Ghostwalkers by Jonathan Maberry Page A

the CSA or even an acknowledgement of the years Saint had lived as a slave when he was a child. No mention of the generations of Saint families who had lived, toiled, suffered, and died on the plantations. The current administration of the CSA was all about the future, and making friends with learned men like Doctor Saint was part of their attempt to move a solid step out of the dark ages of slavery and into the enlightened era of the coming twentieth century. After all, as one of the dignitaries kept saying, our great-grandkids will be alive to see the New Millennia, and by then no one will ever remember anything as old-fashioned as racism and oppression.
    â€œAnd Saint believed all that?”
    Looks Away shrugged at Grey’s question. “Hard to say with him. I rather think he’s playing along until he finds out what they really want. He is not a deeply trusting soul, bless his heart. And although he is no one’s idea of an ‘agreeable’ or even affable soul, he is forward thinking. If letting go of the past moves science forward, then he will move with the tide.”
    â€œSo he went?” asked Grey.
    â€œIndeed he did, and according to his last few telegrams, his demonstrations were quite a success. That’s when things started to go wrong, however. Instead of coming directly back here, Dr. Saint made several stops to gather special materials for his work. His last stop was supposed to be Salt Lake City, to collect canisters of smoke from the ghost rock factories. However that’s where I lost track of him. I don’t even know for sure that he reached Salt Lake. There’s been no word.”
    â€œYou think he was ambushed?”
    â€œIf he had any trace of ordinary manners or habits I could venture a guess, but he’s an odd duck. He’s gone off on his own several times before, often with no advance warning and little explanation once he returns.”
    â€œWhich means you don’t know whether to sit and wait or plant flowers on an empty grave.”
    â€œJust so. I wish I’d accompanied him, if only to keep track of him. He could drive an angel to hard liquor. On the other hand, I haven’t been bored. He left me behind to continue the work in Paradise Falls and to try and locate new sources of ghost rock ore that was rich in chalcanthite.
    â€œSome weeks ago,” Looks Away explained, “while he was out digging in the hills, the laboratory was raided. Most of the equipment was undisturbed, hidden behind very strong locks. But the thieves made off with many of Saint’s blueprints and nearly all of his canisters of compressed ghost rock gas. They also took a journal in which were recorded the locations of several of Dr. Saint’s remote testing sites. My employer had small caches of supplies scattered throughout this end of the country and did much of his research in spots where he mined for ghost rock, or where he felt he could field-test his devices without attracting attention. Some of them have pretty dramatic effects. I began systematically going from one to the other and found two sites undisturbed, two empty, and two others booby-trapped.”
    â€œSomeone’s trying to kill you?” asked Grey.
    â€œMe or Saint. Hard to say. It’s even possible all of this was an elaborate plan to get me out of Paradise Falls.”
    â€œWhy?”
    â€œThat’s a different discussion. What concerns me is their methods. When they broke into Dr. Saint’s laboratory, they killed the two men we’d engaged as guards. Slit their throats.”
    â€œThose men were friends of mine,” continued Looks Away gravely. “All I could do was try to catch whomever was responsible, and they led me on a merry chase I can assure you. It would make a ripping yarn filled with traps, double-crosses, and all manner of devious villainy.”
    â€œSo the explosion wasn’t a trap set by Saint?” said Grey, jerking a thumb