Thirty
Richard Welk piloted the small Bell two-seater low
over the rolling, tree covered hills. He caught sight of an occasional
dirt road or a shack in the shadows below. Otherwise, civilization had
fallen far behind. Even the radio had gone silent.
The morning sun had cleared the horizon behind them,
but dense tendrils of cool morning mist still covered the valleys below.
The engine of the small helicopter purred loudly in his ears. Beside him,
Sarah Trevor scanned the horizon for a glimpse of Silver Ridge.
Reports of an explosion had reverberated through the
area. Calls had arrived at Trevor Industries from the state police. Who
had owned the mansion overlooking Silver Ridge? Could its disappearance
in any way be connected with the flash of light and thunder heard
throughout three counties in the area?
Sarah pointed frantically at buildings on the
horizon, but Richard waged a finger and indicated further north. He
banked away from the white buildings of the nuclear power plant thirty
miles south of Silver Ridge. The helicopter soared out over the valley
through which ran the enormous transmission towers carrying high voltage
lines to cities and communities to the north and east.
Sarah relaxed now that they were close to Silver
Ridge, but only slightly, and Richard wondered if the woman would panic
outright if the worst of the rumors proved true, that the mansion had
vanished entirely in the aftermath of the mysterious explosion.
“Unlikely,” he had assured her in the darkness of the
early morning hours during the drive to the airport. “That house would
burn like a torch and attract volunteer fire departments from miles
around.” There were other, far less unlikely hypotheses to explain the
reports that had come pouring in.
Richard tended to disbelieve the reports themselves.
All he knew for certain was that the timing of the explosion had coincided
with the break in Billy’s communication.
“Just ahead,” he said to keep the woman’s agitation
under control, but he grew tense himself as the rolling hills grew a bit
more rugged. He kept his altitude low, thinking he would have to put down
if their worst expectations came to past and Sarah panicked. But even he
was unprepared as the hill upon which the house had stood moved into view.
The hill still surrounded by its wrought iron fence
was barren, smooth, blown clean of debris.
“My God!”
Sarah’s shriek tore through his headphones. Richard
banked away sharply and dropped toward Silver Ridge.
“No! Go closer! My God! Richard, how can it be?”
He soared back to altitude, knowing better than to
defy her anger. He approached the bald crown of the hill and hovered.
“Don’t land,” she warned, her voice low with dread.
“Don’t go any closer.”
Richard stayed put six hundred feet above the rolling
hills of the Appalachians in the early dawn. The house was gone, the only
evidence of its existence a strange fallout of ash darkening Silver Ridge
downwind. Part of the old cellar in the rear of the foundation gaped open
to the sky. Billy had been beneath the foundation of the house, Richard
remembered, but it was hard to see how anything could have survived such
violence.
He’s dead, Richard thought to himself. Billy and
Corin had somehow managed to orchestrate their own destruction. He and
Sarah would learn nothing more of the nature of the boy’s strange
affliction, his alter personality, or the incredible genius that had
accompanied it.
“It’s gone,” Sarah said, her voice soft but clear
over the continual noise of the engine. “It’s just all gone.”
Richard scanned the empty highway passing through
Silver Ridge, wondering why there was so little traffic. He would have
thought the incident would have attracted the attention of surrounding
communities.
“He’s not dead,” Sarah announced, her voice cold with
determination. “He was beneath the house in those steel rooms.”
“Shall we go down and see?”
Sarah decided against the idea. “Corin’s behind
this. Richard, I’m frightened. Take me home. I’ve got people who can
handle the rest.”
Richard knew the kind of people she was referring
to. Running a multimillion dollar corporation sometimes meant defending
herself against dangerous and unpredictable factions. The mercenaries she
had hired to run internal security were in themselves dangerous, in
Richard’s opinion.
Richard banked away, dropping a bit of altitude to
pick up speed, then climbing steeply into the morning sun.
“I want to be alone until this is over,” Sarah said.
“Take me home.”
Home meant the sprawling Trevor estate east of
Boston. Richard adjusted his course to compensate for their new
destination.
“No conjecture,” Sarah ordered. “No speculation
until we know more. It’s just a bad dream, and I know how to deal with
bad dreams.”
It was still early morning when Richard set down on
the ten acre lawn and garden of the latest of the Trevor estates, a
single-story structure of glass and flagstone the size of a small mall.
Sarah led the way to her combination den and home office. Richard flipped
on the computer he had installed, called up Billy’s communications
program, and let it run. He watched as Sarah made several phone calls,
speaking too softly for him to overhear. She then poured herself a drink
from the bar and lifted her glass in a silent toast.
