Malcolm and Ives 02 - Trouble With Air and Magic (30 page)

“Does he move mountains, too?” she asked of the air, since everyone had turned to watch Conan’s dramatic entrance.

“Give him good reason, and the answer is probably yes,” Pippa replied with a touch of annoyed exasperation. “Oz produces drama. Conan
is
drama.”

“And he calls me a drama queen.” They were wrong, though. Conan did produce drama. But rather than argue, Dorrie watched the helicopter with anticipation.

He’d left his computers and his fun at the office to come here because—no matter how insanely—this is where
she
believed they needed to be. No argument, no fuss, he’d just lined up his crew, hauled them in, and appeared.

She prayed with all her might that she could find his brother in return for that level of confidence.

As she watched Conan swing down from the helicopter, wrap-around sunglasses hiding his eyes, lightweight flight jacket concealing his strength, Dorrie ran across the crumbling lot to greet him.

*

Conan spotted Dorrie, colorful skirts swirling, curls blowing wildly as she ran, and his heart nearly thumped straight through his chest. His nose for trouble was itching like mad. He’d got here as quickly as he could, terrified she’d headed into the desert and trouble without him. He caught her as she leaped into his arms, and held her so tightly she had to push away to breathe.

“Don’t ever terrify me like that again,” he ordered, refusing to release her. “I had visions of calling in the military to stop King Kong from tearing up the desert. Damn, Dorrie, wait for me next time.”

She laughed and wrapped her arms around him and kissed his cheek. “King Kong! Thank you for catching Zimmer and for getting Papa out of the apartment and back where he belongs.”

Conan knew he was risking his entire livelihood by sticking his neck out this time. Bo and Magnus had been working on a top secret military operation, and this area stank of military. Still, if Dorrie thought there was a chance their brothers were here, he was willing to do whatever it took to find them.

Oddly, his perfect life didn’t matter as much as he’d thought it did, not if he couldn’t have Magnus back or make Dorrie happy.

Conan loved the delight in Dorrie’s face as her cousins Francesca and Cho jumped down from the helicopter to join them. He kissed her turned-up nose. “Oz is probably taking pictures of us that he intends to blow up and frame on his walls,” he murmured.

She laughed and shoved away to hug more of her enigmatic family. He missed holding her against him. But it was good to have her beautiful smile in sight again.

Her cousins were watching Dorrie for direction.

“Jack and Tom are creating a search grid,” she explained. “I can’t imagine how that will work.” She gestured at the enormous spread of land and buildings beyond the fence. “We need a magic wand.”

Conan took her hand and steered her away from the family reunion and toward one of the unmarked vans. “Radios,” he demanded when he reached it.

His tech guy pried open a box. “One or two?”

Glancing worriedly at the small woman trustingly holding his hand, Conan sighed. She really would turn into Queen Kong if he tried to leave her behind this time. “Two. We’ll be circling the perimeter while the rest of you set up and square off.”

Wearing the hiking boots Conan had insisted she put on, Dorrie prayed her pounding pulse didn’t prevent her from noticing energy patterns. They’d walked around the airport in ever-widening circles for over an hour now. Conan’s men had produced fancy equipment which she assumed sounded for hollow spaces under the earth or voices hidden behind walls. For all she knew, they had a moonwalker in there. But unless Bo and Magnus were wearing tracking devices, nothing was likely to find them in these vast open spaces.

Even her cousins were at a loss out here—as she was. Reality sucked. They needed magic.

They were on a wild goose chase expecting two numbers from an invisible contact to provide the answers they needed. The knowledge slowly sank in as they tramped around still another cactus. The rocks and cacti all looked, smelled, and felt alike. The sun was going down, and the air had developed a distinct chill. They’d have to come back in the morning.

She’d had high hopes that Cho would be able to zoom in on their target after studying the photos and objects she’d given him. Cho was the most exotic-looking of her family, lean, black-haired, and wearing shades to hide his eyes. He was exploring slightly north of them. She hoped that meant they were close.

“I smell
kimchi,
” Conan said unexpectedly. He studied the warehouse-like buildings a hundred yards from where they were walking. “Not a likely place for a restaurant.”

