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The first class compartment in the nose of the big plane was barely half full.
He never got to fly first class. The Bureau was reluctant to lavish such
extravagances on mere field agents and it would have been out of keeping with
his various undercover personae. Only once had they sprung for the fare. That
was the time up in Idaho when he'd been severely wounded. Before long they
would start serving dinner. He was looking forward to the obligatory hot fudge
sundae.
Men or shetani, spirits or skeletons, at least nothing would be able to bother
them for the next ten hours or so, he thought as he scrunched back into the
leather padding.
You're sure you're all right?
He smiled up at Merry. I've been hit before. I'd rate this one about five on
a scale of one to ten. He closed his eyes.
She continued to stare at him. I'll bet you have, Joshua Oak. Will you ever
relax enough to tell me just what it is that you do for our mutual Uncle? If
nothing else he was the most remarkably self-possessed man she'd ever
encountered. Monsters had chased them out of Washington, D.C., someone or
something had tried to fracture his skull just prior to takeoff, and here he
was already half sound asleep, resting like a little boy. Olkeloki was staring
out the window. The old man never seemed to get tired.
Good for him. The transatlantic leg of their journey had worn her down more
than she'd thought it would and the mob at Heathrow had finished the job.
Dinner wouldn't be served for several hours yet. Ignoring the familiar FAA
regulations she let her seat recline. By the time the jumbo jet had banked
sharply to the right to swing out over the Channel she was sleeping as soundly
as the man next to her.
Mbatian Oldoinyo Olkeloki spared his ilmeet companions a glance and smiled. It
was good that they rested now. In the days ahead there would be fewer
opportunities to do so. As for himself, he longed to join them in sleep but
could not. He had to keep looking out the window, had to keep alert. He had no
intention, having come so far and already accomplished so much, of letting
anything sneak up on them from behind.
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Over Sudan 22 June
Africa.
Merry Sharrow stood next to the empty seat and stared out the window. The sun
was just appearing over the Indian Ocean and the rest of the first class
passengers were still asleep. The cabin crew wouldn't turn the lights on until
it was time for them to serve breakfast. But Merry had been awake for an hour.
She'd spent most of it moving from window to window to get different views of
the ground six miles below. After all, it wasn't the same as flying over Boise
and Des Moines. Details were impossible to make out, but she'd been struck
immediately by the absence of lights on the ground.
A rearward glance revealed Mbatian Olkeloki lying back with his sleeper seat
fully extended. He was wearing the same benign, contented smile he'd adopted
soon after they'd entered French airspace many hours ago, just as he was
wearing the same earphones. He must have gone through every selection in the
plane's music library at least three times already, she mused, and still he
continued to listen.
Oak lay straight beneath his light airline blanket, sound asleep. She didn't
understand how he could rest so soundly. Africa was as new to him as it was to
her. She thought about waking him, decided that the morning light would do it
soon enough.
In fact, the light would wake everyone, and they would all need to make use of
the same facility. Before the bathrooms filled up she ought to wash her face
and hands.
Her backpack lay in one of the big overhead bins. Flipping open the cover, she
fumbled through the unfamiliar sack until she found the compact handbag she'd
insisted on bringing along, reclosed the compartment. One of the flight
attendants, looking sleepy, stepped out of the aisle to let her pass.
All four of the first class bathrooms were empty. Merry entered the first and
locked the door behind her, began searching the handbag for her hairbrush. As
her fingers closed on the plastic something grabbed her hard from behind and
yanked her inward. A hand went around her mouth, others around her waist and
arms as she tumbled backward. The fingers over her lips belonged to a black
skeleton.
She should have struck the wall behind the john but she didn't. When she saw
why, her eyes widened even further. The bathroom should have been no more than
a couple of feet wide and equally deep.
Instead, she found herself in a room at least ten feet long and six across.
The little flush john clung to the back wall, impossibly far away. For the
bathroom to be as big as it looked it would have had to extend five feet
beyond the exterior of the 747.
With her right hand she scratched frantically at a ten-foot-long vanity. A
mirror of equal length ran above it and she was able to see the image of her
captors. The reflections were not as alien as the impossibly large bathroom
because she'd seen something like them before.
They looked like the dog-thing she'd hit on the way home that rainy morning
east of Seattle.
No two were exactly alike. All had the same long, thin limbs, but many had
true feet instead of a second pair of hands. In the dim light from the single
attenuated fluorescent bulb above the mirror she saw that they wore neither
clothing nor adornments of any kind.
The heads of the females looked almost normal except for the jaws, which
extended outward like those of an ape. These vast mouths were lined with
small, sharply filed teeth. The male skulls were long and narrow like those of
the Easter Island statues, only rounded instead of sharply angled at the sides
and
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top. They grinned at her through slightly smaller protruding jaws. Neither sex
had any ears and only the males had visible nostrils. At least a dozen of them
had crowded into the bloated bathroom. As she stared, another pair of long
arms emerged from the inside of the lavatory bowl. With a grunt, the
thirteenth shetani emerged from the stainless steel depths.
They were as big as she was, though with their thin bodies and impossibly
skeletal limbs the most massive of them couldn't have weighed more than a [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
