The Rising(53)

And that was before he had reason to be, before—

*

The computer timed out with a ping, the screen freezing.

“I’ll buy us some more time,” Sam said, starting to stand.

Alex restrained her with a hand to her forearm. “Maybe you shouldn’t. We’ve been here too long. Maybe we should just go.”

“Alex—”

“And we may need the cash later, right?”

“Alex—”

“We already learned what we needed to. The rest, this stuff with the doctor, can wait until we get more settled, figure stuff out.”

“You need to know, Alex,” Sam said, after he’d finished. “We need to figure out why all this is happening.” She glanced down at the screen. “Let me buy us some more time on the computer.”

He nodded, let go of her arm.

Sam slid away, reluctant to leave him, even for a moment. Leave him staring at his mother on the screen.

And that was before he had reason to be, before—





53

WILD CARD

WHAT OTHER GUY?

Raiff didn’t recognize the man from the description Lieutenant Grimes had provided.

“He was big,” Grimes had said.

“What else?”

“Bald?”

“That it?”

“All you feds look the same to me.”

Raiff didn’t need to know any more than that to know it was bad. His real enemy never announced themselves that way. That meant another Tracker team, led by Big Bald, had found their way to Dancer’s house. On his trail now for sure. Which meant he had two problems to contend with instead of one, making his task simple:

He needed to find Dancer before either of the other parties did, either Langston Marsh’s Trackers or the androids the boy must have somehow overcome before fleeing his house, before he could be pinned with the blame for the murder of his parents. Hard to say which was more dangerous at this point.

I should’ve been closer, in position to move preemptively.

But he’d come to fear that his mere presence in Dancer’s vicinity could place the boy in more danger, not less. In the absence of protocol, he’d determined that keeping his distance and waiting for word from the Watchers to be the most secure strategy to maintain. Imagine if the Trackers happened to find Dancer when they came looking for him.

All these years of quiet had erupted in this. Like the contents of a clogged drain bursting upward once plunged.

Raiff had made himself learn patience over the years, grown accustomed to a lifestyle off anything remotely resembling a grid. But this kind of frustration was an entirely new sensation and it was chewing away at him.

Where had Big Bald gone after leaving Dancer’s house?

Raiff drove around aimlessly as if Big Bald might pop up out of nowhere at any moment. He wouldn’t be alone, either; he’d be accompanied by a team likely larger and more proficient than the one Raiff had dispensed with earlier in the night. The incident report would’ve alerted them and they’d likely left Dancer’s house with a reasonably clear destination in mind.

While Raiff had nothing. All he could do was either drive or park and wait for a text message from a Watcher telling him where Dancer could be found. And even then everything would depend on him getting there ahead of Big Bald.

Everything.

Raiff pulled into a McDonald’s, the interior restaurant closed but the drive-through advertised on the sign as being open until 3:00 a.m. He found a darkened corner to pull into. The funds that supported him wouldn’t last forever, but they’d last long enough. His native world was rich in precious metals, including gold to the point where it was less valued there than here. Decades before, centuries, for all Raiff knew, stores of gold had been brought over and hidden away in anticipation of these times coming at last.

Whenever he ran low on funds, Raiff need only collect some of that gold, never more than necessary, and exchange it for cash. He bought old-model used cars always from private sellers and drove them until they didn’t drive anymore. The identity he’d procured was ironclad, but still precluded an actual residence or owning anything that left a trail. He had a single credit card in the name he’d assumed, necessary in order to fly or rent a car, and of all his documents the California state driver’s license had been the easiest to obtain.

He lived for his mission, and his mission was to protect Dancer, above and beyond anything else. If and when Raiff was needed, he had full operational authority. Anything within his discretion was permissible.

But discretion was pointless until he located Dancer.

The real problem here was Langston Marsh and his Tracker teams. They were the wild card, the factor never considered prior to Raiff’s dispatch because they hadn’t come into existence yet and thus were a presence that could not possibly be accounted for. Protecting Dancer against those hunting the boy was one thing. Protecting himself against those who were hunting their very kind, something else again.

No matter how much the Trackers had come to dictate his actions and movements, though, he had to accept their presence in full awareness that the threat they posed was miniscule compared to the threat looming over this planet. Without Dancer, Earth’s fall would be inevitable. Few things in Raiff’s estimation bore such certainty, or any certainty at all. But that was one of them.