The Reckoning: Quantum Prophecy Book 3 (10 page)

“Right.”

“But the arm itself doesn’t have anything to do with the war.” Razor frowned in thought. “Quantum never said anything about you having a mechanical arm in his prophecy. You’d think he’d mention something like that. So who’s to say you saw the same thing at all?”

“He’s right,” Renata said. “Just because one vision of the future comes true doesn’t mean that they all will.”

“Here’s a thought: What was your hair like in the vision?” Razor asked. “How long was it?”

“I don’t know…. About the same as it is now. Why?”

“Never get your hair cut. If you grow your hair long and it doesn’t match your vision, then the vision can’t come true. Then you can still use the arm.”

Danny gave a nervous laugh. “I wish it was that simple!”

“Nothing is simple,” Renata said. “Not anymore.” She looked across the roof. There were two soldiers standing by the hangar where the new StratoTruck was being checked over by the mechanics. Another two soldiers stood at the top of the stairs, and three more were clustered around one of the helicopters.

Renata knew that there were a lot more soldiers inside the building: at least thirty the last time she’d counted them.

Down below, on the grounds surrounding Sakkara, the makeshift army camp that had been set up following Dioxin’s attack was becoming permanent. The ground was covered with precise rows of tents and prefabricated buildings. Military personnel strode back and forth from one building to another. There seemed to be an awful lot of saluting going on.

At the north edge, a platoon of soldiers marched in formation, while toward the south another group was busy completing the five-meter-high electrified fence that encircled the area.

A thought suddenly struck Renata, and she almost jumped.

Danny took hold of her hand. “What is it?”

Biting her lip, Renata stood up, stepped onto the low wall and began to turn in a slow circle.

“You OK?”

Still turning, Renata said, “They’ve just about finished the fence. How many soldiers would you say are on this base? Including the ones down inside?”

“A couple of hundred, maybe,” Danny said, looking over the edge.

“Five hundred and forty,” Razor said. “There’re also seventeen armored personnel carriers, twenty-four jeeps, eight choppers and in about two weeks we’ll be getting some big guns. They’re
pretty cool. They’ve got state-of-the-art tracking equipment—those babies’ll be able to target a high-speed missile and knock it out of the air before it gets close enough to do any damage. There’s no way on Earth anyone is going to get in here without ending up looking like Swiss cheese. Swiss cheese with a
lot
of ketchup.”

Renata dropped back to the roof. “And it’s all for our protection?”

“That’s it,” Razor said. “You superhumans don’t really
need
protection, but the rest of us do.”

“Then let’s look at the facts. We’re surrounded by hundreds of highly trained soldiers. There’s a huge fence that even I’d have a tough time getting past. When the big guns arrive they’ll be active at all times, right?”

“That’s right,” Razor said. “Much as I hate to admit it, this is going to be a very safe place.”

“Then you’re looking at it wrong, Razor. All that firepower will be great at keeping people out. But it’ll be just as effective at keeping people
in
.”

Danny swallowed. “I think you’re right. Sakkara isn’t a fortress. It’s a prison.”

I
N HIS HOTEL SUITE IN
S
ATU
M
ARE
, Victor Cross removed his jacket and padded shirt, then detached the latex potbelly from around his waist and dropped it on to the bed.

He removed a series of devices from his suitcase, placed one in each corner of the large room, then sat down on the bed and dialed a number on his cell phone.

A few moments later, Yvonne’s voice said, “Yeah?”

“It’s me,” Cross said.

“I know it’s you. No one else has this number. You sound different, Victor.”

“I’m surrounded by sound-mufflers. Can’t risk Colin overhearing our conversation.”

“So you got him?”

“Yep. Said I would, didn’t I?”

Yvonne said, “It would be a lot easier if I just used my mind-control power on him.”

“Colin’s powers have shifted before. For all we know, he might have developed an immunity to your control.”

“There’s no logical reason for that assumption, Victor.”

“Logic has nothing to do with it. If Colin even
suspects
that you’re working with me, we are finished. Eventually, when he’s been prepared, I’ll start the process of getting him to sympathize with your situation.”

