Now nearly anyone else in Matilda’s position would be scanning ahead, following the boxes to the right to see what was going to happen next. It was, after all, the logical course of action. But right now Matilda wasn’t feeling very logical. Despite all that was at stake, Matilda didn’t care about the future.
She wanted to know about the past.
Matilda moved to the left, following the boxes backward in time. She found her dad’s transfer to Lake Grove Glen, the previous janitor’s jackpot and retirement, Oliver’s dad leaving for Phoenix. Back further she went, and further still, until she found the first box, which read, inside, simply …
HIDING
Matilda stared at the box, frustrated. Then she saw a very faint, dotted line trailing from the left edge of the box. She followed the tiny, almost invisible dotted line as it extended seven or eight feet off the chart itself and down the wall to a small, plain white piece of paper taped to the wall.
“I KNEW IT!” Matilda raged from across the room.
Frankie and Oliver rushed to her side. But she could only look past them at Preston Oglethorpe, who followed the boys more slowly, his head low.
She stared at Preston Oglethorpe with a murderous look in her eyes as she pointed at the tiny scrap of paper on the wall. A piece of paper with a little box drawn on it. A box with one word inside.
DAYTON
“It was your fault, wasn’t it?” Matilda demanded. Preston didn’t meet her eyes, but he nodded, ever so slightly. “You absurd, pathetic, horrible man!”
“Whoa, Matilda, calm down,” Frankie said.
But there was no quieting her anger. “You think this is all some kind of game, don’t you?” she screamed. “Don’t you?!”
Preston finally looked up, his face awash with shame and regret. “No, I don’t,” he said softly. “Truly, I don’t.”
“Oh yes, you do. You make your little charts and compute your formulas and move the rest of us around like little chess pieces.”
“Matilda, what’s going on?” Oliver asked.
“I know you’re angry and you have every right to be,” Preston said. “But I’m trying to fix things. Please, if you’ll let me—”
“Oliver, we have to leave. Now,” she said. Then she pointed at Preston without looking at him. “This man is dangerous.”
“But you said Kaplan was dangerous.”
“His name’s not really Kaplan,” Preston offered.
“I don’t care!” Matilda cried, glaring directly at Preston now. “You nearly killed him. You have to know that.”
“Matilda, I don’t understand,” Oliver said. “Who did he nearly kill?”
“My dad!” she said, and ran out of the warehouse.
“His name was Lester Townsend when I knew him,” Preston said. “But that’s not his real name, either. I’m not sure anyone else knows who he really is.”
Preston and Oliver sat at the table. Alone. When Matilda had run out of the warehouse, Frankie rushed after her, stopping just at the door when he realized Oliver wasn’t behind him. They shared a look. Oliver had to stay. If nothing else, he had to get some answers. For him and his mom. Someone, finally, was going to explain themselves. Frankie nodded and left.
“I first met—let’s just stick with calling him ‘Kaplan’ for simplicity’s sake, shall we?—I first met Kaplan shortly after I began my work on chaos theory. At the time, he was in charge of the government think tank that was funding my research. He became my mentor. I trusted him. I thought he was my friend. He wasn’t.”
Oliver knew that there was a lot going on here that he didn’t understand, but Preston’s feelings about George Kaplan … that much Oliver could relate to perfectly.
“Matilda’s right, Oliver,” Preston continued. “I am dangerous. Very dangerous. I can predict anything, do almost anything. I can create, destroy, manipulate, and the scariest part is that I can do it all in complete secrecy. In the wrong hands my mind could be the most powerful weapon in the history of the world.”
Oliver tried to decide whether Preston referring to his mind as if it were something separate from himself was reassuring or frightening.
“What happened in Dayton?” Oliver asked.
Preston sagged in his chair, as if the question had sucked the air out of him. “Kaplan kept pushing me to test my work, to see if I could set off a complex series of events simply by manipulating one tiny element.”
“The butterfly wings,” Oliver said.
