The Flight of the Silvers (Silvers #1)(83)

“You owe me answers, goddamn it! One of my employees is dead!”

“All of your employees are dead,” Esis casually informed him.

The nausea came back full force. Quint leaned against a bookshelf. “What? Why?”

“A necessary evil,” Azral sighed. “I seek to prevent future complications. If it’s any comfort, none of your people suffered much. Most of them died in their sleep.”

Quint took no comfort in that at all. “Then why . . . why am I . . . ?”

“I wanted to thank you for all your hard work, Sterling. You did everything I asked of you. And aside from that early issue with Maranan, you handled your tasks superbly. Know that we’ll always value your contribution.”

Quint’s eyes darted back and forth in busy thought. “Look . . . look, why don’t we compromise, okay? Just give me the girl. Give me Farisi and we’ll go our separate ways.”

“Sterling . . .”

“You said she was expendable!”

“To us,” Azral said. “Not to them. The Silvers will be traveling now. They’ll need her unique insight.”

“But—”

“Furthermore, you misunderstand your situation. I said I wanted to thank you. I never said you were spared.”

The walls of Quint’s mind suddenly constricted into a narrow tunnel, as a million floating concerns melted away to just one. White-faced, he fumbled the knot of his tie until it came loose. He knew that pleading for his life would be futile, like begging the mercy of a great white shark or a snowy avalanche.

Suddenly the esteemed physicist erupted in a low and untimely chuckle. The Pelletiers watched him with furrowed bother.

“Did you not understand what—”

“Oh, I got it,” Quint said, still chortling. “I may be many things, Azral, but I’m not stupid.”

Esis eyed him warily. “And yet you laugh in the face of your own demise.”

No one was more surprised than Quint, a man whose whole life had been an upward climb, filled with endless battle. Now after fifty-five years, there was nothing left to do. No one left to fight. The revelation was . . . liberating.

“I’d explain it,” he said, through dwindling snickers. “But I doubt you’d understand. If the two of you represent the future of mankind, then this is an excellent time to stop progressing.”

Azral and Esis exchanged a stony glance, then bloomed a matching set of grins.

“Oh, the pride of the ancients,” said the son.

“Truly a sight to behold,” said the mother.

Their condescension cracked the walls of Quint’s serenity. He shot a wrathful glare at Azral.

“Just get it over with already, you stretched stain. You chalk-faced bowel. If I have one regret, it’s that I won’t get to see all your plans crumble right on top of you. Don’t think it won’t happen. You’re clearly not as smart as you think you are.”

Expressionless, Azral rose from the desk and approached Quint. The physicist smiled.

“It’ll be even more amusing if your grand design gets foiled by the very people you brought here. The great Azral Pelletier, brought low by an actress, a cartoonist, and all their little friends. It’s a shame I’ll miss that. Talk about a sight to behold.”

With a soft and solemn expression, Azral rested a gentle hand on Quint’s scalp.

“I thank you again for your help, Sterling. Your work here is done.”

Quint closed his eyes in anticipation of pain, but he felt nothing more than a faint and bubbly tickle under his skin. He peeked an eye open.

“What—”

He dropped through the rug as if it were nothing more than mist. Down he fell, through the floorboards and wires, the lobby chandelier. He passed through all objects like an apparition but he plummeted like a stone.

When he reached the underground parking lot, Quint finally screamed. He disappeared through the concrete and then continued in darkness. By the time he succumbed to suffocation, he’d already descended an eighth of the way into the Earth’s crust. His body kept on falling, all the way to magma.

Grim-faced and silent, the Pelletiers exited the complex. The moment they reached the front yard, Azral turned around and closed his eyes in concentration.

A dome of piercing white light suddenly enveloped the building—a bubble of backward time moving at accelerated speed. Inside the field, corpses vanished, plants shrank, mice perished as zygotes. The hint of past life appeared in split-second intervals, like aberrations in a flip-book.

By the time the dome disappeared, the entire structure had been reversed fifty-two months, reverted to the failed hotel that Quint had yet to purchase. Every file, every photo, every mention of the Silvers was now erased from existence.

Esis peevishly crossed her arms and addressed Azral in a foreign tongue, a byzantine blend of European and Asian languages that was still over two millennia away from being invented.

“I warned you not to overlook our ancestors, sehgee. You should have listened to me.”

“I know.”

“You and your father both.”

Azral held her hands, his sharp eyes tender with affection. “Just forgive us, sehmeer, and embrace the new course.”

Esis heaved a wistful breath and fixed her dark stare at the blooming sun.

“I can’t help but worry for those children. There are so many futures open to them now. So many strings.”