Abandon The Night (31 page)

“Not merely for you,” his father replied. “But for both of us. Me, leading the way, and you following in my footsteps. Standing by my side.”

“And you believe you arranged for me to be in Sedona.” Quent grappled himself back into the conversation.

“You don’t think it was an accident that you heard about the lost Anasazi treasure, do you? I arranged for you to hear about it, and for you to acquire the documentation that you believed would lead you to its location.”

“You set me up?”

“With the help of your assistant…what was his name? Trevor? Tracy?” Fielding waved an elegant hand, an emerald ring glinting in the light. “I could never remember his name. But he kept me apprised of your calendar. And other relevant information.”

“Why did you want me in Sedona?”

“It’s a mecca of energy, of course, Quentin. Even you know that. And that fusion of energy was going to be harnessed and exacerbated with the earth’s physical change during the Evolution. All those ley lines and power centers intersecting and fighting with each other. I knew something was going to happen. And now I see the results.”

“I was an experiment.”

“One that turned out better than even I could have anticipated. After all, you haven’t changed a bit. Are you immortal?” he asked curiously.

Quent didn’t bother to answer. He didn’t know whether to believe Fielding, although knowing the man as he did, he suspected it could be true. In fact, if he didn’t need to know what Zoë had been doing there, he’d put an end to this abhorrent discussion right now.

“But it doesn’t matter,” Fielding continued. “I’ll have you crystaled.”

“What do you do to fill your long, immortal days?” Quent asked. “Fifty years is a long time. You have everything.”

“Nearly everything.” For the first time, Fielding’s pleasure seemed forced. “The women, the food, the entertainment. Not having to go to the office or attend strategy meetings, answer to board members. Everything I wanted, all mine, forever.”

“I did see the golf course,” Quent said. “How often does it change?”

Fielding smiled. “One of my brainchildren. I have it change every fourteen days or so.” He smoothed his shirt and Quent looked for the glow of a crystal to shine through. “I can eat whatever I want, as much as I want, whenever I want. I can have sex as many times a day as I desire, with as many different woman as I want. Life is more luxurious than you can imagine.”

“The same thing, day after day. No challenges, no changes.” Quent shook his head. “It’s not as if you can jet off to Paris or Tokyo or Tahiti any longer. They’re fucking gone. What’s the attraction?”

“Power.” Fielding’s smile seemed tight. “There’s nothing more worthy, Quentin.”

“Over what? There’s nothing to control anymore. A few thousand people and an annihilated world?” Quent scoffed openly. “What accomplishment is there in that? You fucking blew it up. There’s nothing left.”

“I beg to differ. Mecca, as we call this place, has everything I could want. Everything I would have experienced in Paris or Moorea or Rome. All here, brought to me, recreated for me.”

Quent rose and began to wander around the room, hoping to discover more about Zoë’s visit. From which of the three doors had she entered, exited; had she sat, stood…what could he glean? He remembered to limp, using his weapon as a cane so that he always had it near him.

Part of him was ready to use it at any moment. Another part wanted to encourage Fielding to talk further, to see what he could learn.

“Did you find Atlantis?” Quent asked, touching the table. Zoë’s essence filtered through to him immediately. “Is that how you got the crystals?”

“Yes, indeed, the crystals come from Atlantis.”

That calm pronouncement caught his attention, and Quent paused. In spite of himself, and the revulsion he felt for Fielding, a thrill rushed through him. “You found Atlantis?” he said, turning to give his father his full attention. His pulse spiked and his curiosity was aroused.

The same excitement he felt showed in the other man’s face. “I didn’t say we found Atlantis, but it does indeed exist. It’s more accurate to say that the Atlanteans found us.”

For the moment, Quent’s hatred for his father filtered away completely. “It really existed? Atlantis? What happened to it? Have you been there?”

Fielding seemed to find his son’s fascination compelling. “I knew you of anyone would share my excitement and enthusiasm. If only we hadn’t been estranged for so many years, I would have allowed you to share in the glory with me and the other members of the Inner Circle.”

