He could take a city bus to the trainstation, then perhaps sleep on the train. His only concern was that the bus to the station passed through Uno. He was happy Calen had helped him the evening before - if not a bit apprehensive. The last thing he'd need was to have an agent sense his transmissions and stop the bus.

     Now that would just suck.

     He googled a map and then downloaded it into his G5 were he was able to plot a course through the country-side with only two stops before getting to Derblinkindermizzet.

     I still think that’s a typo of some sort. We’ll all meet there and find a tree or something.

     After rechecking to make sure he’d left nothing behind, the Adept pulled on his tweed suit jacket, hoisted his bag over the right shoulder, and walked quietly to the elevator. Before the lift's doors closed he saw Arden and Mark step out of the girl’s suite. He started to wave at them, but the witch and the Chorister turned in the other direction, immersed in a deep conversation.

     I guess they’re still waiting on her gypsy relatives. I hope they make it there okay. I have to agree with Calen on that issue – I do not want to travel by horse and cart.

     It was nearing nine a.m., and the lobby was moderately full. He spied Derrick beside the concierge’s desk, looking over several maps and asking questions.

     Derrick looked up as Mac approached. "Ready to head out?"

     The Adept nodded. "Yeah. I'm going to take a city bus over to the trainstation. You?"

     "Sure am. Got my ride ready just outside. It’s back on the open road again, just the way I like it."

     The Adept offered his left hand. "I wish you the best of luck. I’ll see you in four days."

     Derrick returned a firm grip. "Good luck."

     With a smile, Mac turned and headed out the front door and into the bright, morning sunshine where he stopped in his tracks.

     Before him, gleaming in the bright sunshine, was the most beautiful car he’d ever seen. It was a BMW, he was sure. Candy-apple red and loaded with extras. A horse and buggy clopped by, but Mac couldn’t take his eyes off of the car.

     "Who…?"

     He was even more surprised to see Nicholas Calen emerged from inside. The VE moved around the back of the car, a rag in his hand. Dressed in his usual uniform of fatigues and black tee, the solider cocked an eyebrow at Mac.

     "Never seen a car before?"

     "Not like that." Mac adjusted his shoulder bag. "Where did you get it?"

     "Connections," Calen smiled. "I plan on traveling in comfort. And, of course, she has a few modifications." He gave a slow smile, looking for all the world to Mac like Han Solo bragging about the Millenium Falcon.

     Mac put up his hands and shook his head. "I don’t want to know. I’m taking a nice, scenic route – with no sign of trouble."

     Calen smirked. "Riiiight."

     The Adept ignored the solider and shook his head. "Well, I have to give you points for taste."

     "It’s better than dick-weed’s idea of fun." Calen nodded to Mac’s right where a gold Vespa was parked.

     "Derrick’s heading out…" Mac pointed to he small motor-cycle. "On that?"

     "Yep. He seems determined. And stupid."

     "Hey," Mac lowered his voice and took a step forward. "About that shooting Derrick in the back comment…"

     "Uh-huh," Calen raised an eyebrow. "You want to help?"

     "No, no. I’m just worried that you’re serious."

     "Always."

     Great.

     The bus arrived then, the breaks honking like geese. Several people standing about formed a line before the hinged door. Mac looked past Calen at the bus' number painted over the driver's windshield. "That’s me."

     The VE turned and glanced back at it. "See you in four days – If not sooner."

     Mac moved past the VE. "Not sooner. You won’t see me before then."

     He was the last one to board. The interior smelled of unwashed bodies and air-freshner, a Western convention. The chairs were red and worn with high backs that gave plenty of support for a passenger’s neck.

     Mac found a seat beside a window near the back. He stowed his shoulder bag in the rack above and settled in. He watched Derrick through the window. The Akashic stepped outside, gave a morning a ritual Akashic Hello, mounted his Vespa, and was gone.

     What a guy.

     It occurred to Mac he hadn’t seen Kyle since the night before. He assumed the Hollow One would find his way there. He had money, and looks. And experience.

     But he’s a terrible thief.

     Someone sat in the seat beside him. He turned and nearly yelled out. It can't be...

     The elderly lady narrowed her eyes at Mac. "Mr. Cooper?" Her eyes widened. "Mac Cooper!"

     Mac blinked still unable to believe he sat beside Winnie Walberg.

     Shit. She did remember my name. He put a hand on her shoulder, hoping she would lower her voice. "Well odd meeting you here."

     Too late. The woman’s face lit up and she reached out and swallowed him in a bear hug. "Mac Cooper! It’s wonderful to see you! I was so worried about you after that plane ride. You and that computer set up of yours." She pulled back from him. "You still have all those gadgets? And those really nice sunglasses? Made you look like one of those kids from that Matrix movie."

     Shit, hell, damn. This woman was loud.

     People had turned to see what inferior American was tirading in the back. Some of the passengers gave Mac a consoling look. You poor dear. Oh yeah, then help me out here!

     Mac struggled to pull away from the woman and her overwhelming perfume. He felt his eyes water and he wiped at them as she released his shoulders. He slammed back against the window. "Fine…I’m fine…" He pinched the bridge of his nose. I'll be better once I don't have to breath that stench of a perfume.

     "Well I’ll be. And here you are in Vienna. You know, I got sick of Las Vegas too, and then all that bombing at the airport in Paris? Just as I was scheduled to land. Incredible." She beamed at him. "Were you in Paris as well?"

     Oh, this is bad. If he could, he would teleport off this bus and away from this woman. Unfortunately, he was surrounded by Sleepers. He looked into Winnie’s eyes and … again… was taken by that something else.

     That something he’d seen on the plane all those days back in the states. What was it?

