3

The Oculus met them at the door to his office, smiling as he shook hands with Jack and fixed him with an inky stare.

"I'm so glad you decided to join us."

"Not quite yet. There's still a lot I want to know."

He ushered Jack into the room.

"Of course, of course. That's only right and sensible."

The four of them situated themselves as before: The Oculus behind the desk, Jack in the chair, Davis and Miller on flank.

"What do you want to know?" the Oculus said. "Simply ask and I'll tell you whatever I can."

Jack leaned back. "Davis and I had a little talk yesterday and he told me about the Twins. Who were they, where'd they come from, where do they fit in all this?"

The Oculus steepled his fingers. "I'm not sure."

Here we go with the evasions.

"I thought you were going to answer my questions."

"I can tell you only what I know. No one knows much about the Twins—they weren't exactly forthcoming about their origins or their mission. But I'll tell you what I've pieced together over the years."

"Fair enough."

"As I told you, the yeniceri were started by the Sentinel back in the First Age, and he maintained them from prehistory through the Dark Ages. For some unknown reason he abandoned them in the sixteenth century. The Oculi stayed on watch, but for five hundred years they received virtually no Alarms. During that time the yeniceri ranks withered due to lack of need."

Jack gestured left and right. "Looks like some folks didn't get the message."

"That's where the Twins come in. They appeared seemingly from nowhere in nineteen-forty-two and restarted the yeniceri camps."

"Why then?"

"I wasn't an Oculus then, but my parents were, and they told me they'd both sensed something awakening in the world, something they'd never felt before in their lives."

A disturbance in the Force? flashed through Jack's head, but he decided it might be impolitic to share it.

"Can you be a little more specific?"

The Oculus shook his head. "No, because they couldn't describe it. Neither could the other Oculi, but they all felt it on the same day: May third, 1941."

"Obviously something happened that day… way too early for Pearl Harbor… doesn't anybody know what?"

The Oculus shook his head. "For years we conducted detailed studies of that date, in all countries, all cultures, but have found nothing. It had something to do with the Otherness because, after centuries of dormancy, it became active again. Every Oculus sensed its renewed activity. Then, less than a year later, the Twins appeared and began gathering recruits for the yeniceri."

"But that means there was no Militia Vigilum then. So who put out the fires?"

"For decades after the Twins' appearance there were relatively few, but gradually increasing in number. While the yenigeri were growing and learning, the Twins did the firefighting themselves. They always wore sunglasses, white shirts, and black suits, ties, and fedoras. They'd show up, take care of business, then leave. They tried to be discreet but were spotted often enough to spawn the myth of the 'Men in Black.'"

Jack smiled. "So, the Men in Black had no connection to UFOs or the CIA."

"Not in the least. The first new generation of yeniceri was trained and ready when we—the Oculi and the Twins themselves—sensed a brief explosion of Otherness activity somewhere on Long Island. The date was recorded: February eleventh, 1968. The Twins and a squad of yenieeri from this Home fanned out through the island but the source faded quickly and was gone before they could locate it."

An explosion of Otherness on Long Island… not the first time Jack had heard about that. He knew the location: the village of Monroe. He also knew that a cluster of deformed babies was born there nine months later. And Monroe was where the Twins had bought it last year.

But he couldn't say so. They'd want to know how he knew, and no way he could tell them.

"So," Jack said, trying to keep all this straight, "the Sentinel disbanded the yeniceri but the Oculi stayed on watch. Why is that?"

A shrug. "Who is to say? Although we share a common goal, we Oculi operate independently of the Sentinel."

"Who's been AWOL for five hundred years. Any chance he might be dead?"

Jack heard a sharp intake of breath from Davis and a grunt from Miller.

"If he is," Miller said, "then you're a fake, because the real Heir would have already taken his place."

"He's not dead," the Oculus said. "I sense his presence… but so faintly. He's still with us, but I don't know where. And I don't know why, in this dark hour, he hasn't shown himself and given the Ally's disciples someone to rally around."

"Morale's pretty bad, huh."

"None of your business," Miller said.

Jack glanced at him. "It wasn't a question."

The Oculus shook his head. "We are losing by inches. I don't understand the Adversary's strategy. Killing off the Oculi limits the Ally's vision in this world, but in no way diminishes its power. But I sense it may be just a part of a multifaceted long-range plan."

"Maybe killing you off is a bigger part than you think," Jack said. "As I understand it, he's also killing off the MV. The combination means fewer eyes to spot the fires, and fewer firemen to put them out."

"That is why we live in the equivalent of an armed fortress. It used to be we could… could…"

He wavered in his seat like a drunk.

Davis stepped forward and leaned on the desk. "Is it an Alarm?"

The Oculus covered his black eyes with a trembling hand. "Yes."

"What's an Alarm?" Jack said.

Davis turned to him. "A warning from the Ally."

Right. The timing seemed just a bit too convenient. He knew the guy was trying to sell him on joining up, and Jack had been listening. But if he thought—

With a cry the Oculus fell out of his chair and landed on the floor. He began to writhe, shake, and shudder.

Jack jumped to his feet and started toward him, but Miller put out a restraining arm.

"Leave him be."

"Yeah," Davis said. "It's like this every time. We have to let it run its course."

4

The Alarms are always silent, yet they never come alone. Pain is their devoted companion. This is why he dreads them. Icy blades stab his brain as lights strobe behind his squeezed lids. He feels the world tip beneath him and, though he instinctively reaches for the edges of his desk, he knows he's going to fall.

A scene leaps into view… an empty subway platform… smoke roiling from one of the tunnels… on the tiled wall: WEST 4th.

That fades to gray…

Then his inner vision lights with a street scene. He recognizes the New York Public Library in the background. A sudden burst of flame and flying debris obscures the building as a bus explodes.

More gray…

Then another subway with another smoking tunnel. He makes out 59TH ST on the wall.

Yet more gray…

Then a man standing in the center of the crowded main floor of Grand Central Station… the man explodes, the blast tearing those nearest to pieces, the ball bearings and nails and screws he embedded in his explosives dropping those farther away.

Gray…

And then a car midspan on the Brooklyn Bridge… it explodes…

Gray again… much longer than before…

And now half a dozen men in the front room of a shabby apartment… they are cramming bars of claylike material into the pockets of work vests… through the glass of the window behind them a bridge is visible over the roof of the building across the street.

And then the pain fades along with the light and the visions… and all becomes dark again.