The Traveler

She had seen Shepherd six years ago, when he visited her father in London. The American had a plan to make millions of dollars from pirated Hollywood movies, but Thorn refused to finance the operation. Although Shepherd was in his late forties, he looked a good deal younger. His blond hair was cut in a spiky style and he wore a gray silk shirt and a tailored sports jacket. Like Maya, he carried his sword in a case slung over his shoulder.

The other two men looked like brothers. They were both in their twenties with bad teeth and bleached blond hair. The older one had smudged prison tattoos on his arms. Maya decided that they were taints-Harlequin slang for low-class mercenaries-and she decided to ignore them.

“What’s going on?” she asked Shepherd. “Who’s been following you?”

“That’s a conversation for later,” Shepherd said. “Right now I want you to meet Bobby Jay and Tate. I’ve got your money and identification. But Bobby Jay is providing the weapons.”

Tate, the younger brother, was staring at her. He wore warm-up pants and an extra-large football jersey that probably concealed a handgun. “She’s got a sword like yours,” he said to Shepherd.

Shepherd smiled indulgently. “It’s a useless thing to carry around, but it’s kind of like being in a club.”

“What’s your sword worth?” Bobby Jay asked Maya. “You want to sell it?”

Annoyed, she turned to Shepherd. “Where did you find these taints?”

“Relax. Bobby Jay buys and sells weapons of all kinds. He’s always looking for a deal. Pick out your gear. I’ll pay for it and they’ll go.”

A steel suitcase was on the table. Shepherd opened it and displayed five handguns lying on a foam pad. As Maya stepped closer, she saw that one of the weapons was made of black plastic with a cartridge mounted at the top of the frame.

Shepherd picked up the plastic weapon. “Ever seen one of these? It’s a Taser that delivers an electric shock. You’d carry a real gun, of course, but this would give you the choice of not killing the other person.”

“Not interested,” Maya said.

“I’m serious about this. Swear to god. I carry a Taser. If you shoot someone with a gun, the police are going to get involved. This gives you more options.”

“The only option is to attack or not attack.”

“All right. Fine. Have it your way…”

Shepherd grinned and pulled the trigger. Before she could react, two darts attached to wires flew out of the barrel and hit her in the chest. A massive electric jolt knocked her to the floor. As she struggled to stand up she was hit with another shock and then another that brought darkness.

17

General Nash called Lawrence on Saturday morning and said that Nathan Boone was going to have a teleconference with the Brethren’s executive committee at four o’clock that afternoon. Lawrence drove immediately from his town house to the research center in Westchester County and gave an entry list to the guard at the front gate. He dropped by his own office to check e-mails, and then went up to the third floor to prepare for the meeting.

Nash had already typed in the command allowing Lawrence to enter the conference room. When Lawrence approached the door, his Protective Link was detected by a scanner and the lock clicked open. The conference room contained a mahogany wood table, brown leather chairs, and a wall-sized television screen. Two video cameras photographed different angles of the room so that the Brethren living overseas could watch the discussion.

Alcohol was never allowed at committee meetings, so Lawrence placed bottled water and drinking glasses on the table. His primary job was to make sure that the closed-circuit television system was working. Using the control panel placed in one corner, he connected with a video camera set up at a rented office suite in Los Angeles. The camera showed a desk and an empty chair. Boone would sit there when the meeting started and give a report about the Corrigan brothers. Within twenty minutes, four small squares appeared at the bottom of the television screen, and the control panel indicated that Brethren living in London, Tokyo, Moscow, and Dubai would be joining the discussion.

Lawrence was trying to appear diligent and respectful, but he was glad that no one else was in the room. He was frightened and his usual mask wasn’t concealing his emotions. A week earlier, Linden had mailed him a tiny battery-operated video camera called a spider. Concealed in Lawrence’s pocket, the spider felt like a time bomb that could explode at any moment.

He double-checked the water glasses, making sure they were clean, and then headed for the door. Can’t do it, he thought. Too dangerous. But his body refused to leave the room. Lawrence began praying silently. Help me, Father. I’m not as brave as you.