Aphrodite's Secret (20 page)

“Stunningly insightful,” he said, hooking an arm around Boreas’s shoulder. “That’s the most stunningly insightful idea I’ve heard all day.” He aimed the kid toward the captain’s chair and got him seated. “Go on.”

The cadet shifted, looking none too happy about being steered. “It’s, uh, just that Hieronymous is so good at inventing things. That’s his skill, right? I mean, we studied him in Psychology of Outcasts during my last year at the Olympus Academy.”

“Okay,” Jason prompted.

Boreas looked from him to Lane, then back to Jason again. “Well, yeah. It’s not like I’ve got a scientific explanation or anything. But you said the island was here. Now we can’t see it. So, either you’re wrong, or ...”

“Hieronymous built something that can cloak a whole island,” Lane finished.

It was sure as hell a good possibility. “Good thinking, Boring,” Jason said.

“Boreas,” the kid said.

“That’s what I said.” He turned to Lane. “We should check it out. If Boreas is right, Hieronymous will see us sniffing around. He might already know we’re here, but it’s a risk we have to take. If he
doesn’t
know, I want to work fast before he clues in.”

She nodded. “Great. I’m not a very good swimmer, but—”

“No, no, no,” he said. Was she nuts? “I didn’t mean you and me.
We
meant me and Boreas.”

“But—”

“No buts, Lane. That was our deal. Remember? You’d listen to me? I’m already going to have to keep an eye out for him. I can’t be worrying about you, too. Stay here. Sit tight. And in just a little bit we’ll be getting the hell out of here with Davy.”

Once again she opened her mouth to protest. He couldn’t resist; he silenced her with a kiss.

She startled him by kissing him back, hard and demanding, before pulling away and meeting his eyes. “For luck,” she said simply. “Bring back our son.”

Jason nodded, then gestured to Boreas. The young Protector trotted over, happy as a puppy to be included, and Jason plucked his holo-pager off his belt. Before handing it to Lane, he set the frequency to his own assigned channel.

“Ever used one of these before?” he asked.

She shook her head, turning the small metal device over in her hand.

“It’s easy.” He leaned over her and punched the controls, turning off the hologram feature so that only its voice capabilities remained. “Works just like a walkie-talkie. You push here, and it signals on my end with a silent vibration.” He gestured to the pager at his waist. “If it’s safe, I’ll take it off vibrate-mode and we can talk. That way, if you get antsy, you can check up on us.”

She still didn’t look too crazy about waiting on the boat, but she did nod. When she punched the button, the pager at Jason’s waist vibrated. “Like that?” she asked.

“Just like that.”

“So, what? Does the Council buy their equipment at Office Depot?”

It was a bad joke, a testament to her nerves. He just stroked the side of her face, then went into the boat’s head. Inside, he stripped off his sweatpants and donned a thin wetsuit. He didn’t need it, of course, but considering he was going to be wandering around inside Hieronymous’s island labyrinth, he thought it best to be somewhat clothed. His pager, a small flashlight, a serrated knife, and a few other gadgets clung to his utility belt.

Exiting, he looked Lane up and down. “Are you wearing a bathing suit?”

She gave him a
duh
look and gestured to her shorts.

“Just put one on under your clothes, okay? There’s one in the cabin, first drawer on the left.” He’d bought suits for both her and Davy two weeks ago and had tucked them away, hoping for a more laid-back outing. Now the purchase was coming in handy.

She raised an eyebrow but nodded.

He moved to the edge of the boat and then, with a quick salute, fell backward into the water.
Heaven.
The water surrounded him, buoyed him, gave him courage and strength. If he could just get Hieronymous into the ocean, it would be all over.

He shook his head, focusing on the task at hand.
Revenge, later. Davy, now
.

He did a quick flip underwater to get his bearings ... and saw the base of an island due east. Just as Boreas had suspected: Above the water, the island was invisible, but it was there!

He frowned, looking around for the other Protector, then realized he was all alone. Exasperated, he kicked to the surface. Popping up beside the boat he saw Lane and Boreas were both still on deck, watching the water with curious glances.

“Are you coming?” he asked Boreas.

“Oh.” The young Protector looked down at his clothes, to Lane, and then to Jason in the water. “Right. Yes. Sure. Uh.”

Jason sighed. “Under the life vests.”

