“That would be me,” Temple said with a grin as they began to slow down. “Now, get ready for some revelations that are really going to blow your mind.”
Inside the sparkling glass-walled command center, the tram stopped at a level lit up by major lights diffusing through the windows. Looking up, the walls converged at a point where another huge circular light hung, giving the whole area a feel of being inside the luxurious lobby of an ostentatious hotel. There were three fountains and a waterfall, nestled inside a park-like area with large palm trees and lush flowering bushes. Multicolored birds flew about, chirping and singing. There were rounded picnic tables, benches set alone in shaded areas where people sat and appeared to be meditation, or just sleeping.
“You’ll have time to enjoy the scenery later,” Temple said, urging them along. He headed toward an elevator set in a rectangular, ivy-covered central pillar. “We’re needed down below.”
They followed, Aria and Phoebe first, then Orlando who pushed Aria’s father in a wheelchair. The doors closed and they descended quickly in a sealed car. “I’d have expected glass walls,” Orlando said. “No view?”
Temple shook his head. “These levels are largely private. We have twenty-seven psychics at work down here, along with a staff of sixty to maintain the complex, cook the food, run information searches and gather real-world intelligence. That all happens on levels four and five. The psychics, they’re down on six.”
“In the basement,” Orlando commented. “Where we belong.”
Phoebe jabbed him. “Okay, so what’s the plan? We meet everyone, and then what? We’ve got to help Caleb and Alexander, and stop…”
“The end of the world, yes. All in time.” The doors opened and Temple led them out into a much different setting. Soft lights, mahogany walls, dark carpeting. Leather couches, gold-framed maps on the walls: ancient- looking maps of the world, depictions of the stars and planets from the Middle Ages.
Orlando whistled as he rolled Brian Greenmeyer forward.
“Leave me here,” the man whispered. “Tired, and this looks like a good place to rest.”
“Dad?” Aria turned around. She still held Phoebe’s hand.
“I’m not worried,” he said. “You’re with good people.”
A thin, matronly woman stood up from a desk in the dark corner and took the wheelchair handles from Orlando. “I’ll watch over him now, get him a drink and some food.”
“Thanks, Laurie,” Temple said. He gripped the doorknobs and opened the two large oak doors, and then they were passing through a long hallway lit by what looked like turn-of-the-century gaslights set in bronze gargoyle sconces.
“What’s behind all these doors?” Phoebe wondered, looking ahead and losing count until the distant end of the corridor.
Temple paused at the first one. “Okay, a little off the main tour, but I’ll show you. These are our ‘contemplation chambers.’ Each a little different. Decor suited to the objective.”
“What objective?” Orlando asked.
Temple put a finger to his lips and quietly pushed open the door.
Inside were three people sitting in large bean bags, each a different color. They wore sleeping masks and seemed to be dozing… except for the pads of paper and pencils in their hands. Around the walls were hung photographs—aerial maps of mountain ranges and coastal regions, geological studies that seemed to center around fault lines running across the ocean beds and highlighting volcanic areas.
Temple eased the door shut. “We have them solely focused on natural disasters. Trying to predict the next ones, probing likely hot spots.”
“And if you get a credible hit?” Orlando asked.
“We quietly leak it to the geological community and do what we can do evacuate ahead of the event. But…”
“You haven’t had much luck yet?” Phoebe asked.
“Not as such. Close, but timing’s always a bit off. Sometimes they can’t tell whether it’s weeks or days, or in a couple regrettable instances, only minutes away. We’re working on refining the techniques. And we hope, maybe with your help, to improve our results. But first things first, or there won’t be any need for any of this.”
“What’s in here?” Orlando asked, reaching for the next door.
Temple grasped his wrist just as he turned the knob and the door opened a crack. “Leave that one alone.” He closed it gently, but not before Orlando got a glimpse of two older women, dressed as gypsies, standing before a glowing globe with their hands out and their eyes closed.
“Was that the moon?”
Temple sighed. “Yes, but the less you see of that, the better. We try to keep them alone and what they’re working on secret. We even have a shield permanently blocking that room, since it could cause the most alarm if certain elements determined what they were looking for.”
“Which is?” Orlando clenched his hands into fists. “Let’s get on with it. Get to the good stuff.” He pointed to the door. “I want in there.”
“Soon.” Temple ushered them along, speaking as a tour guide without opening any more doors. “In here we’ve got a rather gifted, if unfocused, talent looking for other candidates across the world who have demonstrated precognitive abilities. In this next room we’ve got four siblings, ages twelve through twenty seven, who together seem to share the same visions. We’ve got them probing certain historical events, trying to piece together what really happened to colonies—or whole cities—that went missing. Roanoke. Mayan centers, Pueblo towns… We have a list.” He slowed near the end of the corridor, passing two more doors. “Here we’ve got our largest room, a testing facility for new members. We put them through a series of blind objectives and gauge what they seem to be best at.”
They kept walking, with Aria and Phoebe glancing at each door, and Orlando itching to get inside and dig in. “This is just the kind of place I told Caleb we needed. More psychics, more objectives. Cool stuff to figure out! Damn, Temple, unless you’re jerking our chains, I love this place! Where do I sign up?”
Temple held up a hand before one more door on their left. “One thing more to show you before we enter the main conference center. In here, you’ll meet—”
“-The Dove,” whispered Aria with an odd smile on her face. They opened the door.
He was, to put it mildly, a little different than Orlando or Phoebe expected. He sat in an enormous leather reclining chair. Enormous because it had to be in order to fit his frame. Easily four hundred pounds, the Dove was in his late fifties. Balding, multiple chins, arms and legs the size of small redwood trunks. He went shoeless, and his big feet were up, presenting a grotesque view. Cheetos crumbs and pizza crusts littered the front of his extra sized Worlds of Warcraft t-shirt—the same kind Orlando had been sporting, until the incident with the eels.
Phoebe gave his arm a squeeze as if to say,
“Hey there,” the Dove said, waving a big hand in their direction. “Just taking a break, boss. These the newbies?”
“New to you, maybe,” Phoebe quipped. “I’ve been at this since before I could talk.”
“I stand corrected.” He slapped away the crusts from his shirt. “I’d get up and meet you, but I don’t get up much. Not when these good people can bring me anything I want. If I didn’t have to piss and… well, I’d never get up. Too busy anyway.” He spun his chair around slowly, groaning with the effort. And Orlando took a step in, wrinkling his nose at the smell, noting the air fresheners working in the corners, overtime apparently.
The room was small, with maroon-painted walls supporting large bookshelves crammed full like the shelves of a used book store. On the walls were movie posters—specifically ones of a certain genre.
Orlando nodded. “So in here, you’re studying film classics?”
The Dove made an un-dovelike sound. “Ha, good one. Nope, in here I do the important stuff, looking in on our ‘friends’. As much as I can, sneaking around their defenses, mostly seeing the footprints rather than the feet —or tentacles—that made them.” He grinned and chuckled, wiping his greasy hands on his dirty pants. “Hey Temple, you show ’em the NASA chick’s highlight reel yet?”
Temple shook his head. “Heading there next.”