“Tom said he smelled
kimchi
earlier. Pickled cabbage doesn’t even need to be heated to stink,” Dorrie pointed out. “Someone may have brought it for their supper.” She sniffed. “I don’t smell it.”

“That’s because you’ve never been served it for a week, until starvation seemed preferable,” Conan said, frowning at the horizon. “Magnus learned to brine any available food when he decided to practice survival as a kid. Damned overachiever. We ate the results until he got tired of that and moved on to scaling walls. I think Dad took a new job just so we could move away from the stink. We never could get it out of the carpet.”

“I don’t think I want to ask how it got in the carpet.” She halted and studied their surroundings as he did. “Your
chi
is too strong. I don’t know if I’d notice your brother’s. Let me walk further out, see if I can feel any differences.”

She knew it sounded silly to people who’d never felt energy, but Conan didn’t argue. She felt him fasten his intense focus on her as she walked toward the desert, as if he could keep her safe just by watching.

She thought she smelled
kimchi
, too. Was there any chance the smell was a signal to Conan from his brother? Or…her heart beat faster while fantasizing the impossible. What if Bo had told Magnus about Tom’s weird sense of smell? Would they be hoping he’d show up if Bo got the coordinates out? Could they really be on the right path?

Denial was more than a river in Egypt, she reminded herself. She didn’t sense any differences in the earth energy nearby. No hollows beneath her feet. No pulsing of human life.

Their radios crackled. Dorrie hadn’t quite figured hers out yet, but Conan answered his as she walked back to him. Over at their base of operations, she could see people running around and hope soared. She watched Conan expectantly.

“Francesca is picking up more coordinates,” he told her. “Someone is
psychically
broadcasting coordinates loud enough for her to sense. They’ve pinpointed the location as half a mile north of where we’re standing. Francesca says she trying to communicate but simply keeps picking up the same signal.”

“Psychically broadcasting coordinates,” Dorrie repeated in wonder. “I never thought I’d hear the day anyone would say such a thing aloud. Is your brother psychic?”

“He’s Special Forces scary, but not psychic that I know of. I’ve occasionally wondered if that might be the Librarian’s problem,” he admitted. “She only picks up pieces of things and doesn’t know what to make of them. Or maybe your Francesca picks up signals on different broadcast frequencies. It could mean nothing. Wait for the cars or walk north?” he asked.

Faith in their odd abilities was all they had.

Dorrie started walking north toward Cho without answering. There was nothing out there that she could see. No buildings, no water tanks, no electric wires. “Bomb shelter?” she suggested in puzzlement. “Would they hide utilities?”

And then she felt it, the low hum of a generator. She stopped and grabbed Conan’s arm. The generator was joined by a much larger energy field, noisier, creating chaotic
chi.
She couldn’t sense people through the intense vibrations.

“What are you feeling?” Conan demanded, scouring the blank landscape.

She glanced back at the airfield. The helicopter was sitting there quietly. None of the convoy of trucks had revved up to head out yet. “Among other things, I think I sense the kind of circular vibration that comes with rotating blades. Maybe I’m picking up on an incoming plane, except it’s vibrating the ground.”

“Shouldn’t we hear something?” He examined the sky and then returned to watching the desert. “I don’t feel or hear a damned thing.”

“Let’s keep going. I don’t know how far half a mile is. Maybe Cho is on target.” She, Cho, and Conan were walking this side of the grid, but Cho was further out. Excitedly, she walked in the direction of the churning energy.

Conan grabbed her arm. “Not so fast. If there’s anything out there, it could be booby-trapped. I doubt even you’re good enough to sense hot wires.”

“Electricity?” she asked, grasping this straw. “Out here, where there is none, I probably could, but you’d have to stand back.” She shook her arm free as she sensed the scurrying of small life forms. “The wildlife is running away,” she whispered. “They feel it, too. Maybe Francesca has triggered something or someone.
Or maybe Bo knows I’m here.
”

“Is that possible?” Conan demanded.