“And in the meantime I just sit here and wait, is that it?”

“Pretty much. I know you don’t like it, but trust me. It’ll be worth it.” Victor got to his feet. “Right. It’s time for Reginald Kinsella to make another broadcast. The Sakkarans have had more than enough time to come up with a good reason for destroying our supplies on Isla del Tonatiuh.”

“This is like throwing stones at a wasp hive just to see what’ll happen.”

“Nest,” Victor corrected. “Wasps have nests.
Bees
have hives.”

“And both of them have stingers, Victor. Don’t forget that.”

Warren Wagner pressed his palm against the DNA scanner on the door to Sakkara’s interrogation room. After a moment’s pause, the door hissed open.

Inside, two guards stood against one wall, carefully watching Impervia and the old woman. Mrs. Duval sat straight in her chair, staring directly ahead.

Impervia stood up, the legs of her chair scraping on the floor. “Warren…She’s finally agreed to talk, but only to you.”

“All right.” Warren sat down in the chair, and looked at the old woman. “I’m told you know who I am?”

“Only you,” the woman said. “No one else.”

Warren nodded, then glanced at Impervia and the others. “Leave. All of you.”

“She knows things that are not for your ears. She can’t be left unguarded,” Impervia said. “General’s orders.”

“The general can go to hell,” Warren said. “Everyone out. Now. I know you’ll be listening in, so if anything is said that you don’t want me to hear, you can interrupt.”

Impervia hesitated for a moment, then she and the guards left the room and sealed the door behind them.

Warren turned back to Mrs. Duval.

“Yes, I know who you are,” she said. “I’m old, but I’m not senile. You’re the man who killed my son. You’re Titan.”

“Ragnarök died at his own hand,” Warren said. “I didn’t want it to happen.”

Mrs. Duval pursed her lips, the lines around her mouth deepening. “I’m not proud of what he became. Casey chose the way he lived, and now you tell me that he also chose the way he died.”

“That’s right.”

Mrs. Duval lifted her cuffed hands from her lap and placed them palm-up on the desk. “Look at my hands.”

Warren looked; the old woman’s hands were covered in calluses and faded scars. “What happened?”

“Thirteen years ago the authorities found out Ragnarök’s real name. They couldn’t find him, so they found me. Mr. Wagner, are you familiar with the Good Book? Deuteronomy 24:16. ‘The fathers shall not be put to death for the children.’”

“I’m familiar with that one, all right.”

“I’m imprisoned because of my son’s actions.”

“Officially, you’re not imprisoned. You’re under investigation.”

Mrs. Duval laughed harshly. “Then perhaps you can tell me why I spent the last thirteen years—”

A siren blared through the room, quickly followed by Impervia’s voice. “That is a forbidden topic!”

“All right,” Warren said. “Mrs. Duval, why did you choose to speak to
me
of all people? And why wait this long?”

“Because even though you are responsible for my son’s death, I believe that you are a good man. And you’ve also lost your son. But you may get him back one day. That’s not something I can ever hope for.”

Warren sat back. “That doesn’t answer my question. I’m willing to wait as long as it takes for a real answer.” He pulled out a small notepad and pen from his pocket and quickly scribbled a note: “They’re listening, but not watching.” He passed the pad and pen to the old woman.

She nodded and began to write. After a moment, she slid the pad back across the desk.

Warren glanced at the note and frowned. Mrs. Duval had written, “Do you know what is happening in Lieberstan?”

Colin Wagner still wasn’t exactly sure what Reginald Kinsella expected of him.

He opened the door to the balcony and stepped out. On the nearby rolling hills he could see large pieces of equipment.

He concentrated his superhuman eyesight on the equipment, forcing it to come into focus. Colin didn’t know much about weapons, but they looked like antiaircraft guns to him.

Something went
beep-beep
behind him and Colin turned to see that the television set had come to life by itself. Reginald Kinsella was on-screen, standing in front of a podium.

“My fellow Trutopians,” Kinsella began. “Yesterday in southern California a bus crashed off the highway and plummeted
down a ravine. Because of the difficulty in securing the bus, it took the rescue workers almost eight hours to recover the bodies of the dead and injured.”

