there was only silence. The corridor stretched far enough away to make seeing the end of it difficult. The color didn't help. After a few feet it looked as though it disappeared into blank space. The place smelled of rotting garbage.
The right wall was blank. A row of doors lined the wall on their left. One of these doors opened on its own and a woman passed through it, her heels clicking on the floor. John liked the way she looked. The three top buttons on her blouse were open, but she'd made the come-on into a tease by wrapping her neck with a silk scarf and tying a loose knot over her collar bone. She wore a skirt with an angled hem. It exposed on leg above the knew and the other only near the ankle.
John said, “I'm here to fix the fire suppression system. I've got a hypoxic chamber you ordered too, but it's still downstairs.”
“I'm Cass.” the woman said. “Who's this boy?”
“Jason. He'll stay out of the way.”
“Do you normally bring your child to work?”
“He's a favor.” said John. “But he might be able to help; he's pretty good with this stuff.”
Cass was still standing near the door, about a dozen feet away from them. She tipped her head to one side as though looking at Jason sideways would make him go away.
She said, “This wasn't in the plan.”
“I promise he'll be fine. Does he look like trouble to you?”
“He's not in the plan.”
“Well, do you want want me to go?”
Cass came toward them, waving her arms and saying, “No it's too late. Come in.”
John shrugged and pushed the hand truck through the door. Jason followed.
Cass said, “I still wish you hadn't brought this kid.”
As she brought up the rear, the door closed behind them. Then she stumbled. The movement was so sudden it startled John. One moment the woman was walking with perfect poise, as perpendicular to the ground as a flagpole, and the next she was tipping and waving her arms like as if suffering from a seizure. In another moment she was walking again. She said nothing about what had just happened.
John found himself in familiar surroundings. This was an assembly lab, full of opened server casings on tables. One table held some of the more impressive machinery he'd seen in his life. A rolling tool chest stood next to it, with an opened drawer revealing tool cutouts. This ensured that every piece found its way back to the exact same spot at the end of each day. Next to the toolbox, an electro-static discharge bracelet sat on the table. Someone had been working here not long ago, but the place was empty now.
There was a heavy door with a little glass window on the opposite side of the room and it opened. A young man with long red hair appeared. He wore his shirt open and John could see a part of something written in Latin on the man's chest. Cass turned her back to John and came very close to that chest. They were nearly touching, but they didn't. One looked into the eyes of the other and both smiled.
“It's almost time.” said the red headed dude.
Cass tipped her head in John's direction without looking that way and said, “He's got a kid.”
The man's head snapped around.
“You brought a kid with you?” he said.
“Focus, George.” said Cass. “We can't send him back. It's too late.”
The red head's body slackened. He reached into a pocket and pulled out a device that John had seen before. It was that roulette wheel toy with all the spinning letters and eyes that Norman Shaw had been carrying when he burned the school down. He remembered Ruth having taken it from the man when they escaped the building. He also remembered how Ruth had explained about the Sorter's warning and some stuff that Norman had said that made it sound as though he believed the Sorter was controlling his life. It was a feeling that John was familiar with. Now here was this kid with the same mysterious mechanism. Did it connect? Could it? How?
Whatever the significance, all John knew for sure was that a part of him felt like lighting his own little fire.
George waved the wheel in Cass's face and said, “We should expect the unexpected.”
“It's what got us here, but I don't like it.”
“I'm sure he's harmless.” George jutted his chin out at John and said, “Right?”
“Yeah, yeah the boy's fine.”
George opened the windowed door again and Cass left, sending googly eyes his way.
“You made me what I am.” she said. “I won't forget that.”
She left and the red head came up to John and Jason.
George said, “The control box is over there. That's where I'd start.”
“Okay.” said John. “The hypoxic chamber is still down in my truck.”
“Right. Leave it there, we'll deal with that later.”
“Can I ask...” said John. “What it is?”
“No.”