     He shook his head quickly when he realized Winnie was expecting an answer. "No, no…I wasn’t in Paris."

     "Well, that’s good." She sighed. "Well, I’m happy to see you’re all right. You’re still pale – and you really do need to do something about that hair. It’s in your eyes. And those clothes," she laughed. "You look like a librarian. You know," she leaned in toward him. Mac felt trapped up against the bus' window. She lowered her voice. "You might actually find yourself a nice girl if you didn't look like such a nerd."

     Christ.

     "Well…"

     "And your eyes," she peered deeply into his eyes just as she had on the plane to Vegas. "There’s something wrong with your left eye, did you know that?"

     "It’s okay."

     "No, it’s all weird looking. You have to get up close to see it, but it’s there. You got cataracts? If it is, then it's just starting and you can do something about it." She squinted her eyes. "Yeah, you really have to look hard to see it. But of course I can, I'm gifted with things like Sight."

     Oh god. Mac screamed out inside. There would be no leisurely drive in the counry-side. And if this woman doesn’t shut up, we’re going to attract attention. I’m no longer broadcasting, but I don’t want to take any chances either.

     "Oh, Mr. Cooper – this is going to be a fun trip. You headed to Prague too?"

     "….and with his seventh child, he pasted her picture into the same book. But then Nathan, my sister’s other second child by her first marriage – you know the one with the metal in his face? Yeah, I think so," Winnie paused. "He was just a baby when Old Forsythe galvanized his leg…"

     Mac rested his head against the window’s glass, overwhelmed in a deja-vu that was too much to bear. He’s tried escaping into his VR several times, but the woman knew he wasn’t paying any attention and would shake his shoulders, jarring his Navigator library.

     He half watched the city-scape as they trudged on, stopping here and there. More than once he considered ditching the bus ride and hitchiking – anything would be better than this.

     Mac could just see the tall buildings of UNO City nearing ahead. The bus route out would pass right by the inner city’s edges before heading out onto the main road.

     "But then, you know, he never really called her anything bad. And he just smacked her a couple of times." She shook his shoulder. "You said you were married, right?"

     Mac nodded, but didn’t turn to face Winnie. "Yeah. She died."

     "Oh, that’s right. Well, then you know what kind of heart break Forsythe went through when Dayle drowned herself in that pond…"

     He frowned as the bus came to a complete stop to load and unload passengers.

     "Uno," the driver called out. "Next three stops."

     As he looked at the busy people outside the window, Mac spotted a familiar face in the crowd of pedestrians walking with purpose past the bus. Long, blue/black hair, exotic eurasian features, soft, full lips with the slightest rise in her right eyebrow, as if she were looking around for someone.

     Maouri? No - it couldn't be. But this woman...

     He pressed himself against the bus window as she neared. She was dressed in a sarong of green and blue. No… He blinked. The image changed. This woman was dressed in a smart white business suit and walked on high, white heels. This simple detail should have alerted him to the danger lurking nearby - but it did not. In hindsight, Mac would always regret his next steps.

     There was a half hope that she would draw near and he would see that this wasn’t his dead wife.

     She was just outside the window. His eyes widened.

     Maouri! It couldn't be her. She paused before the window, still looking around as if on search for something. He put his hand to the glass. There, to the right of her perct mouth, was the tiny he'd always teased her about.

     She passed by and glanced up at him, and looked away.

     Maouri!

     It had to be. He turned away. Winnie was still talking. He stood and pushed his way past her thick knees, and with an ungraceful grunt, pulled his bag from the overhead bin. Mac was careful not to let the heavy sack of canvas hit the woman in the head.

     "Hey!" he called out to the bus driver as he started the vehicle forward. "I have to get off," he called out in perfect German.

     "Mr. Cooper!"

     He cringed at the sound of Winnie’s voice. But he couldn’t turn. He had to get to the street and speak to this woman who looked so much like Maouri. He had to see for himself.

     The driver stopped and let Mac off. The Adept jumped from the last step and paused as he looked in the crowd for the white suit. He spotted her several yards ahead, walking fast.

     "Hey!" he called out and dodged pedestrians as he quickened his gait to the white suit. "Hey…you in the white!"

     But the woman in the suit continued to walk.

     She’s not your wife, you idiot. She’s just someone that looks like her. This was his rational mind speaking, but he chose to ignore it.

     Mac chewed at his lower lip as he moved closer to the suit. Maouri is dead. You saw her die. In an instant another voice broke over the first one. But you never saw her body - only her grave.

     The Adept sprinted faster after the dark-haired woman in white.

     Mac was closer now. He stopped, side-stepped and dodged people as he came up behind her. She was the right height. The right build. It looked so much like her from the back.

     He sprinted the last two feet and reached out with his left hand. "Miss?"

     She stopped and turned.

     It wasn’t her.

     This woman was beautiful, stunning in every female way. She was Asian, and delicate of feature as Maouri had been. She gave him an inquisitive look and asked him in French what was wrong.

     He shook his head. "Sorry," he said in English. "I thought you were someone else."

     The young woman switched to accented English as well. "I am sorry I am not. Iz there zom-ding I can do?"

     "No, no." He gave her a weak smile. "I'm sorry to bother you." Mac looked around. He froze. The buildings looked familiar. In fact, they looked too familiar, as if he'd been here before.

     "Sir?"

     "Where…" he felt his heart lurch into his throat as he half turned and looked around. "Where am I?"

     She gave him a warm smile. "Uno City. Shust within ze boundries, past ze river." She pointed behind him at the retreating bus, the one he'd just stepped off of. "Zat was ze bus that travels ze Danube."

     Mac swallowed as he looked back at the woman with what he knew was a harried and wild expression. I'm in the heart of Uno City.

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