“Like, overflew us?” Reed asked, and I saw him let up on the accelerator a little.
“Maybe,” I said. “It went from in front of us to back. Went so quick I didn’t really get a good look.” I felt that uneasy feeling again. “I hate to sound cheesy, but does anyone else get that sense we’re being watched?”
“Yeah, there’s this whole ‘totalitarian surveillance state’ thing going on.” Reed waved a hand vaguely at a light post as we passed. “Traffic cameras everywhere to help your commute … and report your whereabouts to Big Brother. You know. The usual.”
“You’re kind of part of that whole surveillance state thing, you know,” J.J. said. “Or weren’t you the guy who came running up to me last night asking if I could pull up footage from the cameras around the Como Zoo and Observatory?”
Reed was dusky of complexion, but even I could see him redden. “I am well aware of the boundaries of my various hypocrisies, and I embrace them when it comes to making sure the last surviving member of my family keeps on surviving.”
I felt myself suppress a little smile. It wasn’t that I didn’t know he’d been worried, but it was nice to hear it every now and again. “Awww,” I said and meant it. I never mean it. I say it purely for ironic effect. Except for this time.
We settled back into silence as we turned north on 494. After a few minutes, that gnawing, uncomfortable feeling came back, and I was pretty sure it had nothing to do with the fact that I’d said, “Awww” without being ironic. There was something tickling at the back of my mind, and I still couldn’t quite land on what was causing it.
I didn’t dare close my eyes or speak out loud, but I did the next best thing—I directed a query to someone who understood instinct better than anyone else in the car would.
Wolfe, I said, what the hell is going on?
Being watched, Little Doll. It traces faint lines on the mind, runs claws lightly along all your survival instincts.
I looked sharply left, then right, then up. Where is it coming from?
Somewhere above, he said. An eye in the sky, Wolfe thinks.
“J.J., I said, “is there any drone traffic in the skies above us?”
“Uhm,” the geek said, looking like I’d dumped coffee down his pants, “I don’t know. Maybe?”
“The totalitarian surveillance state is everywhere,” Reed pronounced.
“Hush up,” I said, leaning toward J.J. “Would there be any way to tell if we were being watched right now?”
“It may be possible,” J.J. said, fumbling for the black shoulder bag he had at his feet. “I mean, if I can use my wireless network card to get online and tap into Air Traffic Control, we should be able to see civilian air traffic and maybe I could…”
I tuned out the next thing he started to say as a white van slid up beside us just outside his window. My instincts growled at the mere sight of it, windowless, matching our speed exactly. I looked behind me and saw an exact duplicate—same model and everything—just outside my window, pacing us perfectly and seeming to drift closer.
Then the sliding doors opened up to reveal men with guns, and the sharp sound of barking gunfire consumed my whole world.
Chapter 14
Rome, Roman Empire
280 A.D.
Marius looked down from Capitoline Hill upon the glory of Rome. In this case, the glory took the form of the Forum, with its columns tipped with statuary and the empty space for the Comitium, where the senate would meet with populace in front of the Curia. Marius had heard the tales in Apiolae, the adults speaking with one another about the workings of the Empire, but to see it in its glory was … well, glorious.
Still, along with the glory came the smells that were anything but glorious. The whole of Rome had an aroma of animals and people that defied those of the barn, even at their worst. Not that the barn had been all that bad; he’d kept it clean, after all. This, though … he’d seen the sewers that took the filth away, but the smell was still pungent. More pungent than Apiolae had been, in any case.
Marius glanced back up at Capitoline Hill as he made his way down the slow, winding road of cobbled stone. He could see the bustling crowds down in the Forum, groups of people talking, making their way to their destinations. He could feel the buzz of activity, the energy of the people below. Arguing, laughing, doing all the things of life, the things he had seen at a distance back home. The things he’d seen people stop doing the moment he walked up.
He made his way down onto the square, up the steps and looked to his left at the Arch of Septimius Severus. It looked new to him, the sheen still upon it, in contrast to the weathered appearance of the Curia behind it.