Michael Vey: Rise Of The Elgen Part 19

"I understand you gave my man some grief," the voice said.

"We were being careful," I said.

"Good," he said. "You should be. You leave for Peru tomorrow morning at six. Drive to the same place you picked up the Hummers. Do you remember the place?"

"Yes."

"There will be two black Ford Excursions waiting for you. They will drive you to the airport. What did Grace decide?"

"She's decided to stay behind with you. Keep her safe."

"We will."

"Okay," I said. "I'll let everybody know. Anything we need to take with us?"

There was a short pause. "Courage," he said. "Lots of courage."

I gathered everyone together to tell them about the call. Afterward, Ostin took a moment and briefed us on what he'd learned about the compound. Things got quiet fast. For the first time, the reality of what we were attempting set in.

I asked if anyone had questions, and no one did-at least none they wanted to share. I had no doubt there would be plenty to come-more than I had answers for. At the end of the briefing I said, "If you've changed your mind, it's not too late to back out."

"We're not backing out," Jack said. "Semper Fi."

"What does that mean?" Taylor asked.

"Always faithful," Ostin said. "It's the Marine Corps motto."

"We're all in," Ian said. Everyone else nodded their heads in agreement.

"Thanks, guys. Get some sleep. We've got a long day tomorrow."

As everyone got ready for bed, I slipped out alone by the pool, settling into one of the vinyl lounge chairs. The pool area was dark, lit only by the solar lights in the corner of the yard and the blue, s.h.i.+mmering luminescence of the pool's light. The only sound was a symphony of crickets.

I needed to get away and think. Or maybe to not think. I had too many thoughts to effectively corral and too many fears to accompany them. I had been gulping all day, and I took a few deep breaths to calm myself.

I cupped my hands together, like I was making a s...o...b..ll, and pulsed. To my surprise a ball of electricity formed, almost like a soap bubble, except with more weight, like a Ping-Pong ball. Out of curiosity, I tossed it away from me. It hit the ground and popped loudly with a crisp electric snap.

I made another and threw it into the pool. It exploded in the water, lighting the entire pool. "That is so cool," I said.

I made another and threw it across the pool. I hadn't noticed there was a cat on the other side, and although the bubble didn't hit it, the cat screeched and ran off.

The gla.s.s door slid open and Ostin walked out. "There you are," he said. "I was wondering where you went."

"Come here," I said. "I want to show you something."

I pulsed as I had before, and a glowing orb about the size of a golf ball rose from my hand. I threw it into the pool. This time the pop was as loud as a firecracker. I thought Ostin's jaw was going to fall off.

"Pretty cool, isn't it?"

"Do you know what that is?" he said.

"A ball of lightning," I said.

"That's exactly what it is! Scientists have been arguing for centuries about whether or not ball lightning exists. You just solved a centuries-old debate. Do it again."

I was about to make another when Taylor walked out of the house. "Michael?"

"I'm over here," I said.

She walked over to my side. "I was wondering where you'd gone. What are you guys doing?"

"You gotta see this," Ostin said.

Taylor sat down in the lounge chair next to me. "See what?"

"Do it, Michael."

I pulsed, forming another ball. This one was larger than my first, about the size of a baseball.

Taylor leaned forward to look at it. "It's kind of beautiful. Can I touch it?"

"It will definitely shock you," Ostin said. "It's lightning. Just in a different package."

Taylor pulled back.

"Watch this," I said. I threw it at the pool. It came off my hand like a softball and exploded in the water, briefly illuminating the entire surface.

"That's so cool," Taylor said.

"I wonder how I could measure the amps of one of those," Ostin said, settling into the lounge chair to my left.

I made a few more while Taylor and Ostin watched.

Taylor said to Ostin, "Hey, Tex. Would you mind going inside for a moment? I need to talk to Michael."

"You can talk to him," he said.

"Alone," she said.

He looked at her, then me. "Okay," he said. He stood up. "For how long?"

"I don't know," Taylor said. "Until we're done."

He walked inside, sliding the gla.s.s door shut behind him. I looked at Taylor. Her eyes were soft.

"You okay?" I asked.

She nodded. "It's you I'm worried about. How are you doing?"

"I'm fine," I said. "Why? Was I ticking a lot?"

"Some," she said. "How can you be just fine? Your mother's gone, the Elgen are hunting us, we're about to fly to a strange country, and everyone's depending on you for answers. I don't know how you handle all the pressure. I know I couldn't do it."

I exhaled. "I don't know. What else am I going to do?" Suddenly my eyes began to tear up. I looked away so she wouldn't see.

Taylor got up and pushed her chair next to mine. "Come here," she said.

I looked back at her and she smiled. "Come closer," she said.

I leaned in to her and she put her arms around me. She put her chin against my forehead and gently stroked the back of my head. It felt so good.

"You don't have to be strong all the time," she said. "Even heroes need to be taken care of."

"I'm not a hero," I said. "I'm a fifteen-year-old who has no idea what he's doing."

She was quiet for a moment, then she kissed the top of my head and said, "You're my hero."

I didn't know what to say. Maybe there wasn't anything to be said. I just closed my eyes and felt her warm face against mine and, for the first time in weeks, felt peace.

