Nightrise

FRIENDS IN HIGH PLACES

The police had thrown a tight security ring all around the Carlton Hotel in Wilshire Boulevard, just south of Beverly Hills. It seemed to Jamie that Los Angeles had no real centre. It sprawled carelessly from district to district… but if the city had a wallet it would surely keep it here. Jamie had never seen so many expensive shops and boutiques standing shoulder to shoulder, the windows dripping with watches and jewellery and five-thousand-dollar suits.

The Carlton was an old-fashioned building, fifteen storeys high and stretching an entire block. As Alicia and Jamie drove into the front courtyard, a dozen valets in matching grey waistcoats hurried forward to help them out of the car and then to park it below. But even the valets were outnumbered by the secret service personnel, who had their own uniform: black suits, white shirts, sunglasses and earpieces. To Jamie they looked almost ridiculous, like something out of a cartoon. But perhaps that was the idea. They were advertising the fact that the hotel was protected.

Senator John Trelawny was staying here for twenty-four hours before he gave his speech at the LA Convention Center and he had taken over the entire twelfth floor for the night. There were less than five months until the general election and his campaign team numbered almost a hundred people, including media advisors, political consultants, speech writers, pollsters, personal aides and more security men. All of them had rooms, and for one night all the lifts to the twelfth floor had been blocked. To visit the senator, guests would need to show ID and then receive a pass key – provided by the secret service. Callers were accompanied all the way. If they didn’t have an invitation, they didn’t get in.

“Will he see us?” Jamie asked as he and Alicia followed a winding corridor into the hotel.

Alicia nodded. “I just have to let him know we’re here…”

They entered a cavernous lobby with a huge chandelier hanging over a round, polished table. Jamie found himself staring open-mouthed at the wealth on display. There was too much of everything. Too many electric candlelights, too many vases of flowers – at least ten of them – on the table, too many antique clocks and mirrors and display cases packed with handbags, scarves and shoes. And too many people. There was a concierge desk and a reception desk and porters and guests everywhere. Rush hour for the rich, Jamie thought. He had never been anywhere like this.

Alicia stopped and looked around, searching for someone she knew. A few moments later, she found him. “There!” she exclaimed, and moved forward.

A man was standing next to a table close to the lifts. He was dressed in the same dark suit and white shirt as the other security men, but he had a brightly coloured tie as if to announce that he wasn’t actually one of them. Even so, there was a telltale wire curling behind his ear and he was obviously doing the same job: scanning the lobby with suspicious eyes. He was at least six and a half feet tall with blond, close-cropped hair, blue eyes that were constantly on the move and the body of a weightlifter. His shoulders were huge. Either he was ex-army or a retired basketball player… or both.

The man saw Alicia and recognized her before she was nearer than ten paces.

“Alicia!” He greeted her by name but he seemed more surprised than pleased to see her.

“How are you, Warren?”

“I’m good.” He drawled the words. “I didn’t know you were in LA.”

“I didn’t know I was coming until a couple of days ago.”

Warren had noticed Jamie, who was standing a few steps behind her, trying to keep out of the way. The man frowned briefly, and Jamie was suddenly nervous that he might have been recognized.

“This is a friend of mine,” Alicia said. “His name is David.” There was a showcase against the wall, advertising Davidoff cigars. Jamie knew that she had plucked the false name from there and hoped that the security man hadn’t noticed it too. She turned to him. “David, this is Warren Cornfield.”

Warren nodded slowly at Jamie, then turned back to Alicia. “What can I do for you?” he asked.

“I want to see the senator.”

“You want to see the senator?” A slow smile spread across Cornfield’s lips. But he wasn’t amused. “You know that’s not possible, Alicia. Tomorrow he’s talking to ten thousand people. Somehow, I don’t think he’s got time to see you right now.”

But Alicia stood her ground. “When I left, he said his door would always be open to me.”

“That’s not what he told me.”

“Why don’t you ask him?”

“I’m not his assistant, Alicia. You know that. I think maybe you should ring back another time and get an appointment.”

Jamie could see that Alicia was struggling to keep her temper. “I’m here right now, asking for an appointment, Warren,” she growled. “And you’re right. You’re not his assistant. So why don’t you call up to Elizabeth, who is – and she can ask John if he’ll see me.”

“You’re wasting your time.”

“We’ll see, shall we?”

Alicia smiled pleasantly but Warren scowled. He didn’t like being talked to in this way but it was clear that Alicia wouldn’t be argued with. Warren held up a single finger and walked away, his head cocked, talking into a concealed microphone. To anyone else looking, he could have been arguing with himself.

