Callsign: King - Blackout

EPILOGUE

Two days later

King stretched his legs out on the plush hotel bed-appropriately, a king-sized mattress-and propped his head up on a double-thickness of pillows. He could just make out the sound of water running in the suite’s bathroom, and while Sara was showering, he decided to catch up on the latest news out of Paris. She had firmly forbidden him from watching the nearly constant coverage of the situation there, especially in Fiona’s presence, and King understood her reasoning. Fiona probably felt a little like the biblical prophet Jonah-an unlucky magnet for trouble on an epic scale-and the last thing she needed was to be reminded of what they had gone through.

While the quake had rocked every corner of the city, most of the structural damage was confined to the area around the Louvre, and thankfully, the loss of life was minimal. And while the former palace-turned-museum had suffered catastrophic damage, only a few of the irreplaceable works of art had been damaged beyond repair. Julia Preston would certainly be busy. As curator-at-large for the Global Heritage Commission, she would be instrumental in the effort to repair the damage done to the Louvre. Restoration of the museum and the artwork, like the rebuilding of the city itself, would bring Parisians together in a unified effort, at least in the near term, just as the international relief effort-which had almost immediately been launched on various social networking platforms-was unifying the globe.

It’s too bad, King thought, that it always takes a tragedy to get people to work together.

What was still not understood was the cause of the city-wide power outage, though some experts now believed that the quake had been part of an electro-magnetic event-not a full-blown magnetic pole reversal, but a definite polar hiccup. That theory was gaining popularity, particularly as it offered an explanation for the fact that almost all radio communications had been interrupted at the time of the quake. The phenomenon would also account for the fact that several helicopters and small planes had been knocked out of the sky. Nothing of course could explain the appearance of the fully formed Buddha statues, but that story was being kept out of the news.

King switched off the television. The real story would probably never become public knowledge, and he was just fine with that.

He was still troubled by the role Alexander Diotrophes had played in the events of that night. There was no question that the man’s awareness of the micro black hole’s existence and his knowledge of how it might be stopped had been pivotal in preventing a global cataclysm, but the very fact of his presence-right place, right time-made the hairs on the back of King’s neck bristle with suspicion. It was almost as if the man had known that something was going to happen…as if he’d been waiting for it to happen.

And had he really let Fiona and Sara fall? Had that been intentional?

He shook his head, certain that he had misinterpreted the look in Alexander’s eyes. The big man had said all along that Fiona was the only one who could stop the black hole; what possible reason could he have had for letting her die?

He swung his legs off the bed and stood, crossing to the desk where he picked up the telephone and dialed a number. When an anonymous computerized switchboard began reciting a menu of options, he keyed in the code that would immediately connect him with Deep Blue.

“King!” The voice in his ear was both relieved and irritated. “Where have you been?”

“My phone got knocked out by whatever it was that hit Paris. This is the first chance I’ve had to check in.” That was mostly true. He probably could have called sooner, but his first priority had been to get Fiona and Sara away from Paris. Given the disruption of infrastructure and communications in the region, that had been no mean feat.

“What exactly did happen?” Deep Blue asked. “Was it related to Brown’s quantum computer scheme?”

“There’s a lot I’m still trying to piece together, but I can assure you that Brown won’t be a problem anymore.”

There was a brief silence on the line, then the other man said simply: “Understood. Hold on.” Deep Blue’s muffled voice could be heard speaking to someone else for a moment. Then he came back on the line. “Lew is here. Has some intel you might find interesting. I’m putting you on speaker.”

The phone crackled and then Aleman spoke. “Can you hear me?”

“Loud and clear,” King said.

“I’ve been looking into Pradesh and it turns out even the mighty Shiva’s security-and his bank-can’t keep me out. He received several payments from Jovian Technologies, who it turns out, also designed the quantum phones for Brown. The root of Jovian is Jove, better known as Zeus, father of Hercules. Its speculation, but we all know how Alexander likes to name things, including himself, for the ancient Greek myths, many of which he created.”

“Carutius,” King said. “That’s what he was calling himself this time. The same name he used when he married Acca Larentia, before the formation of Rome on the land he owned.” The idea that Alexander owned the very land Rome was founded on never ceased to amaze King. They’d found an underground citadel belonging to Alexander, hidden beneath the ruins of the Roman Forum, but how much more of the city still belonged to him?

He turned his thoughts back to Pradesh. If the man was working for Jovian, did Alexander know the man was a cult member? Of course he did. Alexander wouldn’t care if Pradesh threw himself into the singularity. What difference would the man’s death make? As long as the man achieved his goal-to control the black hole somehow. Maybe direct it’s path. What Alexander didn’t know was that the quantum phones would grant the black hole sentient thought and allow it to chose its own path. That’s when things got away from him. So the lingering question was, “What did Alexander want with a black hole?”

“That, I can’t tell you,” Aleman said. “But he was definitely working behind the scenes on this thing.”

King looked up as Sara came out of the bathroom, one towel wrapped around her torso, another turban-like on her head, and he flashed her a smile. Alexander and his motives could wait. The man’s secrets wouldn’t be uncovered by dwelling on them. “Oh, I did meet up with Sara and Fiona. They’re fine.”

“I had no idea that I’d be putting them in danger,” Deep Blue said, guiltily.

“Actually, I appreciate the gesture. And now that Brainstorm is finally kaput and Alexander has disappeared again, I think that family vacation you proposed is definitely in order.”

Deep Blue paused, and then said, “King, as much as it pains me to have to say this…”

King tensed. If it had been anyone on the other end of the line, he’d have already hung up, but if Deep Blue needed him for something, it most likely couldn’t wait. “What is it?”

“Can you pick up one of those ear hats? I think I’m going to make Rook wear one for a year when-if-when we find him.”

King laughed, said he’d pick up a few for all the new recruits, and hung up the phone.

Sara leaned against him. “All quiet on the home front?”

“For now.” King leaned over and kissed her forehead, then he left the suite’s master bedroom and knocked lightly on the door to Fiona’s bedroom. He eased the door open and found the girl nestled in a cocoon of blankets, a pillow covering her eyes.

“Fi,” he called out. “Up and at’em, lazybones. Let’s go see what kind of trouble we can get into today.”

The pillow fell away as Fiona sat up, her eyes wide with apprehension. “You’re kidding, right?”

King was taken aback by her response. Fiona’s sense of humor had yet to make a full recovery.

“Of course I’m kidding, kiddo.” He gave her gentle smile. “It’s Disney World. What could possibly happen?”