If the man before him had ever heard that, he didn’t show any sign of beingimpressed.
“Fine,” Simon said in partial disgust. “Let’s get on with this, then, shallwe? I’ve got things to tend to.”
The man flashed a brief smile. “As you will.” He gestured in the darkness.
Immediately two men dressed in the same kind of armor stepped forward. They ushered a third man forward between them. The two on either side of the third never said anything.
But the third figure lurched forward.
“A knight!” The voice was hoarse with disbelief. He came forward withhis hands lifted.
Without thinking, Simon drew his Spike Bolter and aimed it at the man. “Stayback,” he commanded.
“Don’t shoot,” the first man admonished. “That’s Macomber. The man you’vecome all this way to see.” He reached forward and caught the man by the shoulderto halt his progress.
Simon lowered the pistol but didn’t put it away. Even after four years, hedidn’t completely trust Leah or her mystery group. The almost silent hum thathad taken place behind him told him that Nathan or one of the other Templar had taken aim with the ATV’s arsenal.
“Not exactly a friendly overture,” the man commented dryly.
“It’s not exactly a friendly world any more,” Simon said. He focused on theman in the middle. “You’re Macomber?”
“Dr. Archibald Xavier Macomber, yes.” The man might have nodded, but with thehelmet it was hard to tell. “Who are you?”
“Simon Cross.”
“Ah. You’re Thomas Cross’s son. I see the resemblance now. Your eyes are thesame. But you’re bigger.”
The announcement surprised Simon. For the most part, he’d always known hisfather as a quiet, solitary man. At least, as quiet and solitary as a man could be living among the Templar. And Simon stood four inches taller than his father.
“You knew my father?” Simon asked.
“I did. Sadly, only for a short time. But he left a huge impression. Thomasis a very impressive man.”
“Was,” Simon corrected automatically. Four years later, and thatcorrection was still hard to make.
Macomber hesitated. “I’m sorry to hear that. I didn’t know.”
“Thank you.”
“I suppose we need to talk.”
The crash of the waves below the cliff echoed through the forest around Simon as he hunkered down on the lee side of the ATV. The nameless man who had come forward sat with him. Both of them watched Dr. Archibald Xavier Macomber.
The professor had taken his helmet off and it lay forward on his armored chest in a loose pool. Macomber was in his sixties and looked frail. Obviously the sanitarium he’d been locked away in had robbed him of a lot of his health.
His face was a pale oval in the darkness. A silvery beard hung in ragged tatters from his jaw, mirrored by the long mop of hair thatbrushed his shoulders.
“Why did you want to see us?” Simon asked.
Macomber looked as though the question surprised him. “I wanted to see yourfather.”
“What business did you have with his father?” the quiet man asked.
Simon hadn’t made up his mind yet how he was going to deal with the man’spresence. Although he wanted to get Macomber off to himself, he wasn’t yet readyto challenge the quiet man for custody of the professor.
Besides that, since the ATVs’ and his armor’s sensors couldn’t detect the mensurrounding the meeting place, Simon wasn’t sure how costly such a maneuvermight prove to be.
“His father knew about the demons, of course,” Macomber said. “Before therest of the world learned about them.”
“How did he know they were coming?” the quiet man asked.
Suspicion only cast a light stain on the man’s question, but Simon wascertain distrust ran bone-deep in the man.
“Because of the manuscripts, of course.” Macomber sounded old and tired, butalso a little like an innocent child.
Simon wondered if the man’s mind was still healthy. He’d seen what shocktreatments, ice-water baths, and radical medications could do to people’s minds.
“What manuscripts?” the quiet man persisted.
“The ones I’d located in France.” Macomber blinked. “I need to rest. Really Ido. These past few days have been hard on me.”
“In a little while, Professor,” the quiet man said. “Tell us about themanuscripts.”
“They were part of an estate sale outside Paris,” Macomber explained. “Isometimes help out with such things. By that time I was living with my wife, Jeanne. Does anyone know what happened to her?”
“We’ll try to find out,” the quiet man said. “Why were the manuscriptsimportant?”
“The manuscripts aren’t gone,” Macomber said. “They still exist. And they’restill important. They may be the only way any of us are ever safe again.”
“How can they make us safe?”
Macomber looked at Simon. “Why aren’t you asking any questions?”
“Because he’s asking the same questions I would,” Simon said. “How can themanuscripts help us?”
“Because they’re books of magic, of course.” Macomber looked put out, as ifeveryone should know that. “There are a lot of books out there that claim to bemagic, but as you know there aren’t that many.”
Simon remembered the book he’d helped locate four years ago that had openedup and eaten a Templar standing next to him. Maybe you don’t know all thebooks that are out in the world, Professor.
EIGHTEEN
“What made this book so special?” Simon asked the old man. The professorstill hadn’t acknowledged him with a look. He only stared out into the nightsky. “Professor?”
Macomber didn’t answer. His eyes stared off into the darkness.
“Professor,” Simon said gently.
Unmoved, Macomber sat like a statue.
Simon looked at the quiet man.
“He has episodes,” the quiet man said. “After we found out about himaboutthe work he did in the field of demonology and linguisticswe tracked himdown.”
“Where was he?”
“Living in one of the universities.”
“How did he get out of the sanitarium?”
“Evidently when the generators went, there was a fire. The built-in safetymeasures opened all the cell doors. Most of the patients remained within the building or within the surrounding neighborhood.” The quiet man was even quieterfor a short time. Sadness touched