“Yes. It’s how he finds the kids. If he’s picturing me, he’ll know I’m close. He used to circle in until he found me, but if he’s trapped…”

The radio crackled again. Dorrie kept walking, letting Conan answer it. There was
something
out here. In places, the earth was solid with it. The disturbing vibrations and the solidity threw her off. She tried to think of an analogy but she’d led a sheltered life. She’d never stood near a windmill. Would it feel like this? Or drowning beneath the ocean’s powerful forces—that might be closer. The vibrations were overwhelming.

Conan grabbed her arm again, dragging her back from her immersion in the energy. She cast him an annoyed look and tried to continue walking. He wouldn’t let her.

“The tower says the area we want to explore is off limits, a government testing ground. There should be chain link and warning signs.”

“Then we’ll circle the chain link if we have to. But there’s something
here
. Air vents if you’re still smelling
kimchi
. Motors that disguise energy patterns.” Excitedly, she paced back and forth, seeking further each time she turned.

“Auxiliary tunnels for whatever underground labs might be out here,” Conan suggested. “Utilities and maintenance tunnels. Nothing unusual in any of that.”

“Except Francesca and your Librarian both agree on this area. I wish the vibrations would stop.” She stomped her foot impatiently.

“Or the Librarian is feeding info to Francesca. Whatever, your cousin apparently can’t broadcast psychic orders to make everyone do what you want them to do,” Conan said dryly. “Everyone has limits.”

“And this is mine,” Dorrie said in frustration. “If we were out here with nothing but the lizards, I could find them if they were here. Civilization gets in my way.”

“We only have a few hours until dark. I can bring the guys over with the detection equipment if you’re certain this is the area to search. Otherwise, they need to set a grid using the new coordinates.”

Near tears, Dorrie continued pacing, working her way outward. “I
hate
people who hide things. Why not build a real structure people can see?”

“Like that one?” Conan nodded to a place on the horizon previously concealed by the slope of the land.

Dorrie glanced over at the small white shed. Just beyond it was the dreaded chain link marking off limits. “Looks like a guardhouse.”

The vibrations were different out here. She couldn’t see the airport anymore. Just the top of the old control tower. They wouldn’t be more than specks to anyone watching from there.

“Negativity,” she decided, reaching deeper—wishful thinking? Surely she wasn’t hoping for bad energy? But if she focused, really focused… “Metal under our feet!” she decided. “Metal blocks the flow of
chi.
That means the negativity must be aboveground.”

“You want me to let you wander alone into negativity?” Conan’s tone was as arid as the air.

“Let’s ease toward that shack.” Dorrie grabbed a few pebbles and played them in her hand as she strolled directly toward the white utility building. Would the military shoot her if she wandered too close?

Conan talked into his radio. Dorrie was more attuned to the disrupted earth energy than to people right now. Tension coiled inside her, prepared to spring at any warning.

She’d ambled almost a hundred feet from Conan when she felt it—
zigzag energy
. Faint, but distinct from Conan’s, more precise, more tightly wound, coiled tighter than she was. She held up a hand, silently commanding Conan to halt. Was that
other
energy, or wishful thinking?

Bo had been a part of her since birth. But she
felt
him, she was almost certain. He couldn’t be dead if she
felt
him. And what she felt seemed stronger here.

And stronger still as she walked toward the chain link security fence. There was still too much interference—she could be mistaken. Further north, Cho stopped to watch her.

She spun in circles, searching. One word from her, and Conan would call in reinforcements. Helicopters and search teams on government property would almost certainly have repercussions. She’d hate to have him run afoul of the military after he’d been so brilliant at saving her and the foundation. She needed to be certain, but she’d never possessed his confidence.

The helplessness was almost as bad as watching her garden slip into the Pacific.

She couldn’t just walk away. She simply couldn’t.

With a lump the size of Kansas in her throat, Dorrie circled her finger in the air and pointed down, indicating that this faint, almost invisible buzz was their target.

***

“Circle the wagons,” Conan told his operator. “We’re going in.”

He didn’t know how they were going in. Other than the guard shed, there wasn’t a building in sight. Storming a military base was likely to end very badly. He didn’t have a bulldozer or backhoe. Not even a jackhammer. Oddly, it hadn’t occurred to him that he might have to move a desert to get at their brothers.