– Graffiti seen in Dead City, 1925 San Francisco, California Harkeness was smoking a cigarette on the hospital roof when Isaiah found him. The Pale Horse had wanted to be alone with his dark thoughts. In a foul mood, he tossed the butt over the side and watched it fall.
'Good news,' Isaiah said. Pershing told the Traveler girl where to find Southunder.
'Really? Her?' The old man had been getting desperate.
She's stronger than you realize. Pershing saw that. Isaiah joined him at the railing. 'It is done. I've already made the call.' The Chairman will have possession of the complete Geo-Tel in a matter of hours. Pershing hid it right under his nose.
If Isaiah felt any guilt for taking advantage of such an innocent, he did not let it show. The Reader had suffered so much at the hands of the willfully ignorant and evil that there was nothing he wouldn't do to accomplish their mission. 'So that's it… All we can do now is wait.'
And pray.
Harkeness nodded thoughtfully. There was no turning back now. But there never was, not after so many sacrifices… Jane had merely been the latest, an innocent girl swept up into their grand scheme, but if this worked, then her sacrifice wouldn't be in vain. The years of lies, the oaths broken, and the hundreds of lives he had taken would have meant something.
'I would join you in prayer, old friend, but I'm afraid that God will not listen to the likes of me.'
Francis grimaced as the doctor ran the needle back and forth through the skin of his forehead, stitching the nasty gash back together. He'd bashed his head on a rock in the cave while thrashing back and forth trying to squeeze into the ocean. It had been the most frightening thing he'd ever done and he knew that he was lucky to be alive.
But he didn't feel lucky.
'No Healers, huh?' Lance asked from the other table. He'd broken at least one rib, and they were guessing that he might have cracked his hip. Lance looked like Francis felt.
'Once I convinced them who I am, it didn't matter anyway,' he muttered. The one the hospital had on call was away in Hollywood tending to some starlet's sprained ankle and it was unknown when he would get back. 'We can't wait around.'
'I'm mobile,' Lance said, trying to sit up.
'Hold still,' the nurse ordered him.
He sighed and lay back down. They had to be careful what they said in front of witnesses. 'John and Dan are out, but we've got Rawls and his man.'
'Where do we start?' Francis asked, already knowing that it would be futile. Madi was long gone by now, which meant that Jane was as good as dead.
'We split up, probably groups of two, start chasing down leads.'
'You aren't going anywhere,' the young doctor working on Francis's head said. 'Neither of you is in any shape and there are some government men outside waiting to speak with you.'
'I already explained everything,' Francis complained. He'd told the state police about how he'd been giving his guests a tour of his mansion's basement when there had been a bright light and a cave in. Lance and John were both officially dead. They had fake identities, but he knew that as soon as word got to the police that both Browning and Garrett had bullet wounds, then their story was out the window. Right now they were victims, but they needed to get out before the authorities decided that they were somehow involved with the Peace Ray attack.
'One of them is from the Army,' the nurse cleaning up Lance added helpfully. 'He said he had a message for the survivors, but I told him he'd have to wait.'
'What kind of message?' Lance asked suspiciously.
She shrugged. 'Beats me, something about Imperial blimps. He was talking to that white-haired negro.'
Francis was off the table, pushing past the doctor before she had even finished speaking. The iodine-soaked thread swung back and forth in front of his eye as he shoved the doors open.
In the hallway, a young man in an Army aviator's uniform was walking away. Isaiah Rawls was reading a typed note. He saw Francis coming. 'Now stay calm, I-' Francis tore the note from his hand and scanned it quickly.
'Sullivan, you son of a bitch,' Francis said, grinning. The Chairman's personal airship! This had to be it. The timing was too perfect. That had to be where Madi had taken Jane. 'We can go after them right now.' His pocket watch had been smashed on the rocks, but there was a clock on the waiting room wall. They had one hell of a head start, but if they hurried-
'No,' Isaiah said sternly. He leaned in close so the other people in the area couldn't listen in. 'It is too dangerous.'
'What?' Francis couldn't believe his ears. 'Are you daft, man? They've got my friend.'
'Even if you could catch them, you expect to board the Tokugawa, defeat its whole crew, and get away? You don't even know that's where they are. All you have is the word of one untrustworthy Heavy that he saw it docked with a ship off the coast.'
'It's more than we've got now,' Francis spat.
'No wonder the elders sent me out here. Pershing's lack of caution has trickled down. You think it's wise to throw away the lives of an entire cadre of knights on a hunch? Listen to me carefully, Francis. We will get your Healer back, but we need to be smart. An overt attack on the Imperium's flagship would be war.'
Francis didn't care who heard. He threw his hands wide and shouted. 'Look around you, Rawls. This is war!' Dozens of eyes turned toward them. 'Yes, it was the Imperium who did this!' The other patients and hospital staff began to mutter.
The senior Grimnoir appeared ready to explode. His voice was a barely audible hiss. 'Calm. Down,' Isaiah ordered, and Francis could feel the matching thoughts inside his head. 'You will not go after that ship. That is an order. You took an oath, and part of that is that you'll follow the elders. There are plans within plans, and your half-cocked actions will have repercussions.'
Francis was seething. 'What are you so scared of?'
'The Tokugawa must not be harmed. There are bigger things afoot than you understand, young man. You need to trust me.'
Before Francis could respond there was a commotion at the main desk. A group of men in suits and surgical masks were pouring into the waiting area, and in their midst appeared a fat, bellowing, bull of a man, sputtering and swearing. 'Who's in charge of this fiasco? I demand to speak with the head!' He pulled down his surgical mask revealing a face that was red and sweating and shouted at the top of his considerable lungs. 'Bring me my grandson!'
'Grandfather?' Francis asked in bewilderment. He turned back to Isaiah, but the Grimnoir elder had his head down and was retreating down the hall. 'Grandfather Cornelius?'
'Francis!' Cornelius Gould Stuyvesant lumbered down the hall, past startled onlookers, and engulfed Francis in a hug. His belly was so large that his arms wouldn't close around Francis's back. 'You're alive! Thank God, boy.'
'What are you doing here?' he asked in disbelief, taking in the wall of surgical masks that were watching him. 'I don't-'
'I've come to take you home, Francis,' he said. 'Oh my, look at that awful wound. What are you doing, getting stitches like a commoner? Howard!' He snapped his fingers. 'Heal this man!' One of the masks stepped forward.
Francis grabbed Cornelius by the lapels and jerked him forward. Francis was much taller and stronger, and he swung the fat man around so hard that the security men reached into their coats for their pistols. 'You've brought a Healer?'
His Grandfather was shocked by the rough treatment. 'Of course. When I'd heard of the tragedy, I gathered all of my staff into my fastest prototype airship and came straightaway.'
'Fastest…' he let go of Cornelius. 'You have this ship here?'
'The Tempest is docked at the city terminal. It will need to be serviced but we could be on our way back to New York within a few hours. I-'
Francis pointed at the Healer. 'Howard, right?' The man nodded. 'Follow me. Grandfather, I'm going to need to borrow that dirigible.'
