Book 2: Chapter 60: Quick Decisions (1/2)
Dan was juggling several things, each critically important in their own right. The first was his phone call with Andros Bartholomew, whose long rant was finally beginning to die down. The burner was still muted, but if Dan didn't show some signs of life soon the mad Genius might get suspicious. That would be very bad, given that Dan had just learned where the man was staying. He needed Bartholomew to stay angry and immobile for as long as possible.
In his other hand, Dan held his own phone. He'd already texted the address to Gregoir, Ito, Connor and Freya, and just about every cop he had the number for in order to raise the alarm. Now he was frantically looking up the location online, and trying to find himself a picture of it. If he found a picture, he could teleport to it.
The address led to a cheap motel on the outskirts of downtown. There was absolutely nothing of note in the area, which was only a step above a slum. It wasn't even all that close to Burl Meyers' original apartment, nor the storage units that Dan had been directed. It was, however, right down the street from the Metro line, and along the feeder of a large freeway. That clocked with what Dan knew about Bartholomew; he doubted the man had a car or a license, not that he would care about the latter.
”Are you even listening, Newman?” the mad scientist's exasperated voice sounded from the burner phone. There was an odd scraping noise, and a scream of pain that immediately earned Dan's attention.
He quickly unmuted the phone, but Andros was still speaking and he didn't dare interrupt, ”How about now? Do I have your attention, or shall I remove something important from your little friend?”
”I'm here,” Dan said through gritted teeth. The night manager of the Pearson was neither his friend, nor particularly little, but the unhinged terrorist didn't seem to care about either fact. Dan was quickly running out of time and options, and nobody he'd texted had—
Dan's phone buzzed with a call from Gregoir. Dan awkwardly juggled the two phones, answering his own, but speaking into the burner, ”What do you want from me, Bartholomew?”
There was blessed silence on Gregoir's line as he immediately caught on to what was happening. Dan put the burner on speaker as Andros spoke, ”Well, if you're so eager to lose your freedom, I suppose I can move along to my demands.”
”By all means,” Dan replied graciously. On his own phone, he minimized Gregoir's call, and pulled up the official website of the motel complex. There were pictures there, including the front desk. He zoomed in on the cheap linoleum flooring and peeling wallpaper, grinning as he locked the location into memory.
”It's quite simple really, even you can manage this,” Bartholomew said with thinly veiled hostility. ”There's an old playground I want you to visit. It's quite abandoned, so no need to worry about witnesses or... collateral damage.” The last two words emerged as an amused taunt.
Bartholomew then rattled off an address that had Dan scrambling for something to write on. The mad scientist didn't even pause for breath before issuing further orders, ”I've left a syringe hidden inside the covered twisty-slide. You'll know it when you see it.”
”A syringe,” Dan repeated flatly.
”You'll take the syringe,” Bartholomew continued without breaking stride, ”and inject yourself. It doesn't matter where. It contains a sedative that will keep you out long enough to be collected for study and testing. Building something capable of holding you will be a worthy challenge, but will take some time. I'm afraid you'll remain in an artificial coma until then. My apologies.”
He didn't sound even a little bit sorry.
”And if I don't?” Dan asked, mostly because he thought it'd be suspicious if he didn't.
”Then I'll keep abducting people and killing them in ever more creative ways. Maybe I'll make recordings, and email them to you, just so you know it's your fault.” Andros Bartholomew sounded downright cheery at the prospect.
”Okay fine, holy shit,” Dan replied quickly. ”Don't do that. It's fine, I'll go. Might take me a bit to find this place, though. Just an address isn't enough.”
Bartholomew cackled menacingly. ”Find a way, Daniel Newman. I'll be generous and give you five whole minutes to get your affairs in order and sedate yourself. I'll know when it's done. Good luck.”
The call ended abruptly, and Dan was left staring at the quiet burner. With a thought, he sent it into hammerspace. He'd learned from Anastasia: someone could still be listening in.
Dan quickly put his own phone to his ear, and asked, ”You get all that?”
Gregoir's answer was direct and to the point. There was no time for pleasantries or explanations. ”The park he is directing you to is nearly twenty minutes away from the address you've given as his location. How certain are you of your information? Your text was light on details.”
”I'm standing beside Burl Meyers,” Dan revealed. Burl straightened to attention at the mention of his name. His eyes blinked at Dan, murky and dull. ”Poor fellow is drugged to the gills. He was looking for me at Bartholomew's direction, and doing a very bad job of it. I asked him where they've been staying, and he gave me that address.”
”But is the hostage there as well?” Gregoir urged, all business.
Dan hesitated at the question. It was a very good one. He turned to Burl, chewing over how he might ask without raising what little suspicion remained in the man's head.