“Looks like she’s been busy.”

“She’s trying to protect herself,” Vicki said.

Maya returned to the center of the tabernacle. “If Gabriel boarded a plane to London on Saturday, then he’s already been there for seventy-two hours. I’m sure he went straight to Tyburn Convent to ask about his father. Linden said that the Harlequins have never dealt with this group of nuns. He has no idea if Matthew Corrigan is staying there.”

“So what’s our next move?” Hollis asked.

“Linden thinks we should travel to England and help him look for Gabriel, but there are two problems involving identification. Because Gabriel grew up off the Grid, the false passport we obtained for him matches the facts we inserted into the Vast Machine. That means he has the ‘cleanest’ passport-the one that is the most likely to be accepted by the authorities.”

Vicki nodded slowly. “But the Tabula probably have biometric information about Hollis and me.”

“They also have information about Maya,” Hollis said. “Remember-she spent a couple of years in London living on the Grid.”

“Linden and I have the resources to obtain clean, nontraceable identification when we’re in Europe, but it’s too risky for everyone to use our current passports on a plane trip. The Tabula have supporters in the various government security agencies. If they know our false identities, they’ll attach a terrorist alert to our files.”

Hollis shook his head. “What’s the second problem?”

“Alice Chen doesn’t even have a passport. There’s no way we could take her on a plane to Europe.”

“So what are we supposed to do?” Hollis asked. “Leave her here?”

“No. We don’t want the church involved. The easiest plan is to check into a hotel, wait until she falls asleep, and then walk away.”

Vicki looked shocked. Hollis was angry. They’ll never understand you, Maya thought. That was what Thorn had told her a thousand times. The average citizen walking down the street could never comprehend the way a Harlequin saw the world.

“Are you out of your mind?” Hollis said. “Alice is the only witness to what happened at New Harmony. If the Tabula know she’s still alive, they’ll kill her.”

“There is an alternative plan. But you need to accept the fact that, from this point on, either Linden or I will be making all the decisions.”

Maya had deliberately made her voice harsh and uncompromising, but Hollis didn’t look intimidated. He glanced at Vicki, and then chuckled. “I think we’re about to be given an answer to our problems.”

“Linden has made arrangements for us to leave on a merchant ship to Great Britain. The trip across the Atlantic will take about a week, but it will allow us to enter the country without a passport. I’ll protect Alice from the Tabula here in New York, but we can’t keep guarding her. When we reach London, she’ll be given new identification and placed in a safe environment.”

“All right, Maya. You’ve made your point,” Hollis said. “The Harlequins want to be in charge. Now give us a minute to talk it over.”

As Hollis and Vicki sat next to each other on the bench, Maya walked over to the windows and looked across the street at St. Raymond’s Cemetery. The huge cemetery was as crowded and gray as the city itself; the tombstones, pillars and sad angels were packed together like a jumble sale.

The fact that Hollis and Vicki were in love changed everything; it implied a life together. If they’re clever, Maya thought, they’ll run away from both the Tabula and the Harlequins. There’s no future in this endless war.

“We’ve made a decision,” Vicki said. Maya returned to the middle of the room and noticed that the two lovers were now sitting apart. “I’m going with you and Alice on the boat to England.”

“And I’m going to stay in New York for a few weeks,” Hollis said. “I’ll make the Tabula think that Gabriel is still in the city. When I’m done, you can figure out another way to get me out of the country.”

Maya nodded her approval. Hollis wasn’t a Harlequin, but he was starting to think like one. “That’s a good idea,” she said. “Just be careful.”

Hollis ignored her and looked into Vicki’s eyes. “Of course I’ll be careful. I promise.”

Sitting in the back of a Mercedes, Michael gazed out the side window at the German countryside. This morning he had eaten breakfast in Hamburg, and now he was traveling on the Autobahn with Mrs. Brewster to see the new computer center in Berlin. A security guard wearing a black suit was in the front seat next to the Turkish chauffeur. The guard was supposed to watch the Traveler and keep him from escaping, but that wasn’t going to happen. Michael had no desire to return to the ordinary world.

When they first got into the car, he discovered that a polished wooden box with little drawers had been placed on the seat. Michael had assumed that the box held top-secret information involving the Brethren, but it actually contained a gold-plated thimble, a pair of silver scissors, and the spectrum of silk thread used for needlework.

Mrs. Brewster slipped on a phone headset and took out a sheet of canvas printed with an image of a rose. She made several calls, speaking in soothing tones to members of the Brethren while her strong fingers thrust the needle through the canvas. Her favorite expression was “brilliant,” but Michael was beginning to understand the different ways she used the word. Some members of the Brethren were worthy of praise. But if she said “brilliant” slowly or sharply or in a bored monotone, someone was going to be punished for failure.

HE HAD LEARNED a great deal about the Brethren during the weekend conference on Dark Island. All its members were eager to establish the Virtual Panopticon, but there were different internal groups based on nationality and personal relationships. Although Kennard Nash was head of the executive board and in charge of the Evergreen Foundation, some members saw him as being too American. Mrs. Brewster was in charge of an organization called the Young World Leaders Program and had become the head of the European faction.

On Dark Island, Michael had given Mrs. Brewster his private evaluation of each member of the executive board. When the conference was over, Mrs. Brewster announced that she wanted Michael to accompany her while she checked on the progress of the Shadow Program. General Nash seemed annoyed by this request and by the fact that Michael had mentioned his father at the meeting. “Go ahead and take him,” Nash told Mrs. Brewster. “Just don’t let him out of your sight.”

The next day, they were in Toronto boarding a private jet to Germany. Traveling with Mrs. Brewster was a quick education in power. Michael began to think that the politicians who made speeches and proposed new laws were only actors in an elaborate play. Although these leaders appeared to be in charge, they had to follow a script written by others. While the media was distracted by the culture of celebrity, the Brethren avoided the spotlight. They owned the theater, counted the tickets, and decided what scenes would be performed for the audience.

“PLEASE FOLLOW UP and inform me of any change,” Mrs. Brewster said to someone in Singapore. She took off her headset, put down her needlework, and pressed a switch in her armrest. A glass divider emerged from the back of the front seat and clicked into place. Now the driver couldn’t hear their conversation.

“Would you like some tea, Michael?”

“Thank you.”

There was a cabinet in front of them, and Mrs. Brewster took out cups and saucers, cream and sugar, and a thermos of hot tea.

“One lump or two?”

“No sugar. Just cream.”

“Now that’s interesting. I thought you had a sweet tooth.” Mrs. Brewster served Michael a cup of tea and then gave herself two lumps of sugar.