Code tb-3

by Kathy Reichs

  “How do we find it?” Shelton was nervously scanning the room. “We don’t have a clue to follow, or even a guess!”

  I snapped my fingers at Hi. “Notes.”

  He pulled the rumpled pages from his jacket pocket. “We keep beating these to death, but never get anywhere.”

  We huddled close while Hi read my list aloud. Places we’d been. Facts we’d learned. Hurdles we’d cleared.

  The Gamemaster’s final message claimed the answers were there, somewhere in that tangle of information.

  But, as before, nothing added up.

  “New plan.” Ben removed and draped his jacket over a chair. “We search the building, top to bottom. Everyone takes an area.”

  “Yes. Good!” Doing anything was an improvement over nothing.

  I was about to say more when Kit and Whitney joined us.

  “Tory, darling,” Whitney cooed, “you must come and meet the ladies from the Women’s Committee. Your father has already charmed them.”

  Kit blushed. “Doubtful. My reputation usually results in disappointment. I’m hardly the Indiana Jones people envision.”

  “Pssh.” Whitney flapped a hand. “Modest.”

  “I’d like to meet them, Whitney,” I began, “but the boys and I were just—”

  “These women pulled strings for you, Tory.” Whitney’s tone became a little less honeyed. “We need to express our gratitude.”

  I was about to refuse—what could possibly matter less—when Hi jumped in. “You go ahead, Tory. We can inspect the buffet tables alone.” Then he whispered under his breath. “We got this. Go. Sneak away when you can.”

  Reluctantly, I followed Kit and Whitney to the adults’ parlor for rounds of hand-shaking and banal conversation. Precious time slipped by. Too distracted to focus, I responded to questions like a trained parrot.

  My anxiety increased with each passing minute.

  This was nuts. Everyone there was in mortal danger, yet only I knew it.

  Was that fair? Should I be screaming warnings? Sounding the alarm? Rallying a massive search of the premises?

  Break the rules and innocents will suffer.

  The Gamemaster’s warning. I knew he wasn’t bluffing.

  He’d already killed once. I had zero doubt he’d do it again. And his eye seemed to be everywhere.

  The Gamemaster could be in this room, right now.

  We had to beat The Game by honoring his rules. But how?

  Soon I could stand it no longer. I had to help the other Virals.

  When Kit and Whitney turned their backs, I scurried into the ballroom. Failing to spot the boys, I sped down the catwalk and out the main entrance.

  I halted on the landing, frozen by indecision.

  Sensing eyes on my back. I spun. Chance was a few steps behind me.

  “Thinking of running?” he asked softly.

  “What? No.” Why was Chance following me?

  “I’d understand. It could be a wild night.”

  Something in his half smile made me … uncomfortable.

  Glancing back into the ballroom, I spotted Shelton back at our table. Our eyes met. He motioned to the right and slipped through a door.

  “I have to go.”

  I retraced my steps down the catwalk, drawing more snarky giggles from the Tripod’s table. Ignoring them, I ducked out after Shelton.

  Please have good news.

  Shelton dashed my hopes immediately.

  “Zilch.” Anxiously cracking his knuckles. “Hi checked the rooms on this floor, and I covered the one above. Wasn’t hard, since none of the doors have locks.”

  “Where’s Ben?”

  “Right here.” Ben hurried down the hallway to join us. “I checked the lobby and first floor. Nothing out of the ordinary, no obvious clues.”

  “The bomb could be in a duct somewhere,” I said. “Or lodged behind a ceiling tile.”

  “Possibly.” Hi didn’t sound convinced.

  “Spill,” I demanded.

  “It’s just …” Having ditched the top hat, Hi’s hair formed a wild brown tangle above his brow. “The previous caches were all placed where they could be found. Clues pointed directly to their locations. So why would the final one be different? To me, it doesn’t fit the Gamemaster’s style to hide something where we couldn’t reasonably be expected to track it down.”

  Hi was right. The Gamemaster had said so. We already held the key to locating The Danger. I thought furiously. What had we overlooked?

  I was concentrating so hard, I didn’t hear Jason approach.

