Douglas Preston - Gideons Sword

Impact

The Monster of Florence (with Mario Spezi)

Blasphemy

Tyrannosaur Canyon

The Codex

Ribbons of Time

The Royal Road

Talking to the Ground

Jennie

Cities of Gold

Dinosaurs in the Attic

Terminal Freeze

Deep Storm

Death Match

Utopia

Tales of the Dark 13

Dark Banquet

Dark Company

August 1988

N othing in his twelve years of life had prepared Gideon Crew for that day. Every insignificant detail, every trivial gesture, every sound and smell, became frozen as if in a block of glass, unchanging and permanent, ready to be examined at will.

His mother was driving him home from his tennis lesson in their Plymouth station wagon. It was a hot day, well up in the nineties, the kind where clothes stick to ones skin and sunlight has the texture of flypaper. Gideon had turned the dashboard vents onto his face, enjoying the rush of cold air. They were driving on Route 27, passing the long cement wall enclosing Arlington National Cemetery, when two motorcycle cops intercepted their car, one pulling ahead, the other staying behind, sirens wailing, red lights turning. The one in front motioned with a black-gloved hand toward the Columbia Pike exit ramp; once on the ramp, he signaled for Gideons mother to pull over. There was none of the slow deliberation of a routine traffic stopinstead, both officers hopped off their motorcycles and came running up.

Follow us, said one, leaning in the window. Now.

Whats this all about? Gideons mother asked.

National security emergency. Keep upwell be driving fast and clearing traffic.

I dont understand

But they were already running back to their motorcycles.

Sirens blaring, the officers escorted them down Columbia Pike to George Mason Drive, forcing cars aside as they went. They were joined by more motorcycles, squad cars, and finally an ambulance: a motorcade that screamed through the traffic-laden streets. Gideon didnt know whether to be thrilled or scared. Once they turned onto Arlington Boulevard, he could guess where they were going: Arlington Hall Station, where his father worked for INSCOM, the United States Army Intelligence and Security Command.

Police barricades were up over the entrance to the complex, but they were flung aside as the motorcade pulled through. They went shrieking down Ceremonial Drive and came to a halt at a second set of barricades, beside a welter of fire trucks, police cars, and SWAT vans. Gideon could see his fathers building through the trees, the stately white pillars and brick faade set among emerald lawns and manicured oaks. It had once been a girls finishing school and still looked it. A large area in front had been cleared. He could see two sharpshooters lying on the lawn, behind a low hummock, rifles deployed on bipods.

His mother turned to him and said, fiercely, Stay in the car. Dont get out, no matter what. Her face was gray and strained, and it scared him.

She stepped out. The phalanx of cops bulled through the crowd ahead of her and they disappeared.

Shed forgotten to turn off the engine. The air-conditioning was still going. Gideon cranked down a window, the car filling with the sounds of sirens, walkie-talkie chatter, shouts. Two men in blue suits came running past. A cop hollered into a radio. More sirens drifted in from afar, coming from every direction.

He heard the sound of a voice over an electronic megaphone, acidic, distorted. Come out with your hands in view.

The crowd immediately hushed.

You are surrounded. There is nothing you can do. Release your hostage and come out now.

Another silence. Gideon looked around. The attention of the crowd was riveted on the front door of the station. That, it seemed, was where things would play out.

Your wife is here. She would like to speak to you.

A buzz of fumbled static came through the sound system and then the electronically magnified sound of a partial sob, grotesque and strange. Melvin? Another choking sound. MELVIN?

Gideon froze. Thats my mothers voice, he thought.

It was like a dream where nothing made sense. It wasnt real. Gideon put his hand on the door handle and opened it, stepping into the stifling heat.

Melvin A choking sound. Please come out. Nobodys going to hurt you, I promise. Please let the man go. The voice over the megaphone was harsh and alienand yet unmistakably his mothers.

Gideon advanced through the clusters of police officers and army officers. No one paid him any attention. He made his way to the outer barricade, placed a hand on the rough, blue-painted wood. He stared in the direction of Arlington Hall but could see nothing stirring in the placid faade or on the immediate grounds cleared of people. The building, shimmering in the heat, looked dead. Outside, the leaves hung limply on the oak branches, the sky flat and cloudless, so pale it was almost white.

Melvin, if you let the man go, theyll listen to you.