Nathalie put down her glass and leant forward.
“Listen to me,” she said. “You came to me for advice. You chose me because I’m an old friend. But – don’t deny it – you also came here because you know that I’m a member of… an organization.”
“The Nexus.” Trelawny spoke the two words and smiled as Nathalie sat back, alarmed. “I’ve heard that name,” he admitted. “I know it’s some sort of secret society and I’ve always suspected it might have something to do with you.”
Nathalie nodded slowly. “You’ve been touched by something you know nothing about,” she said. “But I know a great deal about it. For half my life I’ve been involved with it. So you must believe me when I say that it is absolutely vital that we find Jamie Tyler and get him out of Silent Creek immediately – and his brother too, if he’s still there.”
“That may not be so easy.”
“John, you could be the next president of this country. But there may not even be a country to be president of – unless you do what I say.”
“What are you talking about? Who are these two boys?”
Nathalie Johnson took a deep breath. “This is what you have to do…”
Los Angeles
Colton Banes was sitting at his desk when the telephone rang.
He didn’t like being in the office. It felt too much like the prison where he had spent the eleven years before the Nightrise Corporation had employed him. True, he could leave when he wanted to. He was well paid. But being stuck indoors, dressed in a suit, waiting to be told what to do… it made him uneasy.
And yet he had to admit that he’d never had a better job. In fact no job could possibly exist that was better suited to his talents. Colton Banes liked hurting people. He liked killing them too – but hurting them was better because they were still around to talk about it afterwards, to tell him how it felt. From school bully to delinquent to armed robber to prisoner and finally to this… His whole life had been leading him in only one direction. He knew that one day he would slip up and Mrs Mortlake would get rid of him with the same carelessness with which she had got rid of Kyle Hovey. But he didn’t really think about it. People like him never had long lives. It went with the territory.
He picked up the telephone on the third ring. “Yes?” He didn’t have to announce his name. The switchboard wouldn’t have put the call through unless the caller had asked for him.
“This is Max Koring.”
“What is it?” Banes recognized the name of the senior supervisor at Silent Creek. He was calling from there now. It was easy to tell. There were no landlines in that part of the Mojave Desert and the satellite reception was poor. The prison had been built in a dead zone, in the middle of a natural magnetic field, making communication almost impossible. The field had other side-effects too. The location had been chosen with great care.
“There’s something you should know,” Koring continued. “We had something weird happen last night. One of the kids – a new arrival – tried to get me to take him over to the Block.”
“What do you mean?”
“He asked me to take him to the other side of the wall. In fact, he didn’t ask – he told me, like he expected me to do what he wanted. And he said he wanted to see his brother.”
Banes’s eyes narrowed. “What is the boy’s name?”
“The name on his face sheet is Jeremy Rabb.”
That meant nothing to Banes. “Tell me what he looks like,” he said.
“I don’t need to. I thought the moment I saw him that he looked familiar. He’s cut his hair short and he’s got these thick glasses, but thinking about it, I figured out who he is.”
“Jamie Tyler?”
“No doubt about it. I checked with the guy on Intake. He has the same tattoo on his shoulder. A sort of swirly thing with a line through. It’s the twin. No doubt about it.”
Colton Banes smiled. First the news last night from Peru – now this. Things couldn’t be going better. So Jamie Tyler had decided to track down his brother. And he’d gone to the right place. The trouble was, he’d chosen the wrong time. “Where is he now?” he asked.
“I’ve got him in solitary. Do you want me to move him across to the Block?”
“No.” Banes thought for a moment. Once the boy arrived at the Block, he would know he was too late. It would be more fun to keep his hopes alive for the moment. And Jamie Tyler had escaped from him twice. Banes had a personal score to settle. He would let the boy sit there and stew for a few hours, then he would walk in and see the look on his face when he knew that he had failed, that pain and death were all that remained. “Turn off the air- conditioning in his cell,” he said.
“Are you sure?” Even Koring was surprised. “It’s a hundred degrees out here. The kid’ll fry…”
“He’ll be OK for twelve hours. I’ll fly out tonight. I want him softened up before I arrive.”
“He won’t be soft – he’ll have melted by then. But all right. Whatever you say, Mr Banes.”
“That’s right, Mr Koring. Whatever I say.”
Colton Banes hung up, then settled back in his leather chair. Suddenly the office didn’t seem so bad after all. Outside, the sun was shining. It was going to be a lovely day.
THE BLOCK
The heat.
Jamie had never felt anything like it. Even the theatre in Reno had never been as bad as this. He hadn’t heard the air-conditioning unit in his cell switch off, but he had felt the result only moments later. The cool air had evaporated instantly. The heat had hit him from every side. He would have said it was like being in an oven except there was no “like” about it. He was in an oven. Baking, slowly, to death.
He had waited for what felt like an eternity, then gone over to the door and pressed the call button to summon help. The temperature was a hundred degrees and rising. The sunlight was pounding the outer walls and the roof, and sweat was pouring out of him. His clothes were sodden. He didn’t dare breathe too deeply for fear of scorching his lungs. Nobody came. He hit the call button again and then again but he soon realized that it had either been disconnected or he was being deliberately ignored. Was this part of the punishment for what had happened the night before? He doubted it. Although he couldn’t be sure, he suspected that this new treatment might signal something much worse.
He went over to the metal sink – it was already too hot to touch – and turned on the tap. A dribble of cold water came out. So far he had only been given bottled water to drink at Silent Creek. Indeed, he had been warned that the tap water was unfiltered. But there was no helping it. If he didn’t drink, he would die. He cupped his hand and scooped some of the water into his mouth. It tasted stale and metallic. He took off his T-shirt and held it under the tickle, then pressed it against himself. Rivulets of water ran under his armpits and down his chest, cooling him for just a few seconds. He squeezed the shirt against the back of his neck. He would have to do this constantly until someone came or until the air-conditioning was turned back on. But somehow Jamie knew that neither of those things were going to happen soon.
Time crept past mercilessly. The window was a narrow slit with glass the colour of milk. He couldn’t see out so there was no way of knowing what time of day it was, except that – as midday approached – the glare became even stronger, the heat ever more unbearable. He had nothing to read, nothing to do. He wanted to scream and pound his fists against the door but he knew that nobody would hear him and it would do no good. Besides, he wasn’t even sure he had the strength. He was finding it more and more difficult to breathe. As each hour passed, he drifted between consciousness and a sleep that he feared might be his death. He had to force himself to get up every few minutes and return to the tap. The trickle of water was the only thing keeping him alive.
He knew now that he had failed. He should have guessed from the way Joe Feather had looked at him at the end of the meal only the day before. The Intake Officer had somehow recognized him and he must have passed on his knowledge to the supervisor, Max Koring. This was the result. They would leave him here until he died and then tell the authorities that it had been an accident. Apart from his bloody nose, there would be no signs of violence on his body. They would bury him in the desert and that would be the end of it.
