A Perfect Machine(51)

“The nurse’s apartment is just below the top floor, southwest corner,” Marcton said. “Keep your eyes peeled for any movement as we approach.”

When no one responded, he was impressed: just the crunching of their boots.



* * *



Five minutes before they’d arrived, Palermo had described to Krebosche as best he could what “ascension” meant. Although he neglected to mention that the last time he’d seen Henry Kyllo he was a massive creature being smuggled out of a dumpster and into Faye’s building under a blanket. He wasn’t entirely sure what he’d seen sticking out under that blanket, but it certainly looked like Henry’s legs were made of metal.

Just like Adelina.

What he did tell Krebosche – yet more lies – was that Adelina had achieved the highest state she could in their order, and that the gathering at the house was just an ascension ceremony – merely a celebration of her achievement. But then something had gone wrong. As part of the ceremony, words were spoken – what they thought were simply rites of passage passed down in their holy book (they didn’t have a holy book). And when the words were spoken, the very moment they were out of Palermo’s mouth, he’d looked up and she was gone. Vanished.

“So you’re a cult leader,” Krebosche had said.

“I suppose I am, yes.”

“And you brought your daughter up in this voodoo shit?”

“I suppose I did. But it’s not voodoo.”

“Might as well be. Also, I don’t believe for a second that she just vanished. What I think is that this Kyllo guy you’re taking me to – once he sees I’m not fucking around – is going to tell me what really happened.”

Palermo had said nothing to that, just let it sit between them in the car. Palermo felt the shifting winds in his bones, and thought they might both be in for a bit of a surprise once they saw Henry Kyllo.



* * *



Inside Faye’s building, the south elevator moved upward quietly. It dinged softly as it passed each floor.

“Just so you know,” Palermo said, “there will be two people when the door opens – if the nurse isn’t at work, that is. I don’t know her exact schedule.”

“Understood,” Krebosche said.

A few floors passed with neither speaking. Then:

“So you’ll do the talking?” Palermo asked.

“Um, yeah,” Krebosche said, jammed the gun a little harder into the back of Palermo’s neck.



* * *



Just as Milo, Henry, and Faye were readying to leave, Adelina appeared in one corner of Faye’s living room. Everyone was leaving; that was good. They still had a chance. But they’d waited too long.

Nothing she could do now, but watch the door. Wait to see what happened.

Milo spotted her, said her name, but she ignored him. Just continued staring at the door.

A feeling of intense dread enveloped her.



* * *



The elevator doors opened. Palermo and Krebosche stepped out. Krebosche looked up and down the hallway, saw no one. He poked Palermo in the neck to get moving.

“So what are you gonna say?” Palermo said, hoping to unnerve Krebosche, distract him from whatever plan he might have. Depending on what Kyllo had become, distracting him might be a good tactic for helping get the hell out of the way, should things get intense. And, if recent weather was any indicator – and Palermo truly believed it was – an incredibly intense situation was bound to come due sooner or later. His subconscious had felt something building for a while now, but when, precisely, the shit would hit the fan, he didn’t know. This all just felt like he was on a track of some kind, and there was no way off – and, in all likelihood, no brakes.

“You’ll see. Got it all worked out. Stay tuned, friend.”

Stay tuned, friend? A shiver went up Palermo’s back at the words. Krebosche’s tone had changed. Something in his voice was different now. Even the choice of words was strange. Not like something Krebosche – what Palermo knew of him, anyway – would say.

Their feet made little to no noise on the gray carpet of the hallway. There was a stillness in the air that Palermo didn’t like. Sounds seemed to be muffled. Palermo’s desire for flight was suddenly incredibly strong. He had to resist the urge to bolt down the hallway.

They were only about ten feet away from the door now. Sweat popped out on Palermo’s forehead. He said, “Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea, Krebosche. I’ve got this very strange feeling. Don’t you feel it? Something’s… off.”

He tried to stop, turn around, but Krebosche jabbed him with the gun, spun him around, said, “Keep walking.”

Palermo’s gut twisted. He felt suddenly ill. Under no circumstances did he want to see what was behind this door.

“Nine-eighteen, you said, yeah?”

Palermo briefly considered lying, giving Krebosche another number. Was just about to when they arrived at nine-eighteen, and Krebosche said, “Yeah, that was it. Nine-eighteen. Here we are, Palermo. Anything else I should know before we knock?”

Palermo could only shake his head. His vision was blurring. He was having trouble breathing. Felt like he was sucking air through a cheesecloth.