“We were estranged, as you put it, because you beat the bloody rot out of me,” Quent reminded him. “And I don’t believe for one moment that you would have shared your glory with anyone, let alone me.”

Fielding shook his head. “But Quent, you’re wrong. I had to form and train you to be strong in your youth so that you could withstand life’s challenges. My plan succeeded, as you well see, for look at you! And if I were to share my glory with anyone, it would be my own flesh and blood. Not the likes of Remington Truth or Liam Hegelsen. Even Liam doesn’t know what I know, doesn’t fully understand what Atlantis has to offer.”

Quent had to know. “Tell me about them. The Atlanteans. Did Atlantis rise from the bottom of the ocean? There’s a new landmass in the Pacific. Is that what caused the Change?”

“You’re well informed for not having been among the Elite,” Fielding replied, a modicum of surprise on his face. “But then again, you’re my son.”

He rose and walked toward Quent, coming to stand next to him at the glass table in the closest proximity they’d been for decades. A subtle scent came with him, the essence of wealth and fine clothing, Scotch whiskey…and something else that bordered on unpleasant. “I know you have many questions, and I look forward to showing you everything I’ve accomplished in the last sixty-two years. Oh, yes,” he said, “this all began long before the Evolution actually happened.”

“How did it begin?”

“I’ll show you.” Fielding walked to the wall next to one of the water channels. As Quent watched, he flipped open a small panel and seemed to put in a code. Then he closed the little door and a section in the wall slid open.

Quent adjusted the cane-weapon in his hand and bumped his ankle against his other boot, ensuring that the Taser was still in place. A prickling rushed over his shoulders and he started toward Fielding, anticipation sending his pulse spiking. He didn’t bloody trust his father at all—this could be some sort of trap; although why he’d need to resort to that was uncertain, since no one knew Quent was here. This was more likely nothing more than what it appeared to be: Fielding’s opportunity to boast about his power and secrets.

And Quent’s chance to learn more about the people who’d destroyed the earth.

He had to follow him.

4 May 2011

5:30 A.M.

Devi and I welcomed a beautiful little boy this morning. He’s healthy, and I’m feeling well.

We’ve named him David Bakula Kapoor, after both of his grandfathers. Although we don’t have a scale, Devi estimates David’s weight at eight pounds. He’s long and lean, twenty inches.

He’s got a full head of dark hair and beautiful cinnamon skin.

I hope he grows up in a better world than the one he was born into.

—from the diary of Mangala Kapoor

Fielding and Quent walked down a windowless corridor that twisted and turned, descending toward the center of the building. The floor here was carpeted in something that looked like bleached sherpa wool, with the effect of smothering the sound of footsteps. And the walls and ceilings, rounded at the corners, were of unrelieved white.

Quent noticed three other doors and wanted to think of an excuse to touch the knobs on each one to see if Zoë had come down this way, but he dared not do anything that might raise Fielding’s suspicions.

It wasn’t long before they reached the end of the spiraling hall and the door there. As before, Fielding opened a small panel next to it and moved something around before closing the little door once more. The entrance opened and Fielding gestured for Quent to enter.

The octagonal room glowed, undulating with shadows and swaths of light. Its ceiling was glass, and the sunlight beamed down from…
above
. It took Quent only a moment to realize that the room was submerged like a large circular aquarium. Dark water surrounded the walls, surging silently against the floor-to-ceiling glass, giving an eerie feel to the space. Lights embedded in the solid floor shone up in soft beams around the edges.

In the center was a pedestal, made of some transparent material, and on the pedestal sat a large pale blue crystal. Of an irregular shape, the stone looked like a piece that had been hacked out of some large stone. About the size of Quent’s fist, it had jagged edges along the top, and smooth, striated sides. A faint glow emanated from it, radiating a ring of white light on the surface where it sat.

“What is it?” Quent asked, walking toward it. Fascinated and stunned. It was real. Atlantis was
real.

Fielding held out his hand to halt him and Quent complied, still staring at the crystal. He sensed the energy in the room as if it vibrated.