“Something like that,” Preston said. “I agreed. Matilda’s father, Jimmy, was my best friend growing up. After college he joined the FBI, so I thought, if I had to do a field test, why not one that could help his career? He was stationed in Dayton, Ohio, at the time, so I decided to test my work there. I set up a chain of events that led him to a counterfeiting ring. It should have been a routine bust, but I miscalculated. Jimmy got shot in the shoulder.”
“It was an accident,” Oliver offered.
“It was unforgivably foolish,” Preston snapped. “Not to mention arrogant. Not only did I almost kill my best friend, but my hubris showed Kaplan the full extent of my abilities. What my math could really do. The fact that Jimmy almost died wasn’t important to him. As far as he was concerned, that test was a resounding success. He left the think tank and wanted me to come with him. He went on about all the things we could do together. The money, the power—he wasn’t who I thought he was.”
“That’s why you disappeared, then?” Oliver said. “You’ve been hiding from Kaplan.”
“I’ve been hiding from everyone, Oliver,” Preston said.
They sat in silence for a few moments.
Beep!
Preston took off his digital wristwatch and placed it on the table.
“What’s that?” Oliver asked.
Preston looked down at his watch. “Oh, nothing.”
But Oliver knew better. He was getting pretty good at spotting when an adult was lying to his face.
“Matilda!” Frankie yelled. “Wait up!”
She was halfway down the block before Frankie caught her. And she was the kind of mad that made a person forget to breathe, so when Frankie cut her off on the sidewalk, she started taking deep, gasping breaths that quickly turned to sobs.
“Uh, there, there,” Frankie said, patting her on the back uncertainly as she cried into his chest. “It’s all right. There … there.”
Eventually Matilda caught her breath and stopped crying. Then she told Frankie about her dad and how he was an FBI agent. And she told him about Dayton.
“Your dad’s a Fed?” Frankie said, impressed. “Cool.”
“It’s not cool,” Matilda insisted. “I hate it. He’s already been shot once. What if it happens again? What if this time he isn’t just wounded?”
“I’m sorry,” Frankie said. “That really blows.” Frankie thought for a minute. “That’s why you’re into all that spy and detective stuff, isn’t it? The computer hacking, the composition book you’re always writing in? You’re trying to protect him.”
Matilda shrugged. “Guess you think I’m a super weirdo now?”
“Nah,” Frankie said. “You’re still a regular weirdo.”
Matilda laughed a little. They started walking, not saying much. It was a nice quiet, though.
When they reached the corner where their routes home diverged, Frankie said, “You know, you really gotta tell your dad about all this.”
“I know,” Matilda said.
“I could come with you, if you want.”
“That’s okay,” she said. Then: “Thanks, though.”
He smiled. Matilda watched him turn the corner, then started on her way.
She made it about three steps before walking right into Sullivan, who scooped her up and over his shoulder before she could make a break for it.
The big man tossed her in the back seat of his black Lincoln Town Car, right next to Frankie. In the driver’s seat, Gilbert turned around to give them both a “don’t even th
ink about making a sound” look.
Despite being more scared than she’d ever been in her life, the logical side of Matilda’s mind suddenly wished she had peeked ahead a little further on Preston Oglethorpe’s wall chart.
If Oliver had left the warehouse five minutes earlier, he might have seen his friends being captured. He might have been able to run and get help.
Or he might have been caught himself.
As it was, Oliver reached the corner where Matilda and Frankie had been snatched just moments after Gilbert and Sullivan’s black Lincoln Town Car had sped away.
But even though he didn’t see the kidnapping, Oliver got an uneasy feeling as he passed the corner and quickened his pace. Once he was within sight of his house, he slowed down, scouting the area warily.
Oliver watched his mom walk down the front steps with Mr. Kaplan. He ducked behind a tree but kept his eyes glued on his mom. She wasn’t smiling, and Kaplan was holding her firmly by the arm.
He was taking her away.
