Keeper of the Black Stones (18 page)

“RUN!” Reis yelled, ducking down and pulling a gun from below the seat.

Paul and I opened our doors and jumped out. I had no idea what was going on, or whether we were even in danger, but I didn't plan to stick around
and find out. My feet were moving before they hit the ground, propelling me toward the garage. Behind us, I heard the sharp squeal of breaks and the peeling of rubber tires. I turned to see the minivan slide to a violent halt in the street in front of our driveway, and three men jump out. Before I could see any more, Paul pulled me in the side door of the garage.

He slammed the door shut behind us, and we ran to press our faces against the garage's lone window. We got there just in time to see Reis hurtle over the hood of his car, pulling another large handgun from under his sports jacket. He hit the ground on our side of the car and knelt, taking careful aim with both guns over the hood of the car. One of the men from the minivan walked purposefully around the hood of the van, clutching a gun at his side. In his other hand he held a badge and a set of credentials.

“FBI … we have warrants!” the man yelled. “I'm going to come around your car. Don't shoot. Give up your weapons and no one gets hurt.”

“Don't move!” Reis shouted back. “I wasn't born yesterday, and I know you're not FBI! You come any closer and I'll shoot!”

The man ignored the threat and walked slowly toward the Volvo. I couldn't hear what Reis was saying anymore, but I could see him shake his head and square his shoulders. I held my breath.

Suddenly, three loud shots sounded out and the minivan's passenger dropped to the sidewalk, clutching his stomach. A second gunman moved away from the van and walked toward the Volvo, carrying what looked to be a grenade launcher. This man didn't speak, but brought the weapon up to his shoulder and pulled the trigger.

Our driveway exploded in smoke and fire. Glass shattered as pieces of metal, plastic, and leather erupted from Reis's car, turning the Swedish automobile into Swiss cheese. Reis flew through the air and landed heavily several feet from the garage, in the flowerbed that bordered our driveway. I watched him fly through the air, then dragged my eyes from what I was sure was his dead body to watch the assassins. Instead of charging forward to press his advantage, the second gunman seemed content to stand his ground beside the minivan. His fallen companion dragged himself back to the vehicle, holding his stomach with one hand. The third man helped
him inside. The second gunman pulled out a handgun, pumped several rounds into what was left of Reis' car, and then jumped into the van. The van's tires squealed as it pulled away, tearing up Mrs. Grey's yard on its way back to the road. I blinked and it was gone, leaving the driveway bloodied and burning.

Paul and I were quiet for a moment, staring at the driveway and what was left of Reis' car.

“What the hell was that?” Paul asked dully.

I shook my head and looked back at Reis. What on earth were we going to do with one dead body guard? I'd only known him a day, but I'd started to like the guy, and I'd never done well with death. I let my eyes run over his body, shocked at what had just happened, and Reis' part in it. Before I could turn away, though, one of his hands shot out, followed by the other. He pushed himself up off the pavement, brushed the debris from his clothes, and walked casually toward us, shaking his head.

Paul and I glanced at each other, dumbstruck.

“That's one hell of a substitute teacher,” Paul muttered.

I nodded in agreement, then slapped my hand to my forehead. “Damn it!” I shouted, glancing down at my watch. I sprinted to the door, threw it open, and ran full speed toward the garden shed. I didn't have time to wonder if Paul was coming with me.

“Stop! Where are you going?” Reis shouted. I could hear him pounding after me, but I was already at the door of the shed. The lock was gone, which meant that Doc was inside. I flung the door open, nearly ripping the flimsy thing off its hinges, and sprinted the four steps it took to get to the back of the shed. My hand slammed down on the wooden dowel, and I turned to watch the trap door open.

This time I knew exactly where I was going, and what to expect. I scrambled down the metal ladder, skipping the last two rungs and falling to the floor. The room was fully illuminated, but not from overhead lights. Turning, I saw that the glow came from the stone itself. It was glowing far more brightly than it had been the night before, with thousands of symbols
dancing in the air above it. And on the stone, quickly disappearing, sat my grandfather's shadow.

Brilliant light danced over the stone in a million different colors, tracing the outline of a human form. Doc had been lying on the stone. I could still see the outline there, like an impression on a blanket. My heart lurched, and I reached toward the stone. The bright, multifaceted light sharpened, as though it sensed my presence, and began to pulse. The beat of the stone's heart reached into my chest and pulled at my own, and I felt the pulses echoing in my bones. As I drew my hand back, though, the symbols faded, and the glow began to dim. It was speaking to me, trying to tell me something. I was sure of it. I just hadn't learned how to speak the language yet.

A bump and gasp behind me broke the spell, and I turned to see both Reis and Paul standing beside the ladder, staring.

“What on God's green earth is that?” Reis asked quietly. “And what are you doing standing so close to it?”

I opened my mouth to reply, found that I didn't have any words, and closed it again.
Think, Evans
, I told myself impatiently. Doc had just disappeared into the past, destined for an encounter with armed–and very dangerous – men. This wasn't the time to start stuttering.

I took a deep breath and tried again. “This? Well, it's…” I paused, looking around helplessly. How exactly did one explain what this was? Or what we were up against?

