Страница 70 из 85
8
“Well?” Jack said. “What do you think?”
He was walking Gia toward Columbus Avenue for a cab, his arm around her shoulder, her arm around his waist. Vicky ambled ahead, gyrating to whatever was playing on her iPod.
He’d thought it had gone well. It could have been a bonfire of the ovaries, but they’d got along.
Gia looked up at him, a faint smile playing about her lips. “I think she’s in love with you.”
The idea stu
“No way. We’ve known each other for ages and haven’t seen each other since the eighties. She can’t be.”
“She might not know it herself, or be in denial. Maybe it’s just infatuation, but something’s there.”
“Swell. What do you think I should do?”
“Tell me again why she has to stay with you?”
“Long story.”
“Vicky took to her. I could put her up—”
“No.”
She paused, then, “You said that way too fast.”
He thought about what had happened to her house, to Harris, to Harris’s place. Lots of collateral damage around Weezy these days.
“Did I?”
“How much trouble is she in?”
“A bunch.”
“Do I want to know details?”
“Probably not. It’s complicated. She’s gotten herself into a situation. It’s better for you and Vicks not to be co
“And a hotel or motel won’t do?”
“She needs to feel safe while she tries to make sense of the Compendium. It’s a temporary thing.”
Gia sighed and leaned against him as they walked. “Why isn’t anything ever simple anymore?”
“Because you’re involved with me, and I’m involved with . . . well, you know. Let’s face it: Life would be so much simpler and better for you if we’d never met.”
But awful for me.
He felt her stiffen. “Simpler maybe, but don’t you say ‘better.’ Don’t you ever say ‘better.’ ”
“You wouldn’t have lost Emma.”
“Emma wouldn’t have existed without you.”
“Exactly.”
”Let’s not go there, Jack.”
“Okay.”
Gladly not. He still hadn’t found a way to tell her that Emma had died, and she and Vicky had almost died, because Emma was his bloodline . . . a branch marring the symmetry and aerodynamics of a spear.
They reached Columbus just as a cab was disgorging a trio of sweet young things eager for the Upper West Side’s Saturday night bar scene. Jack grabbed the door and scooted Vicky into the back. He took Gia in his arms and she pressed against him.
“So . . . should I lock my bedroom door?”
She smiled. “I’ll leave that up to you, but you never know . . . it might avoid an awkward moment.”
“Think so?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know. I do know I like her. She’s got a sweetness about her. I don’t think she has a mean bone in her body. But her mind . . . she doesn’t flaunt it—in fact, I think she tries to hide it—but she reeks of intelligence. I think she’s scary smart.”
“She is. That’s why we need her to decipher the Compendium.”
“But as for her feelings for you . . . I feel kind of sorry for her if she does love you.”
“Why?”
“Because she’s so shit out of luck.”
Jack barked a laugh. “You said the s word! I thought four-letter words were u
She nodded. “A refuge for the inane, the insipid, and the inarticulate.”
“But—”
“But sometimes they say it all.”
He laughed again. “You’re that sure of me?”
“As sure as you are of me.”
“Well, then, that’s a lock.”
They kissed, long and hard. Then he guided her into the cab, closed the door, and watched his two ladies roar off toward the East Side.
9
“Jack, ohmygod! Jack!” Weezy cried, ru
“What?”
“In the Compendium—the Orsa, the Null Site, even the Fhi
“Let me see.”
“Oh, I hope that page is still there,” she said, leading him to the round oak table where the book lay. “Please-please-please . . . yes!”
She slammed her hands down on the exposed pages as if trying to keep them from blowing away. It looked like a two-page spread of the Opus Omega crosshatching.
Jack craned his neck. “What—?”
“In a minute. Let me tell you what I’ve been able to piece together. I had a fair amount of the picture when I walked in here today but I was missing vital parts. After you and Gia left, I pulled this out for a little more study. Remember I told you that the first pillar had to be placed in a specific spot called the Null Site?”
“Right, but you didn’t know where or why.”
“Well, I found out why almost as soon as I opened the Compendium: It’s the spot that’s crossed by the most so-called lines of force ru
“And where was that?”
“It didn’t say.”
“Swell. Then what’s all the excitement?”
She turned back to the Compendium where her hands still pressed against the pages.
“I found this map. You see, one of the problems with trying to understand Opus Omega has been the lack of orientation. You’re shown these diagrams with all the nexus points and all the lines of force between them and all the intersections that have pillars and those that still need them, but I’ve yet to see one superimposed on a Mercator-type map of the world—until now.”
She slid her hands to the sides, revealing a two-page spread of the continents overlaid with the Opus Omega grid. He saw the red lines of force co
“Nice. Where’s the Null Site?”
“Take a look and tell me where you think,” she said. “I want to see if we come up with the same spot.”
Jack leaned over the book and studied the network of lines. He found thick intersections in all the continents, but the thickest seemed . . .
“Here,” he said, pointing to an area in the northeastern United States. “This looks the busiest.”
“That’s what I thought too. Touch it.”
“What do you mean?”
“Touch the spot.”
Jack did, and jerked his hand back as the image expanded, bringing the area to the center. The northeastern and mid-Atlantic U.S. now dominated the two-page spread.
“Touch it again,” she said.
He did, and it expanded further, bringing the Tri-State area front and center.
He smiled. “Ancient interactivity.”
At another, earlier point in his life he might have been awed, but the events of the past couple of years had depleted his awe reservoir.
He touched it again and the lower half of Manhattan Island filled the spread. But . . .
“It looks different.”
“That’s because the map shows the island as it was thousands of years ago. We’ve changed its shape since the Dutch first settled here in the sixteen hundreds.”
“You mentioned Battery Park City.”
“Right. And that was just back in the sixties. Three hundred years of filling this and excavating that preceded it. One more zoom-in ought to do it.”
Jack touched the busy intersection of lines and the image enlarged once more. He saw a symbol at the center of the intersection.
“Zero?”
“That’s the mathematical symbol for an empty set, also known as a null set.”
“The Null Site?”
“I don’t see what else it can be. Notice where it rests.”
Even with the vaguely distorted shape of the island, the location was disturbingly obvious.
“The World Trade Center.”