When they reached Kaplan’s car, Floss spotted Oliver across the street. Without changing her expression, she subtly mouthed the words:
RUN AWAY.
Then she got in the car with Kaplan and they drove off.
Oliver didn’t know what to do. All his worst fears over the last several weeks were now coming true. He felt helpless, hopeless, and terribly alone.
Only, maybe he wasn’t alone. He’d just met a man who’d know exactly where Mr. Kaplan was taking his mom. And if the picture Oliver had seen in his mom’s yearbook was any indication, Preston would care about what happened to her almost as much as Oliver did.
The only question now was could he get to Preston in time.
Bam! Oliver burst into the warehouse to find Preston sitting right where Oliver had left him.
Beep! went the wristwatch, which still sat on the table in front of Preston.
“Kaplan took my mom,” Oliver said, breathless.
“I know, Oliver,” Preston said flatly. “And Frankie and Matilda, too.”
Oliver couldn’t believe the man’s emotionless reaction. He flat-out couldn’t believe it. “Are you even listening to me? Kaplan has my mom. And you’re saying he has my friends, too? Doesn’t that mean anything to you?”
Preston looked at Oliver with tired, haunted eyes. “Oliver, it means everything to me,” he said slowly. “But you have to trust the math.”
“Trust the …” Oliver said, incredulous. “I can’t do that. It’s not my math. What you really mean is that I have to trust you. And you know what, I don’t. Because you’re just sitting there. You promise it’s going to be okay, and then you run off to Arizona with a Pilates instructor. Or you’re nice to my mom, but it’s really all a lie so you can take over the world. You guys all keep saying ‘trust me,’ but none of you are really who you say you are!”
“Oliver, please,” Preston said. “Listen to me. I know it’s hard to believe, but I’ve accounted for all of this. Everything that is happening now, I’ve factored it all in. I’ve already solved it.”
“Solved it?” Oliver cried. “Are you crazy? You can’t solve life! It doesn’t work like that, no matter how smart you are.”
Beep!
Oliver zeroed in on the digital wristwatch, unleashing what could best be likened to a war cry as he grabbed the watch off the table and smashed it back down onto the wood, pulverizing it into pieces.
Oliver ran to the door. He had to call the police, Frankie’s parents, anyone who could save the people he cared about most. But as he was rushing away, he stopped, turned around, and said to Preston, “You are a worthless coward.”
“I recognize this street,” Frankie whispered to Matilda in the back seat. “They’re taking us to the place where I tailed the one Lincoln. To Kaplan’s house.”
“Quiet back there,” Gilbert growled from the front. As he glowered at the kids, his right hand pulsed like he was trying to squeeze something that wasn’t there.
Matilda waited until the ferret-like man turned his attention back to the road. “Okay,” she whispered. “When we get out, I’ll distract them. Then you make a break for it.”
“No way!”
“I said quiet!”
“You left your tension ball back at the house again,” Sullivan said knowingly.
“Shut up, Sully.”
“I’m not leaving you behind,” Frankie insisted.
“It’s our only move,” Matilda reasoned. “You’re faster and you know the area. That makes you our best shot at getting help.”
Frankie knew she was right. He gave her a terse nod, then stared out the window.
They pulled into the driveway of the house. Gilbert parked around back, out of sight of the street. Sullivan opened the rear door, letting Matilda exit first.
As she climbed out, Matilda stumbled into Sullivan, wrapping him up, while Frankie dashed from the car.
“Hey!” Sullivan yelled, trying to move Matilda out of the way to grab Frankie. Matilda stomped hard on Sullivan’s toe, causing him to yell “Hey!” again.
Gilbert was out of the car by now, but Frankie had already darted down the driveway.
“Take the girl inside,” Gilbert growled at Sullivan. “I’ll get the brat.”
Frankie made it about a block or so before Gilbert peeled out of the driveway after him. With the Lincoln gaining fast, Frankie knew he had to get off the street, so he ran between two houses and hopped a fence into a yard with a large tree. He climbed up about halfway, giving him a decent overhead view of the area.
