State of Fear

"Everything that matters is near where the Buddha sits," Evans said, repeating it again.

 

He was staring forward, into the media room adjacent to the living room.

 

"Sarah..."

 

Directly facing them, under dramatic overhead lighting, was a large wooden sculpture of a seated Buddha. Burmese, fourteenth century.

 

Evans got up and walked into the media room. Sarah followed him. The sculpture was four feet high, and mounted on a high pedestal. Evans walked around behind the statue.

 

"You think?" Sarah said.

 

"Maybe."

 

He ran his fingers around the base of the statue. There was a narrow space there, beneath the crossed legs, but he could feel nothing. He crouched, looked: nothing. There were some wide cracks in the wood of the statue, but nothing was there.

 

"Maybe move the base?" Evans said.

 

"It's on rollers," Sarah said.

 

They slid it to one side, exposing nothing but white carpet.

 

Evans sighed.

 

"Any other Buddhas around here?" he said, looking around the room.

 

Sarah was down on her hands and knees. "Peter," she said.

 

"What?"

 

"Look."

 

He crouched down. There was a roughly one-inch gap between the base of the pedestal and the floor. Barely visible in that gap was the corner of an envelope, attached to the inside of the pedestal.

 

"I'll be damned."

 

"It's an envelope."

 

She slid her fingers in.

 

"Can you reach it?"

 

"I...think so...got it!"

 

She pulled it out. It was a business-size envelope, sealed and unmarked.

 

"This could be it," she said, excited. "Peter, I think we may have found it!"

 

The lights went out, and the house was plunged into darkness.

 

They scrambled to their feet.

 

"What happened?" Evans said.

 

"It's okay," she said. "The emergency generator will cut in at any second."

 

"Actually, it won't," a voice in the darkness said.

 

Two powerful flashlights shone directly in their faces. Evans squinted in the harsh light; Sarah raised her hand to cover her eyes.

 

"May I have the envelope, please," the voice said.

 

Sarah said, "No."

 

There was a mechanical click, like the cocking of a gun.

 

"We'll take the envelope," the voice said. "One way or another."

 

"No you won't," Sarah said.

 

Standing beside her, Evans whispered,"Sar-ah..."

 

"Shut up, Peter. They can't have it."

 

"We'll shoot if we have to," the voice said.

 

"Sarah, give them the fucking envelope," Evans said.

 

"Let them take it," Sarah said defiantly.

 

"Sar-ah..."

 

"Bitch!" the voice screamed, and a gunshot sounded. Evans was embroiled in chaos and blackness. There was another scream. One of the flashlights bounced on the floor and rolled, pointing in a corner. In the shadows Evans saw a large dark figure attack Sarah, who screamed and kicked. Without thinking, Evans threw himself against the attacker, grabbing an arm in a leather jacket. He could smell the man's beery breath, hear him grunting. Then someone else pulled him off, slamming him to the ground, and he was kicked in the ribs.

 

He rolled away, banging against the furniture, and then a new, deep voice held up a flashlight and said "Move awaynow. " Immediately the attacker stopped fighting with them, and turned to this new voice. Evans looked back to see Sarah, who was on the floor. Another man got up and turned toward the flashlight.

 

There was a crackling sound and the man screamed and fell backward. The flashlight swung to the man who had been kicking Peter.

 

"You. Down."

 

The man immediately lay on the carpet.

 

"Face down."

 

The man rolled over.

 

"That's better," the new voice said. "Are you two all right?"

 

"I'm fine," Sarah said, panting, staring into the light. "Who the hell are you?"

 

"Sarah," the voice said. "I'm disappointed you don't recognize me."

 

Just then, the lights came back up in the room.

 

Sarah said, "John!"

 

And to Evans's astonishment, she stepped across the body of the fallen attacker to give a grateful hug to John Kenner, professor of Geoenvironmental Engineering at MIT.

 

 

 

 

 

HOLMBY HILLS

 

 

TUESDAY, OCTOBER 5

 

8:03 P. M.

 

"I think I deserve an explanation," Evans said. Kenner had crouched down and was handcuffing the two men lying on the floor. The first man was still unconscious.

 

"It's a modulated taser," Kenner said. "Shoots a five-hundred-megahertz dart that delivers a four-millisecond jolt that inactivates cerebellar functioning. Down you go. Unconsciousness is immediate. But it only lasts a few minutes."

 

"No," Evans said. "I meant--"

 

"Why am I here?" Kenner said, looking up with a faint smile.

 

"Yes," Evans said.

 

"He's a good friend of George's," Sarah said.

 

"He is?" Evans said. "Since when?"

 

"Since we all met, a while back," Kenner said. "And I believe you remember my associate, Sanjong Thapa, as well."