“Warren is John’s personal security officer,” Alicia explained. “He’s supposed to liaise with the secret service but half the time he thinks he actually runs it. We never did get along.”

“I can see that.”

“They say he was with the CIA a while ago but he got thrown out. Personally, I think…”

But Alicia didn’t finish the sentence. Warren Cornfield was walking back towards her and his whole demeanour had changed. He was like a sulky child. “He says he’ll see you,” he muttered.

“Thank you, Warren.”

“Why don’t we make that Mr Cornfield? You’re not part of the team any more…”

He snapped his fingers like an angry diner demanding a drink. One of the younger secret service men came running over. “Show these people up to twelve,” he said.

“Yes, Mr Cornfield.”

Alicia smiled at him and she and Jamie went over to the lift. The security man inserted a key into the lock and pressed the button for the twelfth floor. The doors closed. “You friends of the senator?” he asked.

“I used to work for him,” Alicia said.

“He’s a good guy,” the security man went on. “I might even vote for him myself. Charles Baker is a jerk.”

There was a silver-haired man in a suit but no tie waiting for them when the lift arrived. Warren must have radioed up from below. The man knew Alicia at once. “My dear, it’s very good to see you. How have you been keeping?” He had an Irish accent.

“It’s great to see you, Patrick. Still playing the horses?”

“Still losing.”

“This is a friend of mine.” She indicated Jamie but was careful not to say his name. “Patrick is John’s campaign chairman for the state of California.”

“Good to meet you.” Patrick smiled and Jamie warmed to him at once. He was obviously puzzled by Jamie’s appearance but had decided to ask no questions. “He can’t see you for very long, Alicia,” he said, as he led them down a corridor. “Right now the pressure’s on.”

“How is he?” Alicia asked.

“He’s doing a grand job. I just wish the contest wasn’t going to be so damned close…”

There was a set of double doors at the end of the corridor with yet another secret service man on guard. Patrick showed a pass and led Alicia and Jamie into a large conference room with a single table scattered with notepads and pens, computers, printouts, files, trays of sandwiches and bottles of mineral water. There were a dozen people sitting round and from the look of them none had slept very much in recent days. They were busy talking, arguing over a graph of some sort, but as Alicia came in, one of them stood up and with a shock Jamie recognized the man he had seen on posters all over Los Angeles.

John Trelawny didn’t look like a politician. That was Jamie’s first thought. He was a handsome man, taller than Jamie had expected from his picture and younger too, perhaps in his late forties. He had hair which had once been fair but had since faded, on its way to going grey. But he looked fit and healthy. He was wearing cords, a loose-fitting blue sweater and trainers. He was obviously tired but his light brown eyes were full of life.

“Alicia, this is a very unexpected surprise. How are you?” He embraced her. “Is there any news of Daniel?”

“Yes, there is, Senator. That’s why I wanted to see you.” She turned and introduced Jamie. “This is Jamie.” This time, she used his name.

Trelawny reached out and they shook hands. “How do you do.”

“Sir…” Jamie found it hard to believe that he could be shaking hands with the next president of the United States.

“I’m sorry to come here like this,” Alicia went on. “I know how busy you are and how important this time is for you. But I urgently need to talk to you.”

“You’ve found your boy?”

“I think I may have. Yes. But I can’t reach him.”

“Senator…” A woman sitting at the table held up a cell phone. “I have the mayor of Auburn on the phone for you. He wants to talk about the birthday parade.”

Trelawny looked bemused. “Not right now, Beth,” he said. “Can you tell him I’ll call him back?” He turned to Alicia. “I’m afraid I can’t give you too much time,” he explained. “There’s a lot going on right now. But, you know, a break might be good for me. In fact, it might be good for all of us. OK, everyone!” He raised his voice. “Go out and get some fresh air or have a snack or do something that approximates to real life. We’ll get back together in ten minutes.” He turned to Alicia. “Why don’t you and I go next door where we can talk undisturbed?”

Alicia glanced at Jamie. He nodded back. The senator and his former assistant walked off together. There was a sitting room next to the conference centre. Jamie watched the two of them go in. They shut the door behind them. None of the campaign workers left the table. They just went on working as they had before. The Irish man came over. “Can I get you a drink, young man?” he asked.

“Do you have a Coke?”

“Sure. Why don’t you sit down on the couch and make yourself at home.”