Gilbert, unfortunately, was no fool and began circling the block slowly, like a shark. Frankie knew he couldn’t wait him out, not with Matilda in danger back at Kaplan’s. It was up to him to save her.
The best he could do was time his move and make another run for it.
Sullivan, his pride and his foot both bruised, dragged Matilda into the house. Kaplan sat in the living room with a woman who very clearly did not want to be sitting with him. Matilda surmised that this must be Oliver’s mom.
Giving George Kaplan only a cursory glance, Matilda jerked her arm free from Sullivan’s grip and walked over to Floss.
“I’m friends with Oliver,” she said, extending her hand. “My name is Matilda Sandoval.”
“Sandoval?” Floss said, shaking her head. “You wouldn’t be …”
“That’s right,” Matilda said. “You and my dad went to school together.”
“Jimmy?” Floss said, trying to make sense of it all. “Jimmy Sandoval is your dad?”
Matilda nodded, then threw a dismissive glance toward Kaplan. “Has he told you what this is all about?”
“He said something about trying to find Preston Oglethorpe,” Floss said. “I tried to tell him that Preston left town when we were kids and never came back.”
“Actually,” Matilda said, “he’s been back in town for a while, working as the janitor at our school.”
George Kaplan’s eyes lit up with glee. “Capital!” he exclaimed. “And you’ve seen him?”
“About half an hour ago,” Matilda said. “But I wouldn’t count my chickens just yet, pal.”
“Oh, no?” Kaplan chuckled. “Do enlighten me, young lady, as to why I may be celebrating prematurely.”
“Because Preston Oglethorpe is certifiably insane.”
There was absolute silence for a moment, as if the gravity of Matilda’s statement had sucked all the air from the room.
And then George Kaplan laughed.
“I’m serious,” Matilda said. “We’re talking antisocial personality disorder, social anxiety, paranoia—”
“Oh, I do appreciate the clinical diagnosis, my dear,” he said patronizingly. “But you just let me worry about Preston Oglethorpe’s state of mind.”
“You’re not listening to me,” Matilda said impatiently. “Look, I get that you want to use him as some kind of weapon for world domination, but it won’t work. The man can’t control his own mind. So what makes you thin
k you can control him?”
Kaplan took her measure. “Because I happen to know the only thing in the world that Preston Oglethorpe doesn’t.”
“Really? And what’s that?”
“I know Preston Oglethorpe.”
Preston paced back and forth in the warehouse muttering to himself.
“Trust the math, trust the math, trust the math …”
His eyes locked on the flowchart, the boxes and arrows that had gotten it all right up to now. The numbers hadn’t let him down yet.
“Trust the math,” he said again, trying to make it stick.
Preston looked over at the portraits, but they had all gone dark.
He was on his own.
The equation would work. In his head he had no doubt. But …
“AAARRGGGH!” Preston cried, clamping his hands on either side of his head as if he could physically contain all his thoughts. Then he ran to the nearest computer station and started typing furiously. The screens lit up with various images, maps of the city, satellite imagery of the area, traffic light grid schedules, anything and everything that was happening on every street in a three-mile radius.
Preston absorbed it all, then closed his eyes tightly.
And committed all of it to memory.
Fast and Furious: Chicagoland Drift * That Many Names Is Never a Good Sign * They Say Most Accidents Occur within Five Miles of the Home * Did Anyone Hear That? * Best to Perhaps Look Away * The Steepest Hill in Illinois * Jimmy Gets a Sign * Down Goes Beecham * Well, That Didn’t Take Long
Oliver stood at the corner, wondering which way to go. Everyone he cared about was in danger, and he didn’t know who to turn to.
An old Oldsmobile Cutlass jerked to a stop on the curb, facing the wrong way on the street.
“Oliver! Get in!”
Oliver looked over at Preston, leaning awkwardly out the window.
“Please,” Preston said.
“Why?” Oliver said.
Connect the Dots Page 12
