Ernst didn’t answer.
What is happening to me?
Where was the icy control that had been his lifelong pride? His father would be ashamed of him for letting someone-his former teenage groundskeeper, of all people-goad him like that. And it was clear to him now that Jack had been doing just that.
Was that what this visit was about? To demonstrate that Ernst was not in control-not of who entered his home, not of his own emotions?
“Where is he?” Jack said.
That question again. Was this his true reason for coming?
“The One? I don’t know.”
Jack stared at him. Ernst tried to read his face. What next? Torture. Ernst didn’t see Jack as a torturer, but he was rich with the Taint, and someone with so much of the Otherness in him might be capable of anything.
“It’s true,” he added. “The One answers to no one and has never felt the need or obligation to keep the Order informed of his whereabouts. Communication with the One is, fittingly, a one-way street. When he wants something from us, he contacts us. We do not contact him.”
Jack kept staring in silence. He was beginning to make Ernst uncomfortable. Finally he broke it.
“When was your last contact with him?”
“Weeks ago.”
“After your Jihad virus failed?”
How did he know that? Did he have a contact inside the Order? Oh, yes. Edward Connell. It must have been him.
Ernst saw no use in playing coy.
“Yes.”
“Is that when he put out the hit on the Lady?”
Ernst stiffened and tried to hide it. “Yes.”
Jack frowned. “You hesitated.”
In truth, he didn’t know when the One had ordered the attack. Szeto never mentioned it.
Ernst dodged that. “May I inquire as to why you wish to know his whereabouts?”
“I’m going to kill him.”
Ernst barked a laugh. He couldn’t help it. He waved a hand. “I apologize. Kill the One? Your hubris borders on the surreal.”
Jack seemed unperturbed. “You think he’s invulnerable?”
“Well, no. But he’s so much older and wiser than you. If you know his taken name, then I’m sure you’re aware that he’s survived countless attacks over the thousands of years of his life, many of them launched by one of equal longevity who is far more capable than you. And yet he is still standing.”
“So is the one who made those attacks.”
“Ah, yes. The so-called Defender or Guardian or Paladin or whatever he’s called these days. But where is he?”
Jack rose from his seat. “That was my question to you: Where is the One?”
“I told you: I don’t know.”
Jack closed the distance between them and stood over him, reaching into the pocket of his jacket.
Now what? Ernst wondered. A knife? A bullet?
No… something small and metallic in his hand. Ernst flinched as it landed in his lap.
“Your little gizmo will work better with that.”
Ernst glanced down and saw the Taser’s battery, then looked at Jack’s retreating form.
“That’s it?”
Jack turned at the door and pulled the hood of his sweatshirt up over his baseball cap. “That’s it.”
“But…” Ernst didn’t know what to say.
“You say you don’t know where he is or how to find him, and I believe you.”
He was baffled. “Why?”
“Because if you knew, you’d tell me. Right?”
It hadn’t occurred to Ernst until this moment, but if he did indeed know the whereabouts of the One…
“Yes… yes, I believe I would.”
“Because you think I don’t stand a chance against him, and you’d like to see me get my just deserts for thinking I can take him on. Right?”
“Exactly.” This was uncanny.
He shrugged as he opened the door. “So there’s no point in continuing this conversation.”
He stepped into the hallway and closed the door behind him, leaving Ernst alone.
11
Ernst rose and locked the door. He felt a little safer after he slid the surface-mounted bolt into place, but not much.
What a jarring experience. But it had answered a slew of questions, solved some nagging mysteries.
Jack and the One had met… and the One had wanted to know more about Jack.
The man who had killed all those operatives Szeto had sent after the woman, stolen Thompson’s Compendium, Tasered Ernst in Central Park, and done who knew what else… all were the same person… all were Jack the lawn-cutting teen.
And Jack was working for the Enemy. Not only working, but looking for the One… to kill him.
And that raised another question.
Why wasn’t the Defender looking for the One? Why had an immortal sent a mortal to kill a fellow immortal?
It made no sense unless…
Ernst remembered his bizarre last meeting with the One. He had been enraged that the Jihad virus had not had the desired effect, and yet quite literally giddy-had actually laughed-about an unspecified event. He could hear his voice again as if he were in the room…
… something wonderful happened yesterday. Something I should have suspected, but never dreamed possible… something that changes everything… at last I can take direct action… take matters into my own hands. I will finish this myself. ”
Two obstacles had stood in the path between the One and bringing about the Change: the Defender and the Lady.
No question that the Lady remained-Szeto’s failed attempt on her life proved that.
… At last I can take direct action…
In all the One’s moves against the Lady, he had stayed out of the picture, kept his hand hidden. Even with the Fhinntmanchca, he had remained in the background, orchestrating the attack through the Order and the Dormentalists and the Kickers. He had never taken direct action.
Now he felt he could.
What had changed?
The Defender? Had something happened to him? That might explain why Jack was so openly searching for the One.
If the Defender was out of the picture-and really, that was a question being asked with increasing frequency over the years in the upper echelons of the Order: Where was the Defender?
During the months since the Fhinntmanchca debacle, it had become an incessant buzz.
Why hadn’t the Defender stepped in-if not in time to stop it, then at least making himself known afterward? The incident should have goaded him into some sort of action.
But no… nothing.
The Defender hadn’t been heard from since the dawn of World War II when it appeared he’d slain the One. No need for him to do anything after that. But then came the One’s reincarnation in 1968. He could have- should have-acted then. Countless opportunities to snuff out the One for good must have presented themselves during the years he was growing to manhood.
But again… nothing.
Was it possible he’d been killed in the war? Caught in Dresden during the firebombing, perhaps? In the wrong place when a V2 smashed into London during the battle of Britain?
Whatever the reason, the Defender had been conspicuous by his absence. And now Jack was taking on the task that should be the Defender’s.
As Americans liked to say: What’s wrong with this picture?
Everything.
… Something I should have suspected, but never dreamed possible… something that changes everything…
That “something” could only be that the Defender was no longer around. Which would indeed leave the One free to take direct action.
So… all that stood between the One and the Lady now was a lone mortal.
Jack didn’t stand a chance.
Or did he?
Was that why the One had been asking about him? He couldn’t possibly fear Jack… could he?
For some reason Jack seemed to think he could bring it off. Ernst had gathered from their brief conversation that the intelligent boy he’d known as a teen had not grown into a fool, so why did he think he could win? Did he know something Ernst didn’t?
If he did succeed, the Change would be forestalled… indefinitely.