Jamie did as he was told, glad to be out of the way. There was a plasma TV turned on in the corner but it had the sound turned down and was tuned into a news station. Patrick returned with a Coke and Jamie drank it slowly, wondering how long Alicia would be. John Trelawny had said ten minutes but it seemed to him that much time had already passed.

At last the door opened and Trelawny appeared again. “Michael,” he said, addressing one of the men in the room. “Can you get me the file on Nightrise?” He turned to Jamie. “I’d like to have a word.”

Jamie got up and went in. He was aware of the campaign workers glancing at him with curiosity. They were working on a major speech. Why was this teenager taking up so much of their boss’s time? The man called Michael had snatched up a thick folder and handed it to Trelawny, who nodded his thanks. Jamie followed Trelawny into the second room, closing the door behind him.

Alicia was sitting on a sofa but Jamie was directed to an empty chair as if the senator wanted to keep them apart. Trelawny stood by the door, gathering his thoughts, then he put down the folder and moved into the room.

“Alicia has just told me the strangest story I’ve ever heard in my life,” he began. “If I didn’t know her well, I’d have already told her to leave. In fact, even now I have to ask myself if she isn’t in some way disturbed. I don’t mean that cruelly. After everything that’s happened to her, the loss of her son, I’d understand. But she tells me that you have also lost someone… a brother. Scott. That he was taken from a theatre in Reno – is that right?”

Jamie nodded. He knew what was coming.

“According to Alicia, the people who took Scott may be the same people who took Daniel. And the reason they’re interested in you, she says, is because you have an extraordinary ability. You can read people’s thoughts. My thoughts, for example.”

“I’m sorry, Jamie,” Alicia muttered.

“That’s OK.” Jamie had guessed what he was going to have to do, but this time he wasn’t worried. Everything about Senator Trelawny, even the way he spoke, made him feel comfortable. He wouldn’t be the same as Colton Banes. He didn’t live in the same world.

“I try to keep an open mind,” Trelawny went on, “and I’d be the first to admit that there are plenty of things in this world that can’t be explained. But this…” He shook his head doubtfully. “Anyway, this should be fairly simple. Alicia suggested to me that I put you to the test. Do you mind?”

“No, sir.” Jamie was ready.

“Very well.” Trelawny gestured at a low table in front of the sofa. There was a plain wooden box, about the size of a cigarette packet, placed in the middle. “My wife gave me that,” he said. “I carry it with me wherever I go. Alicia doesn’t know what’s in it. I haven’t told her. But she says you can tell me.”

Jamie concentrated for a moment. Then he looked Trelawny straight in the eyes. “There’s nothing inside the box,” he said. “It’s empty.”

Trelawny didn’t give anything away. But Alicia could feel a sudden tension in the room.

“Your wife made it,” Jamie went on. “She likes working with wood. Her name is Grace. You keep things in it when you go to bed. Cuff links and stuff like that. Right now it’s difficult to tell you more because all you’re thinking about is the election. It’s weird…”

“Go on.”

“Well, I was going to say, you’re really scared of losing. But what’s strange is, you’re even more scared of winning.”

There was a silence. Trelawny stood where he was, so still that he was barely breathing. At last he let out a long breath. “You have an extraordinary talent,” he said. “I won’t call it a gift – because perhaps it isn’t. I can’t imagine what it must be like for you – to have this ability.”

“I don’t use it,” Jamie said. “I don’t want it.”

“Nobody but me has ever looked inside this box,” Trelawny said. “It travels with me when I’m on the road. I’ve never told anyone who made it.” He went over to the table and picked it up, opened it and showed it to Alicia. There was nothing inside.

“Alicia has suggested that I should launch a full-scale investigation into the Nightrise Corporation,” he said. “But as it happens, I’ve already started.” He went over to the folder and opened it. “This is just the tip of the iceberg. Let me tell you a little bit about them. And then I’ll tell you why, right now, there’s nothing I can do.”

He sat down.

“I don’t believe all big business is bad,” he began. “But Nightrise are very big and they seem to take pride in being as bad as they can get away with. The trouble with this country is that we’re all too ready to turn a blind eye to crimes committed in the name of business. A factory burns down and twenty workers are killed. A tank leaks and a whole river system gets polluted. A weapons system is sold abroad and ends up being used against American soldiers. Nobody notices – and you know why? Because profit is all that matters. Profit is king. These companies are making huge profits and employing tens of thousands of people. So we let them get away with murder.

