Code tb-3

by Kathy Reichs

  No! I sent.

  Coop streaked after Hi.

  I shot from the trees in pursuit.

  Focused on his target, the Gamemaster failed to notice the action behind him. He closed to within a dozen yards of the bench.

  I felt Ben enter my headspace. Look through my eyes.

  Then, to my shock, he popped up and started waving his arms.

  The Gamemaster froze, momentarily surprised. Recovering quickly, he leveled the barrel to fire. Ben dropped back behind the bench.

  Hi kept bombing toward the Gamemaster. Thirty yards. Twenty.

  At ten yards, Katelyn betrayed him.

  Lightning flashed. The Gamemaster caught movement in the corner of his eye.

  He spun. Centered Hi in his crosshairs.

  Hi stumbled and fell in the pouring rain. Slid to a stop on his knees.

  A smile split the Gamemaster’s mouth.

  Oh damn, Hi sent.

  I screamed, helpless.

  Then a shadow exploded from the center of the plaza, rushing directly for the Gamemaster. He turned, astonished by this new attack.

  The figure was familiar. I thought I was hallucinating.

  Kit lowered one shoulder. Bellowing like a madman, he reached the Gamemaster and swung a wild haymaker.

  The Gamemaster dropped his rifle and stepped sideways, ducking the blow and tossing Kit forward with one arm. Kit toppled and rolled across the slick grass.

  Laughing, the Gamemaster pulled a Glock from his robe.

  Too late.

  Coop struck first, upending the Gamemaster and sending him sprawling.

  The Glock went flying.

  As the Gamemaster staggered to one knee, my foot connected with his jaw.

  His eyes rolled back. Then Ben and Shelton tackled as one, driving him face-first into the muddy lawn.

  “You freak!” Ben was hammering our enemy with his fists. I needed Shelton’s help to drag him off.

  “Now that’s what I call backup!” Hi searched the Gamemaster’s robe and removed three more handguns. “Never doubted you guys for a second.” He jammed the weapons into his pockets. “Okay, that’s not really true. But you came through anyway!”

  As we regained our breath Katelyn raged on, pounding our group with renewed ferocity.

  No matter. It was over. The Gamemaster lay unconscious at my feet. We’d won.

  Then, a moment of panic. Kit was there.

  I quickly fired a message: Kill the lights!

  Four flares snuffed in rapid succession.

  I turned to find Kit staring at me, lungs heaving, water coursing down his face.

  He wore a look of total bewilderment.

  “Hi, Dad.”

  CHAPTER 58

  OUTSIDE, THE HURRICANE thundered and churned.

  Inside, my emotions did the same.

  We sat in a hallway of Charleston Memorial Hospital, one group among many seeking shelter.

  Though staffed by a skeleton crew, the building still bustled with doctors, patients, and stragglers caught by the storm. A medical center is never fully evacuated, and CMH was one of the few places downtown with its own generator.

  I picked at my bandage, still avoiding the reality that I’d been shot. I certainly hadn’t told Kit. Neither had the exhausted medical staff—an oversight I’d let run as long as possible. Coop napped at my side, exhausted by the day’s events.

  Shelton and Hi were spilling everything. Kit had demanded the story from me, but I’d remained stubbornly silent until the dynamic duo took up the tale. Kit’s eyes widened as they related an almost complete version of our last two weeks.

  Kit had already explained how he found us.

  After discovering my note, Kit had run outside only to see Sewee motoring into the Atlantic. A full-blown panic had ensued, with every father demanding a spot on Hugo to chase us down.

  Finally, playing the boss card, Kit had ordered his employees to evacuate Morris. Then he’d sped toward downtown in his 4Runner after browbeating the police into letting him cross the bridge. Once on the peninsula he’d stalled, having no idea where to look.

  Then Katelyn closed in.

  Fearing the worst, Kit tried the hospital, where an MD swore he’d seen a group of teens sprinting down Calhoun Street. Having no other plan, Kit hurried back out to his 4Runner and drove as far as the downed trees and smoking black truck.

  That’s when he’d heard gunshots. Terrified, he’d raced ahead on foot, eventually stumbling into Marion Square.

  Spotting me, Kit had shouted my name.

