A few seconds later we drop below the clouds, swoop over the golf course, and land in a quiet spot. Benicio gazes at the view before us. The lowlands near the city are waterlogged from recent rain, settled over by thick white mist. The spires seem to rise from the center of a magical island surrounded by clouds. I can’t remember seeing Oxford look so beautiful.
“Wow,” Benicio murmurs. “That’s something.”
I unbuckle and lean forward, touching the edge of his seat. “Yeah … Oxford’s pretty cool.”
He takes a folded piece of paper from his jacket pocket. “It’s from Carlos. For you.”
I start to unfurl it. “A letter?”
It’s not a letter but a newspaper clipping. Still crisp and new, from a recent edition of a newspaper called The Lebanon Reporter. I scan it. At first I don’t get why Benicio’s given it to me. Until I read the end.
“Simon Madison … ?”
“Carlos is watching every news source in the world. Waiting for any mention of Simon Madison. He made us buy some incredibly expensive software to analyze news—the kind the intelligence bureaus use.”
Well, that sounds like the Carlos Montoyo I remember. Totally single-minded—I bet he’d do anything to protect Ek Naab from being found. And if there’s one guy who ever got close to discovering the secret entrance to Ek Naab, it’s Simon Madison. The newspaper report says that Madison is a suspected terrorist. But until some American secret agents from the National Reconnaissance Office—the NRO—told me the same thing, well … I honestly thought Madison worked for them.
“So Madison’s back,” I say to Benicio. “And what’s this artifact he’s taken?”
“No clue,” Benicio says. “Montoyo wanted you to know that he’s on the move. Madison was in Beirut—but he could easily return to Oxford. He broke into your house once … so take care.”
“We’ve changed all the locks since then,” I say. “And we have a really high-tech alarm.”
“Just keep your eyes open,” Benicio says. “Okay?”
I nod, glancing at the newspaper article again. “Gotcha.”
“And, Josh …” Benicio sounds a little embarrassed. “There’s something else.”
“Yeah?”
“Your blog … it’s gonna have to stop.”
“My blog?”
“Montoyo found your so-called secret blog. The one you’ve been keeping since you supposedly closed it down.”
My mind goes immediately to my last blog post, just a few days ago. Probably the most personal post I’ve ever written. I begin to turn red. Luckily Benicio isn’t looking at me.
“Montoyo found it with this amazing new Web-searching program he bought. If he found it, Josh …”
“I get it. If Montoyo found it, then so might the NRO. So might Madison.”
And whoever Madison really works for.
I sigh, resigned.
“So I can tell Carlos that you’ll delete it?”
I sigh again. “All right.”
Benicio becomes brisk. “Excelente! Okay, good. Now—is there someplace I can take you?”
“Take me?”
“In the Muwan. Do you need to go to school or something?”
I check my watch. “It’s a bit early …” How can I pass up the chance to fly over Oxford in a Muwan and be dropped off near school? “But all right. Yeah! I’ll go wake up my friend Emmy.”
Benicio starts up the antigravity engine, locks his piloting visor in place.
“That dream about your father,” he says. “Your latest blog post, ‘Blue in Green’ …”
Okay, here it comes. That’s a post I really didn’t mean to be read.
He pauses. “Quite a revealing dream, Josh. You should maybe talk to a psychotherapist. I think you’re having some trouble handling your father’s death.”
“Well, yeah!” I’m indignant. “I don’t even know how he died. Chased by the NRO in their own Muwans, I know, but … after they captured him, who killed him—and why?”
Benicio sounds sympathetic. “I’m sorry, buddy. That’s gotta be tough.”
The Muwan rises with barely a whisper and floats out over the city. The golden stone of the college towers seems tantalizingly close as we drift across the city center. As we approach the east end of the city, I see the high, doughnut-shaped main building of my school. Benicio dips into the clouds for cover. Then the Muwan drops like a stone to land in the shady park next door.
“You’re crazy!” I tell him. “We’re right in the middle of a built-up area! Lots of people could have seen us!”