Rite of Passage (24 page)

“You’re booked on a special flight,” the man explained. “The first commercial flight to circumnavigate the globe. They’re using the new Lockheed Constellation. It’s quite the event. Only twenty-one passengers. Mostly press.”

“I appreciate your efforts, but this flight is big news. I wanted to keep a low profile,” Simon said with a frown.

“I understand, sir. But there were no other options.” The man seemed frustrated. “It was either this flight or wait another day. That wouldn’t leave any margin for error.”

Simon put his hand on the man’s shoulder. “It’s all right.” He turned toward us. “Here are your passports. Cover your faces when the cameras go off. Our enemies are clever. I don’t want them seeing us in the
Times
.”

Simon and Michael left me in the waiting area and went to the restaurant for a bite to eat before we boarded the plane. I had no appetite. I was desperate for another vision from Courtney. Something to tell me she was alive. The thought of her fate if we failed haunted me.

“You okay?” Michael asked when he returned. “You look like hell.”

I glared at him, shaking my head. “Thanks. You really know how to boost a guy’s spirits.”

“Seriously, you look like you’ve seen a ghost.” Realizing what he had said, Michael lowered himself into the seat next to me. “I’m sorry. You know I didn’t mean that.”

“I know, Mike.” I shook my head, forcing a smile. “It’s just that, I don’t know. I keep getting this terrible feeling that she’s in trouble.”

“Of course she’s in trouble. I mean…”

Simon joined us, holding a cup of coffee.

“No, Michael,” I stopped him. “I don’t mean trouble with the Druids. It’s something else. I can’t explain it. She’s there sometimes, like a buzz inside my head. Just beyond my reach, then she’s gone.”

“Is it possible they drugged her?” Simon asked. “Does the feeling you’re getting seem like a dream, Robert?”

“It’s possible. It’s been happening since after lunch. I didn’t say anything because I thought it might be my imagination. But it’s not. I can sense her.”

Michael exhaled and looked at Simon. He stood and crossed to the newsstand, returning with the
New York Times
. As he sat next to me, I turned, staring casually at the paper. I froze as an article jumped out at me.

“Oh my God.” My throat tightened. I stopped breathing for a moment.

“What is it, Robert?” Simon stood and crossed the space separating us. He stared at me. I pointed to the headline that caught my attention. The desperate look in Simon’s eyes told me he understood. Michael closed the paper to see what the commotion was about. I folded it so the headline stood out.

“She couldn’t. Could she?” he asked. His face grew ashen as he looked up at Simon, then back at me.

“I don’t think so, but…” Simon twisted his mouth into a scowl. “No,” he said. “Courtney would never do that.”

His words hung in the humid air, unconvincingly. Fear consumed me.

“That might explain what I felt earlier.” I whispered. “I thought they might have hurt her, but maybe she…” I refused to finish the thought.

I stared at the newspaper. “Judge Rules Woman’s Death a Suicide,” the headline read. Suicide. The word screamed out at me. I swallowed and stood, fighting the sickening feeling as I headed to the men’s room. I lurched into the first stall as nausea overtook me.

****

I checked my watch. Eleven twenty. We had left New York thirty minutes late due to the commotion over the flight. That pushed our arrival time at Gander back to half past midnight. I tried to convince myself that Courtney would never resort to taking her own life, but I was terrified by the reality that if she did, it would be to save me.

The thought tortured me, but I tried to put it out of my mind. My exhausted body drifted up and down with the turbulence. I looked down at the sparsely lit Maine coast 20,000 feet below. I found myself hoping, praying that whatever force controlled the universe would help us find her in time.

I closed my eyes, trying to sleep. I saw Rachel’s face as the four supercharged Wright engines droned outside my window. I loved Courtney. There was no doubt of that. But I’d treated Rachel so badly. After thirty minutes, I stood and found my overnight bag. Michael looked up from his magazine and nodded.

“You okay, brother?” he asked.

I pulled out the sleeping pills and took one in my hand. “Fine, Mike,” I answered, trying to sound confident. “I’m going to take something to help me sleep. I think I’m going to need it.”

He scanned the passengers scattered across the Constellation’s well-appointed cabin. “No need,” he told me, putting down his magazine. “Sit down,” he whispered, gesturing to my seat.

