“What about the Travelers?”

“With no one to protect them, they were destroyed in a few weeks. A German Harlequin named Thorn flew to Japan, but it was already too late.”

Lawrence stared down at his coffee cup. “And that’s what happened…”

“Like it or not, you’re the son of a Harlequin and you work for the Tabula. The only question is: What are you going to do about that?”

AN INTENSE FEAR returned to Lawrence as the meeting time got closer. He locked his office door, but anyone with a higher security rating-like Kennard Nash-would be allowed to enter. At 3:55 PM, he took out the receiver device that Linden mailed with the spider and plugged it into the cable port of his laptop computer. Hazy red lines appeared on the monitor, and then suddenly he saw the conference room and heard voices on his headset.

Kennard Nash was standing by the long table and greeting the Brethren as they arrived for the meeting. A few of the men were wearing golf clothes and had spent the afternoon at a local Westchester country club. The Brethren shook hands firmly with one another, made jokes, and gossiped about the current political situation. An uninformed observer might have decided that this group of well-dressed older men ran a charitable foundation with a yearly banquet and honorary awards.

“All right, gentlemen,” Nash said. “Take your seats. It’s time for our conversation.”

Typing instructions into his computer, Lawrence focused the spider’s lens. He watched as Nathan Boone appeared on the conference-room video screen. The small squares at the bottom of the screen showed head shots of the Brethren in other countries.

“Hello, everyone.” Boone spoke calmly, like a financial officer discussing current revenue. “I wanted to give you a summary of the current situation regarding Michael and Gabriel Corrigan.

“A month ago, I started a surveillance program to watch these two men. Temporary staff was hired in Los Angeles and some employees were brought in from other cities. Our men were told to observe the brothers and obtain information about their personal characteristics. They were supposed to detain the Corrigans only if it became clear that they were going to flee the area.”

The television screen showed an image of a run-down two-story building. “Several nights ago, the two brothers met at the hospice facility where their mother is staying. Our team did not have a thermal imaging device, but they did have an audio scanner. Rachel Corrigan said the following to her sons…”

The faint voice of the dying woman came out of the television speakers. “Your father… was a Traveler… A Harlequin named Thorn found us… If you have the power, you must hide from the Tabula.”

Boone’s face reappeared on the screen. “Rachel Corrigan died that night and the brothers left the facility. Mr. Prichett was in charge of the team. He made the decision to capture Michael Corrigan. Unfortunately, Gabriel followed his brother onto the freeway and attacked one of our vehicles. The Corrigans escaped.”

“Where are they now?” Nash asked.

Lawrence watched as a new image appeared on the screen. A large man who looked like he was from the South Sea Islands and a bald Latino man carrying a shotgun guarded the Corrigan brothers as they left a small house.

“The next morning, one of our surveillance teams saw two bodyguards and Gabriel at his house. A half hour later, the same group dropped by Michael’s apartment and picked up articles of clothing.

“The four men drove south of Los Angeles to a clothing factory in the City of Industry. The factory is owned by a man named Frank Salazar. He made money through illegal activities, but now owns several legitimate businesses. Salazar was an investor in one of Michael’s office buildings. His men are currently guarding both brothers.”

“And they’re still in the factory?” Nash asked.

“That’s correct. I request permission to attack the building tonight and take control of the brothers.”

The men around the conference table were quiet for a few seconds, and then the bald representative in Moscow began speaking. “Is this factory in a public area?”

“That’s correct,” Boone said. “Two apartment buildings are about five hundred yards away.”

“The committee decided several years ago that we would avoid actions that might gain attention from the police.”

General Nash leaned forward. “If this was a routine execution, I would ask Mr. Boone to pull back and wait for a better opportunity. But the situation has changed very quickly. Because of the quantum computer, we have been given the opportunity to acquire an ally of great power. If the Crossover Project is successful, then we will finally have the technology necessary to control the general population.”

“But we need a Traveler,” said one of the men at the table.

General Nash tapped his finger on the table. “Yes. And as far as we know the Travelers don’t exist anymore. These two young men are the sons of a known Traveler and that means they might have inherited his gift. We’ve got to take control of them. There’s no alternative.”

Maya sat quietly and watched the three men. It had taken her a while to recover from the electric shock, and she still had a burning sensation in her chest and left shoulder. While she was unconscious, the men had cut apart an old fan belt and used it to tie her legs together. Her wrists were chained with a pair of handcuffs passed beneath the chair. At that moment, she was trying to control her anger and find the calm place within her heart. Think of a stone, her father used to tell her. A smooth black stone. Pull it out of a cold mountain stream and hold it in your hand.

“Why isn’t she talking?” Bobby Jay asked. “If I was her, I’d be calling you a bastard.”

Shepherd glanced at Maya and laughed. “She’s trying to figure out a way to cut your throat. Her father taught her how to kill people when she was a little girl.”

“Intense.”

“No, it’s insane,” Shepherd said. “Another Harlequin, this Irishwoman named Mother Blessing, went to a town in Sicily and murdered thirteen people in ten minutes. She was trying to rescue a Catholic priest who was kidnapped by some local mafiosi working as mercenaries. The priest was shot and bled to death in a car, but Mother Blessing escaped. And now, swear to god, there’s an altar at a roadside chapel north of Palermo that includes a painting of Mother Blessing as the Angel of Death. To hell with that. She’s a goddamn psychopath, that’s what she is.”

Chewing gum and scratching himself, Tate walked to the chair and leaned forward so that his mouth was a few inches away from her face. “Is that what you’re doing, sweet face? Thinking about killing us? Now that’s not nice.”

“Keep away from her,” Shepherd said. “Just leave her on the chair. Don’t unlock the handcuffs. Don’t give her any food or water. I’ll be back as soon as I find Prichett.”

“Traitor.” Maya should have stayed silent-there was no advantage in conversation-but the word seemed to come out of her mouth.

“That word implies betrayal,” Shepherd said. “But you know what? I’ve got nothing to betray. The Harlequins don’t exist anymore.”

“We can’t let the Tabula take control.”

“I’ve got some news for you, Maya. The Harlequins are out of a job because the Brethren aren’t killing the Travelers anymore. They’re going to capture them and use their power. That’s what we should have done years ago.”

“You don’t deserve your Harlequin name. You’ve betrayed the memory of your family.”

“Both my grandfather and my father only cared about Travelers. Neither of them ever thought twice about me. We’re the same, Maya. We both grew up with people who worshipped a lost cause.”