy said, “Okay. I’ve ID’d a parasite doing surveillance on all three sites.”

Jorge protested, “That’s not possible.”

“Let me guess. University techies, right?”

Milo said, “We headed up tech support for a theoretical physics team at MIT.”

Remy laughed out loud.

Charlie said, “I want you to send them a bomb. Special delivery. On my count.”

“Nothing will short that team out for long. You want permanent, you need more than I’ve got. I might as well attack the Pentagon with a can of Raid.”

“A few minutes will be enough. I just want them to go blind to the outside universe.”

“That will definitely be a pleasure,” Remy said. “Even though when I’m done I’ll have to emigrate to Yalta.”

“Hold tight.” Charlie said to the pair, “Do we have a time and place for Gabriella’s meeting in Milan?”

“Yes.”

“Okay. Write your message to the test subjects, telling them when and where. You’ve got one chance to send it, so make sure you hit everybody on the first go.”

Milo asked, “What about the others?”

“Who?”

“The ones who’ve been asking if they can sign up for the next go-round.”

“You have others who want to become test subjects?”

“A ton. Our sign-up process is off-line. But some techies among the ascenders have set up a separate list where they can store the contact details for friends who want to become test subjects. They’re all either Milanese or studying at the local universities.”

Logic told Charlie to negate the idea. Extending the contact only heightened the risk. But he found himself hearing his own words of that morning. If they didn’t move forward, the enemy had already won. “Include them too.”

Their fingers flew. Two minutes, then Milo said, “Ready.”

“Remy?”

“The grenade is primed, the pin is pulled, Eltee.”

“Go.”

“Bomb launched.” A pause, then Remy said, “Kaboom.”

Charlie patted Milo’s shoulder. “Send your message.”