  “Hey, crew!” He swung a lazy arm around my shoulder. “Ready to break it down with Charleston’s finest?”

  Ben shoved Jason before I could react. “Get lost, jackass! Bigger things are happening than this stupid ball!”

  Jason stepped nose to nose with Ben. “We had an agreement, Blue. Don’t make me embarrass you in front of your friends.”

  “Stop it, both of you! I can’t have you acting like idiots. Not now!”

  Things could not have gotten worse. But they did.

  Whitney swooped in like a Predator drone.

  “There you are!” Annoyance pinched her painted features. “Let me know next time you’re planning to slip away. We’re supposed to be in position already!”

  I shook my head, failing to comprehend.

  “It’s time, kiddo.” Kit was straightening his bow tie. “Let’s go turn some heads.”

  “Now?” I was light-years from ready.

  “Of course, now.” Whitney tapped her diamond wristwatch. “It’s showtime!”

  “I … but …”

  Microphone feedback screeched through the door. A woman’s voice welcomed all present to the “evening of a lifetime.”

  It was really happening. I froze like a deer scenting coyotes.

  “We’re not in position!” Whitney sounded horrified as she peeked through the door. “Everyone’s seated!”

  “This hallway leads to the landing,” Kit said. “We don’t have to cut through.”

  “Then move!” Using two hands, Whitney propelled me down the corridor and around a corner to the main landing.

  The other debutantes were already lined up like a procession of swans, flanked by fathers and escorts. The mass flowed like a flouncy, jittery stream down the grand staircase.

  A thick curtain had been stretched across the doorway, blocking the ballroom from view. I spotted Ashley up front, Madison and Courtney farther back in the line. No help there.

  A frantic-looking woman spotted me, nearly threw out her back waving my party to the head of the queue. Inside, the speaker paused for a round of applause.

  “Now, remember the routine.” Whitney was grooming me like a cat, wiping away smudges and spit-stamping stray hairs. “Walk straight down the catwalk at a leisurely pace, then turn and do your curtsy. Then your father will come to meet you, and pace you up and back.”

  Like a show pony. Then her words breached my skull.

  “Curtsy? Say again?”

  Whitney’s eyebrows nearly shot off her head. “Surely they taught you the Saint James Bow in cotillion? We’re not talking the Texas Dip here!”

  “Saint James what? Who?” I began to hyperventilate.

  Whitney turned horror-filled eyes on Jason. Behind me, I heard Ashley snicker.

  “We never covered it.” Jason looked stricken. “They assumed we all knew it already, which I thought everyone did.”

  Whitney’s eyes squeezed shut.

  Beyond the curtain, the crowd stirred as another woman took the mic. “Guys!” Hi had poked his head through the curtains. “Botox Lady is up. I think you’re on.”

  Shelton danced on the balls of his feet. Ben looked at me helplessly.

  I knew there was a bomb in the building. I knew the ball was meaningless in the face of that danger. But at that moment, I was more terrified of making a public fool of myself than anything the Gamemaster had contrived.

  Whitney’s eyes snapped
open.

  She grabbed my shoulders. “Pay attention!” Then she scooted backward, took a deep breath, and adopted a wide pageant smile. “Like so.”

  Dipping her chin demurely, Whitney bent her knees and swept one foot behind the other, fanning an imaginary skirt with one hand. Her head dropped gracefully and she held a beat, then rose, smile never shifting an inch all the way.

  Quite a feat in her tourniquet dress. Marshals grinned in appreciation.

  “Got it?” Whitney hissed, wringing her hands.

  “Can you show me again?”

  More applause from inside. Then the scrape of shifting chairs.

  “No time.” Whitney nodded to Ben and Jason. “Which marshal escorts you off?”

  “Do what now?” It was all getting to be too much.

  Whitney physically repressed a scream. “One of them must take your hand from Kit, and then walk you the hell out of the room. Which. One?”

  “I don’t … I haven’t …”

  My blood pressure spiked. I wobbled. Spots peppered the edge of my vision.

  Ben lurched forward to catch my elbow. “Jason will escort her.”

  Unable to speak, I thanked him with my eyes.

