In the middle of the Atlantic Ocean, while soaring through the clouds, Gabriel had a dream.
* * *
He awoke to total blackness. He was naked, crouching in the depths of what appeared to be a cave. Panic seized him. For a moment, he remembered his experience on the Munich case seven years before; he feared that he had become a beast again.
But deep down, he knew that it could not be true. He was dreaming; he felt himself swimming just below the surface of consciousness, and he knew that he could leave this place anytime he wanted.
Not yet; I want to see what this dream has in store for me. I want to learn its secrets. I want the experience.
He crawled in the darkness, finding his way along the rocks by touch. The cave turned out to be a labyrinth of stone, with tunnels interlocking in an endless embrace.
After some time, Gabriel began to feel a deep despair. The maze was too complex for him to escape. He felt hopeless, like a failed experiment in a lab.
"Gabriel."
It was Grace's voice, calling to him like a siren's song. It had been so long since he'd heard her, and he trembled in response. It was the beacon of light that he needed to navigate out of these dark caverns.
"Gracie, keep talking to me!"
The tunnel in which he was crawling began to open up, and Gabriel was soon able to stand to his full height. He began to run.
"Gabriel, come to me."
He was panting in the darkness, allowing her voice to lead him. His thigh scraped against the wall, drawing blood. He didn't care; all his concentration was on following the trail that Grace provided.
"Follow the light."
In the distance, Gabriel saw a bright glimmer and went for it. The stone floor became a flight of stairs, and he rushed up them two at a time. The higher he climbed, the more illuminated the cave became.
"Gracie, where are you?"
He reached the top of the staircase, and the end of his journey. Or so he thought.
"I'm here, Gabriel. Turn the corner."
He did, and was blinded by the light.
* * *
"Sir? Sir? I'm sorry to wake you, but we're going to be landing soon."
The flight attendant looked slightly embarrassed, and Gabriel realized that it may have taken a while to wake him up. The evasive eyes of some of the other passengers confirmed this as he glanced at the surrounding seats. He hoped that he didn't talk in his sleep.
"Thanks a lot, and sorry that I was so difficult to wake."
She smiled at him, her cheeks flushed. She leisurely looked him up and down in a way he was familiar with, breathlessly replying, "It was my pleasure."
Gabriel smiled politely in response, and then she was gone. He turned to the window, his thoughts on the dream. He didn't even try to analyze the significance of it; he only knew that it meant that he was getting closer, and that he needed to continue.
Within minutes the plane landed at Washington Dulles, and soon afterwards he sailed through the passport and customs checkpoints. He then exchanged his marks for dollars and was on his way to the pay phones.
When he finally found an unoccupied phone, he retrieved a business card from his jacket pocket. It was for Mosely's office phone at the CIA headquarters in Langley, Virginia.
Gabriel and Mosely had managed to keep in touch over the years since their adventure in France. Although Mosely had made it clear to him that he didn't approve of Gabriel's treatment of Grace during that time, and that he wasn't willing to help patch things up between the two of them, their friendship remained steadfast.
He dialed the number, hoping that despite Mosely's misgivings over his relationship with Grace, he'd relent and agree to assist him once he realized the serious nature of the matter.
"Agent Mosely's office. To whom am I speaking?"
He cleared his throat, trying to sound professional. "Hello, this is Gabriel Knight. I'm an associate of Mosely's. Is he available? Please, it's urgent."
"One moment, please."
He set his watch to the local time while he waited. 2pm. He had been in the air for about 8 hours from Munich, and factoring in the 6-hour time difference between Germany and the East Coast...
"Hello?"
"Hey, Mose! Nice to hear your voice again, buddy. It's been a while."
"Gabe, you wanker! How the hell are you?"
"I'm great, thanks. Listen, Mose. I'm here in D.C. right now; I've just arrived."
"Really? That's super! Just give me about half an hour and I can be right there to pick you up, and you can crash at my place..."
"Um, that's not really possible, Mose. I've got a connecting flight in about an hour and a half, so I'm afraid I'm just passing through on my way back to New Orleans."
"Oh, crap. I'm glad that you called, though. Even though it was just to let me know that you were in town. I've missed you, buddy."
"Me too, but I'm afraid that this isn't entirely a social call. Could you come over here to Dulles and meet me before my next flight? We need to talk, and I'd rather not go into details over the phone."
