Stones: Hypothesis (Stones #2) Read online

The image of Ryzaard pops into his mind, and Matt almost lays the motorcycle down. Braking hard, he brings the bike to a stop.

  It’s clear Ryzaard is alive.

  Matt can feel the connection. Panic rises in his chest, and he rushes to drop the Stone into the cloaking box, snapping the lid shut and slipping it into his backpack.

  A sick feeling spreads out from the pit of his stomach. With Ryzaard alive, Matt needs to get back to Jessica as soon has he can, just in case the old man has figured out the location of Matt’s world.

  And what about his dad? He pushes the thought away.

  First, focus on getting the little book.

  With only a mile left to go to the shrine, Matt eases the bike off the road, hiding it in the underbrush a hundred meters downhill. He gets his bearings and starts moving through the trees on a line to the north of the shrine so that he can approach it from the back side. There is a chance, a significant chance, that Ryzaard, or another yakuza welcoming party, will be guarding the shrine, expecting Matt to pay a visit.

  The sun has already gone down behind the mountains to the west. Within an hour, it will be dark, the best time to get to the statue at the top of the stone stairs and retrieve the little black book in Naganuma’s video message. Then Matt can instantly get out by jumping back to Jessica. He doesn’t want to keep her waiting.

  By the time Matt stands in the trees behind the shrine, he can see that nothing has changed from the last time he was here with Naganuma. That might be only a few days ago or several weeks, depending on how long he and Jessica have been gone. The place looks deserted. There’s no light anywhere.

  It’s a hundred-meter walk, past the shrine, past Naganuma’s living quarters, and finally across the graveled courtyard to the torii gate at the top of the stone steps where he can see the komainu lion dog statues. The small black book is in the pedestal of the statue on the left. He can be there in less than twelve seconds if he sprints. If he uses the Stone, he can jump there immediately.

  He decides to take it slow and be cautious, just in case it’s all a trap set by Ryzaard.

  Darting out of the trees, he flattens himself against the back wall of the shrine. The weathered wood feels cool and moist on his palms. He reaches into his backpack and retrieves the cloaking box with the Stone inside, for emergency use only. With his pulse pounding in his temples, he slides along the back wall until it ends, and crouches down to peer around the corner in the direction of the open courtyard.

  It takes twenty minutes to work his way to the statue, and he’s exhausted when he finally arrives. With the help of a flashlight, Matt searches the base of the statue, looking for the spot where Naganuma hid the book. It doesn’t take long to find.

  Carefully removing a carved rock, he reaches into the dark cavity and feels his way through cobwebs and dust to the back, half expecting the hole to be empty.

  But it isn’t.

  His fingertips brush against soft leather. He pulls out the small book and drops it straight into the backpack.

  Standing upright next to the statue, he runs his hand along its rough surface until his fingers find a resting place inside its open mouth.

  Matt imagines Naganuma walking the grounds in his Shinto robes, hands clasped behind his back, in deep contemplation of the secrets of the Stones. The komainu statues, ritual guardians of the shrine with a body half dog and half lion, had failed in the end to protect Naganuma from Ryzaard.

  Matt’s fingers play with a row of teeth carved in the rock. He wonders if Ryzaard is alive and who his next victim will be.

  A peaceful silence lies over the courtyard with its perfectly coifed gravel and shrubs, broken only by the singsong of cicadas in the forest. He slips away into the cedar trees to the north and rests under their cover. Curious about the book, he draws it out of the backpack, crouches down and opens its pages.

  His eyes widen as he realizes what it is.

  The handwritten pages read like a ledger, a precise accounting of multiple Stones and their locations and Holders.

  How did Naganuma know?

  Matt stands transfixed by what he sees, turning page after page, until an owl hoots overhead, jarring him out of his reverie.

  Jessica is waiting. He can study the book later. Now he needs to get back to her, before Ryzaard does.

  And then to find his dad.