  “You’ll do great,” Ben whispered, patting my hand. “Just picture them all in their underwear.” I gave a decidedly unladylike snort.

  Ben turned to Jason. “You know the drill. Get it done.”

  Jason nodded and moved into position beside me.

  I stole one glance at the Swan Lake parade behind me. Ashley flashed her vicious predatory smile, all but confirming why she’d skipped back and made me walk first. She was hoping I’d humiliate myself.

  For some reason, that realization brought back my composure.

  “Walk down, turn, curtsy, wait for Kit.” I straightened my shoulders as the curtain parted. “Up and back, then Jason comes and walks me out. Right?”

  “Yes!” Whitney crushed me with a bear hug. “You’ll be great!”

  A third female voice boomed from the loudspeakers.

  I rolled my shoulders, bounced twice on my toes.

  “Let’s do this.”

  My hand shot out, found Whitney’s. Gave it a quick squeeze.

  Then, body tingling, I started down the aisle.

  CHAPTER 44

  “LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, please allow me to present: Miss Victoria Grace Brennan.”

  Applause.

  Behind me, Ashley leaned close to whisper in my ear. “Don’t choke, Boat Girl.”

  I almost laughed. “Step off, bitch.”

  I didn’t think, didn’t pause to reflect. I began pacing the catwalk with all the poise I could muster, thankful the floor-length gown concealed my shaking legs.

  Back straight. Smile plastered. Arms slightly bent and held out to the sides to accentuate the lines of my dress. I counted off steps in my head, determined to neither run nor lag. Then I spotted a small X taped to the center of the dance floor.

  The curtsy spot.

  I visualized Whitney’s move. Seemed simple enough. Why not a test drive with all of Charleston watching?

  Shoving that thought aside, I reached the mark.

  Halted.

  Turned.

  You can do this.

  As gracefully as I could manage, I sank into the bow. Time slowed. My head dropped gently until I was staring at the parquet. Pulse racing, I waited two full beats as Whitney had done.

  Cameras flashed. Someone coughed.

  Silence. Had I done it right? Or was everyone embarrassed for me and choking back laughter?

  Precariously balanced, eyes glued to the floor, I had no idea.

  Who cares? There’s a freaking bomb in the building, and I don’t know where.

  Then, as I gazed at the hardwood, the answer hit home.

  Where did the Gamemaster’s clues always lead?

  Down. Underground.

  Deep, dark places.

  The bowels of Castle Pinckney. An earthen hole. An ancient, subterranean crypt.

  We hadn’t searched below the first floor. That’s where The Danger must be!

  The bomb is right beneath my feet. Ticking away.

  I straightened, outwardly calm by force of will alone. Every eye in the room was on me. Gauging. Judging. Determining if I belonged.

  One of them might be the Gamemaster.

  Then Kit was striding toward me, pride beaming from his face.

  Offering an arm, he squired me up the catwalk and back to the curtsy spot. Then he leaned over and kissed my cheek. For a second I forgot the danger, reveling in a rare moment of closeness with my dad.

  Then Jason was there, taking my hand. “Perfect,” he whispered. Smiling, he turned with a flourish and accompanied me on my final glide down the aisle.

  Applause broke out. I saw approval on many faces as my handsome blond champion escorted me through the crowd. Comments floated to my ears.

  “Gorgeous. Such regal bearing.”

  “A flawless curtsy. Which family is she?”

  “Those two make a fine match.”

  “She’s come a long way, that one. What a beauty!”

  They like me. These people like me.

  I have to admit, I lapped up their praise. It felt good to fit in. To be judged and found worthy. Lord knows I’d felt the opposite enough times.

  A part of me was disgusted. Why should I care what these high society snobs thought? But I basked in their acceptance nonetheless.

  As we neared the end of the catwalk I spotted Whitney in the final row, waving maniacally, dabbing her eyes with a lavender hankie.

  A sharp reminder of how silly this was.

  Jason and I exited the ballroom.

  It was over. The whole thing had taken less than two minutes.

  “Nailed it!” Hi crowed as the curtains closed behind us. “A princess for the new generation. Totally Kate. Eh, maybe Pippa.”

