Ground Zero Part 59

"You know an awful lot about Jack. Are you that aware of everyone?"

She shook her head. "Because he is the Heir, I know where he is and I can find him. I pay special attention to Jack. That was why I moved into Johnson shortly after he was born. He was never aware of it, but I've kept an eye on him all his life."

Weezy shook her head. "I could have used some looking after."

"Your trials came from within and from the world around you, but they were always of this sphere. Jack has been an object of scrutiny from beyond."

" 'Watched keenly and closely by intelligences greater than man's.' " She winked at the Lady. "H. G. Wells, War of the Worlds War of the Worlds."

"Perhaps not so 'keenly and closely,' but watched nonetheless. It is not for me to interfere in the natural course of events in this sphere." She nudged the dog with a foot and it raised its head. "My friend here is not so strict as I on such matters, but the fact remains that, despite how much we wish we could at times, we do not exist to influence human concerns and events."

"Except in Jack's case."

"His case is different. Forces from beyond this sphere have impinged and warped the trajectory of his life. Since they originate beyond the normal course of human events, I have on occasion felt justified in stepping in to nudge him onto a less hazardous path, or to ameliorate the effects of their intrusions. I have had varying success. For instance, I was able to save Gia and Vicky. I could not save their unborn."

Weezy thought again about Gia not knowing that the accident was no accident, and that it had been caused simply because of her relations.h.i.+p with Jack.

How would she react when Jack finally told her? Weezy didn't know her well enough to say. But she had a pretty good idea how she'd feel if she happened to learn from another source: furious, betrayed, devastated.

It might destroy their relations.h.i.+p.

Weezy suddenly hated herself for what she was thinking.

Don't. Go. There.

Ever.

The thought retreated, but it wouldn't die.

"You should convince him to tell Gia about what happened-ASAP."

"That is not my province. But you, as a friend-"

"Me?"

"If you love him, you will tell him."

"Is that why you told me all this? I could just as easily tell Gia and ruin things between them."

The Lady looked at her. "I don't think you would do such a thing."

"I'm even less perfect than Jack. And I'm not even supposed to know about it."

She almost wished she didn't.

"But you do. And you can tell him where you heard it. You may have an opportunity very soon."

"What do you mean?"

"He's coming this way."

16.

Jack squatted briefly by the woman who'd screamed-a young, pretty Hispanic with tear-streaked cheeks.

"Can I help?"

He doubted he could but he wanted to see what had happened to her.

A man standing beside her said, "I just called nine-one-one."

She showed him a charred area on her forearm. An area maybe four inches long and half an inch deep had been burned away.

"It hurts!"

"What did he burn you with? What did it look like?"

"Nothing! I just brushed against his hand."

"But he must have been holding something."

She shook her head. "No. I thought so too, but when I looked all I saw was his hand. It was like his skin burned me. But how can that be?"

"Good question."

But it dovetailed with what the Kicker in the bas.e.m.e.nt had said: Anything Darryl touched dissolved.

Why? How? And if that were true ...

He'd been trailing Thompson and Drexler as they followed Darryl, and had wondered all the while what had happened to him. He looked like he was on his way to an audition for George Romero, so people tended to get out of his way. This was the first time something like this had happened. Just lucky, he guessed. If Darryl's touch meant- The blaring of a car horn and the squeal of skidding tires pulled Jack to his feet. He turned in time to see a limo plow into Darryl, sending him flying. He landed on his back on Broadway and rolled once. As he pushed himself off the pavement, the asphalt erupted in black steam where his hands touched it. He regained his feet, shook himself, then resumed his uptown trek as if nothing had happened. Jack watched in shock. That kind of impact should have broken at least one leg. Darryl wasn't even limping.

As he approached a gaggle of gawkers that stood in his path, he said something that sounded like, "Mother."

Jack started forward. If Darryl waded into them-bloodbath. But Thompson was ahead of him, shouting as he hurried toward the onlookers.

"Out of his way!"

Drexler did the same. "Let him through!"

They needn't have bothered. The knot was already unraveling at Darryl's approach.

Jack held back, stepping into the street and checking out the asphalt Darryl had touched. He found two perfect handprints, each about three inches deep, melted into the pavement. He stepped toward the limo where its driver stood looking back and forth between Darryl's retreating figure and the hood of his car. A hole had been melted through the steel.

Only one conclusion here: Darryl wasn't carrying the Fhinntmanchca Fhinntmanchca, Darryl was was the the Fhinntmanchca Fhinntmanchca.

And he was heading uptown.

Where Jack lived.

Mother ... ...

The word rushed back at Jack like a bullet. He'd said "Mother." That could only mean the Lady. They'd a.s.sumed the Fhinntmanchca Fhinntmanchca would be out to disrupt the noosphere, but it looked like he-or it, or whatever Darryl had become-was after the Lady herself. would be out to disrupt the noosphere, but it looked like he-or it, or whatever Darryl had become-was after the Lady herself.

He pulled out his phone and dialed his apartment.

No answer.

He tried the phone he'd given Weezy and the voice mail picked up immediately. She must have shut it off again.

He watched Darryl's retreating back. If he was heading for the Lady, then he was heading for the apartment. Jack had to get there first. Warn the Lady. Get her out of there. Tell her to move to the Wilkins ice shelf or someplace equally remote until he'd figured how to deal with this.

