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landing; we will be at the specified coordinates soon.”
    I look down, and I can’t see anything like the base the Underground has out in the desert. What I can see is some kind of private estate, with a manor house in the middle of it. It looks kind of quaint and old fashioned, except that as we get lower, I see that there are a whole bunch of aerials and satellite dishes on the roof, hidden out of sight of casual view.
    Looking around, I can see that the manor house’s gardens are huge. From this high up, I can spot the small town nearby, but there are rows of trees in the way so that the whole place has a cut off look to it. There are outbuildings arranged around the main wings of the house, and I wonder if they will hide as many secrets as the hangar in the desert. It’s the kind of place that manages to be both convenient and totally secret at the same time. And yes, there’s a helicopter pad at the rear of the house, which currently stands empty, obviously awaiting our arrival.
    “This is where we’re going?” I ask. It seems impossible. Far too much to spend on a secret base. But then, the one back home wouldn’t have been cheap.
    Grayson nods. “This is where we’re going,” he agrees. “Celes, welcome to Location Two.”
     
     

FIVE
     
     
     
     
    T he helicopter touches down, the rotors slowing to an eventual halt while I stare at them. Their whirling is almost like a meditation, giving me something to distract my thoughts from what has happened to Jack just for a moment. They come to a halt, and the pilot moves round to open the door, letting us out onto the helipad in the middle of the grand estate we saw from above.
    I get out and breathe in. The air has a different feel to it here. It’s not dry, like in the desert, and it doesn’t have the perpetual fumes that you find with a big city like New York. Instead, the air in this place is clean, and clear, with the scents of flowering plants carried on the breeze. The light’s different too. It’s gentler somehow, not harsh and glaring like it was back at the Underground’s base. Behind us, the manor stands imposingly, looking far larger from ground level, its façade perfectly preserved despite the ivy growing up one side of it. My main impression is of glass, thanks to the rows of windows on every level. Even the ground floor has French windows arranged in a line to let more light in.
    It’s from one of those sets that an older man walks, leaning on a cane. As he gets closer, I see that he is probably Sebastian Cook’s age, but he looks older from a distance, thanks to the combination of the stick and his shock of white hair, which sticks up at odd angles as though he has forgotten to comb it for a few days. Even so, his posture is ramrod straight, and he’s wearing tweed, which makes him look a little like the lord of the manor, out for a stroll.
    When he gets closer, he stares at me, looking me up and down with obvious recognition. But then, he would have been told I was coming. “So it is true. Sebastian has succeeded in locating you. I hadn’t thought he would be able to.”
    His voice sounds almost like an exaggeration. Jack’s British accent is faint and delicious, but this man’s sounds like simply too much. It’s like the kind of accent you might hear from one of the characters in an old war movie, or something.
    “You do not know how many years we have waited for this,” He says, looking around as though he expects more than just the two of us. “Where is Dr. Cook?”
    It isn’t Sebastian I’m thinking of right then, but that’s a reminder that there are more people than just Jack in danger. “He’s still back at the Underground,” I say, not trusting myself to put it more directly than that. “He… couldn’t make it with us.”
    “And Jack? I would have expected him to be here on such an important occasion.”
    It’s all I can do to keep from crying at that moment. I manage to shake my head. Grayson seems to