  “Good job, Tor.” Shelton wheezed a throaty chuckle. “I think I was more nervous than you.”

  The waiting debs and escorts made a path. Ashley was standing by the curtain, listening for her name to be called.

  She shot me a nasty look. I raised a brow, stared back.

  Ashley laughed. Then, rolling her eyes, she nodded in grudging approval.

  Surprised, I returned the gesture.

  It’s true what they say about bullies.

  I noticed Ben watching and quickly disengaged from Jason.

  “You did great,” Ben said awkwardly. “I was half-afraid you’d fall down.”

  I snorted. “Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

  Reality slammed back.

  I motioned the Virals down the hall to a spot where we could talk.

  “We have to search the basement!” I blurted. “Think about it—the Gamemaster’s clues all led below the surface. That’s the thread we missed! The final cache must be underground, too!”

  “Uh, Tory.” Shelton tapped his nose and nodded sharply to my left.

  At Jason. My non-Viral escort, right beside me.

  “Gamemaster?” Jason looked confused. “Search the basement? What are you talking about?”

  “Oh, we’re, um, playing a pretty fierce game of Dungeons and Dragons,” Hi stammered. “I’m, like, the head … unicorn master, and Tory has to find my magic … beans. Seeds.”

  Ben glanced at his watch. “Eight fifty. Ten minutes left.”

  “There’s no time.” I grabbed Jason by the shoulders. “Real talk—we’re in some serious trouble right now. There’s a bomb in the building set to explode at nine. We have to find it!”

  “Bomb? Here?” Jason took a step backward. “Are you serious?”

  “Dead serious,” Hi said. “As in, ‘we’ll all be dead if we don’t find it’ serious.”

  Ben and Shelton nodded grimly.

  “Oh my God.” Jason’s eyes shot to the mass of kids clogging the staircase. “We have to tell everyone! Warn them!”

  I shook my head. “The Gamemaster will trig
ger the bomb early if we tell anyone. We have to find it ourselves, now, and win The Game.”

  “What game?” Jason’s eyes narrowed. “Have you guys been drinking? Because you’re not very good at it, believe me, and I don’t think—”

  “She’s telling the truth.” Ben fist-slammed his palm several times. “Bomb. Here. Now. So either help us search or piss off.”

  “I’m with you.” Jason’s voice broke. “My kid sister’s in that ballroom.”

  “Then let’s move!” I dashed for the stairs, skirting the mass of debs and escorts waiting for their moment in the spotlight. Most barely noticed. A few shook their heads—the Island Refugees, acting weird as always.

  In the first-floor lobby I spun in a circle, looking for some kind of basement access.

  “There!” Hi raced to a steel door hidden in the back right-hand corner. “Emergency stairwell. Going down.”

  We descended twenty steps to a single door labeled “Electrical.”

  Hand-painted below the lettering was a simple yellow image—a rising sun.

  “Bingo!” Hi slapped the drawing with his palm.

  “A sunrise?” Jason moved closer for a better look. “What does it mean?”

  “It means I was right. This is real. Our enemy was here.” I closed my eyes and took a single deep breath. “Time check?”

  “Eight fifty-five.” Ben’s voice was tight. “We should hurry.”

  Like those upstairs, this door had no lock. Ben went first. Then me. The others brought up the rear.

  We entered a long, dark room packed with humming machinery. The air was hot and stale, and smelled of thousand-year dust. Tiny lights flickered on control panels, adding to the weak yellow glow oozing from the ancient halogens overhead.

  The chamber had an oppressive, claustrophobic feel.

  I knew we were in the right place.

  I scanned my immediate area, but saw nothing sinister. “Any ideas?”

  Jason was peering ahead into the gloom. “There’s an archway at the far end.”

  “That must be the way.”

  With Jason leading, we squeezed through a maze of equipment. My eyes were darting everywhere. I was acutely aware of the Gamemaster’s love for traps. This was the final cache location. It was sure to be protected.

  In seconds we reached the archway. Beyond it was a short passage, which ended at another filthy door. Metallic shavings littered the floor beneath the jamb.