Stone Junction

with you till I’m gone,’ cause you got mow-beel radio babbling in your ear, shaking it down to separate the gold from the dross, and you’re finding it all right here on KRMA, just another station on the cross.

Shamus’s scar-twisted hand was angry. The tucked-thumb jaw was almost a blur as it yelled in his ear, ‘Annalee told him, you idiot – he was her son, she loved and trusted him. She did everything but admit it that night in Richmond when she mentioned Daniel was beginning to suspect something. She’d already told him. If you hadn’t been so love-blind you’d have known right then. But you can’t blame her. She couldn’t distinguish between love and trust. Daniel is the maggot in your heart. Daniel and Volta. Quit looking for this stoned girl who sucked him off. He’s probably telling the truth when he says he didn’t tell her anything, because he’d already told Volta the minute he’d found out what you were planning, and Volta, that jealous, jealous man, arranged for it to go wrong; maybe even talked Daniel into going along to make it look good. Then Daniel almost got killed, so Volta, with his perverted sense of honor, took the lad under his wing. Daniel is the Judas, but Volta is the devil. It doesn’t need proof. I can taste it, I can smell it, I can feel their darkness burning in my bones, hear their treachery in every word, see them through my scars. If you get Daniel, you’ll get Volta. Do you hear me? Quit crying, goddammit! Do you hear me? Get them soon. Soon.’ THE THERAPEUTIC JOURNALS OF JENNIFER RAINE: MARCH 24

My name is Jennifer Raine, Judy Snow, Emily Dickinson, Amelia Empty, Wanda Zero, Clara Belle. I live in room 28, Apan Hospital, Valley of the Moon, California. Apan is a mental care facility. I am here under the care of Dr Putney, who suggested I keep a journal since it’s good to express your feelings. But actually, except for being bored shitless, I feel fine.

The court committed me because I have an imaginary daughter named Mia. Dr Putney keeps referring to her as my invisible daughter. Of course she’s invisible: She’s imaginary. But Doc Putney isn’t too hot on the obvious. Except for the logically obvious, that is, like how can I be 23 and have a daughter who’s 11, and why can Mia laugh and cry but not speak. Because, Doc, I imagined her the way I need her. Someone I can talk to without words. An ally. A witness.

I try to make Dr Putney understand that since I imagine her, since I am her mother, I have a responsibility to her. So when that Safeway clerk caught me stealing food for her, I was absolutely justified in destroying three aisles of bottles and cans allegedly containing food. I’m not crazy, Dr Putney, I’m hurt, and one reason I’m hurt is exactly because there is no food in the food stores. Too much telly, not enough vision. It’s not crazy to know that. I am not crazy. I have scars to prove it. I’m hurt, that’s all, and Mia is helping me heal.

The moonlight glittered on the alkali flats as the Hour of the Wolf approached. Daniel checked his watch and trudged on toward Sunrise Mountain. He felt anxious, giddy, ridiculous, and absurdly serene, as if such wildly mixed emotions were exactly what he should be feeling while on his way to steal a six-pound spherical diamond from his government, equipped with nerve gas, plastique, and a large suction cup, armed only with his wits and the ability to disappear.

Practice had been a snap. Volta had set up a stainless-steel plate nine feet off the ground with a pad to break his fall. But he’d stuck the suction cup to the target on his first attempt and hadn’t missed in fifty subsequent tries. A rope between the brass ring on the back of his special harness-vest and the suction cup kept him from falling to the floor. At first he had trouble ‘controlling the dangle,’ as Volta said, but with a little practice, as Volta noted, he got the hang of it. Daniel found that by imagining himself as a spider swaying on its own silken thread, he didn’t feel quite as stupid.

At Coach Volta’s instructions, he’d practiced vanishing and reappearing at one-minute intervals. ‘Think of them as metaphysical windsprints,’ had been Volta’s advice. They hadn’t winded Daniel at all. He was sure he could vanish at fifteen-second intervals if he wanted and perhaps fast enough to strobe between the two states. He intended to explore the possibility after the attempt on the Diamond.

He’d also practiced his new identity, which he would inherit from Jean Bluer, who was now driving across Texas as Isaiah Kharome, freelance preacher and editor-publisher of God Shots, a religious magazine. Jean had sent a set of photos and a tape of the voice; the proper makeup and documents would be waiting in the getaway truck, which also served as the Reverend Kharome’s Mobile Temple. When Daniel mentioned that such an outlandish guise didn’t do much for his sense of seriousness, Volta said it wasn’t supposed to.

Various objects had taken different amounts of time to mesh with Daniel’s force field and vanish with him. The suction cup disappeared with him in less than twelve hours; the plastique had taken almost forty. Volta attributed the differences to field congruity, pointing out that Daniel’s field welcomed suction and resisted – understandably – explosives. Daniel wasn’t convinced, but had no explanation of his own – though again he intended to explore this after he’d stolen the Diamond.

But first he had to steal it. He looked at Sunrise Mountain looming in the moonlight, shifted the weight of his equipment-laden vest, lowered his head with a giggle that surprised him, and plunged onward.

Volta had just poured a modest shot of cognac to accompany his coffee when a call came in at 2.30 a.m. He answered immediately, ‘Allied Furnace Repair, night service.’

‘Mr Deeds did not go to Washington. He’s fresh from a Bent bar where he’s had about fifteen drinks with an engineer from Closed Circle Security Systems, a Pennsylvania company doing some local consulting work.’

It was Ellison Deeds. Volta sighed; it had to be bad news. ‘Changes?’

‘Additions, evidently. That’s all I could learn. The man could hold his liquor. He did talk a bit in general about his particular specialty, camera surveillance.’

‘I understand,’ Volta said softly. He paused a moment to consider, then added, ‘Well, our night man is out on call now. I’ll let you know as soon as he gets back.’

‘I’ll be at home,’ Ellison said.

Volta hung up the phone, leaned back in his swivel chair, thought a minute, then leaned forward and flipped on the radio. He sent the message in code. THINGS FALL APART. HAVE RIDE READY FOR EARLY DEPARTURE OR VERY LATE IN SCHEDULE. SEND IMMEDIATE WORD ON CONCLUSION. CHANGES POSSIBLE. STAND BY.

When the transmission was acknowledged, Volta sipped his cognac and watched steam wisp from the coffee cup. He hoped Daniel had the sense to call it off if they’d added cameras.

Daniel vanished. He waited a moment for the clank of any equipment that hadn’t gone with him, then started down the tunnel. The bunkered checkpoint was twenty feet from the opening. He was passing it when someone whispered, ‘Check.’