  I hadn’t turned. Instead I’d run the other way.

  Kit was about to pursue when a flying trash-can lid clocked him from behind. He’d dropped to a knee, momentarily stunned. When he’d recovered, I was gone. Then he’d spotted a gunman in the plaza aiming at Hi. The headlong assault had been pure reflex.

  Super Dad hadn’t let me out of his sight since.

  I barely listened to Hi and Shelton’s recitation. I was watching Ben.

  He didn’t speak. Avoided my gaze. Then he stood and strode down the hall.

  I popped up and started after him. Coop rose to follow, but I gently shooed him back with one hand. Though displeased, he lay down beside Hi and closed his eyes.

  “Don’t go anywhere!” Kit called to my back. “You’re not to leave this hospital!”

  I turned. “Dad, it’s over.”

  Kit stared at me intently, then nodded.

  An hour earlier, we’d flagged an emergency vehicle sent to investigate the exploding F-150. The police had loaded everyone into vans and driven to CMH. Hearing our story, and seeing the guns, they’d taken the Gamemaster into custody. A full investigation would have to wait until after Katelyn passed.

  There’d be questions. Statements. The whole shebang.

  My interrogation couldn’t wait.

  I found Ben on a stool in an empty examining room, head in his hands.

  He was waiting for me.

  “I saw.” No point mincing my words.

  Ben didn’t look up. “In my head?”

  “Yes. You met with the Gamemaster aboard Sewee.”

  “Twice.” Ben sat back, but didn’t meet my eye. “His name is Simon Rome. At least, that’s the name he used at LIRI.”

  I’d thought myself prepared. Was wrong.

  “Ben, no! Why?” I felt the walls caving in around me.

  “No one was supposed to get hurt!” Ben lashed out and kicked a trash can across the room. “It was just a stupid game!”

  He spun away, shoulders trembling. I sensed that he was crying.

  I took a deep breath. “Tell me everything.”

  Ben sniffed. Ran both hands over his eyes. Then he faced me, wearing a look of total devastation.

  “Tell me,” I whispered, close to tears myself.

  Ben slumped on his stool. Said nothing.

  I positioned a chair opposite him, sat, and leaned forward. “Tell me,” I repeated for the third time.

  “I met Rome on the LIRI dock,” Ben said dully. “He was the new mechanic, had only been working at the institute a few months. I’d see him every few days, and we kinda got to be friends.”

  “Why did you never mention him?”

  “I don’t know.” Ben scuffed at the floor with his sneaker. “I don’t have a lot of friends, not like you. I guess it was just nice hanging with someone else. Someone older.”

  Not like me? What was Ben talking about?

  “I … told him things.” Ben’s face reddened. “Personal things. After that he came up with this big idea.”

  Though I wanted to know what things Ben had told the Gamemaster, I needed to keep him talking. “The big idea. Was it The Game?”

  “It was going to be fun,” Ben said bitterly. “A series of codes and puzzles. And the best part was, I’d look smart and cool. We’d set up these tricky games, then I’d solve the clues and be a hero.”

  “But why?” I couldn’t understand his thinking. “You didn’t hav
e to impress us. We know you. We’re your friends. Your family.”

  For a long moment Ben didn’t speak. Then, “I’m so stupid.”

  I was about to respond, but he cut me off.

  “I pushed Hi to buy that metal detector. He thinks it was his idea. It wasn’t. Then I started making fun of geocaching, all the time knowing he’d end up wanting to play the game. It worked, too. In no time I’d led everyone to the Loggerhead cache.”

  “The puzzle box. The coded message.”

  “The box was simple, and I knew Shelton would crack the cipher. But I saved the shining moment for myself.” His voice become mocking. “Look at Ben! He solved the altered coordinates. He’s so wonderful. On to Castle Pinckney!”

  His sneaker slammed a nearby cabinet. “What a moron!”

  “The second cache exploded.” My tone sharpened. “Cooper was hurt.”

  Ben shook his head miserably. “That’s when I knew the jerk had double-crossed me.”

  I waited for Ben to go on. He did.

