The Eighty-eighth Key Ch. 66

Then she finally broke down and blurted: "I thought Frank Bullitt had passed on?"

"So he did," the Doc replied.

"But..." she cried, "he was there!"

"So he was," the Doc replied, again, without so much as a sniffle.

"But...how can you explain that!?"

"I can't."

"Aren't you at all curious?" Deborah wailed.

And after both DD and the Doc shook their heads Deborah just shrugged and let the matter drop. Brendan, of course, had no idea who Frank Bullitt was — beyond what was revealed by his equations — so he really didn't care at all. Yet Deborah waded through the stultifying lunch with more and more questions coming to mind with each passing minute...

But when lunch was over, and after the Doc paid the bill, DD drove them back to the CAThouse and everyone re-boarded the Huey and a few minutes later they were northbound passing the Golden Gate. Forty minutes later the Huey circled Harry's house and Deborah stared at the scene and was soon about to burst...

...for it looked as though nothing had happened earlier that day. The house and the studios were intact and, apparently, undamaged. There were no mangled helicopters, no crumpled bodies in the street, no shattered glass and all the copper roofing looked brand new.

And as the Huey settled on the old asphalt pavement she saw Harry and Didi walk out of the house, and Harry was Harry again. He was old again and his stainless steel prosthetic leg gleamed in the midday sun, while Didi too seemed her cheerful old self once again. Harry came up to the Huey as the rotors spooled down and he helped everyone out before walking back up to the house, and for some reason even Brendan wanted to let bygones be bygones as he sidled up to Didi and walked back to the house — and now he was holding her hand!

'Has the world suddenly gone crazy?' Deborah thought, walking along behind Didi and Brendan, and with DD and the Doc bringing up the rear.

And yet the insanity continued once back inside the house. Nothing was damaged. Harry's Bösendorfer was right where it had been yesterday and the day before that. The slate floors were as new, undamaged and almost looking at they might have the day they were laid, and it was the same everywhere she looked. Curious now, she went to the bedroom and the palm scanner in Harry's closet was gone, and now there was absolutely no sign it have ever been there...

She sighed and went back to the kitchen and put on water for tea, but then she noticed that everyone was down on the rocks and headed for the beach — so she followed them as quickly as she could. At one point she heard the helicopter taking off and turned to watch it leave, then she resumed following everyone down through the passageway to the beach...

...yet when she arrived on the beach no one was to be found...

...and now there was only a lone orca waiting beyond the nearest line of breaking surf, and it seemed to be waiting for her...

88/66.5.2

...she didn't know what else to do so she waded out through the surf to the orca...

...who then moved close, cupping her protectively within a pectoral grasp...

And a moment later she realized she was in a pool of some sort. Or was it more like a huge aquarium tank? Living rock walls that seemed to have been blasted at some point, fresh water seeping down into seawater, yet the tank was large enough to accommodate several mature orca — and now, just climbing out of the pool, were Harry and all the rest, including DD and the Doc.

Only now, as her orca carried her closer, Deborah saw several men and women in white lab coats now helping everyone from the water...

'But how did I get here?' she asked. 'I don't remember anything but...darkness...?'

Then helping hands were taking her arms and helping her up onto a wide, paved deck, and then she saw doorways set in the rock walls, and even a few windows — with more lab-coated technicians in rooms, and these people appeared to be watching...her.

Yet now even Brendan seemed a little confused. His hands were by his side and his head was swiveling about like a mad owl's, taking in everything and sizing up the immediate danger in this new, unknown environment. But not Harry, and not even DD or the Doc seemed in the least bit put out, while Didi Goodman was doing her best to put Brendan at ease — as he was suddenly growing anxious.

Then a lab coated man walked up to Deborah and he held out his right hand.

"My name is Ralph Richardson, and I don't think we've met. Would you come with me, please? You aren't going to believe what's going on around here..."

88/66.6

He always enjoyed this stretch of Highway 79. The mountains here reminded him of the High Sierra, especially the jagged spires beyond Mammoth Lakes, yet for some reason the air here felt cleaner, more pure than California, while the villages seemed like something out of a distant, though somehow more comforting past. He leaned back in the limousine's plush rear seat and rolled down the window, letting gales of crisp mountain air wash over his jet-lagged body, and he closed his eyes and sighed.

