He sensed a slight movement in the mirror, reflected from outside. He wouldn't have noticed earlier, but it was late now and the streets were empty. His eyes darted to his left, fixing the spot on the mirror and focusing on the image. It was difficult given the darkness outside and the reflections of the bar's lighted interior.
It seemed like an eternity as he waited for his eyes to adjust to the image outside, but he sat like an animal, head trained on its prey. Finally, he saw the two eyes peering at him from the darkness; he could make out the sweep of the cheekbones and the casually drifting hair. The rest of the face and body faded straight into the night, a ghostly apparition.
But it was enough for him to know.
Jade's lips moved silently. He mouthed the name once before he was on his feet and across the bar in a few giant strides, his bar stool sent spinning like a top.
PART FOUR
THE CONVERGENCE
Chapter 47
The thick door was locked and Jade's arm almost ripped out of its socket as he tried to yank it open. He could have sworn he felt the big brass handle give slightly at the screws. He was locked in the bar.
Yelling at the top of his lungs, Jade seized the nearest stool and raised it above his head, charging the window. He followed the stool through the window as pieces of glass showered over him. Hitting the ground in a roll, he was on his feet almost immediately, whirling to check all around him, moving not just his head but his whole body.
Then, he stood perfectly still. Steam drifted slowly up from a sewer grate and somewhere, far away, someone tuned a violin. The streets were empty. No one. Nothing. Just the tinkle of a shard of glass falling from the window's shattered frame.
He moved swiftly to check the alley next to the bar and along the neighboring streets. As he pursued imaginary footsteps, the heat of his temper rose until it flushed his cheeks, and his breath hammered in his throat. He had lost him. He had lost Allander.
'FUCK,' he screamed, kicking a metal trash can end over end across the bar's parking lot. The sudden ache in his foot returned his clarity. He took a deep breath, then walked slowly back to the bar, his fingers tracing the scar on his cheek.
Jim, the bartender, stood fearfully regarding the damage from inside the bar as Jade approached.
'Don't you ever lock me in!' Jade yelled. Reaching through the broken window, he seized Jim by the shirt, lifting him off his feet. He yanked him outside, hurling him to the ground. Jim skidded to a halt facedown on the street, and Jade was on him immediately, pulling his head back with a fist laced with his hair. His other hand was around Jim's throat.
'I didn't do anything,' Jim said, struggling to catch his breath. 'Don't… don't hurt me.' He tried to shake his head but his chin was ground into the pavement.
A station wagon turned onto the street, its headlights catching Jade in the face. He squinted into the light. The vehicle slowed as it approached, and Jade saw a young couple gazing at him in horror.
As they passed, he noticed a young girl in the backseat. She wore a bright yellow slicker and had one hand raised, palm open, pressed to the window. There was a look of fright in her eyes, a confused terror about the world outside.
Jade felt a flash of shame. Goddamnit, he thought. What's she doing up so late?
Her eyes continued to watch Jade as the car passed and disappeared into the night.
Jade blinked heavily, fighting through the rage clouding his mind. What the hell am I doing? he thought. He looked down at his knee in the bartender's back, his hands gripping the man's head like claws.
Like an animal squatting over its kill, Jade thought. Like a fucking animal.
He released Jim's throat and rose carefully from his back. 'Jesus, I'm… Jesus, I'm sorry.'
Jade reached to help Jim to his feet, but Jim jerked away from his touch. His chin was bleeding and Jade could see that he was crying. Jade's face was red with regret and self-loathing. He took a step forward, but Jim cowered away from him.
Jade opened his mouth but nothing came out. Silently, he turned and walked to the BMW. There was a squealing of tires, and Jim was alone in the parking lot.
Allander sucked the cool night air through his teeth. His feet swayed beneath him, dangling off the roof as he watched the black car speed away.
Jade had nowhere to direct his rage, and Allander sensed that he knew he was losing ground. I'm so far inside him I can touch him wherever I want, Allander thought.
He tilted his head back and stretched his arms before getting up to head back to the new house. His house.
Chapter 48
A leg protruded from the glade of trees, a blue-and-brown hiking boot on the foot. A line of blood ran over the exposed calf, matting the thick black hair.
Allander stood with his back to the body, gazing through the last line of trees to the edge of the cliff. The sun was rising gloriously, its golden rays glittering off the ocean surface.
There was a drop of several hundred yards that ended in a small forest just outside the grounds of Maingate. The gates were laid open to the world as workers scuttled back and forth, towing out ruined materials and bringing in new equipment and tools.
What the prisoners would have done to see the gates spread like that for just a moment during their captivity, Allander thought. The entire facility was emptied of inmates for these weeks of repair. With the exception of Claude Rivers and the single guard watching him on the Tower, Allander had emptied it. He had emptied Maingate.
As he looked out over the main prison and saw the Tower in the distance, he slid his hand under his shirt to his nipples. They were hard in the crisp San Francisco air, and he ran his fingers over them, one at a time.
He had taken a new house for himself in the western hills of San Francisco. It was being entirely remodeled, so it had no decorations or heating, just bare walls and a few pieces of covered furniture. For some reason, construction had ceased, but Allander had still prepared a careful escape route in case workers showed up.
He was quite content with his new home. And how wonderful that he could keep the lovely red Jeep from his former house in Palo Alto.
He had found a small motorized saw in the front closet of his house, no doubt left there for use in the remodeling. He had used it last night, employing one of the extra-long, heavy-duty extension cords he had found, and wrapping a water-cooler insulator around the saw to try to dull the noise, since he was working out in the open, away from the protection of his home. But he needn't have worried; the traffic had drowned out everything anyway. And now it was ready-waiting, hidden. His entrance. That was for later, however. He had to focus on today, on completing the first part of his plan. There was so much to do, so many things he'd set in motion.
For the past week, he had been timing the workers at Maingate. They usually left the site at around four o'clock (bless those government workers). The guard on the Tower switched at 6:00 A.M. and 4:00 P.M. There was never more than one guard, probably because the rest had been moved to San Quentin to deal with the Maingate overflow. They were accustomed to having two men guard eighteen Tower prisoners; they probably figured one- on-one was a breeze.
Someday soon, he'd have to go down and take care of things. He'd have to wait until after they left, of course, although he had no choice but to hide his supplies there during daylight. Aside from the Tower guard and