"I hate boats," Hatch said, wiping his forehead with a gold-monogrammed handkerchief. The boat he was hating was a superyacht with all the luxuries befitting a $450 million vessel: a helipad, two current-jetted swimming pools, and an art gallery that included two van Goghs, three Escher lithographs, and a Rembrandt (the chairman had a penchant for Dutch artists). There were luxury suites for eighteen and an exclusive dining room with crystal chandeliers and scarlet wool carpet interwoven with twenty-four-karat gold thread. The yacht also featured some less luxuriant but interesting add-ons, including radar, sonar, and surface-to-air missiles.

Hatch was p.r.o.ne to seasickness, and although he understood the necessity of moving the Elgen corporate headquarters to international waters, he would have preferred the s.h.i.+p to remain docked in some obscure bay off the coast of Africa or the Philippines. The two electric teens seated next to him in the waiting room looked at him sympathetically.

"Would you like me to help?" Tara said, tapping her temple. "I could make you feel better."

Hatch shook his head. "No. I've got to keep my wits about me. I'm sensing trouble."

Tara had traveled with Hatch and the rest of the kids from Pasadena to Rome, where they left the others behind, helicoptering to the Elgen's yacht a hundred miles north of Sicily-in the Tyrrhenian Sea. The other teen, Torstyn, had joined them in Rome. Torstyn had spent the last nineteen months on a.s.signment in Peru and, at Hatch's command, had flown directly to Italy.

Tara knew Torstyn-all the Elgen teens were familiar with one another-but she hadn't seen him in a long time and he had changed. His skin was darker from the South American sun, and his hair was long and wild. His personality had changed as well. Something about him frightened her.

"How long will we be here?" Torstyn asked, his hand extended toward the hundred-gallon salt.w.a.ter aquarium built into the wall in front of them.

"Only as long as we need to be," Hatch said.

"Stop it!" Tara said.

"Stop what?" Torstyn asked, grinning.

"You know what. You killed the fish."

Torstyn had boiled the water in the aquarium from fifteen feet away. Two exotic angelfish were now floating on top of the water.

"They're just fish," Torstyn said. "Same thing you ate last night."

"Actually," Hatch said. "They were rare peppermint angelfish, found only in the waters of Rarotonga, in the South Pacific. I gave them to the chairman as a gift last year. They run about twenty-five thousand dollars apiece."

Torstyn frowned. "Sorry, sir."

"Ask next time."

"Yes, sir."

Hatch looked at him coolly, then asked, "How long did it take you?"

"About forty seconds."

"Good. I want you to get it down to twenty."

"Yes, sir."

"Then ten."

"Yes, sir."

Hatch nodded. "At ten you'll be unstoppable."

"Yes, sir. Thank you, sir."

Hatch went back to his e-reader. He'd been reading a book on mind control written in the late fifties by William Sargant, a British psychiatrist. He had already read the book several times. He was fascinated with the subject and had studied all aspects of mind control from hypnosis to suicide cults.

A slender, well-dressed woman in her midthirties walked into the waiting room. "Excuse me, Dr. Hatch?"

Hatch looked up.

"The board is ready to see you now."

Hatch stood, tossing his reader on the sofa cus.h.i.+on next to Tara. "I'll be right back," he said.

"Do you want us to come with you?" Torstyn asked.

"No, you're not invited." He walked to the conference room door, then turned back. "But stay alert."

"Yes, sir," they said, almost in unison.

Hatch straightened his tie, then walked into the conference room. An Elgen guard stood on each side of the door. Neither of them saluted him. The guards on the boat were the only ones in the company who never saluted Hatch. He walked past them into the room.

The boardroom was bright and the walls were covered with stainless steel tiles. Recessed directional lighting illuminated the art on the wall-large, black pictures with red, abstract silhouettes, images that looked more like inkblot tests than art. The shape of the room was trapezoidal; one entered in at the smaller end and broadening out in the rear. The outer wall, to Hatch's right, was made of thick, protective gla.s.s, forming an eight-foot-tall window looking out over the crested waves sixty feet below.

The table in the middle of the room was twenty-seven feet long and made of rare Brazilian rosewood, with brushed stainless steel trim around the edge. The table was surrounded by twelve high-backed chairs upholstered in black Italian leather and s.p.a.ced every few feet. All of the chairs were filled except for two, one next to the chairman and one at the opposite end of the table, which was usually reserved for visitors.

The board was split evenly between men and women-all over fifty, a few gray with years. Anonymity was essential to the Elgen, and board members used numbers instead of names, the numbers corresponding to their term of service and place at the table. The chairman, Giacomo Schema, was Number One and the only member of the board who used his name.

Every eye was on Hatch as he entered the room. Although he had, at one time, served as CEO of Elgen Inc., the company had been reorganized after the original MEI machine was discovered to be dangerous. Hatch had been removed from the board, but had served ever since as the executive director, overseeing the daily affairs of the company. His relations.h.i.+p with the board had been volatile, and more than once there had been motions to remove him as director. But the company's growing profitability and status had, at least to that moment, ensured his longevity.

"Chairman Schema, board members," Hatch said, slightly nodding.