“What is this place?” Reis asked again. “And what's going on?”

“Let's pretend that you're more than just a substitute teacher, looking for a place to stay, and start from there,” Paul said.

Reis shot a look at Paul before turning his attention back at me. “Didn't buy the substitute teacher line?” he asked quietly.

“You don't exactly blend in with the others,” Paul replied.

Suddenly I made my decision, and my explanation came out in a rush. “Reis, I don't know whether you're going to buy any of this–and I'm not sure why you would, to be honest–but I need your help. Doc's gone, and he's walking right into some big trouble, and we have to do something about it. Only we don't have a lot of time. And it might be a bit … complicated.”

Reis crossed his arms over his chest and settled into a wide stance. “I'm listening, Jason. I can't guarantee that I'll believe you, or that I'll be able to help. But I am listening.”

I looked down at my feet, searching for the right place to start. After a moment, I decided to go with the quick, simple, and absolutely honest version, to save time. I looked up to meet Reis' eyes as squarely as I could.

“Reis, this stone allows people to travel through time. I don't know how exactly it works, or how many people use it. I don't even know how many stones there are, or where they go. I do know that my grandfather can use them. I know that he's managed to get himself involved with some pretty nasty people–one of whom seems hell bent on changing the world–and that it's important for him to succeed. I also know–and don't ask me how, because I can't explain it–that he's in trouble. Someone's going to try to kill him. He doesn't know that, and without knowing it, how's he going to defend himself?” My voice was shaking with emotion and stress, and I didn't like it. I took a deep breath and squared my shoulders. “I don't know what I'm going to do, but I know for damn sure that I have to do something. I can't just sit back and wait to see if he comes home.”

Reis grunted, and some of the tension left his shoulders. “You know, your grandfather told me that exact same story. Either you're both crazy, or I'm in way over my head here.” He sighed, then continued. “Let's just say, though, that I've taken a liking to you, and I'm willing to believe your story. It would go a long way to explaining some of the weird action going on around here.” He glanced at the stone, and added, “Plus, it's hard to ignore something that I can see with my own eyes. So what's our next move?”

That certainly wasn't the reaction I'd been expecting. Condescension, disbelief, and scorn, maybe, but not acceptance. My jaw dropped open and my mind went blank with surprise. “What?” I gasped.

“He said he believes you, genius,” Paul snapped. “What's the plan?”

Reis nodded. “It doesn't make a lot of sense, but this situation has been off since I got here. Given your grandfather's behavior, John Fleming's insistence on the most bizarrely secretive contract I've ever signed, and those faux FBI agents in the yard, I'm willing to bet that this deal is bigger than I realized. That glowing stone behind you certainly says so. Your little friend is right. What's the plan?”

Reis' agreement brought down the blockages in my head, and kicked my brain back into action. I walked quickly over to the desk and booted up the PC.

“We don't have much time. The next trip, or window, or opening, or whatever, is at noon today.”

“What on earth does that mean?” Reis asked sharply. “Trip to where?”

I finished typing coordinates into the computer, glanced at the results, and looked up at the map. “The next time the stone opens for business. The next trip it plans to make.”

“Going the same place?” Paul cut in.

“No,” I replied quietly. I'd found what I was looking for on the map–it sat halfway between York and London, smack dab in the middle of nowhere. I jabbed my finger at the village on the map and turned back to Paul and Reis, who had moved to stand behind me. “This time it's going to Doncaster, England.”

Reis shook his head slowly. “I don't even want to ask. But what exactly are we supposed to do with that information?”

I shrugged back. “Reis, I don't have the answers. I don't even know the questions. But I'm willing to bet that John Fleming does.” I began to walk toward the ladder, my mind already made up.

Reis' hand snaked out to grab me on my way by. “This is all more than a little nuts, kid. You know that, right? What makes you think John Fleming will help you?”

I pulled my arm from his grasp. “Reis, my grandfather's in trouble. We've had people chasing us, breaking into our house, and trying to blow us to hell, for who knows what reason. John Fleming is the only one still here who knows what's going on. Don't you think it's time he told us what he knows?”

12

T
he tall, dark-haired man bit his lower lip and shook his head in frustration. He reached for his BlackBerry and made the call. “Tell the medical team to get ready, ETA in less than sixty seconds.”

The blue minivan was tearing along the frontage road that ran parallel to Lebanon's small airport. The security team opened the duel gate when the van reached the driveway, allowing it to maintain its velocity as it pulled into the airport and raced toward the designated hangar. The driver screeched to a halt just inside the doors, and the dark-haired man got slowly out of the van. Briegan was already striding toward them, his face set.

This wasn't going to be pretty, the dark-haired man thought.

Briegan looked back toward the road, then scanned the airport's perimeter, watching and listening for any unwanted attention. Satisfied that the van had made it to the hangar without being followed, he turned back to the man standing by the van.

“What the hell happened?” he snapped. “I hired you to bring in a civilian, an old man at that, and you blow up half the town?” His voice was low and calm, but undeniably dangerous.

“Your
civilian
has professional help, and someone who knew an awful lot about guns,” the man spit back defensively. “You neglected to mention that he'd hired a body guard!”