Mosely's voice sobered instantly. "All right. I can meet you in 30 minutes like I said before. Meet me at Smokey Joe's cafe, which is close to the Domestic Flights terminal. Since you're heading that way anyway for your next flight, it should be easy to spot. I'll see you then."
Gabriel picked up his duffel and walked towards the cafe-bar. He ordered himself a cup of fresh-brewed coffee, and patiently waited for Mosely.
He noticed that there was a group of middle-aged men in the corner of the establishment, gathered around the television. Judging by their colorful choice of attire - Hawaiian shirts, cargo shorts and Birkenstock sandals worn with socks - they were all tourists, undoubtedly on their way to someplace tropical.
On a hunch, he decided to move closer to the group. He sat at a small table behind them and listened.
"I saw the report this morning, and Jesus Christ, the blood was everywhere! Whoever the poor bastard was, he didn't have a chance. The theory going around is that the guy was taking a walk around Battery Park, and suddenly someone comes, attacks and dismembers him while he's still standing! What kind of a world do we live in today, where stuff like that can happen in the blink of an eye? I weep for the future of this country, I really do."
The other guy spoke up. "What makes you so sure that it was a person who did this, Gene? The medical examiner also said that the puncture wounds were unlike anything he's ever seen, that they reminded him of those shows on the Discovery channel, in fact. It could have been some kind of animal."
Gene scoffed at his companion. "Wake up, Barry! A wild animal in New York City? Ha ha ha! If that's true, which it's not, the only place it could have come from is Central Park. The park is shut up tighter than a drum after dark because of all the late-night attacks and muggings, and automatically that includes the Zoo, genius! An animal? Come on! Only men are sick enough to do this kind of thing!"
Gabriel had engaged in this kind of discussion before, long ago, and he wasn't in the mood to continue listening. The news was on television, he noticed, but the volume was turned down. For a moment, he watched the images on the screen without seeing anything interesting. He took a sip of his coffee, which had cooled during his eavesdropping.
Then he saw something that made his blood freeze in his veins and the tepid liquid stick in his throat. He coughed hard before he spit into a napkin. He gestured to the waitress behind the bar, who was looking at him with concern.
"Could you turn that up, please?"
She did, and to Gabriel's horror, he was watching the news coverage of the shocking murder in New York. It was everything that he'd overheard and more. He swayed in his chair as he struggled to listen to the broadcast.
"Ladies and Gentlemen, we've found out the identity of the victim. We've just received the results of the dental record search, and his name was Travis Cooper, a billionaire oil tycoon from Lubbock, Texas. Sources say that Mr. Cooper was in New York to attend a business meeting of Anami Enterprises, which is one of the fastest-growing defense contractors in the country."
Since the beginning of the report, Gabriel felt himself experiencing an empathic overload. His skin felt as if it was melting, falling away from his bones.
He rested his cheek against the cool wood of the table, his chest pumping like bellows, his eyes still fixed on the screen. He couldn't look away from the images in front of him; the corpse, and the picture of how the victim had looked in life.
Two different sides of the same man. The live version was infinitely better than the dead.
"Rumor has it that Cooper had allegedly tried to instigate a hostile takeover of the business, with himself as the next recipient, but this and other allegations have been denied by David Anami, the founder and CEO."
Gabriel's vision had blurred during his fit, but his eyes focused intently on the man in charge of the corporation. He raised his head to get a better view.
He saw a robust, confident middle-aged man. Japanese, but with a British accent. He wore a gold wedding band. Tall, probably 6 foot 3 inches. Well-built, with an immaculate taste in clothes. Loaded with money.
Could he be involved in this somehow? According to the news, the body was found only a few blocks away from the company's headquarters.
The following clip showed Anami giving a statement to the press, his eyes making direct contact with the camera.
"It is true that Cooper and I didn't always see eye to eye, but he had a sixth sense when it came to business and was an invaluable part of my organization. He was a fine man, and he will be truly missed."
Gabriel's inspection stalled at Anami's face. He was very handsome, and he possessed a youthful air despite his age, which he estimated to be around 50. His hair was mostly black, with a bold streak of white on one side, and his eyes...
Anami's gray eyes were troubled, brimming with anguish. Gabriel's own eyes widened with realization.
God. Aside from the color, they're almost a mirror image of Grace's. They must be connected somehow. What is he to her? A relative? Close friend?
He stood up from his chair on shaky legs, left a tip for the waitress and began to leave at the same moment that Mosely arrived.