“I first heard about Nightrise about six months ago.” He produced a clipping, cut out of a newspaper. “This was sent to me by a friend. He thought I might be interested in the story of a twelve-year-old child working in a toy factory in Indonesia who got burned by one of the machines and died. The kid had been working ten hours a day for twenty cents an hour and he was exhausted. I call that murder. He was making parts for a shooting game and the company that employed him just happened to be fully owned by Nightrise. But did they pay any compensation? Did they care? Of course not. And you could buy that toy in any mall in America…”

“You said there’s nothing you can do,” Jamie cut in.

“Here’s why.” Trelawny frowned. “The current vice president and the chief of staff both used to work for Nightrise before they went into politics. When they leave the White House, whoever wins the next election, they’ll go back on the board. Nightrise has about three hundred companies all around the world and many of them do work for the US government. There’s one that manufactures bombs. The bombs are dropped. Then another one that’s hired to rebuild the cities that the bombs destroyed. You see what I mean? Business and politics go hand in hand.

“And just to make matters worse, Nightrise is supporting Charles Baker in the presidential election. In fact, they’re one of his main sponsors. They’ve channelled millions of dollars in his direction. They have to be clever how they do it: there are laws about donating money to political causes. But there are dozens of independent organizations and little groups fighting against me and, although they don’t seem to be connected, we’re pretty sure that Nightrise is bankrolling the whole lot of them. But I’ve got no proof, Jamie. They’ve been too careful. And if I start making accusations, it’ll just make me look like a sore loser – at least, I’ll look as if I’m afraid of losing, and that won’t help anyone.”

“So what can you do?”

“I have to wait and hope I win. If I become president of this country – and I believe that there’s a very good chance of that happening – I want to make it my first priority to fight corruption in business and I mean to make a start with Nightrise.”

“We can’t wait,” Jamie said. “They’re hurting Scott.”

“How do you know?”

“I just know.”

“Hold on,” Alicia said. She reached into her handbag and took out a sheet of paper. “Thanks to Jamie, we managed to find out that Scott may be being held in a place called Silent Creek. I checked it out on the Internet. Silent Creek is a prison, a Youth Correctional Facility, out in the Mojave Desert. It’s the only privately run prison in Nevada. And it’s owned by Nightrise.”

“Scott’s there,” Jamie said.

“We think Scott is there. And, we think, Daniel could be there too.” Alicia sighed. “It makes sense. If you wanted to hold a bunch of kids somewhere nobody could find them, somewhere out of the way, a prison in the desert would be perfect. Can you go in there, Senator? Could you get the police to raid it?”

“I could try.” Trelawny thought for a moment, then shook his head. “But it wouldn’t be easy. First of all, I’ve got no real proof that there’s anything wrong going on there. I haven’t even heard of Silent Creek – and if it’s in Nevada it isn’t even in my jurisdiction. And finally, if I did make enough noise to get an investigation started, the prison supervisor would hear about it before we got anywhere near. If those two boys were there, there’d be all the time in the world to move them some place else. Or worse…”

Alicia nodded. She had been expecting this. “You may be right,” she said. “But we have another thought.”

“I could go in there,” Jamie said.

“Go in there… how?”

“You must know people,” Alicia said. “Suppose Jamie were to become one of the inmates. With a false name. A judge could send him there with another bunch of juveniles. Once he was inside Silent Creek, he could find out if Scott and Daniel were there and get a message to me. Maybe he could even help get them out.”

“How would he do that?”

“There are things I can do,” Jamie explained. “Things you don’t know about.”

“I know you want to take these people on in your own time, Senator,” Alicia said. “But we don’t have any time. We have to do something now.”

There was a knock at the door and, without waiting for an answer, Warren Cornfield burst in. Trelawny’s security man was looking furious. He stood framed in the doorway, which was almost his own size.

“Excuse me, sir,” he said. “I’m sorry to butt in…”

“What is it, Warren?” Trelawny asked. He didn’t seem concerned.

“Sir, that woman has lied to me.” His finger jabbed in Alicia’s direction. “That boy she’s brought to see you, I think you should know that his name is not David. I thought I recognized him and now I know who he is. His name is Jamie Tyler and he is a wanted felon.”

“Alicia has already told me who he is,” Trelawny replied.

“She has?” Cornfield was taken aback. “Sir, the Nevada police are actively looking for this child. He’s wanted for first degree murder. If you let him leave here, if anyone finds out that he’s even been in the same room as you, he could destroy your entire campaign.”

“Come in, Warren. Shut the door behind you.”

The security man did as he was told. Trelawny waited until he had calmed down.

“Have you called the police?” Trelawny asked.

“No, sir. Not yet.”

