“Everyone knows, Willem. Even the typists and the janitors know. You haven’t done a thing since you arrived here.”
“Everyone knows?” Willem turned stark white. He looked at the woods across the creek. “The girls aren’t here, are they?” he whispered.
“You’re of no use to us, Willem,” Niklaus said. “And you know too much for us to let you go.”
Willem was trembling now. “What are you saying?”
Niklaus drew the Luger pistol from his belt and pointed it Willem’s face, aiming for the reflection of the moon in the left lens of his glasses.
“Oh, no!” Willem gasped. “Oh, God, Niklaus, no, you don’t have to—”
Niklaus shot him through the head, shattering the glasses and blasting out the back of his skull, and Willem tumbled into the shallow, cold stream. Kranzler had stressed that he wanted it done with a single shot, to keep things quiet.
Niklaus watched as the boy lay bleeding in the creek, his remaining eye staring lifelessly at the stars. When he was certain Willem was dead, he holstered the pistol and walked back to the base.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Mariella awoke slowly, the tranquilizer gas still floating in her brain like leftover wisps of fog. Her eyes crept open, revealing drab gray walls, a single steel door with a small, clear window, a sink, a toilet. The ceiling had a sickly glowing fluorescent panel and the sort of tiny black inverted dome that usually housed a security camera.
Her bed was hard and narrow, like a prison cot. The entire place looked like a prison cell, in fact, and there was no handle on her side of the door.
She tried to remember where she was and how she’d gotten there. Slowly, her memory came back. They’d been among the stones at Carnac, and someone had captured them. Her precognition had failed to protect them—she’d thought they might have more time before the man that Jenny called “Kranzler” came to capture Seth. It looked like he’d captured Mariella, too, which was probably why her vision of the event had been so fuzzy. It was hard to see her own future, and even harder when perception-distorting mushrooms and sleeping gas were added to the mix.
Then she remembered everything. Before they’d been captured, Mariella had fully remembered dozens of prior lifetimes—not all her past lives, because the process had been interrupted, but plenty of them. She was the ancient soul called the oracle, and Mariella Visconti was just one of many masks she’d worn and discarded over the millennia.
Another such mask was Mia Ruggieri, the poor, clueless peasant girl from Sicily whose reputation for seeing the future had attracted the interest of the German scientists. They’d offered her a sizable amount of money for joining their research, enough to provide for her parents and six brothers and sisters for years to come. Under strong pressure from her parents, Mia had accepted the offer, turned all the money over to her father, and traveled off to Germany with the strange foreign men.
She stood, stretched, and walked to the door to peer out the window. All she saw was a concrete corridor and a similar steel door across from hers. She touched the blank area on the door where the handle should have been. She pounded her fist on the window, but nobody came.
With nothing to do, Mariella eventually reflected on her past dealings with Kranzler and the others, trying to prepare for whatever might lie ahead. Looking into her own future, she only saw a dark blur. Even her visions of love and passion with Seth had deserted her. She didn’t know whether to feel relieved or disappointed, or maybe frightened—it could mean that one or both of them were going to die, and so the anticipated future was gone.
Within an hour after she awoke, a voice crackled from somewhere in the ceiling above. “The general wants to see you.”
A man in a black uniform appeared at the window in her door. She nodded and gave him a small wave.
“I should warn you,” he said. It was odd to watch his lips move in front of her but hear his voice electronically amplified above her. “We’re all armed with X3 TASER guns. We won’t hesitate to take you down if you give us trouble.”
“There’s no need to expect trouble from me,” Mariella said. “I promise. I wish to see the general as well.”
The guard nodded. There was an electronic buzz, followed by a mechanical thunk, as her door unlocked. The guard pulled it open and let her out into the hall. Two other guards were there, with their hornet-yellow electrical stun weapons drawn and pointed at her. She held up her hands and gave them a reassuring smile.
She noticed that the guards wore armored black uniforms without no flag or logo, as if the organization that employed them did not want to be associated with their actions. Two wore thick helmets, face shields, and gloves, as if specifically prepared to deal with paranormals. Mariella wouldn’t be glimpsing any of their futures.