Dreams of the Golden Age (Golden Age 2)

Arthur put his hand to his head, and his gaze turned inward. Anna managed a sigh and scrubbed tears from her face. He was a million times more powerful than she was; he’d find her.

But the seconds ticked on. Then minutes. Arthur stood, went to the window to look out over the city, just as Anna had. He held hands to both temples now and winced with concentration.

Bethy was staring at Anna. Her expression was neutral. Maybe even calm, like the expressionless calm their father often wore.

“What’s your power?” Bethy asked finally. “What can you do?”

“I find people. That’s all.”

“But you can’t find Mom.” Anna nodded. She waited for Bethy to yell at her, to be angry at her for keeping the secret. They should have an argument, if things were normal. But Bethy just nodded, decisive. “Dad’ll find her.”

He was still thinking, concentrating. He muttered, “Celia, bloody hell, where have you gone?”

“Have you called her?” Bethy said. “Have you tried her phone?”

“I’m better than a phone,” Arthur murmured, staring out the window as if he could find her by sight.

Anna’s gut wrenched. “Dad, she’s not … she’s still alive, isn’t she? If she wasn’t, I would have felt that. You would have felt it. She wouldn’t just disappear, would she? If she, if she was…” She couldn’t say the word.

He didn’t answer.

A terrible future spun out before her. A life flashing before her eyes, but surely not the right one. If Mom was really gone: no more arguments, no more checking up on her, the office desk empty forever, and what would happen to the company, what would happen to Dad, and what was she supposed to do next? She imagined wandering the condo, searching for a mother who would never be there again.

In the meantime, Bethy got out her phone. “Some of us aren’t telepathic,” she muttered, punching speed dial. Then she waited, and waited. “She’s not answering.” She tried another number. “Hey, Tom? It’s Bethy. Were you supposed to pick up Mom at the courthouse like, now? Um, yeah, he’s here … Dad, Tom wants to talk to you.”

Dad took the phone and listened for a moment. “And you can’t find her anywhere? All right. No, come on back, I’ll take care of it. Thank you.” He clicked off the phone and handed it back to Bethy. “He was about to call me. He was supposed to meet her after bringing you home, but she didn’t show up.”

Her father looked lost, with a stark stare, his muscles gone slack. If that empty spot in her awareness was nerve-racking for her, how much worse for him? Her parents had been inside each other’s minds for decades. In a sudden panic—a different one from the first, this one immediate and localized, and one she could do something about—she scrambled to her feet and went to him, holding his arm.

“Dad? Are you okay?”

He took a shuddering breath and nodded. Returning her grip, he shifted so that one arm was around her and the other reached for Bethy, until they were all pressed together in a clumsy embrace.

“Oh, my darling girls,” he murmured. “We’ll manage. Somehow, we’ll manage, I promise.” His love and anxiety pounded outward, a wave that almost made Anna sit, knocked down by the power of it.

Bethy said, “Daddy, what’s wrong?” That question, still at the front of it all.

When Anna looked up, waiting for his answer, he’d changed. She recognized his new expression from old pictures, from newspaper clippings from the days of the Olympiad: determined, glaring, ice-cold. He was frightening, but somehow the intensity calmed her. He promised they would manage, and so they would.

After giving them both rough squeezes, he left them behind to march down the hallway. “Come. We’ll find her.”

Anna looked at Bethy, who was looking back, and she expected that Bethy’s numb and wondering expression was mirrored on her own face. Together, they rushed after their father.

The penthouse was made up of the open living areas—living room, formal dining room, spacious kitchen and eating area. From that, off a primary hallway, were her mother’s office, the master bedroom, a suite that belonged to Suzanne, and down a secondary hallway came a series of guest rooms, bathrooms, a library, and walk-in closets for storage. Bethy and Anna’s rooms were here, along with a dozen rooms that Anna didn’t look inside more than a couple of times a year. At the very end of this secondary hallway stood a wood door with a keypad lock. They caught up with Arthur here, and he was punching a code into the keypad.

“The combination is your grandfather’s birthday,” Arthur said. “Do you know what that is?”

Anna’s heart was racing. This was the door to the old Olympiad secure command room. Her parents always told her the place had been dismantled and sealed off. That there was nothing behind the door but an empty room. But here they were.

Bethy gave the date. Anna was chagrined that she didn’t know it.

“Good,” Arthur said. “Let’s go in, then.”

The lock clicked, and the door slid open, gliding smoothly on its tracks. Operating perfectly, though it supposedly hadn’t been used in more than a decade.

The place had a dusty, stale smell to it, like Anna imagined a museum vault or an ancient tomb might smell. An emergency light over the door cast a pale white glow that didn’t extend more than a stride out, but Arthur went to a control panel on the wall nearby and pushed buttons. A whirr and a hum sounded as dormant power lines and circuits came back to life. A bank of lights came on, revealing the extent of the room in all its sleek, stainless-steel glory, hard lines and gray shadow. Along the right-hand wall were cabinets and cupboards, presumably containing the gadgets, devices, and artifacts that the Olympiad had used or acquired. On the opposite wall were the computer banks, multiple giant screens

above keyboards and control panels, instruments of arcane purpose.