I looked around. Simon was snoring softly in the row in front of us. Toward the rear of the plane, one or two of our fellow passengers were talking in muffled tones, but most sat, their seats reclined as they slept. The sound of the large engines pulling us toward Newfoundland drowned out what they were saying.

“What’s up?” I raised my eyebrows and sat down.

He swept the cabin with his eyes a second time. Apparently satisfied, he took the seat next to me. “I can help you.” He paused. “You shouldn’t take any drugs. We all need to be sharp. Close your eyes and lean back in your seat.”

I looked at him curiously but did as he asked. I could sense him leaning over me. I felt his hands on my temples. Calm swept through my body. A pleasant buzz ran through my head as the tension vanished. The sensation from Michael’s touch ran down my spinal cord, sending a soft tingling as it exited through my legs. Somewhere in the back of my mind I had a foggy recollection of Courtney doing the same. I had no idea where or when.

“I want you to count very slowly to ten,” Michael said softly. His words were resonant, hypnotic.

“One, two, three,” I began. Before I got to five I was asleep.

Chapter Thirty-Seven

Michael’s magic did its work.

“Sir.” The dimpled stewardess shook me gently. “We’re thirty minutes from Shannon. I believe that’s where you’ll be leaving us.”

I coughed and cleared my throat. Sunlight and conversation filled the cabin. The inside of my mouth had the taste of an old riding boot again. “Yes, that’s right.” I answered, stretching and searching the adjacent seats for Simon and Michael. I checked my watch. Eight-thirty.

“Well, look who’s decided to rejoin us.” I turned to see Michael’s broad face wearing a grin. He came up behind me and tapped me on the shoulder. “Well, I see that sleeping compound worked.” He winked.

“Yeah. I feel great.” And I did. I stood, rotating my torso to loosen the stiffness in my muscles after the long sleep. My mind immediately turned to Courtney. I wondered if Michael’s spell might have blocked out any images.

Simon approached, using a towel to dry his hands. He stared at me. “No,” he said.

I looked at him curiously. “Are you…” Seeing a dozen other passengers in our vicinity, I stopped.

“I know what you were thinking,” Simon offered. “And the answer is no. It wouldn’t have blocked”—he scanned the cabin before continuing—“any communication from her.” He sat down next to me and patted my forearm. “Are you still sensing her presence?”

A strange feeling came over me. There was no image, but I could feel her. “Yes, I feel something. But I’m worried it may be my imagination.”

He studied me. “Are you familiar with Carl Jung, the psychologist?”

“Yes.” I nodded, wondering what a renowned psychologist-philosopher had to do with our situation. But the last few days had taught me never to doubt Simon’s wisdom.

“He was called the Darwin of the mind.” Simon shrugged. “We’re great believers in his work. Jung said, ‘The debt we owe to the play of imagination is incalculable.’”

I stared at him. “I’m not sure I get your meaning.”

“It’s simple, Robert. We’ve come to understand the value of imagination, dreams, and what most of the world views as fantasy.” He leaned over and lowered his voice. “Jung spoke of an inner world, calling it the collective unconscious.”

I knew he had a point, but it was foggy. “Perhaps I’m missing something.”

Simon held up his hand. “It’s difficult for you, someone educated and surrounded by the analytical trappings of the manifest world—the physical. But all of us are connected to this vast inner world, a group mind if you like.”

Suddenly it dawned on me. I wanted to shake his hand. I could feel a grin spread across my face. When I looked at Michael, he smiled at me.

“I think he understands,” Simon said.

I nodded. “You’re telling me that what I’m feeling isn’t my imagination. It means Courtney’s alive.”

Michael nodded and shook my hand. “Yes. And we’re gonna get her back safely.”

We fastened our seat belts as the large plane bumped over the thick layer of clouds separating us from Shannon Airport.

Chapter Thirty-Eight

Drizzle and a cool breeze greeted us as we deplaned and walked through Shannon’s international terminal. Several men stood waiting to meet us. I assumed all were family members or allies. That seemed an appropriate way to describe them since Michael and Simon had described the Druids as the enemy. The situation wore every earmark of a battle.

“This is my younger brother, Lionel.” Simon gestured toward the striking middle-aged man holding out an enormous hand.

“Robert McGregor.” I shook it. “It’s a pleasure.” Lionel was shorter than his older brother. He had brownish hair, curly and graying at the temples. It was combed back and long, hanging over the collar. Lionel brought Basil Rathbone’s Sherlock Holmes to mind. If he possessed half the intellect and detecting skills, he’d be a fine addition to our team.

