The Newton Prophecies

Chapter 34

Chapter 34

DiBianco left the men's room with a confidence he hadn't had since before he had been approached by Agent Camillin; before he had heard about the disappearance of the Newton Papers.
         He didn't know what the road ahead had in store, but he now knew he was on the right path. Nothing was getting between him and the answers he needed. Savanna's life depended on it. His life depended on it.
         "That's what I'm talking about." Clinton was awestruck. "Now there's the man on the back of all those books lining my shelves."
         DiBianco gazed at Clinton through dark shades, a wide grin invaded his face. "Let's go."
         "You see, that's where I'm lost," Clinton said, slinging his laptop bag over his shoulder. "Where exactly are we going?"
         "Waterloo Station." His voice was confident. "The Eye awaits."
         "Are you bloody high?"
         DiBianco--sharp, very Blues Brothers, large black bag in hand--took off toward the gates.
         Clinton grabbed the other bag and caught up. "There's people after you; they probably want you dead; and you're going to The Eye? ... Did I miss something?"
         DiBianco looked for the shortest line. They were all long. Picking one, he settled in and rested the bag in front of him.
         "Mike?"
         "I don't know!" he finally said, his confidence diminishing. "I just know I'm supposed to go there."
         "I don't understand."
         "Don't sweat it kid," DiBianco said. "Who the hell are you anyway?"
         Clinton was speechless.
         "You saved me from the evil nurses and that stubby English doctor," he said with a chuckle, "but, now it's like you're stalking me."
         Clinton's face went white with shock.
         "What brought you to Saint Mary's in the first place?"
         "I-I over heard, th-the--"
         "Spit it out, kid."
         "Why are you such an asshole all of a sudden? Reading all your books, I thought... I mean, I thought... I understood you." Clinton dropped the bag and stormed off.
         "Hey!" DiBianco shouted, knowing he had made a grave mistake.
         But Clinton kept walking.
         "Kid!" DiBianco grabbed both bags and ran after him. He didn't understand why he was acting the way he was. It was like something suddenly took over his mind. "I'm sorry."
         But it didn't matter, Clinton wasn't stopping.
         "I don't even know your name?"
         "Peter," he said, not even slowing his step.
         "Peter, please." DiBianco followed behind him. "I'm sorry. This has been a pretty screwed up week. I really need your help solving this puzzle."
         Clinton stopped. "What's going on?"
         "I don't know..."
         "And what's in those bags?"
         "I--"
         "Why the hell did you take them?"
         "I--"
         "They belong to them--"
         "I don't know!" he snapped, questioning everything that entered his mind. "You know," he started, "perhaps it's time we took a look."

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