  Dropping the book into a side pocket on his pants, he zips it shut. With a jerk of his thumb, he flips open the lid to the cloaking box, turns it up-side-down and lets the Stone fall out. Its weight rests in the fingers of his right hand. He stills his breath, focusing all thoughts on the beach where he left Jessica on his own private world. He’s only been gone a couple of hours.

  She’s probably still there, waiting for him.

  The darkness flashes white, and the cedar trees vanish. Warm sand fills the space between his toes.

  CHAPTER 16

  Diego tries, but can’t turn away from Ryzaard, looking for some reaction to the mass murder of innocents that has just been committed before their eyes.

  Until tonight, Diego had never seen anyone die. He wonders if Ryzaard feels any shock or revulsion at the loss of life.

  Doubtful.

  As if in answer, Ryzaard gazes around the cabin. “Good hunting tonight, wasn’t it?” He turns the new Stone over and over in his bare hands.

  Diego isn’t sure if Ryzaard is talking to him, the pilot or Jerek. He says nothing and lays his head back against the hard rubber cushion behind him, trying to close his eyes and get some sleep. The same numbers keep forcing their way back into his mind, like a hot blade plunging into a mass of tender nerves. Twenty people in the tents on the ground. Six hardened mercenaries hired by MX Global in each of the four Black Harpies that were destroyed midair. Forty-four lives snuffed out tonight.

  Diego wants to ask the obvious questions.

  Why all the killing? How much more killing will there be?

  But Ryzaard has never taken kindly to being asked such questions. And he’s said nothing about his future plans.

  A stream of light from the sun enters the cargo bay through the front windshield and flashes into Diego’s eyes. He sees the fat little man covered with a white sheet and strapped to the gurney next to him. His round belly rises up like a camel’s hump.

  What horrors await him?

  A voice crackles in Diego’s earphones on the general band shared by everyone aboard and interrupts his thoughts.

  “Dr. Ryzaard, data sensors have picked out some interesting movement at Naganuma’s old shrine in Japan.” It sounds like Alexa. “We are analyzing it now. I’m sure you’ll want to take a look at this.”

  Ryzaard raises his head. “We’re almost home, and I’m busy examining a new Stone. Brief me in my office when we arrive.”

  “Will do.”

  “And Alexa?” Ryzaard says.

  “Yes?”

  “Is the room next to my office cleaned up and ready to go? We have a new guest on board that will be checking in as soon as we arrive.”

  “Everything’s ready,” Alexa says. “Just as you ordered.”

  “And the on-site physician?”

  “Dr. Small is here and anxious to attend to the patient and participate in the experiments.”

  “Very good.”

  Ryzaard’s hand goes back down to the Stone. His fingers slide along its rough surface, back and forth.

  CHAPTER 17

  Who could have done this?

  In all his life, Kent has never witnessed such destruction, such wanton violation of human life.

  He tries to look away, but can’t take his eyes off the charred human remains at his feet. Blackened finger bones still clutch the handle of a metal mug. Smoke and the stench of burnt flesh hang in the morning air like a shroud. He stands in a graveyard of twisted metal and burning plastic.

  Without warning, a violent rush of movement forces its way up his throat. He bends over as the contents of his stomach splash onto the dirt between his shoe
s followed by a torrent of green bile.

  Jake’s boots appear on the ground.

  “Any survivors?” Kent stands up, wipes his mouth on his sleeve and pulls a handkerchief from his pocket to tie around his head.

  “None. Everyone killed, even their own commandos.” Jake pushes his sunglasses back up on his forehead to expose the eyeless sockets. “I’ve surveyed the camp and identified what’s left of the corpses.” He sighs. “Little John’s not here. I’d know his body if I saw it.”

  “Were any of these people your friends?”

  Jake’s face drops to the ground. “Most of them were kids. Recent recruits I didn’t know well. All hand-picked by Little John to join the ranks of the Children. But anyone who’s in a freedom camp is a friend of mine.”

  Kent walks to a pile of ash in the middle of the black ring where the tents used to be. He grabs a stick and pokes around in the debris, stirring up remains of a camp chair, an old fridge and beer cans. “You’re right. Little John isn’t here. They must have taken him back with them.”