His first thought was to take the subway, but the Sunday trains ran few and far between. Something could go wrong and Darryl might beat him on foot. Best thing was to hoof it up there ahead of him.

Jack broke into a loping run, planning to bypa.s.s Darryl and his two handlers. He was just catching up when he saw Darryl step off the curb and stride into the middle of Columbus Circle. Drexler and Thompson stayed ahead of him, waving their arms, trying to prevent another collision. Amid screeching tires and blaring horns they succeeded-just barely-and Darryl entered Central Park.

Jack stood staring. If Darryl had been heading toward the apartment, he'd have angled left, staying on Broadway, following it into the Upper West Side. Instead he was taking a straight-ahead uptown course, due north.

But to where?

All Jack could do was follow.

He crossed into the park and quickly caught up. Darryl had left the path and was striding through the trees and bushes, with Drexler and Thompson close behind.

As he pressed into brush he would push it aside, dissolving whatever he touched. Jack tried to understand what he'd become. Not like he was antimatter, because when matter and antimatter collided, the result was mutual destruction. With Darryl, the destruction was only one-sided. Was that what the Fhinntmanchca Fhinntmanchca was-some sort of human-Otherness hybrid capable of destroying any earthly matter it contacted? That was how it seemed. Except for his clothes. Why hadn't his clothes dissolved? Had to be a reason, and Jack was sure it wasn't modesty. was-some sort of human-Otherness hybrid capable of destroying any earthly matter it contacted? That was how it seemed. Except for his clothes. Why hadn't his clothes dissolved? Had to be a reason, and Jack was sure it wasn't modesty.

Darryl marched straight through the Heckscher ball fields, into the trees beyond, and then across the Sheep Meadow. Anyone who might have got in his way took one look at him and moved aside.

Where the h.e.l.l was he going?

When he plowed into the trees at the north end of the Sheep Meadow and kept going, Jack had had enough.

Time for some answers.

He checked his pockets. He'd come prepared for various levels of conflict, close order and otherwise: a sap, a miniature stun gun, his backup piece, and an extra mag for his Glock.

Drexler and Thompson had been so intent on where Darryl was going they'd rarely looked back. Jack had stayed off to the side, following at a distance and at an angle, paralleling their course. As they entered the trees, he picked up his pace and closed the gap.

When he reached them he had his Glock and stun gun-a Firefly model, the size of a cigarette pack-ready. Thompson was on the left, Drexler on the right, so Jack held his weapons accordingly. Drexler had to know more, so that meant Thompson was going down.

They heard him at the last moment and turned. Jack pressed the Firefly against Thompson's upper arm, releasing 950,000 volts into his nervous system.

"Good morning," he said to Drexler, jamming the Glock's muzzle under his chin while he counted off five seconds of shock. Thompson jerked and spasmed, then collapsed as his muscles lost all tone. He lay in the brush, limp and dazed, as threatening as a puddle.

"Who are you?" Drexler said, on tiptoe now because of the upward pressure of the barrel. "Do you have any idea who I am, who you're dealing with?"

Jack pocketed the Firefly, grabbed the man's s.h.i.+rtfront, and wheeled him around so he could keep an eye on Thompson. Then he chose his words for maximum impact.

"Your precious Fhinntmanchca Fhinntmanchca-where's it going?"

Drexler's eyes widened in shock. "What-what did you say?"

"You heard me. Your Fhinntmanchca Fhinntmanchca-what's it up to?" He lowered the pistol to Drexler's gut. "Don't worry, it's not answer or die-it's answer or hurt a lot. An awful lot. Ever been gut shot?"

"Nein! Don't!" Don't!"

"Then educate me. What do you expect it to do?"

"I have no idea, I swear!"

"Didn't the One tell you?"

That had been a shot in the dark, but it struck pay dirt. Jack hadn't thought Drexler's eyes could widen any further, but they managed.

"Who are are you? How can you know-?" you? How can you know-?"

Jack shook him and spoke through his teeth. "What ... is ... happening?"

"I swear I don't know. That's why I was following-to see. I swear."

Jack believed him. Rasalom was supposedly the only one who knew, and if he wasn't talking, then Drexler had to find out on his own, just like Jack.

But not with with Jack. Jack.

He took a small step back and looked him up and down. His white suit was speckled with what looked like coffee stains.

"You fallen on hard times? What happened to your wonderful ice cream suit? You used to be such a neatnik."

The blue eyes bored into Jack's. "How do you know me?" The eyes narrowed. "We've met before, haven't we? The Taint is heavy upon you. I know you-"

Enough of that. Jack spun him around.

"What are you doing?"

He pulled out the Firefly and jammed it against the back of his neck. Five seconds later he joined Thompson on the ground. The Kicker king was stirring so Jack gave him another quick jolt, then went in pursuit of Darryl.

His trail of ruined vegetation made him easy to find. Jack followed as he skirted the lake along its west side, then pa.s.sed behind the Delacorte. But instead of continuing uptown after clearing the theater, he stopped and looked around until his gaze fixed on something to his right.

He said, "Mother," and began to move in that direction.

Alarmed, Jack ran up behind him and scanned the area around the Turtle Pond. He let out a shout when he recognized two figures sitting on the gra.s.s.