BACKTRACKER Milo Fowler (book recommendations based on other books TXT) 📖

"Yes, would someone please explain whatever is going onhere?" The mayor frowned and set down his glass with some spillage."I'm totally lost!"

Yeng ignored Reeves' prattle. "The boy was never meant tomeet you. That is the truth of it."

"Tell me where he is." Muldoon wouldn't make a scene, asmuch as he wanted to—not with that mandroid standing on duty a stone's throwaway. This the holy man knew full well. He sat at ease, the depth of his eyesholding a knowledge Muldoon had not even begun to fathom.

"I cannot."

If he's still alive, they would have kept himnearby.

Muldoon reached into his jacket and gripped the revolver. Heslipped it out of its holster, just enough to get the monk's attention—and themayor's, inadvertently. "Get up."

"Mr. Muldoon!" Reeves gasped, eyes and mouth gaping.

"Not you, Mr. Mayor. You can stay put. Mr. Zhu and I aregoing to stretch our legs a bit." He stared the unholy man down."Now."

"Do you believe this to be the most prudent course ofaction?" Yeng floated to his feet, hands still hidden in his sleeves. Hisexpression was one of genuine curiosity.

"Mr. Muldoon seems to be looking for trouble tonight,"Reeves murmured, pouring himself another glass of wine.

Muldoon stepped back, allowing the monk to leave the table andstand in front of him. "Lead the way, Mr. Zhu."

Yeng paused, one of his eyebrows arching upward. "Can yousqueeze water from a stone?"

"We'll see." Muldoon nudged him forward.

Themonk stepped lightly across the plush carpet andglided toward the stairs. Muldoon followed on his heel, ignoring the interestreturned upon him by the elderly patrons they passed. What's this fellow upto now?

"I am not sure that he would even recognize you." Thecadence of the monk's voice sounded as though he were reciting poetry tohimself. "But I know she would. You are as dangerous as she said."

Muldoon found his attention divided as they approached themandroid. What's he talking about? He felt the automaton's glowing eyesturn and focus on him.

"If she were still here, of course," Yeng added.

Irena? No, it isn't possible.He would have no way of knowing. She was never born. Not now, not the waythings were. Muldoon cursed himself. Not since I screwed everything up.

Yeng halted and turned to face him. Above the dark dome of hishead loomed the mandroid, staring with interest. Muldoon looked from one to theother. His grip on the concealed revolver weakened and slipped away, leavingthe weapon in its holster. He felt as if he were suddenly in a dream, that noneof this was real... Like so many of his memories.

"Yes, Mr. Muldoon. Your wife." The monk smiledwith what could have been mistaken for compassion. "It was she who firstbrought the boy to us."

NINE

Irena caught her breath as if she'd forgotten to breathe,her eyes wide. She lay on an unfamiliar bed—a dingymattress on a concrete floor. She jolted upward, struggled to get to her feet,but the dark room swam, illuminated by only a narrow beam of light beneath theclosed door. Zigzagging now.

She fell back onto the mattress, her senses flailingvertiginously. Her head felt much heavier than she remembered.

This isn't right. Where am I?

Running—that she remembered. Down old subway steps, intopitch-black tunnels. She'd bought a pair of goggles off a ghost of a man. Whereare they now? Did someone take them from her? How did I get here?

She looked around, able to see well enough to tell she was alone.So was the mattress. There was nothing else in this concrete box of a room. Sheremembered Armstrong and the Blackshirts showing up at the apartment. Sheremembered leaving Cade behind. What has become of him? Did he make it?If he had, then why wasn't he here with her?

He would have found her, regardless of the obstacles in his path.Nothing would have stopped him.

The door creaked as it swung inward half a meter. A deluge ofwhite light washed over her. She squinted her eyes, raising a hand to shieldthem.

"Cade?"

"You're awake now, dear?" came a lilting female voice.

Under her hand's shadow, Irena made out the tall, slender silhouette of a woman leaningagainst the thick steel doorframe.

"Where am I?" She tried to rise, but the room swamagain. Better to stay put for now.

The silhouette took a step inside. "Careful there,sweetheart. You don't want to overdo it. You've been out most of the day. Takethings slow now, won't you?"

"Where am I?" Irena repeated with less urgency,dropping her hand from the light to cradle her throbbing forehead.

"You'd be Underground, darling. A long way from home, I'msure. But you're safe. Don't be worrying about a thing. Your father—"

"Don't tell me," Irena groaned. "He's here."

"Of course he is."

"Of course he is." She cursed, shaking her head. Ishould have known. "What did he do to me? Why do I feel like I've beendrugged?"

"Because you were. For your own—" The woman stoppedherself, probably noting the expression on Irena's face. "We had totranq you, my dear. Otherwise, you would have attracted the attention of thefreaks out in those tunnels and brought themall down upon us. It was for your own good, really. And ours!"

Irena shook her head, squeezing her temples, wishing there wassome way to speed up her recovery. What dosage had they given her? How longwould it take to get over these debilitating aftereffects?

"Who are you?"

"My name is Mary. I work with your father."

I'm sure you do.

"We're continuing his research," Mary said with agrandiose air. "Down here, away from the Feds with their rules andregulations. They didn't appreciate the genius that is Cyrus Horton. They werecontent to use his work as long as it benefited them: the weapons, theartificial intelligence, even the Link interface itself. But as soon as hestarted delving into areas of true universal importance, once theyrealized none of his research or development would be earning them any creditsin the near future—"

"You do realize I'm his daughter," Irenainterrupted. "I've heard all of this before."

"So you have. I'm sorry, I should have realized. Butsometimes I get to talking, and there's little that can be done to shut meup!" She laughed, sounding like a soprano practicing her scales.

"Where is he?"

"Your father?" Mary's