The Gates of Winter - Mark Anthony [191]
“That's it,” Deirdre said, her smoky jade eyes lighting up. “Duratek might deny the report, but there will be investigations. They won't be able to do anything without the government knowing.”
“Like launch an assault on Eldh,” Travis said. He glanced at Larsen. “Did you know that's what they intend to do?”
She gripped her coffee cup. “One of the executives—I never knew their names—he came to talk to me the other day. He told me there was a whole new world just waiting for us to use, to make a profit.” She glanced at Beltan and Vani. “It's your world, isn't it? He said that once they're able to synthesize the blood of E-1, they'll be able to open a door to that world. Only I don't know what that means.”
“They've created a gate here in Denver,” Travis said. “All they need is blood of power to open it.”
Deirdre glanced at Larsen. “Only you destroyed the results of your research, didn't you?”
“Yes,” Larsen said. “But I was just the first to realize the solution. Duratek has dozens of scientists working for them. It's only a matter of time until one of the other researchers finds the key like I did.”
“So how do we get the truth out there?” Anders said.
“I think I know a way,” Travis said, pulling a piece of paper out of his pocket.
Deirdre raised an eyebrow. “What's that?”
“The phone number of Anna Ferraro. She's a TV news reporter here in Denver. She'll do a report on Duratek and Electria for us, I know she will. Only . . .” He sank back to the couch. “Only she was fired from the TV station.”
“So she can go to another,” Beltan said, his expression hopeful. “There's more than one of these television channels in this city. I know—I've looked at them all.”
Travis held a hand to his head. “It's no good. None of the local TV stations will take her. They're all controlled by Duratek. And we'll never get out of this city, not now. They know I'm here.”
They had run out of words. All of them stared at the disk. They had everything they needed to stop Duratek from opening the way to Eldh. Everything except a way to get the message out.
Travis laid his hand atop Deirdre's. “Thanks for coming anyway. You must have broken every Desideratum there is by bringing Vani and Beltan here.”
Deirdre bit her lip. “Actually, I'm not sure about that. You see, our orders came from the Philosophers themselves. And there's—”
Anders prowled around the sofa. “And there's what, mate? Remember what we said about no secrets. Is there something you're not telling me?”
Deirdre gazed out the window. “I've been getting help with all this. I'm not sure who he is. He's never told me his name, but he knows things . . . things only one of the Philosophers could know. I think . . . no, I know he's one of them.”
“Crikey,” Anders said softly, his eyes going wide. “So that's why you've been so mysterious. You're getting all sorts of secret tidbits from one of the Philosophers. I can't blame you for keeping that under your hat.”
Deirdre winced. “Yes you can. We promised no secrets, right?” She picked up an envelope off the table. “He was the one who sent me this.”
“What is it?” Vani said, stalking closer.
“I'm not sure. Architectural plans of some building.” She pulled a large sheet of paper from the envelope and unfolded it. “I suppose he meant for it to help me, but I can't make heads or tails of it.”
A buzzing filled Travis's head as he stared at the paper in Deirdre's hands. He had never been inside; he had only seen it on television. All the same, he was certain. There was the stage, and the ocean of seats.
“It's the Steel Cathedral,” he said, brushing a hand over the plans. “It has to be.”
The others gave him confused looks. However, certainty filled Travis—sharp and cold as ice. There is still somewhere you can go. Into the heart of shadow itself. . . .
He stood again, clutching the scrap of paper. “Give me the phone,” he said. “I have to call Anna Ferraro. I have to tell her I know