“This is how they found me.” Fielding moved forward and settled his hand over the top of the stone, caressing it lightly, as if it were too hot to touch directly. “I acquired the crystal, not knowing what it was—”

“Where? How?”

Fielding looked at him with pity in his expression. “I’d been searching for clues to Atlantis for decades. This was the result of years of study and theorization, and millions of pounds of experimentation and research. The crystal was retrieved from the bottom of the ocean in 1998. It took me four years before I realized how to use it.”

“For what?”

“To contact the Atlanteans. And the rest, as they say, is history.” Fielding smiled and removed his hand from the crystal.

“Do you still use it to contact them? Where are they?” Quent knew he sounded like a query-driven child, but it wasn’t every bloody day a guy learned that a mythical civilization had actually existed, let alone still did. “Where is Atlantis?”

“Right now,” Fielding said, looking overly complacent, “it’s in the Pacific Ocean. A bit north of where Hawaii used to be. And you’re looking at the man who put it there.”

Quent stared at the crystal. So he and the Waxnickis were right. Somehow, Atlantis had been recovered from the bottom of the ocean. “How?”

But Fielding had tilted his head as if he heard some distant sound, and he stepped away from the crystal. “Ah, I’d lost track of time. Dinner is to be served shortly, and I need to freshen up.” He started toward the door and proceeded to input whatever necessary code to open it.

Quent edged toward the crystal, wanting a better look…wanting to
touch
the bloody thing. But he knew he dare not. Yet, the mysteries it must hold…mysteries that he could read, merely with the touch of a finger. His heart beat faster and he curled his fingers into his palms to keep from reaching for the stone. Even from less than a meter away, he felt the warmth emanating from it. Warmth and energy.

As the door slid open, Fielding said, “I’m not about to deprive them all of my company simply because the prodigal son has returned. You’ll join all of us—I’m certain you’ll see some familiar faces. There are women aplenty, too, so feel free to partake.” He smiled knowingly.

“I’m not particularly hungry,” Quent said, dragging his attention away from the crystal. “You needn’t prepare the fatted calf on my account.”

“But if you want your questions answered, you’ll join me. And I see that you have many of them—and I have many for you as well. I’ll reintroduce you to the Elite,” Fielding said, gesturing for Quent to precede him into the hall. “Yes, that would be best.” Then he looked up and frowned. “But I won’t have you attend dressed like that.”

The door closed behind them and they were once again in the corridor, the crystal safely locked away.

They’d gone only a short distance before Fielding opened one of the doors on the way—not the same one that led to the room with the crystal glasses and table. Inside, he spoke to a young woman. Obviously a servant of some sort, for she was dressed in a loose, off-white dress. She took Fielding’s orders to find Quent some clean clothing.

As his father commanded the servant, Quent had a moment to think, and he edged over and touched the doorknob, feeling for Zoë. The images bombarded him because he recklessly opened his mind in a hurry to sift through them and see if she’d been there, and he felt them battle for his consciousness. It was only through a strong force of will that he managed to catch himself and claw back to reality. Progress. But, hell, that had been close.

He blinked and struggled to clear his mind, steady his breathing. Sweat trickled down his spine and he wondered how long he’d been gone. Obviously not too long, for the servant girl was still listening to Fielding.

If she left, Quent would be alone with his father, which was all he would need to subdue the man and crank the Eeker into his crystal.

He could finish it all right now.

But he couldn’t deny that the knowledge that Atlantis had actually existed, that Fielding knew about it and could tell him more was titillating. To learn about this mythical world, to find out about one of history’s greatest lost civilizations—Quent couldn’t ignore the temptation.

And the more patient he was, the closer he could get to his father, the more he could learn about the Elite. And he might be able to find a way to destroy him without getting caught.

But most of all, there was Zoë. If she’d been here so recently, she could still be here—voluntarily or not. Quent wasn’t about to leave without finding out.

Playing along with Fielding, stroking his ego and acquiescing to the game for a while was the best plan. If his father continued to take him into his confidence, he’d have ample opportunity to learn about Atlantis, and then to destroy Fielding.

Quent would accept the role of the prodigal son. At least temporarily.