Richard had his doubts about an alcoholic oblivion
being the best way to cope with disaster, but she had always preferred
unconsciousness to helplessness. He had put her to bed in a alcoholic
stupor now and then down through the years, and he did so again an hour
and a half later, just before the computer announced an incoming
transmission.
KNOCK, KNOCK. ANYONE HOME?
His hands were shaking badly as he positioned the
keyboard and responded. WHO? he typed, correcting several typos as he
went.
BILLY AND COMPANY. DO WE HAVE TIME TO TALK?
I THOUGHT YOU WERE DEAD. HOW COULD YOU HAVE
SURVIVED?
YOU’VE SEEN WHAT HAPPENED?
WE FLEW OVER THIS MORNING.
WHAT DOES AN EXTERIOR VIEW LOOK LIKE?
THE HOUSE IS GONE.
INTERESTING. REGARDLESS, WE WERE QUITE SAFE. HAD MY
ADVERSARY KNOWN OF THE EXTENT OF THE CONSTRUCTION ACTIVITY THAT TOOK PLACE
BEFORE BILLY’S ARRIVAL, HE WOULD HAVE GUESSED THAT I WAS HERE EARLIER.
WE’VE STUMBLED UPON ONE OTHER AT LONG LAST, MY ADVERSARY AND I.
THIS IS CORIN SPEAKING, RIGHT?
HOW MUCH TIME DO WE HAVE TO TALK?
ALL THE TIME YOU WANT.
I WANT TO HIRE YOUR LAW FIRM, RICHARD WELK. I
UNDERSTAND YOU HAVE AN INVESTIGATIVE DIVISION.
SARAH TREVOR IS SENDING OUT HER OWN PEOPLE TO THE
HOUSE.
There was a pause. THE HELP WILL BE USEFUL, BUT THE
TWO OF YOU MUST STAY CLEAR AT ALL TIMES.
I’LL RELAY YOUR ADVICE.
I NEED INFORMATION, AND I NEED COMPLETE COOPERATION.
YOU TOOK AN INTEREST IN MY MACHINERY DURING YOUR VISIT. YOU MENTIONED
THAT THERE MAY BE PATENTABLE APPLICATIONS AMONG THEM. WOULD YOU LIKE
EXCLUSIVE ACCESS TO ANYTHING LEFT LYING ABOUT AFTER BILLY AND I HAVE
CONCLUDED OUR BUSINESS TOGETHER?
It was another bauble dangled before his greed, but
still an irresistible temptation. IT’S A DEAL. WHAT DO YOU NEED?
SHIPPING AND TRANSPORTATION RECORDS DURING THE PAST
YEAR FOR SILVER RIDGE DIE CASTING AND ANY RELATED INFORMATION THAT HAPPENS
TO CROSS YOUR PATH.
I CAN HANDLE THAT. YOU MENTIONED AN ADVERSARY. IS
HE THE ONE RESPONSIBLE FOR THE EXPLOSION THAT DESTROYED THE MANSION?
HE’S CAPABLE OF MORE DESTRUCTION THAN YOU MAY
IMAGINE. DO NOTHING TO PUT YOUR NAME ON HIS AGENDA OF PETTY IRRITATIONS.
I ALONE CAN COPE WITH HIM.
WHO IS HE?
HE IS THE SAME AS I.
Richard took a moment to think. MULTIPLE PERSONALITY
SYNDROME? he typed.
I AM AMUSED.
I FIND THIS ALL MORE THAN A LITTLE BIT HARD TO
SWALLOW. I NEED A CLEAR IDEA OF WHAT IS HAPPENING.
DO WITHOUT IT FOR NOW. ACCOMMODATE ME FOR THE TIME
BEING.
I WILL, Richard decided.
BE DISCREET.
REST ASSURED.
The monitor remained still for a time. DO NOT ALLOW
SARAH TREVOR TO VISIT SILVER RIDGE. SHE MUST BE KEPT SAFE AT ALL TIMES.
I CONCUR.
THERE MAY BE UNAVOIDABLE DEATHS. SILVER RIDGE IS
EFFECTIVELY ISOLATED FROM THE OUTSIDE WORLD. THE ADVERSARY IS IN
CONTROL. KEEP YOUR DISTANCE, RICHARD WELK. KEEP YOURSELF AND SARAH
TREVOR SAFE.
I WILL TRY. DON’T GO AWAY. I HAVE QUESTIONS.
But the screen froze, and the communication program
terminated.
