The ELI Event B007R5LTNS

captured, and the temporal relocator shut down, probably for good. Arty at least knew that Aurora was alive, but the message confirmed what she had told him about her companion. Denes was almost certainly lost in time, or perhaps had never materialized at all, anywhere. He shuddered at the thought.
    Now, he grimly realized, he and Aurora were seriously, permanently stuck in 2015. Pan-Li’s message made it clear to Arty that he must succeed in stopping the Eli Event if he and Aurora were to have any chance of returning to their respective times—whether changed for the better, worse, or not at all.
    Kelly saw the miniature light show in the rearview mirror and nodded toward the back seat. Wheeler turned just in time to see the note tablet finish materializing and drop into Arty’s lap.
    Wide-eyed, Wheeler asked, “What the hell? What’s that? Where’d it come from?”
    “It’s a message from the remaining scientists in 2312,” Arty said, despair in his voice. “They’ve… had some trouble.”
    “What kind of trouble?” Kelly asked.
    “Doesn’t matter,” Arty replied, suddenly shoring up his resolve. “It doesn’t change our mission. We still have to save Robin from Major Pettis, evade Lokus, and stop the Eli Event before eight.” He found a button marked Clear and touched it; the message instantly vanished. “No pressure,” he said, smiling weakly.

Twenty-Five
    Pettis barged through the Jetway and out into LAX Terminal 4, Grochonski and Davies at his heels. “Well, that was disgusting,” he said over his shoulder. Groucho grunted his agreement.
    As they left the secured concourse and entered the main terminal, they passed a uniformed guard watching the exit. Obese, unkempt, and tattooed, with greasy, slicked-back hair, he—or possibly she—idly watched them walk by.
    “Gosh, I don’t know about you, Sarge,” Davies said, “but I sure feel all kinds o’ safe and see-cure now!” He laughed.
    Grochonski grunted again. “Hey, if you can’t trust a bunch of low-lifes and ex-cons with your personal safety, sir, who can you trust?” Davies laughed at that too. “How are we gonna find the kid, Major?” Grochonski asked.
    Pettis, turning toward the main entrance doors, shook his head. “I don’t know. He can’t have been here long,” he said. “His accomplice might have picked him up—no, probably too risky. It’s more likely he took a cab out of here. Groucho, you—” He was interrupted by his phone, which he had of course not turned off during the flight. He glanced at the screen and saw the 213 area code, a Los Angeles number. Curious, he flipped it open. “Pettis.”
    “Major Pettis,” a thin, precise male voice said. “Welcome to Los Angeles. I have some information for you.”
    “How’d you get this number? Who is this?” Pettis demanded. The three men stepped through the terminal doors into the muggy night air.
    “Let’s just say I’m a friend…”
    “Well, friend , I’m hanging up now.”
    “…a friend who is interested in helping you locate your missing data.”
    Pettis sighed. The story of the NADCOM hacker had been all over the news. Some nerd was trying to jerk him around. He decided to call his bluff. “And what data is that?”
    “Oh, please, Major, don’t be coy. You know what data. The Molecular Disruptor Array data. Project Molly Day. You know, the one that’s going to destroy Los Angeles this morning. Ring any bells?”
    Pettis suddenly stopped short, and Grochonski almost walked into him. At Pettis’s upraised hand, he and Davies stopped and waited. “I’m listening.”
    “I know about the boy, Robin Theodore Kirkland,” the man said calmly. “And I know he doesn’t have your project data. But more importantly,” he added, “I know who does.”
    Pettis considered this, took a deep breath, let it out slowly. “Still listening.”
    “The boy, as you have correctly surmised, is just a minor player in a larger conspiracy. He has an accomplice.”
    “Of course he does,” Pettis snapped, “but we don’t know who he is.”
    The man chuckled softly. “Actually, you don’t even know what he is.”
    Pettis frowned. “What are you talking about? Make sense, mister, or this conversation’s over,” he growled.
    “Very well, Major, I’ll lay it out plainly for you. Your impenetrable computer installation was hacked, and your MDA project data was stolen by… a computer.”
    Pettis shook his head. “Bullshit.”
    “I fear not. Ask