He felt the Mercedes slowing and barely opened his eyes; he could make out the first rustic chalets of the Colonia Suiza just ahead and he asked the driver to stop at his favorite little bistro — as he usually did -- for lunch.

"I'm sorry, sir," the driver replied. "I've been instructed no stops today. I'm to take you directly to the Eagle's Lair."

Ted Sorensen nodded and closed his eyes again. 'They'll probably kill me,' he thought — yet he really didn't care one way or another. Not now. Everything was coming together nicely, on time and under budget. Beyond that...nothing else really mattered.

+++++

Moloch was waiting for him. Moloch was always, or so it seemed, waiting for him.

"We lost her again," Moloch sighed, and Sorensen nodded through his disappoinment.

"Where?"

"British Columbia. North of Vancouver. She had help...sophisticated help."

"Such as?"

"Air support. Planted assets designed to throw us off."

"So...military or an intelligence service?"

"More than likely, yes," Moloch grumbled.

"So, you underestimated Taggart. Again."

"I'm not sure this was his operation."

"Oh? Who do you...?"

"I'm not sure yet. What happened in California?"

"That's a long story, and I'd only like to tell it once."

The Chancellor's secretary summoned them, asked them to follow him to the conference room off of the Chancellor's suite, and Sorensen stood and followed Moloch through several layers of security to the room. The Chancellor and his advisors were waiting, and they did not appear to be in a good mood.

And the first thing Sorensen noted was the absence of a chair for either Moloch or himself. 'So, we are to be made an example of," he sighed. 'What else does he have in store for us?'

So the two men stood there, waiting, but the Chancellor turned away from them and picked up a telephone and talked for about ten minutes, angry one minute then laughing hysterically the next. Sorensen shifted weight from one leg to the other while trying not to appear too put out, but this callous reception was simply unwarranted...but not unexpected.

Then the Chancellor hung up the phone and turned to Moloch.

"We have gone over your report. Anything to add?"

"There are no new leads at this point, sir."

"Very well. You may leave us."

Moloch turned to leave, and whatever moral support Sorensen might have hoped for evaporated. The Chancellor remained silent until the door closed behind Moloch. Then:

"What happened?"

"I'm still not sure, sir. We assumed the boy was guarded only by the ex cop, this Harry Callahan, but that appears to have not been the case."

"You are saying he had outside help? Do you know who?"

Sorensen shook his head. "No sir, and we have no leads. As far as we can ascertain at this point, the boy is no longer on site — yet despite having assets in the area watching every possible egress route, we did not see him, or this Callahan, leave."

"You are sure they are gone?"

"Yessir, and there is an additional element we weren't counting on."

"And that is?"

"We literally destroyed the man's home, yet a half hour later one of our drones photographed the area and there's no visible damage — anywhere. Even our assets disappeared, and the area looks completely untouched, like nothing there ever happened."

"So, it's true. The boy can manipulate time."

"So it would appear."

"You have a different assessment?"

"I think it's possible Callahan may have similar capabilities."

"You knew him, did you not? As a child, I mean?"

"Yessir. But if he did have such abilities they were unknown to me."

"You were friends at one point, were you not?"

"Not really a friend, sir. At one point I considered him something more like a big brother."

The Chancellor's left eyebrow arched. "Indeed. And you were willing to kill him?"

"He's simply an obstacle to us now, sir."

"Unless he has knowledge we need, you mean?"

"Of course."

"Then perhaps we may need to focus our attentions on this Harry Callahan for a while?"

"Possibly. But first I'd say we need to determine who's assisting him, and what their capabilities really are."

"When I was a boy, Ted, I hunted with my father. We used dogs, of course. We used them to flush our prey, to scare them from their place of hiding. Perhaps you could do the same? Perhaps you could find a few of Herr Callahan's oldest friends...and do something interesting to them?"

© 2016-22 adrian leverkühn | abw | and as always, thanks for stopping by for a look around the memory warehouse...