“Mr. Solomon?” the driver called over the intercom.
“What is it?” Solomon groaned. He hated being interrupted during his meditations. He had much to think about, a multitude of plans tossed in the air and expertly kept in motion by a consummate juggler. But he had kept his head at all times. The little things were the ones that broke the performer’s concentration and could threaten the whole show. It was the minor details that needed the most focus.
Like the comatose girl in the trunk.
The driver’s voice filled the limo. “The airport, sir. They’re postponing all outgoing flights to Seattle for the rest of the night. Something to do with fog and poor visibility. We can reroute and land in Spokane, then drive—”
“No. We can’t afford the delay. Continue to the airport. We’ll leave as planned.” He smirked at Gabriel, sitting across from him, still wet from the encounter in Mason’s back lawn. Shelby’s appearance … her arrival, coming out to greet them like a possessed sleepwalker, was unexpected but not out of the realm of possibility. Solomon should have anticipated something like this, after all. And he had at least had the foresight to come along as well. Otherwise things might have gone very wrong very fast.
Despite the situation, his sister in the back trunk, Gabriel still smiled confidently. Ever eager to please. So malleable, this one. When Solomon had plucked Gabriel Grier from jail, the young man had pledged his life—not just for his gratitude at his release—but for the chance to strike back for the planet, to drive a stake into the hearts of those who were bleeding the earth dry.
The intercom buzzed. Their driver was relatively new, competent enough for what he did, but that was as far as he went. “But, Mr. Solomon, even though we have a private plane, we still have to—”
“Go to the airport,” Solomon snapped. “We’ll be cleared to take off by the time we arrive.” He pulled out a slim cell phone, then thought for a moment and tossed it to Gabriel. “You’re ready, you give the order. Call brothers Nexus and Remulus in Seattle. They’ll know what to do.”
Gabriel nodded and dialed the phone as Solomon closed his eyes and resumed his introspection. It was a short drive, and an even shorter flight, and he needed every minute to think, to create the living vision of the green future he would cause to grow and spread upon the earth.
The merest thought of it all gave him shivers of anticipation.
Soon.
But first, there were little details to attend to, minor cogs to the wheel, small but by no means unnecessary, without which the whole enterprise might just crash to an ignoble conclusion.
He needed Mason Grier.
Chapter 7
“Call the police,” Lauren insisted, wheeling into the kitchen.
Mason was still holding the card in his hand. The police. He knew how this worked; he had seen enough movies. Call the police, and chances were Shelby would never be seen again. No. He spun the card around again. By now he had already burned the phone number into his brain, seared it in angry red strokes across the landscape of his mind, written in fury.
“Gabriel,” he whispered. “What have you done?”
Lauren wheeled in close, clutching Mason’s arm, the one holding the phone. “Don’t rush to conclusions. He might be in trouble, just as she is.”
“He was here, goddamnit. I saw him.”
“And you said you saw someone else?”
“Yeah, someone … I don’t know. He was just there for a second, then gone. Red hair, and another one of those weird canes.”
“Call,” Lauren said, her nails digging into the flesh on his arms. “The police or that number, I don’t care, but pick one. This not knowing is killing me.”
Mason held up the phone and dialed. Put it to his ear, looking into his wife’s eyes, seeing all of his fear, his anger, his powerlessness reflected there.
“Mr. Grier?” a voice, smooth as satin.
Through gritted teeth: “Where’s my daughter?”
“Safe. Come in and we’ll talk about her future. And yours.”
“Where?”
“You have the address on the card. I’d advise you to come with all haste. So much to do, you understand. And so little time.”
“I want to talk to her, now.”
“Sorry, she’s indisposed at the moment, but comfortable. I promise you.”
“Then let me talk to my son.”
“That wouldn’t be best right now. You’ll have plenty of time to play catch up tomorrow.”
“What if I play catch up with the police first? Or show up with a gun and put a bullet through