"Mary, you seem to have had the most revealed to you," said Presto.
Walks Alone nodded, closed her eyes, and directed her mind back into the world of the dream.
"Six people gather in a room under the ground," she said slowly.
"The temple; yes, I think I've seen that, too," said Presto.
"Each time the Black Crow Man rises from the earth, into the sky, out of the fire."
"Like the phoenix," said Doyle.
"Phoenix," said Stern.
His eyes met Doyle's as the thought struck them simultaneously.
"Phoenix, Arizona," said Doyle. "Send the first telegrams there—my God. I've just had a thought."
Doyle rummaged quickly through his notebook to find his sketch of the design they had found on the wall of Rupert Selig's cabin and the brand on the arms of the thieves. "We've been assuming all along that this design is an insignia of this league of thieves."
"What of it?" asked Presto.
"Perhaps we've been looking at it the wrong way," said Doyle. "Perhaps that's not what it is at all."
"What else could it be?" asked Innes.
Doyle turned the drawing on its side and pointed to it. "What does this look like now? These broken lines?"
"Dots and dashes?" said Presto.
"Morse code," said Innes.
"Exactly," said Doyle, laying it down flat, taking Innes's pencil. "Does anyone know what this translates into?"
Jack had moved across the room without anyone noticing. He stood directly over Doyle, looking down at the paper.
"The letter 'R' and a series of numbers," said Jack. "Thirteen and eleven on the middle line. Thirteen and eighteen on the last."
"It's not a date, then," said Doyle.
"Perhaps a geographical location, longitude and latitude," said Innes.
Jack shook his head. "Middle of the Atlantic Ocean."
"Maybe a biblical reference," said Stern. "Chapter and verse."
"Innes, there's a Bible in the drawer beside my bed," said Doyle, as Innes bolted for the door. "Don't wake the Major."
"How do we know which book of the Bible?" asked Presto, as Innes returned with a Gideon Bible and handed it to Doyle.
"One that begins with the letter 'R,' I suppose," said Doyle.
"Only three begin with 'R,' " said Innes from memory. "Ruth, Romans, and the Revelation."
"Ruth has only four chapters," said Doyle, quickly flipping to that section of the book. "And Romans only fourteen verses."
"What is the Revelation?" asked Walks Alone. "The last book," said Stern. "A series of visions experienced by the Apostle John."
"A prophecy," said Jack, "of the Apocalypse." "Here it is," said Doyle, finding the page. "Revelation, thirteen, eleven: 'Then I saw another Beast coming up out of the earth and he had two horns and spoke like a dragon.'
"And thirteen, eighteen: 'Here is wisdom: Let him who has understanding calculate the number of the Beast, for it is the number of a man: His number is 666.' "
chapter 12
THE FIRST CHECKPOINT WAS FIVE MILES OUT FROM THE center of the town. Late afternoon by the time the Players' wagons reached it, desert all around, flat and desolate, sun hammering down like a blacksmith. Eileen was grateful for the extra canteens Jacob had filled before they left Skull Canyon; Kanazuchi went through two himself, silent as before, his movements spare and economical. His wound stayed clean, no festering; the strange man seemed to be using the energy he conserved to consciously will himself to heal and damned if it wasn't working; his pallor gone, breathing steady and strong.
At the moment, Eileen felt more concern for Jacob, driving their wagon all day in the blinding heat; she spelled him at the reins for a stretch until the swelter drove her back under the cover of the canvas. She knew the poor man had to be exhausted just from the tossing and jolting the rough road gave their buckboard—his face scarlet, sweat soaking his shirt—but he never complained, cheerful and buoyant as ever, making it impossible for her to give in to her rising sense of apprehension.
Damn Bendigo anyway for marching them out across a desert in the heat of the day; their first performance wasn't until tomorrow night, they shouldn't have attempted this crossing until the sun went down; the road was well marked and the wagons all equipped with lanterns. But heaven forbid they should show up late for a free meal; Rymer might lose a nickel.
Winding down from the foothills of the Juniper Mountains and into the sands of the eastern Mojave, their caravan had just passed through an eerie formation of spiraling vertical pillars, etched out of limestone and silt, rising from the flats like a forest of rock. The wagons rounded a corner in the densest part of the stand and came to a crude gate fashioned from large cut logs, the first sign they'd seen of human hands in hours. A small hut, built from the same wood, apparently empty, stood to the side.
A sharp whistle blew.
Out of nowhere, a dozen heavily armed men—people; Eileen realized half of them were women—appeared on every side and above them on top of the pillars, rifles cocked and trained on the wagons. They wore light cotton pants, heavy steel-tipped boots, and identical collarless white tunics; each one equipped with a belt of bullets slung around their waists.
Something else odd about them: They were all smiling.
A tall woman, the only one without a rifle—she wore twin-holstered sidearms and a whistle around her neck—stepped forward to the gate and spoke to Rymer in the lead wagon.
"Welcome to The New City, friend," said the woman cheerfully in a loud, clear voice. "What is your business with us today, please?"
"We are the Penultimate Players," said Bendigo, with a grand sweep of his Tyrolean hat. "Theatrical vagabonds. Come to entertain, amuse, and, one hopes, humbly, to please."
The woman smiled at him. "One moment, please."
She opened and consulted a list in a leather-bound folder she carried and apparently found a corresponding entry.
"And your name, sir?"
"I am Bendigo Rymer, director of our happy band; entirely at your service, madam."
"How many in your party, Mr. Rymer?"
"We are seventeen, uh, nineteen of us, in all."
"Thank you, sir; you are expected," she said, closing the book. "We will have a look in your wagons, and you can go right on in."
"By all means," said Rymer. "We have nothing to hide."
The woman gave a signal, and the guards on the ground moved swiftly forward, throwing open the wagon flaps, while the ones stationed on the pillars held their rifles pointed and ready.
"Good afternoon," said Jacob to the handsome young black guard who took hold of the bridle on his mules.
"Good afternoon, sir," said the man, well-spoken, smiling broadly.
"You have a tremendous amount of heat out here in your desert this afternoon," said Jacob, mopping his brow.
"Yes, sir," said the guard, still smiling, never taking his eyes off' him.
The canvas yanked away from the rear of their buckboard: Kanazuchi had pulled himself into a sitting position, swords hidden under the skirt of his coat. Startled, Eileen turned to look at the face of the guard; a slight young woman, no more than twenty, pony-tailed and freckle-faced, but she moved with the sharp assurance of a well-trained soldier. Her eyes darted methodically around the empty wagon—what is she looking for? Eileen wondered—and settled on Kanazuchi for a moment. He nodded and smiled, betraying no uneasiness. The girl smiled in return, a gaptoothed grin that suggested no undue curiosity.
"Hello," said Eileen.
"Have a glorious day," said the girl, and dropped the canvas cover.
The guards on the ground stepped back and signaled to the woman at the gate; she leaned on a stone counterweight and the log barrier rose up smoothly, clearing their path.