He went to another door, this time without a window. There was an electronic keypad lock mounted next to it, but George didn't touch it. Instead he pulled on the door and it opened.
As he went through he said, “You'll notice the security system's too. So we'll be watching.”
George disappeared. John started his work on the fire suppression and security system. Jason wandered around and looked at the equipment. He started rattling off what it all was. John wondered how Ruth could put up with this all the time.
Then Jason said, “What do you think's behind that door?”
“I think the Sorter's behind that door.”
“Really?”
“What else could it be?”
“Are you going to do something to it?”
John put his tools down and turned to face the boy. He brought himself to one knee so that he could look in Jason's eyes and put his hands on Jason's shoulders.
“I'm going to do my job.” he said. Then he laughed a little. “Here I am, in the belly of the fish. And you're right, all I want to do is kill it.” He glanced at the unlocked door that lead to the Tomb and then back at Jason. “I wouldn't just be helping myself, I'd be doing everyone a favor.”
Jason leaned in and whispered, “They're watching us.”
“I know.”
His came even closer and his voice was even quieter when he said, “I think you should do it.”
Jason's comment so surprised John that he was speechless. After a moment with a blank mind, he began to wonder just what conclusions the boy had drawn from his mother's complaints on the subject of the Sorter. Perhaps they were both sent here as agents of destruction.
Jason said, “You're a hero, remember?”
John stood and smiled and said, “Maybe you're right. This isn't how heroes win.”
Cass said, “How do heroes win?”
John spun around and saw her standing there. There were only three ways into the room. One was the door from the hallway, the other was the door with the window, and the last was the door with the malfunctioning electronic lock. All of them were heavy and he'd heard all of them open. He should've noticed Cass enter.
John said, “You're not what you seem you are.”
“Neither are you.”
NINETEEN
Ruth stood outside the District One federal courthouse on Fan Pier. She had completed her testimony in the old gang case she's worked under Keller a few years ago. It was a big deal for the Lieutenant, not that Ruth believed she would get anything out of him for it. He was already pissed at her for being late due to Jason.
The courthouse stood on a former industrial pier that was now a part of the high rent South Boston Seaport district. The harbor stretched behind the courthouse, with the airport beyond that. Ruth stood with her back to the building and facing a parking lot. Ruth went to her car. As she pulled open the door, her phone rang. The caller ID told her the number belong to Polymath. This wasn't good.
“Mr. Binder?” she said.
“This isn't Mr. Binder.” said a female voice.
“Then who are yo
u? Is this about John and Jason?”
There were a few seconds of silence on the phone. Ruth was facing Seaport Boulevard, which ran along the edge of the parking lot. She watched a row of Silver Line cars emerge from their tunnel and stop at a transit station just to the east of the courthouse. Three passengers disembarked. Why should she notice this? Despite the ominous caller that she was waiting to fess up, something about one of the passengers caught her eye and she couldn't let it go.
The caller said, “I didn't know if you'd heard.”
That statement made Ruth's stomach tie up.
“Should've heard about what?” she said. “Who is this?”
As she said this, Ruth searched for pen and paper in her purse.
“My name is Cassandra. I work for Mr. Binder.”
“Do you have a last name, Cassandra?”
“There's been a bomb threat.”
Ruth dropped the pen and it rolled away on the pavement.
She said, “Where is my son?”
“I don't know about your son.” said Cassandra. “All I know is that Mr. Binder left a note to call you if anything happened. He seems to think he can trust you.”
The strange woman that Ruth had seen exit the Silver Line bus approached a building across the street. What was odd about her is that she was dressed in an overcoat, but her legs were bare. In that moment, she turned in such a way that Ruth could see her front. The coat wasn't zipped, revealing that she wore nothing but a nightgown beneath it. The woman disappeared into the building.
“Well, if he trusts me he can do me a favor and look for my son. Jason Holland.”
“The Sorter has identified the source of the threat and believes it's credible.”
It was happening again. Ruth felt like a