The Traveler

“A Tabula research team is creating genetically altered animals. The scientists call them ‘splicers’ because different strands of DNA are cut apart and spliced together. Perhaps they used one of these animals to attack your father.” Linden’s massive hands became fists as if he was confronting his enemies. “The Tabula have gained this power without thought of consequences. The only way we can defeat them is to find Michael and Gabriel Corrigan.”

“I don’t give a damn about the Travelers. I still remember my father telling me that most Travelers don’t even like us. They’re floating off to other realms and we’re trapped in this world-forever.”

“You’re Thorn’s daughter, Maya. How can you refuse his last request?”

“No,” she said. “No.” But her voice betrayed her.

12

Lawrence Takawa sat at his desk watching Dr. Richardson on the screen of his computer monitor. Four surveillance cameras were hidden in the guest suite. They had photographed Richardson for the last twelve hours as he read about Travelers, slept, and took a shower.

A security guard had just entered the suite to remove the breakfast tray. Lawrence moved his cursor to the top of the screen. He pressed a “plus” sign and camera two zoomed in on the neurologist’s face.

“When am I going to meet with the foundation staff?” Richardson asked.

The security guard was a large man from Ecuador named Immanuel. He wore a navy blue blazer, gray slacks, and a red necktie. “I don’t know, sir.”

“Is it going to be this morning?”

“No one told me anything.”

Holding the tray with one hand, Immanuel opened the door to the outer hallway.

“Don’t lock the door,” Richardson said. “It’s not necessary.”

“We’re not locking you in, sir. We’re locking you out. You don’t have the security clearance necessary to walk around this building.”

When the lock clicked shut, Richardson swore loudly. He jumped up as if he was going to do something decisive, then began to pace around the room. It was easy to look at Richardson’s face and know what he was thinking. He appeared to alternate between two principal emotions: anger and fear.

***

LAWRENCE TAKAWA HAD learned how to conceal his emotions when he was a sophomore at Duke University. Although he was born in Japan, his mother had brought him to America when he was six months old. Lawrence hated sushi and samurai movies. Then a touring group of Noh actors arrived at the university and he saw a day of performances that changed his life.

At first, Noh drama seemed exotic and difficult to understand. Lawrence was fascinated by the stylized motions of the actors on the stage, the men playing women, and the eerie sound of the nohkan flute and three drums. But the Noh masks were the true revelation. Carved wooden masks were worn by the principal characters, the women characters, and the old people. Ghosts, demons, and crazy people had garish masks that showed one strong emotion, but most actors wore a mask with a deliberately neutral expression. Even the middle-aged men acting without masks tried not to move their faces. Each gesture on the stage, each statement and reaction was a conscious choice.

Lawrence had just joined a fraternity that had drinking parties and elaborate hazing rituals. Whenever he glanced at his reflection, he saw insecurity and confusion: a young man who wasn’t going to fit in. A living mask solved the problem. Standing in front of the mirror in his bathroom, he practiced masks of happiness, admiration, and enthusiasm. By his senior year of college he was voted president of his fraternity and his professors gave him strong recommendations for graduate school.

***

THE PHONE ON his desk buzzed softly and Lawrence turned away from the computer screen. “How’s our new guest reacting?” Boone asked.

“He seems agitated and somewhat frightened.”

“There’s nothing wrong with that,” Boone said. “General Nash just arrived. Get Richardson and put him in the Truth Room.”

Lawrence took the elevator down to the third floor. Like Boone, he had a Protective Link inserted beneath his skin. He waved his hand at the door sensor. The lock clicked open and he walked into the suite.

Dr. Richardson spun around and approached Lawrence. He jabbed at the air with his index finger. “This is outrageous! Mr. Boone said that I was going to meet with your staff. Instead, I’ve been kept locked in here like a prisoner.”

“I apologize for the delay,” Lawrence said. “General Nash just arrived and he’s eager to talk to you.”

“You mean Kennard Nash? Your executive director?”

“That’s right. I’m sure you’ve seen him on television.”

“Not for several years.” Richardson lowered his voice and relaxed slightly. “But I remember when he was a presidential adviser.”