  “The Game wasn’t supposed to be dangerous. Then Pinckney happened. That monster rigged the cache with diesel fuel, then detonated a frigging bomb in Battery Park. It was all totally off script. I’d never seen that iPad before, and didn’t know the pictogram or the chemical equation. Now Rome was threatening to hurt people. That wasn’t part of the deal!”

  My palms flipped up. “Why didn’t you say something? Warn us?”

  “I was shocked. Embarrassed. I tried to contact Rome the minute we got back, but the cell number he’d given me was disconnected. When I called LIRI, they said he was on vacation. I didn’t know what to do.”

  I thought of the times Ben had gone missing lately. Had acted distant. How badly he’d freaked when I’d touched his mind at Castle Pinckney.

  I’d chalked it all up to his natural moodiness, or his running feud with Jason. I never suspected something more sinister.

  “Everything spiraled out of control.” Ben’s knee started bouncing up and down. “I … I thought … hoped that maybe I could stop it somehow. Make it all go away.”

  “The snare gun. Kit just said LIRI never owned one.”

  “I was as shocked as you. Rome and I never discussed guns. When you told me what Marchant said at the coffee shop, I didn’t know what to think. I figured Rome could’ve stolen the weapon from LIRI, since he worked there. But I’m not surprised he was totally lying. Not now.”

  “The Gamemaster murdered a man, Ben.” I forced him to meet my eye. “Eric Marchant was executed in cold blood. For no other reason than to mess with our heads.”

  “Never.” Ben’s hands began to shake. “No one was supposed to ever, ever … It was a freaking game!”

  I thought of something. “You saw Marchant. At the firing range.”

  He snorted without humor. “Why do you think I puked?”

  “That was after Castle Pinckney.” The realization stoked my anger. “After a cache burned Coop’s mouth. After the Gamemaster blew up the wedding gazebo. After the snare gun fired at me!”

  Ben looked away.

  “You scoffed when I suggested the Gamemaster might work at LIRI.” My fury grew as more pieces fell into place. “And when I worried we’d been specifically targeted for the Game? You knew, and lied to my face! To all of us!”

  “I panicked!” Ben shot to his feet and began pacing the small room. “I didn’t know what to do. When we got back I tried one last time to reach Rome, to demand he end the game. I even tried to access his personnel file on that LIRI terminal. That why I sent you guys to check the lobby. It was useless. The records were gone.”

  “You should’ve told us!”

  “You wouldn’t have let me help!” Ben shot back. “This whole nightmare was my fault. I needed to find that psycho and stop him. If I’d told you guys the truth, you’d have shut me out. Then we found the corpse, and … and …” He shook his head. “It was too late. Things were crazy. All I could do was try to prevent whatever evil Rome had planned.”

  I held up a hand. Couldn’t handle any more of his confession.

  Unwittingly or not, Ben had assisted a monster. A killer. He’d known the truth for days, and never told us. He’d lied. Even when The Game had threatened our lives.

  “Tell me why, Ben. Why would you want to trick us in the first place?”

  Ben stopped pacing. Looked directly at me. “Don’t you know?”

  I shook my head, confused.

  “To impress you, Victoria Brennan.” His voice cracked. “I wanted you to think I was special.”

  The words rocked me.

  Oh, Ben.

  He’d started this madness … for me?

  “You were spending all that time with Jason,” Ben said softly, staring at his shoes. “Skipping around town with your new perfect guy. Cotillion this. Fund-raiser that. I hated it. Hated him. When I finally told Rome, he said I needed to amaze you. Said I needed to figure out a way to make you see me.”

  “I see you, Ben.” I rose and grabbed his hand. “I always have. You’re in my pack.”

  He pulled away. “What if being packmates isn’t enough for me?”

  I was speechless.

  The room froze in uncomfortable silence.

  Then Kit stuck his head through the door. “Tory?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “The worst of the hurricane has passed. The police want to interview us now.” Kit’s eyes bounced between Ben and me. I was sure he could sense the tension, perhaps even hear my heart pounding in my chest. “You guys up for that?”

  Was I? What would I say?

  I made a decision.

  “Yes.” Stepping to the door. “But I have nothing to add to what we’ve already told you.”

  I heard Ben pivot. Felt his eyes on my back.

