The Traveler

Gabriel knew Michael was right; their mother’s words hadn’t made any sense. He had always believed that she was going to give them an explanation for what had happened to their family. Now he would never find out.

“But maybe part of it is true. In some way-”

“I don’t want to argue with you. It’s been a long night and we’re both tired.” Michael reached out and hugged his brother. “It’s just the two of us now. We’ve got to back each other up. Get some rest and we’ll talk in the morning.”

Michael got into his Mercedes and drove out of the parking lot. By the time Gabriel straddled his motorcycle and revved up the engine, Michael was already turning onto Ventura Boulevard.

The moon and stars were concealed by a thick haze. A fragment of ash drifted through the air and stuck to the Plexiglas visor of his helmet. Gabriel kicked into third gear and shot through the intersection. Looking down the boulevard, he saw Michael turn onto the ramp that led to the freeway. Four cars were a few hundred yards behind the Mercedes. They sped up, formed a group, and headed up the ramp.

It all happened very quickly, but Gabriel knew the cars were together and that they were following his brother. He kicked into fourth gear and went faster. He could feel the engine vibration in his legs and arms. Jerk to the left. Now to the right. And then he was on the freeway.

Gabriel caught up with the group of cars about a mile down the road. There were two unmarked vans and two SUVs with Nevada plates. All four vehicles had tinted windows and it was difficult to see who was sitting inside. Michael hadn’t changed his driving at all; he seemed oblivious to what was going on. As Gabriel watched, one of the SUVs passed Michael on the left and cut back in front of him while another came up directly behind the Mercedes. The four drivers were in communication-maneuvering, getting ready to make a move.

Gabriel glided into the right lane as his brother approached the transition to the San Diego Freeway. They were all moving so fast now that the lights seemed to streak past them. Lean into the curve. Brake slightly. And now they were gliding out of the curve and heading up the hill to the Sepulveda Pass.

Another mile passed, then the SUV in front of the Mercedes slowed down while the two vans came up on the left and right lanes. Now Michael was trapped by the four cars. Gabriel was close enough so that he could hear his brother beeping his car horn. Michael moved a few inches to the left, but a van driver came back aggressively, slamming against the side of the Mercedes. The four cars began to slow down together as Michael tried to find a way out.

Gabriel’s cell phone started ringing. When he answered it, he heard Michael’s frightened voice. “Gabe! Where are you?”

“Five hundred yards behind your car.”

“I’m in trouble. These guys are boxing me in.”

“Just keep going. I’ll try to get you clear.”

As his motorcycle hit a pothole, Gabriel felt something shift inside his messenger bag. He was still carrying a screwdriver and the adjustable wrench. Holding on to the handlebar with his right hand, he ripped off the Velcro strap, pushed his hand inside the bag, and grabbed the wrench. Gabriel went even faster and cut between his brother’s Mercedes and the van in the far right lane.

“Get ready,” he told his brother. “I’m right beside you.”

Gabriel got close to the van and smashed the wrench at the side window. The glass cracked into intricate lines. He swung the wrench a second time and the window shattered.

For a brief moment, he saw the driver-a young man with an earring and a shaved head. The man looked surprised when Gabriel flung the wrench at his face. The van swerved to the right and hit the guardrail. Metal scraped against metal, sparks spitting out into the darkness. Keep going, Gabriel thought. Don’t look back. And he followed his brother off the freeway and down an exit ramp.

7

The four cars didn’t turn off the freeway, but Michael drove as if they were still chasing him. Gabriel followed the Mercedes up a steep canyon road where elaborate mansions jutted out into the air, their foundations supported by thin metal pylons. After several quick turns, they ended up in the hills overlooking the San Fernando Valley. Michael turned off the road and stopped in the parking lot of a boarded-up church. Empty bottles and beer cans were scattered across the asphalt.

Gabriel pulled off his motorcycle helmet as his brother got out of the car. Michael looked tired and angry.

“It’s the Tabula,” Gabriel said. “They knew Mother was dying and that we’d go to the hospice. They waited on the boulevard and decided to capture you first.”

“Those people don’t exist. They never did.”

“Come on, Michael. I saw those men try to force you off the road.”

“You don’t understand.” Michael took a few steps across the parking lot and kicked an empty can. “Remember when I bought that first building on Melrose Avenue? Where do you think I got the money?”

“You said it came from investors on the East Coast.”