Linden looked startled for a second, and then he actually smiled. “That can be arranged.”

***

Maya followed Gabriel out of the restaurant and into Winston’s van. They were silent on the way back to Camden Town, silent as they followed the familiar route through the marketplace to the drum shop hidden in the catacombs.

Winston unlocked the door to the secret apartment. “Will you be all right, Mr. Corrigan?”

“There’s nothing to worry about, Winston. Maya is guarding me. Go home and get some sleep.”

“Ahhh, yes.” Winston’s face brightened. “Sleep would be a delightful activity.”

Maya went over to Linden ’s folding cot and pulled off her leather jacket. She placed the sword carrier on the bed, followed by her two knives and the 9mm automatic she’d been wearing in an ankle holster. As usual, it made her feel vulnerable to be without her weapons. A small mirror in an ebony wood frame had been attached to the wall and, if she moved back and forth, she could see sections of her face. She hadn’t washed her hair in three days. No makeup. And she looked tired. It doesn’t make any difference, Maya told herself. She could be wearing a designer gown and the Traveler would still see the truth in her eyes.

Gabriel was making a pot of tea when she returned to the kitchen. “Are you hungry?” he asked. “We’ve got crackers and dry sausage, a pot of marmalade, two apples and a can of sardines.”

“Food is food, Gabriel. Anything’s okay with me.”

Maya thought about her father as Gabriel rummaged through the cupboard and poured hot water into the teapot. Whenever Thorn came back from a long trip, he would buy food at the market, stand in the kitchen and cook an elaborate meal for her mother. Sometimes, a throwing knife would still be strapped to his arm, but he talked softly as he chopped up peppers and cooked pasta.

“Here we go.” Gabriel placed the teapot and two plates of food in the middle of the table. Then he sat in the opposite chair and poured her a cup of tea.

“Do you really want to find Nathan Boone?” she asked. “He killed Vicki and my father. And now you want to talk to him as if he was an ally.”

“It’s an opportunity. That’s all.”

“If we find him, you can have your conversation. But when the talking is over-he’s dead. You’re too idealistic, Gabriel. You don’t know who Boone is.”

“I know what he’s done in the past. But all of us have the power to transform our lives.”

“Is that what you learned in the Sixth Realm?”

Gabriel poured some cream into his tea and watched a bubble drift across the surface. “I reached the golden city, but all the gods had vanished. There was only one person there-my father.”

“What happened? What did he say?”

“I asked him to return, but he couldn’t do it. He’s been away too long and doesn’t feel attached to this particular reality. I’m not like my father. Because of you, Maya, I’m still connected to this world.”

“Is that good or bad?” Maya forced a smile.

“It’s good, of course. Love is the Light within all of us. It can survive even when our physical bodies are lost forever.”

What’s he telling me? Maya wondered. Is he going to die?

Gabriel got up from the table and stood beside her. “We can regret the past, but we can’t change what happened. We can anticipate the future, but we can’t control it. All we have is this moment-here in this room.”

No more words. She stood up, and they held each other. The Traveler embraced her doubts and hesitations; he embraced all of her at that instant. We’re here, Maya thought. Here.

37

Nathan Boone established his command post at the Shangri La Hotel in West Los Angeles. He was about ten minutes away from where Michael Corrigan was staying-a pretentious place on the beach called the El Dorado. Boone saw no benefit to living in the same hotel as the Traveler. It would only make it easier for Michael to interfere with the current operation.

Boone liked the bland décor of the rooms at the Shangri La. There were no bright colors-nothing that would agitate the mind. But the best feature of the building was that visitors could enter through the parking structure and avoid the desk clerk. Boone didn’t want someone like Martin Doyle sitting on a couch in the lobby.

At this moment, Doyle was watching television in the suite’s living room; he particularly enjoyed the news updates about the lost children. Carlo Ramirez, the Peruvian mercenary working as Doyle’s handler, sat beside the little table in Boone’s bedroom. He kept fidgeting and avoiding Boone’s eyes.

“It was only about five minutes, Mr. Boone. I swear to you-”

“I don’t care if it was only five seconds. As I told you several weeks ago, your main responsibility is to watch Doyle.” Boone scrawled a few words on a notepad, and Ramirez looked terrified. Perhaps he thought the notepad was some kind of death list.

“He’s got scars.”

“Excuse me?”

“Doyle has scars, here and here.” Ramirez touched his breast bone and the back of his hand. “If he’s got two tracer beads inside his body, you can hunt him down at any time.”