  I could never turn you in. Not even for this.

  “Okay.” Kit sounded skeptical. “But we still have to make statements.”

  I was about to agree when Ben gripped my shoulder.

  “No, Tory.” His voice was tired, but firm. “It’s time to tell the truth. All of it.”

  I spun to face him.

  “There’s no need to!” Tentacles of fear squeezed my heart. “It won’t make any difference.”

  “It will to me.” Squaring his shoulders, Ben nodded to Kit. “Lead the way, sir?”

  My friend strode from the room, one step ahead of my tears.

  Good-bye, Ben.

  CHAPTER 59

  “HOW LONG ARE we stuck in Charlotte?”

  Hi tossed a stick across the patio beside Aunt Tempe’s townhouse. It arced through slanting shafts of afternoon sun before vanishing into a stand of magnolias. Coop fired after with delight.

  “A few days,” I answered from my deck chair. “The bridge from Folly to Morris washed out, and there’s no power or running water at our complex. Kit says we’re lucky the building is still standing.”

  Hi dropped into the chaise longue beside me. “I’m worried about the bunker.”

  “So am I. We’ll have to wait and see.”

  Hi yawned, stretched. “All in all, we got pretty lucky.”

  I nodded. “Katelyn blasted across Charleston in less than three hours.”

  The hurricane had moved much faster than anticipated. After unexpectedly turning toward land, she’d accelerated rapidly, catching the prognosticators off guard and disrupting the evacuation. Thousands had been caught in their cars, forced to hunker in while trapped bumper to bumper on bridges and highways. The Morris Island caravan had been part of that unhappy crew.

  Katelyn had rolled over the city like a rampaging pachyderm. The damage had been dreadful. Then she’d raced inland, stalled over Columbia, veered northeast, and wobbled through central North Carolina and Virginia. A day later, she was nothing more than an ugly rainstorm dousing New England.

  “The weather guy described Katelyn as unstable,” Hi said. “One side of her was way bigger than the other. The skinny edge struck the city first—that’s why the hurr
icane blew for less than an hour before the eye appeared. Thankfully, the leading edge also had the lower wind speeds. If we’d been caught outside for the trailing half …”

  No need to finish. The winds that struck as we’d huddled at CMH had topped 130 mph. Safely tucked inside the hospital, we’d been shielded from the worst of the storm.

  “It’s cool Tempe took everyone in,” Hi said. “Though we’re crammed like backpackers in a hostel.”

  “The parentals are working on that. Your family and the Devers clan are relocating to my uncle Pete’s house. It’s much bigger.”

  “Great.” Hi grinned. “You and Whitney can be even closer.”

  “Ugh, don’t remind me. And Kit just told me her place in Charleston was flattened by a tree. She’s a wreck. Guess who’ll be bunking with us when we get back?”

  “Bonding time. Ladies’ nights.”

  Hi dodged my foot jab. Coop bounded up and dropped the saliva-coated stick at my feet. I hurled it back into the magnolias.

  “How long are you grounded for?” I asked.

  “For me, I don’t think there’s such a thing as ‘not grounded’ anymore.”

  “Same. This one’s gonna sting.”

  Hi leaned back and laced his fingers behind his head. “Anything new on the Gamemaster?”

  “Just what we heard last night.” I summarized what Kit had been told by the police. “Simon Rome’s real name is Anthony Goodwin. He was a Marine Corps munitions expert, honorably discharged after sustaining combat injuries in Iraq. He’s already facing dozens of charges. Murder. Attempted murder. Arson. Terrorism. Yada yada yada.”

  “Hope he likes living in a box.”

  “The authorities haven’t publically identified the body they found in Goodwin’s shed, but everyone’s sure it’s Eric Marchant. No cause of death yet.”

  “My money’s on poison. Shelton said Dateline is planning a two-hour special.”

  “Lovely.”

  Coop returned and begged for another round of fetch. I complied.

  “I have some new info,” Hi said. “Some blog published Goodwin’s military file. Apparently he was on a routine patrol in Ramadi when one of our smart bombs hit a school. Killed dozens. Goodwin was first on the scene. It was really bad. The villagers turned on him, kept screaming that he was responsible.”