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“It’s a crate, but it’s the right size to contain the Penning trap.”
Emerson watched as Tin Man and Bart Young climbed into the SUV with the two soldiers. They drove through the airfield’s gate and onto Saddle Road. After a quarter mile, the SUV turned left onto a rough Jeep trail and headed into the barren wasteland.
“Where are they going?” Riley asked. “The army base is in the other direction. There’s nothing where they’re heading but lava desert.”
Emerson watched them drive for a couple more minutes in silence. “Well, that’s interesting.”
“You found their base?”
Emerson looked up from the telescope and turned to face Riley. “Not exactly. It turns out there is someplace to hide. They’ve disappeared.”
Riley looked through the telescope. There was still a cloud of dust where the SUV had passed, but no SUV. She scanned the surrounding area. Nothing but miles and miles of desert without a structure in sight.
“That’s impossible,” she said.
“It’s improbable,” Emerson said. “Clearly it’s possible, because it happened.”
“Maybe that SUV is with Little Buddy’s island,” Vernon said. “Like they both got sucked into one of them black holes and got spit out someplace else.”
Emerson returned to the telescope. “What do you think happened to the SUV?” he asked Riley.
Riley allowed herself a grimace. “I’ve got nothing.”
“So what are we going to do now?” Vernon asked. “Do we go out to look for the black hole?”
Emerson lay down on one of the bunk beds. “Nothing. We do nothing. The universe will provide the answer.”
“We can’t sit around in this hotel room forever wu wei waiting on the universe,” Riley said. “We’re sort of in a time crunch. Tin Man plans to destroy Sour Creek Dome in less than a week if we don’t either get ourselves killed or stop him first.”
Emerson closed his eyes. “We don’t have to sit around forever. Just until three P.M.”
“Why three P.M.?”
Emerson smiled. “The clouds may drop down titles and estates, and wealth may seek us but wisdom must be sought.”
Riley rolled her eyes. “Wu wei whatever.”
—
Riley woke from a sound sleep at two-thirty P.M. to the sound of her cellphone alarm. She hadn’t intended to take a nap, but she’d been up since four in the morning and was exhausted. Vernon was kneeling next to a snoring Wayan Bagus with a can of shaving cream he’d appropriated from the dormitory bathroom in one hand and a feather in the other. Emerson was looking out the window and down the mountain.
Vernon held his index finger up to his lips, grinned at Riley, and pointed at Wayan Bagus’s hand. It was filled with a giant glob of shaving cream.
“Little Buddy, wakey-wakey,” he whispered, tickling the monk’s cheek with the feather.
Wayan Bagus snorted and turned his face from side to side. “Spiders, spiders,” he mumbled.
“Get those spiders,” Vernon whispered.
Without ever opening his eyes, Wayan Bagus lifted his shaving-cream-filled hand and smacked Vernon in the back of the head.
“Son of a bitch,” Vernon said. He wiped the shaving cream off his head and went to the bathroom to clean up.
Riley crossed the small room and stood behind Emerson. “What are you looking at?”
Emerson pointed down the mountain toward Pohakuloa. The clouds had returned, and white tendrils of fog were creeping around the airfield and buildings at the army base.
“I’m looking at the fog,” Emerson said. “I’m waiting for the universe to solve our problems. Another half hour and the entire area will be completely socked in. We could be right on top of Tin Man and he wouldn’t see us.”