  “That’s why they came.” Jake totters and drops to one knee, head in hands. “To get Little John. The man closest to a father I ever had. They didn’t even bother with anyone else. I can’t believe he’s gone.” Both his hands go to the ground as convulsions rack his body.

  “I’m sorry,” Kent says. “There was nothing you could have done.”

  “I should have been here with him.” Jake raises his head. “Maybe I could have warned him. Maybe he could have gotten away.”

  Scanning the four burning hulks of the attack-helis, Kent shakes his head. “Not a chance. Whoever did this has massive resources, and they knew exactly what they were looking for and where to find it.” He pats Jake on the back. “You saw how they went straight to Little John’s tent.”

  Jake stands up, takes in a deep breath and brings his hands up to his empty eye sockets. “I can’t even cry.”

  “Who could have done this?” Kent spies a slab of blackened plate armor from one of the helicopters and walks to it. “Little John must have had a long list of enemies.”

  “Everywhere.” Jake shakes his head and raises his arms. “The freedom camps have always been a thorn in the side of the government. People clamor for them to send in the National Guard to clean them up. But the government never does anything. Doesn’t want to stir up a scandal, I suppose. At least that’s what we always counted on.”

  “The government didn’t do this. Not their style.” Kent kneels down close to the plate armor. “Had to have been a private operation.”

  “These Harpies aren’t cheap.” Jake kicks at a piece of burnt plastic on the ground. “Each one costs more than some countries have in their entire military budget. These guys blew up four of them on this operation. Didn’t want anyone to know what happened here.”

  “Wait a minute.” Nausea spreads in Kent’s belly as a realization slowly dawns on him. He reaches down. “Looks like a piece of a door from the attack-helis. Can you help me lift this up?”

  “Why?”

  “Just a hunch,” Kent says.

  Together, they work their hands under one edge, raise it up and let it fall forward so the underside is facing up. Their faces drop down and see the corporate logo, partially hidden by dust. Two dragons, one black and one white, devouring each other by the tails. Neon red words form a circle on the outside.

  MX Global Corporation. Paradise now.

  Kent shakes his head. “Of course. Ryzaard. He tried to get the Stone from my son. Somehow he knew Little John had one.”

  Leaning forward, Jake spits in the eye of one of the dragons. “Little John always said the Abomination would come after him.”

  “I guess he was right about that. Ryzaard must have a way to locate the Stones. That’s how he found my son.”

  “Maybe so.” Jake turns and begins to walk away. “But that still leaves a big question unanswered.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Why didn’t he just kill Little John on the spot and take his Stone?”

  “The same reason why he didn’t kill my son.” Kent scans the destruction of the campsite. “It’s clear he doesn’t mind killing in large numbers. But he needs the people with the Stones alive. I wish I knew why.”

  Jake moves in the direction of the road out of the corn fields. “He’ll get no cooperation from Little John. At least not voluntary cooperation.”

  “Then I fear for Little John. Ryzaard won’t hesitate to use torture to get what he wants.”

  And then the full import of Kent’s own words dawns on him. If Ryzaard did this to Little John and the people around him, what will he do to Matt? Are the Black Harpies chasing Matt somewhere on the planet right now?

  A surge of panic and terror overwhelms Kent. He drops to his knees, head in his hands. A voice screams inside his mind.

  Where are you, Matt?

  Jake lunges forward and kicks a rock far off into the corn. “Damn you, Little John! Why didn’t you see this was coming? Why weren’t you ready?” He moves briskly toward the road.

  Pushing back the fear, Kent takes in a gulp of air to clear his head. Panic won’t help. Panic is the enemy.

  Be strong. For Matt.

  Kent gets to his feet and follows behind Jake as they walk in silence.

  When they reach the road, Jake looks to the right and the left. After a moment of hesitation, he nods to himself, as if he’s just made a decision. Then he starts walking down the middle of the road, heading west.

  “What are you going to do?” Kent says.