Boreas looked and found a wetsuit. Lane turned her back, and Boreas scrambled into it.

“You’ll need air,” Jason said, rethinking bringing Officer Boring along. But backup might come in handy. He pointed Boreas to the air canisters he kept on board, just in case. The neophyte donned the tank.

Finally ready, Boreas dove into the water, not nearly as clumsily as Jason expected.

“I’ll be back,” Jason promised Lane before he descended. “And I’ll have Davy with me.”

“So, this is command central?” Mordi said, pacing behind his father.

“It is,” his father agreed. “I’m pleased you are taking an interest.”

They were no longer in the main cavern. They’d relocated to a smaller room that overlooked that hanger-sized space, much as a press box overlooked a football field. Three sides of this rectangular room were cut from stone; the fourth side—made of glass—provided a stunning view of the goings-on below.

Hieronymous sat behind a solid steel desk, his back to the window, and drummed his fingers on its polished top. In front of him, the usual row of computer monitors was mounted in the rock. Yet, in this room, there was no screen displaying a stock ticker. Every image was some part of the island: its silent corridors, its iron gates, Davy’s small room.

On the far monitor, and out of the corner of his eye, Mordi saw figures near the gates leading into the water-flooded tunnels beneath the island. He sucked in a deep breath and held it.

His father turned to him, questioning.

Casually, Mordi moved to the left, blocking his father’s view of the monitor.

“Is there something you wish to say?” Hieronymous asked.

“No, sir. I mean, yes, sir. I mean, uh, it’s all just so awe-inspiring.”

Hieronymous stared at him, and for a moment, Mordi feared the jig was up. Then his father nodded coldly, a tiny hint of a smile touching his lips. “Yes. It is. Much of what I do inspires awe—particularly in those less technologically-inclined.”

“It is a lot to take in,” Mordi agreed, moving toward the bank of controls. He started fiddling with the knobs, managing in the process to switch Davy’s monitor to one that showed the mess hall, and all of Hieronymous’s Outcast groupies sitting around chowing down on some disgusting-looking slop. He turned back to Hieronymous. “Maybe you could teach me the basics? I mean, if you think I could handle it.”

An unfamiliar light flared in Hieronymous’s eyes. “I think much of it should be within your grasp,” he said. He laid a light hand upon Mordi’s shoulder, even as he gestured at the full set of controls with the other. “We’ll start with the basics.”

One by one, he started taking Mordi through each dial’s purpose. An odd feeling swelled in Mordi’s gut. His father was actually working with him. Not patronizing—well, not much—but just working.

And, if all went well, Mordi would be asked to use everything his father taught him to foil the man’s plan.

He told himself he shouldn’t feel guilty, that right was right and wrong was wrong. And he knew that was true. But it didn’t fill the hole in his gut. It didn’t fill that same hole Hieronymous had started to fill, simply by placing a hand on Mordi’s shoulder and a grudging but sincere vote of confidence.

Little by little the world shifted under Mordi’s feet. And damned if he wasn’t sorely afraid he’d lose either his balance or himself.

Davy sat cross-legged in front of
the
door, staring at its lock. His toilet lamp was turned off. The sun had climbed high enough to light the room, so Davy had put his shoe back on. It was a little squishy, but he figured he might need it.

It was hard to run in one shoe, and Davy was going to run away.

He’d waited all night for his mom or his aunt to rescue him, but they hadn’t come. He knew they would have if they could, so they were either lost or Mr. Hieronymous had caught them. And Uncle Taylor couldn’t rescue him or his mom or Aunt Zoë, because he was all the way in Switzerland. Davy had looked that up on his globe and it was really far away.

His tummy ached when he thought about the bad man keeping his mommy locked up, so he hoped she just didn’t know where to find him. He didn’t want her in danger.

Of course, Davy didn’t know where he was, either. Or how to get home. He knew they’d taken a boat. He’d made a boat last month and cruised it around his bathtub, so maybe if he could get out of this room and find Mr. H’s boat, he could at least make it go away from this island. The boat would have some sort of radio, so he could call his mom for help from there.

All he had to do was get out.

After the pretend daddy had brought him food last night, the man had held something flat, about the size of his mom’s plastic money, up to the door. There’d been a clicking sound, and then the door had swung open. Since there wasn’t a regular keyhole, Davy figured the lock must be electronic. Or magnetic. Or something. He just needed to find out which.

