The Dark Remains - Mark Anthony [180]
Deirdre lunged for the phone. “We have to call them back. We have to let them know what’s—”
Gently, Farr pried the phone from her rigid fingers.
“No, Deirdre. I don’t know why I didn’t see it sooner. I guess I’ve always been blind to what it’s like for those on the other side of the investigation. They won’t talk to us. We’re on our own now.”
This was impossible. The Seekers didn’t abandon their agents. Not like this.
“I don’t understand.…” But even as she spoke, she did understand.
Farr nodded. “Desiderata One. A Seeker shall not interfere with the actions of those of otherworldly nature.”
Images flickered outside the tinted windows, as dim as ghosts. Everything Deirdre had known had melted to a sea of shadow, and she and Farr were adrift alone.
“We’re not the Seekers anymore,” she said. “We’re the subjects of the investigation.”
Farr gave a grim nod. “The watchers have become the watched.”
“Do you think they’re watching us now?”
“Most likely they’ve got some form of surveillance on us.” His lips twisted in a bitter smile. “It’s what I’d do.”
Still Deirdre couldn’t completely understand. “But why?”
“They want to see what we’ll do, of course. Evidently the Philosophers have decided we have become too closely involved in this case, that we are no longer observers but rather players.” He brushed the file folder. “It seems we are less useful as investigators and more so as subjects with otherworldly connections. They want to see what we do of our—”
Deirdre sucked in a breath. “Of our own free wills.”
She and Farr locked eyes. Yes, he was thinking the same thing she was. If the Seekers had cut them loose, that meant nothing was binding them anymore. Not the Desiderata. Not the Vow. Which meant …
“We can do anything,” she said. “Anything we want.”
Farr grinned, like a wolf invited in among the sheep. He opened a small cabinet in the door, then pulled out two objects. They were guns—nine-millimeter semiautomatic pistols. He held one out toward her. Forcing her hand not to tremble, she closed her fingers around the gun. It felt smooth against her hand, and she had to grip it tightly, like it was a living thing.
Farr leaned forward, punched a button on the seat’s armrest. “Driver, get us to the location in Commerce City as fast as you can. I don’t care what you have to do.”
Deirdre felt resistance as the limousine sped up. But she knew it was still at least fifteen minutes to the complex. They were going to be too late.
And maybe it didn’t matter. There was something here, something they were missing. Why, in her final moments, had Marji called them? She picked up the laptop and stared again at the first number on the screen: 268-533-7128.
“Hand me the phone,” she said, and Farr gave it to her.
She dialed the number. A series of sharp tones, then a computer-generated voice told her the number did not exist. Somehow that didn’t surprise her. Marji had called them just before her shop had burned. She must have been trying to tell them something. But what? Farr’s pager only accepted phone numbers.
And what if it wasn’t a phone number she had wanted to give you? There aren’t any limits on you anymore, Deirdre. So think. Marji was a psychic. Tarot cards. Tea leaves. Palms. Numerology …
She picked up the phone, stared at the keypad. There were no letters on the one. Forget the last three digits for the moment then. She looked at the others. Two. That was a “B” on the keypad. Six was an “O.” She typed them on the laptop as she transcribed them. Then she leaned back.
Farr studied her. “What is it, Deirdre?”
She could not take her eyes from the word she had typed on the glowing screen:
BOULDER 128
“Boulder,” she murmured.
“What?”
She slammed shut the lid of the computer. “They’re taking Highway 128 to Boulder. Duratek. After they heard us talking, they must have been afraid of a full-on assault from the Seekers, and they bolted. Maybe they have another base of operations in Boulder. It’s only thirty miles north