Kinsella paused and wet his lips. “Where were the New Heroes? With the resources they have at their disposal, they could have reached the site of the accident a lot sooner than the rescue team. Diamond could have used her strength to secure the bus, while Quantum’s son and the boy with the force-field power could have freed the trapped passengers. But because they were not there, two people died needlessly.”

Still staring at the screen, Colin dropped into the leather armchair.

“Last October, just before Mystery Day, Maxwell Dalton appeared on television for the first time in years. He said that the age of the superhumans was over. He was wrong: It seems that the age of the super
heroes
is over. Shortly after that, Dalton himself was injured in a mysterious accident, and later indicted for tax evasion. He was supposedly incarcerated in a high-security prison somewhere on the East Coast. Today, my people have uncovered the truth. Max Dalton is
not
in prison. He’s in Sakkara, a convicted criminal working with the New Heroes.

“The man running Sakkara—General Scott Piers—appears to be immune from the laws of the nation he’s supposed to be protecting.”

Kinsella sighed, and shook his head slowly. “But it’s clear that the New Heroes are
not
protecting the people. They’re being used to attack and destroy facilities run by our organization. They are doing this because we are a threat to their way of existence.
We are building a world without crime, and a crime-free world will have no need for superheroes. You can check out all the facts and figures on our website: The ordinary Trutopian working person—no matter where in the world he or she lives—has a higher standard of living, health and education than anyone in any single country. Crime rates are so low as to be nonexistent. In fact, in the past month only one crime has been committed by a Trutopian: a young man in New Zealand who was driving while drunk. He was fined appropriately, and banned for ten years. Not banned from driving, because he needs to be able to drive to and from his place of work. We have taken the more logical approach of banning him from drinking.”

Colin laughed. “Now
that
makes a lot more sense!”

Kinsella continued. “For all the non-Trutopians out there watching this, that’s a good example of how this organization works. And it works well. There are now almost twenty million Trutopians, all living without poverty, without fear, without restrictions on their freedom, politics or religion, and without crime. If this sounds like the way you would like to live, then contact your nearest Trutopian center.

“This is how we are going to save the world, my friends. Not with huge armies, or trade embargoes or enough nuclear weapons to destroy the planet a thousand times over. Not even with superpowered humans. The world will be saved by ordinary people like you and me. People who care enough to stand up and be counted. So stand up. Be counted. Save the world.”

The transmission ended and the television set automatically turned itself off.

Colin stared at the now-blank screen.

He jumped when the telephone rang, and made a grab for it. “Hello?”

“Colin? It’s me,” Reginald Kinsella said. “Are you hungry? There’s this great place—”

“Hey, I was just watching…That was…”

“Are you OK?”

“You…You’re right. We can do it. I don’t know how much help
I
will be, but I’m willing to give it a go.”

After a moment’s pause, Kinsella said, “Colin, I appreciate that, I really do. But you should know that the military—and not just in the States, but all over the world—well, they’re not going to respond positively to that broadcast. A world without crime, hunger or poverty will need armies even less than it’ll need superheroes. I’m pretty certain that they’re all making plans to move against us.”

“We’ll stop them. You have me on your side now.”

“Even if it means…?”

“Yes,” Colin said. “Even if it means I’ll be going up against the New Heroes.”

R
ENATA AND
D
ANNY WERE EATING LUNCH
in Sakkara’s dining hall when Razor dragged over a chair and sat down. He slumped forward until his forehead thumped off the table.

Renata and Danny continued eating in silence.

“Does anybody,” Razor asked, his voice muffled, “want to know how my day is going?”

“No,” Danny said.

“Anybody
else
?”

“Go on then,” Renata said. “Tell us.”

Razor rolled his head to the side and looked at them. “Slowly. There’s a saying: The first ninety percent of the work takes ninety percent of the time, and the remaining ten percent of the work takes the
other
ninety percent of the time.”

Danny was about to reply when Impervia approached the table.

“Meeting in Ops,” the woman said. “You’re all invited.”