“Hello, Michael.”

“Lionel.” He nodded. “Where’s the boat?”

“On the coast. We’ll head straight there.” Lionel moved us along. “We cleared your bags through customs. They’re already in the Jag.” He moved quickly toward the exit. Outside a Jaguar sedan waited. A man slammed the boot closed and nodded as he headed to the dull English Ford behind us.

Lionel caught me staring. “She’s got a V-8 that would put most V-12s to shame. She’s our trail car. The Druids are very active here. We want to make sure there are no incidents.” He patted my back.

We were hustled into the vehicles. Lionel got behind the wheel. Simon rode in the passenger seat. Michael and I shared the rear. I saw Lionel give a nod to the driver of the Ford and put the Jag in gear. We sped away, leaving a thick trail of exhaust in our wake. Lionel used the accelerator generously and we left the entrance at a dizzying speed. I noticed two police cars nearby. Lionel and Simon gave a discreet wave and the first bolted out in front of us.

“A police escort?” I whispered.

Michael chuckled softly. “The Phillips family knows how to travel.”

I elbowed my brother. “Did they say we’re going to catch a boat?”

He raised his eyebrows and gave me a shrug. “When it comes to planning and operations, these folks are no amateurs. I’m not sure of the plan, but I’ll bet we’re not picking up an old fishing smack.”

I had no argument. Simon and company had orchestrated this like a well-planned military operation—without the snafus. I nodded at my friend and put my head back.

Robbie. Oh, Robbie, I love you.
I heard her as if she sat next to me. I sensed fear, intense anger, and pain, but not the searing pain of two days ago.

“Simon, Mike,” I yelled, unable to contain my excitement. “I heard her. No image, but it was Courtney.”

“And?” Simon asked, his chiseled features taught.

I smiled. “Frightened, mad as hell, and in pain. But she’s alive.”

“I want you to close your eyes and think about her, nothing but her. Concentrate on the way you feel when you see her, touch her.” He hesitated. “When you kiss. Block everything else out.”

I did. Everyone sat silently. No one breathed.
Courtney, Courtney, I hear you. We’re coming. Don’t be afraid.

Seconds went by. They became a minute. I sighed, certain my thoughts weren’t strong enough, my skills not honed enough when suddenly—

I hear you, darling. I’m waiting—

“It worked. I could hear her for just a minute. Then she stopped and cried out in pain again.”

Simon grabbed my hand and shook it. Michael slapped my back. “Most likely, they’re watching her closely. Trying to keep her from communicating. I don’t know what their telepathic abilities are. None that I know of. But telepathy isn’t an exact science. Many things affect it, especially over the long distances we’re dealing with.”

There were times when I felt like a child, learning a whole new set of rules and behaviors.

Simon looked intense, as if calculating some arcane probability. “If they could block her thoughts,” he said, “they would. They may be watching her. When they’re distracted, she sends a message. If they see her they resort to something more primitive.”

“I can’t bear to think of her being hurt.”

“I understand,” Simon said, his jaw set. “Cruelty is alien to what we pagans believe. But to use an expression from your western movies, they have a new sheriff in town.”

Chapter Thirty-Nine

We headed northwest on the N19 highway. At the city limits, the police waved us on with a salute. We made a sharp turn to the southwest on the N92 toward the town of Dingle seventy-five miles away. The trail car followed at a discreet distance. We made a stop in Tralee where Simon stopped to make a phone call.

“Everything’s ready. My old friend Nigel Thomas has seen to that. He’s a captain in the British Navy and has developed a plausible cover story for his superiors.” Simon nodded to Michael and Lionel. “The fact that two members of the admiralty are family members doesn’t hurt.”

He turned to me. “We’re going to leave from Dingle Harbor. It’s not the perfect location. I’d rather leave from the east coast, but Dingle’s where our ship is. She’s something special, chosen for this mission. Nigel Thomas and I served together in the first war. He pulled some strings to get us this craft. You’ll understand when you see her.”

He herded us back into the cars and checked his watch. I did the same. Almost noon on Wednesday; only sixty hours until the full moon and the ritual. I swallowed hard. No new messages from Courtney. Despite the damp, cool air, sweat trickled between my shoulder blades.