Chapter 2

 

 

Malcolm Gunn swiveled his chair away from his desk toward the window behind him. He raised the binoculars in his grip and scanned the coffee shop across the street to watch Vic Doyle talking first to Ellen Burke and then to Mila Sanchez and Quinn Brewer. He scrutinized Vic’s every expression and gesture, easily read from his position in his office on the second floor because she wore so much makeup.

While he watched the three women talk, a knock on his office door stole his attention. “Yes?” he said over his shoulder, loud enough for whoever it was to hear.

A young man in a tailored gray suit entered and held out a clipboard to Malcolm. “Those reports you requested just came in. They’re moving on the estate over in Berkeley Hills, just like you said they would. Do you want us to intercept?”

Malcolm slipped his binoculars into his pocket and took the clipboard out of the young assistant’s hands, then quickly looked through the first few pages. “Not yet, Stewart. There’s something I need to do first.”

“Sir?” Stewart asked, arching a brow. “You said this was urgent. If we don’t move on it now, they’ll beat us to it. We can’t allow them to entrench any further than they already have.”

Malcolm shoved the clipboard back into Stewart’s hands. “I’ll be the one to decide how much they entrench and when and how we move. I said don’t do anything yet, and if I find out you did behind my back, Stewart, I’ll cut you off at the knees. Don’t do anything until I order you to. I don’t care if they buy up half the property in the East Bay. Now, I’m going out and I won’t be back in the office for the rest of today and probably tomorrow too.”

Stewart gulped and raised his puppy-dog eyes to meet Malcolm’s gaze. “What do you want me to do?”

“Sit on your hands,” Malcolm replied. “Don’t even look at that property again. Don’t look at anything, especially not the Lewises. Do you hear me? You’ll only drive yourself crazy.”

Stewart swallowed hard and nodded. “Yes, sir.”

Malcolm clapped him on the shoulder, then turned back to the window and took out his binoculars. “Waiting is the hardest part. The sooner you learn that and make your peace with it, the easier it will be.”

“How do you do it, sir?” Stewart asked. “How can you stand just waiting around doing nothing?”

“You stand it by doing something else. You stand it by getting busy with all the other things in your life.” He watched Vic pick up her handbag and head for the door and dropped his binoculars back in his pocket. “I’ll see you later, Stewart. Don’t work too hard.” He slipped out of the office.

Vic’s bright orange figure headed south down the street.

Malcolm went north, quickening his pace to turn the corner. He’d followed Vic Doyle so many times, he knew exactly where she would go and how long it would take her to get there, and he had to work fast so she wouldn’t see him. His heels clipped down the sidewalk until he spotted the trees of Golden Gate Park. He dodged into the bushes and broke into a run, trying to get around in front of her. He ran between clumps of undergrowth and manicured lawns, zipped around mothers pushing strollers, and dashed across bridges over streams and ponds. He ran until he recognized the spot he wanted, where the path wound into a different bunch of trees. The trunks crowded around the narrow footpath, and two sturdy manzanita trees grew on either side, acting like entrance columns for this stretch of the trail.

Stopping in front of the entrance, he closed his fist with his right thumb sticking out. He touched his thumb to the left-hand trunk, just above his head, then traced a diagonal line to a spot on the right-hand trunk, near the ground. He repeated the pattern going the other way, high up on the right-hand trunk and then down to the left-hand trunk’s base. He straightened up and extended his thumb to the point where the two lines should have crossed, then circled it in an ever-widening spiral around the two crossed lines.

All the while, he whispered over and over again, “Eshmun Hamilcar hanno ashtzaph byblos rae; Zephon anana akilokipok silatuyok anik toe; Takiyok keorvik suluk yo; Uyarak ek chua lo.”

After bringing the spiral’s edge all the way out to both tree trunks, Malcolm stood back to survey his work. The two trees still stood there as immovable as ever, but now with an invisible web stretched between them that cut off the path heading into the shadowy trees.

The sound of footsteps coming up behind him sent Malcolm plunging into the greenery. He barely got himself hidden in the shrubbery before Vic came tramping down the path. His heart thumped and every nerve tensed in anticipation for the moment of truth.

Vic strolled down the trail with her nose stuck in her phone. A few more steps and she would walk straight into his web.

Malcolm fought down the urge to yell. Was his life really going to change right here in front of his eyes?

At the last possible second before she crossed through the invisible net, Vic’s phone rang and she stopped dead in her tracks.

She punched the screen and pressed the phone to her ear. “What’s going on? Can’t I go out for a walk without putting out some fire back there? What’s so important that you—?”

She listened to the caller intently.

Malcolm’s blood pounded in his ears. What if it didn’t work? What if she turned around and walked back the other way? A thousand things could go wrong right now, and then what would he do?

She whirled away from the path and stopped a few steps away. “I don’t know about that because I’m not there, but there’s something wrong with the ELISA assay you sent me. It doesn’t make any sense. Are you sure you tested the right compound?”

She listened again.

Malcolm’s life hung in the balance. What if he made a mistake? What if years of planning and centuries of hoping came to nothing? What if he got some of the information wrong?

Vic threw her free hand into the air. “I don’t care! That’s not my concern. How many times do I have to tell you? You figure it out. Until I get some answers, you’re on your own. Don’t call me again until you’re ready to talk.” She yanked the phone down and jabbed the screen, then huffed while she crammed the phone into her handbag.

To Malcolm’s great joy, she set off up the path again and walked straight into the net.

The disembodied lines he drew in the air crackled once. Gleaming sparkles of light danced along the lines between the trees, radiating out from the web’s center where Vic broke the field. For a fleeting instant, the bright web shone in the late-morning sun. Then it blinked out, and Vic Doyle vanished before his eyes.

Malcolm rose to his feet behind the bushes and looked again, but nothing remained of her. Deadly stillness descended over the park. Not even the birds disturbed the silence inside his mind. He stared at the place where he’d spread his net to catch her. She was gone, just like that. When and where she would return, he couldn’t say.

His spirits wilted. Not even the thought of her coming back could ease the torment of her being gone, just like that.

He had to do this. He had to send her away, but that didn’t make it easier. Where could he go? What could he do to occupy himself until she came back? He had to take his own advice to Stewart. He had to stay busy, but he couldn’t bring himself to go back to work.

He turned away from the trees. Staring at the spot wouldn’t bring her back any sooner. His heart ached that he couldn’t have prepared her better, but it couldn’t be helped.

He walked out to the beach and sat staring westward across the Pacific Ocean. He couldn’t get any farther west than this before he started heading back toward Europe.

Where was she right now? Was she safe? Was she scared? He would give anything to be there to meet her on the other side, but that wouldn’t help, either. He’d never met Vic Doyle. He was a stranger to her, just like all the other strangers. He had to trust her to do this on her own.