“That’s good. Let’s leave it that way.” Trelawny turned to Alicia. “You’d better go,” he said. “But I have your cell number and I’ll get in touch. It should be possible to arrange what you’ve asked. I have friends…” He went over to Jamie and laid a hand on his shoulder. “I won’t forget meeting you,” he said. “And what you said, about winning the election – you’re absolutely right.” He smiled. “I hope you find your brother.”

“Sir…” Warren Cornfield couldn’t believe what he was seeing. “These two people should be in jail.”

“It’s OK, Warren. I think I know what I’m doing. I want you to show my guests out. Don’t arrest them. Don’t call the police. Make sure nobody gets in their way.”

“Whatever you say, sir.”

Cornfield was still scowling as he showed them to the door. At the last moment, Jamie turned round and took one last look at the man who might become president. He had picked up the little box and was holding it with a sort of wonderment, as if he too could somehow look through the wooden surface and uncover the secrets locked inside. Then the door closed. He didn’t think he would see him again.

Pain.

Scott Tyler didn’t know how long he had been here. Nor did he know where “here” was or how he had got there.

He was lying on a bed. To begin with, there had been chains around his wrists and handcuffs, but now they had no further need of them. He was too weak to move. If he had been able to examine himself, he would have seen he was still in the same clothes that he had been wearing at the theatre, although the shirt had been ripped open and the trousers were crumpled and torn. Not that he remembered the theatre any more or anything that had happened on the night he was seized. A very large part of his memory had been taken away from him. The drugs dripping into his right arm had done that. The doses had been carefully monitored, the injections exactly timed. They didn’t want to kill him or to drive him mad. Their aim was more complicated than that. They wanted to tear him away from the life he had been living and leave him floating helplessly until he was ready to be made theirs.

He hadn’t eaten for days and they had barely brought him enough water to keep him alive. Nor had he slept. Every time his eyes closed, they would bombard the room with a barrage of sound, drum beats, music, machinegun fire. The lights were kept on all the time. Right now it could have been the middle of the day or the night. It made no difference. Scott was barely conscious. And he was ready for the next stage.

The door opened. Scott didn’t even try to look up to see who had come in. He was afraid to do anything without being told. There was a rustle of fabric as someone sat down. He smelled a scent, some sort of flower. Trembling, he turned his head and saw that a woman had come in and sat down in the chair next to him. She was looking at him as if unsure what to make of him. Or maybe she was deciding what to do next.

She lifted a hand. Scott saw that she wore several rings. For a moment, two of her fingers rested on his arm. “What have they done to you?” She spoke for the first time. Her voice was soft and almost musical. “You poor boy,” she went on. “I’d have come sooner if only I’d known but, you see, it’s so difficult for me. I want to be your friend. But I have to know that you trust me. You have to be on my side.”

Her fingers moved to his forehead, moving a lock of hair out of his eyes.

“Jamie left you,” she went on. “Do you remember – at the theatre? That’s when they came for you and your brother just abandoned you. All your life you looked after him but he didn’t care. The first chance he got, he was away, leaving you to all this. Right now, he’s laughing at you. Because he’s all right. He’s having a fine old time. And you’re stretched out on your back, connected up to all these nasty tubes, and you could die here and nobody would think twice.

“But that’s the mistake you’ve made since you were little, Scott. Do you remember Ed and Leanne in Carson City? You thought they’d look after you but they let you down. And then there were Don and Marcie and they were even worse. But that’s the thing about life, isn’t it? It’s always the good people who get pushed around. The little people. Do you want to be a little person, Scott, or do you want to be with me? Because, you see, in the world that’s coming, I’m going to be in charge, and you’re going to have to start asking yourself, which end of the whip do you want to be?

“I’ll leave you to think about it, my dear. There are some people I work for… well, not exactly people. They’ll be with us very soon and they’ll be so glad to know that you’ve joined us, that you’ve decided to become their servant. Jamie, unfortunately, is not sensible enough to make that choice. But maybe one day you’ll be able to get your own back on him. Maybe one day we’ll let you take that little swine and put a knife through his heart.

“But right now, I must go. You think about what I’ve said and maybe tomorrow we’ll have another little chat.”

The door opened a second time. Somebody else had come into the room. The woman stood up.

“Mr Banes has come to see you now,” she explained. “I wish I could stay with you and keep him away. But until you’re ready for me, until you’re mine, I can’t. I’m so sorry, my dear. But I will come back. I promise.”

The bald man sat down in her place. Scott squeezed his eyes shut and groaned, deep inside himself.

He heard the door close softly and the two of them were left alone.