  “Two things. Get to a freedom camp. And then find your son. He’s the only one that can help us now.”

  CHAPTER 18

  Ryzaard drops into the chair behind his desk and swivels it to face out the window. Two men in white lab coats follow close behind and wheel the pudgy little man on a gurney through the office and into an opening to the round room next door. The door slides shut behind them with a gentle woosh.

  Crisp footsteps of a woman come down the hall and abruptly stop before entering his office.

  “Come in, Alexa,” Ryzaard says, still gazing out the window. It’s a summer morning in the city, and he admires the haze clinging to the upper reaches of the buildings. “Tell me what you’ve found.” He swivels around to face her.

  Alexa walks to the sofa against one wall. Flopping down, she leans back and crosses her legs. Then she reaches for a half-empty bottle of champagne on an end table and brings it up to her lips. “How about a drink?” she says.

  “Not this early in the morning. Too much is going on right now. Too much to think about. We are on the verge of a breakthrough.”

  “That’s what you said last time.” Alexa sucks out a mouthful of the amber liquid. The bottle comes away from her lips with an audible pop. “Remember?”

  Ryzaard stands and returns his gaze to the city below. “Let’s dispense with the senseless bickering. I believe you have something important to tell me.” His heels go up and down with his hands behind his back, a trademark gesture suggesting that he’s losing patience.

  She takes one more drink and sticks out her lower lip, looking down on the floor. “We haven’t had any time together lately. I think you’ve gotten tired of me.”

  “Alexa,” Ryzaard says. “I do not have time for the conversation you want to have.” A slow crescendo gathers in his voice. “Tell me what happened at Naganuma’s shrine. Now.” He turns and glares at her, his fingers slowly curling into fists.

  She puts the empty champagne bottle down on the floor, taking care to make it stand upright. “We installed data sensors on the shrine grounds to pick up any sounds or transmissions, any evidence of human activity.”

  “I know. I gave the orders to do precisely that.” Ryzaard walks along the full length of the window looking down, and veers toward her. “Do not push me any further. I will ask you one last time. What did you find?” He towers over her as she sinks deeper into the sofa.

  “The surveillan
ce units detected the sound of a motorcycle within a mile of the shrine. Forensic analysis confirms it’s a match to Naganuma’s.”

  “That is interesting,” Ryzaard says. “I wondered what happened to that old piece of junk. Did you capture any video of the rider?”

  Alexa squirms on the sofa and hands her jax up to him.

  “That’s all we got.”

  A holo appears above the jax showing grainy footage of a human rider speeding down a windy mountain road. “Unfortunately, there’s not enough resolution to confirm identity.”

  “But it could be him,” Ryzaard says.

  Alexa sits up. “There’s more.” She takes the jax back from Ryzaard and runs her fingers over its surface. “Here it is. Several still pics of the shrine courtyard. Just a few snatches, part of a shoe here, a hand there, what might be the top of a backpack. Nothing conclusive.” She shows the pictures to Ryzaard. “Whoever it was, he managed to cross the courtyard almost without leaving a trace.”

  “Anything else?”

  “Just one more data point. Take a look at this video.” She turns the jax around so that Ryzaard can see the holo screen more clearly. “Look carefully or you’ll miss it.”

  Ryzaard bends over and stares. It’s a nighttime video shot of a grove of cedar trees a hundred meters away. The faint outline of a human being crouches down next to a tree trunk with a flashlight on, looking at something in his hands.

  “What’s he looking at?” Ryzaard says.

  Alexa stands up and moves next to him. “Hard to say. It’s the best resolution we can get. If you ask me, it looks like he’s flipping through a small book.”

  Ryzaard frowns. “But we still can’t be sure who it is.”

  “Wait a second,” Alexa says. “Keep watching. You might change your mind.”

  As Ryzaard watches, a faint flash of light outlines the crouching figure, and then it vanishes, leaving only empty darkness.

  “Are you sure it’s not a digital artifact?” he says.

  “I had the video thoroughly checked and cleaned. Not a chance it’s an artifact. It’s real.”