Easy squeezy. Well. . .

He sucked on his lower lip, wishing he had his tools. It wasn’t actually going to be easy making a key from the stuff in this room.

He crawled around on his hands and knees, checking under the bed and looking behind the toilet, gathering up everything that might help. A few minutes later he climbed onto the bed and rested his chin on his fist. He stared at the pile of goodies he’d gathered.

His Walkman, one bedspring, the metal stopper for the sink, and four thumbtacks from the Teletubbies poster on the wall.

Cool. Now he just had to put it all together.

He looked out the window, trying to figure out the time. If he worked really fast, chances were he could be out by lunch.

Maybe he’d even be home by dinner.

A series of caverns wound beneath Hieronymous’s island, opening back out into the sea at various points along its perimeter. The island was only about five miles in circumference, but Jason wasn’t inclined to waste time examining each and every portal to find the one from which he’d escaped. Instead, he approached the first entrance he saw, with Boreas right at his heels.

The cavern’s opening was gated: a wrought-iron contraption that looked like it had been untouched for years. But its padlock was brand-new and shiny.

Jason pointed to the lock and flashed Boreas a thumbs-up. If Hieronymous had bothered to place a lock on this door, odds were good it led into the complex.

Now all they had to do was get in.

He gave the lock a quick tug, hoping his super-strength would snap it. No luck. He turned to Boring and gave a shrug, then tried again. And again. And again.

So much for super strength. Apparently it was no match for Hieronymous’s metallurgic skills.

He gave it one last shot, this time balancing his feet against the rock exterior of the cavern, his hand clamped firmly around the padlock. He tugged with all his might, using his foothold on the stone for leverage.

Again, he got nothing for his trouble except a sore shoulder and the subtle imprint of the lock in his palm.

Well, hell.

Boreas swam closer, gesturing to the bars. Jason shrugged, unable to make any sense out of his motions. Again Boreas pointed, and Jason shot him a scathing glance, irritated. He needed to figure a way out of this problem, not an overeager Protector bouncing around and distracting him.

Okay. One last try
. He positioned himself once more, his hands on the lock, ready to tug. But as he did, Boreas bumped him. Jason grimaced, wanting to yell at the guy to stay out of the way—but yelling would only get him a mouth full of water.

Reaching over, he planned to bodily pick Boreas up and relocate him to the rock ledge above the gate. Surely he’d be out of the way there. But just as Jason reached, so did Boring. And reached. And reached.

Jason blinked, his mind coming to grips with what he was seeing: Boreas’s arm stretching all the way through the bars to a bare rock wall inside... to where a single silver key hung on an ornate hook.

Guess that answered the what-power-does-Bores have question. Apparently, the man was made of rubber.

With a smug grin, Boreas drew his arm back and handed Jason the key. Jason took it, slid the key into the lock, and turned it. The tumblers fell into place. Boreas gave a little bow, and Jason shook his head and rolled his eyes. The gate creaked open, and they swam inside.

They’d made it into Hieronymous’s complex. Now they just had to find Davy.

“I’ve done my rounds, sire,” Clyde reported from the doorway. “All is well.”

“Excellent.” Hieronymous stood up and walked toward the window wall, gazing down at the cavern below. “Only four more days. The anticipation ...” He shivered. “It’s intoxicating.”

For Mordi, it wasn’t intoxicating; it was unnerving. He’d managed to switch the monitors showing Davy’s cell and several underground corridors to different views, but Hieronymous might notice at any moment. And Mordi was antsy to see what was happening, too. He shouldn’t risk it, but...

He couldn’t stand it anymore. With one quick glance to make sure his father was occupied, he flipped to the monitor showing the corridors beneath the island. Two dark figures clad in wetsuits padded through the dark, their backs to the walls.

Mordi sucked in a deep breath, relief flooding him.
Jason
. If Jason could free Davy, the ball would no longer be in Mordi’s court. There’d be one less dilemma he’d have to deal with.

Another quick glance over his shoulder confirmed that Hieronymous was still talking to Clyde. Mordi switched the monitor’s view again, this time flipping to an empty corridor. He moved down the console to the monitor tied in to Davy’s room. He’d just take a quick peek to make sure the boy was doing okay—