The Secret Keepers

by Trenton Lee Stewart

  “What are you talking about?” Reuben asked. “What do you mean?”

  Jack gave him a tight-lipped smile. “The Counselor isn’t going to agree to meet with me unless I tell him I have information about the watch. That means playing all our cards at once. But it’s going to be my only way in.”

  Our only way in, Reuben thought as he and Jack exchanged somber looks. They had hoped to be admitted on some other, safer pretense. Evidently, Mrs. Genevieve had just shot that notion down. As Jack said, it made sense. Reuben felt a little foolish for ever having thought otherwise.

  “When will you go?” Penny asked quietly.

  “The sooner the better,” Jack said. He bent over his boots, tightening the laces with deft, sharp little motions of his fingers. “We need to get the show on the road. Mrs. Genevieve, you can give me directions and a phone number, right? I’ll call ahead to arrange the meeting.”

  “Actually, I think you should rest first,” Reuben said. “It’s been a long night.” He was thinking of what lay ahead, of how tired he already felt. He needed to gather his strength, to be more alert when the moment arrived.

  Jack raised an eyebrow. “A nap? Really?”

  “Really,” said Reuben, giving him a significant look. “You hardly slept last night, and if you end up using the watch…”

  Now Jack caught on. “Right,” he said, and as if to prove Reuben’s point, he yawned. “You and Penny could probably use a nap as well. Would that be fine with you, Mrs. Genevieve?”

  “Of course,” said Mrs. Genevieve, rising. “Penny, you may lie down in my bed. Reuben is small enough to fit on my sofa. As for you…” She turned to Jack, but he waved her off.

  “No need to fuss about me. I’ll take the floor. Believe me, I’ve slept on plenty of floors in my day, and not all of them nice and carpeted like yours.”

  “I will busy myself in the workshop, then,” said Mrs. Genevieve, though she did bring Jack a folded blanket to use as a pillow. Jack thanked her and, lying with his feet against the shop door, either promptly fell asleep or promptly pretended to. Whether Jack was asleep or not, Reuben had the distinct impression Penny’s brother was standing guard.

  As Mrs. Genevieve showed Penny to her bed, Reuben stretched out on the sofa, his back to the room. His eyes were wide open, staring at the fibers of the sofa cushion. He wondered if it had actually just been nerves making him want to put off the moment of their departure. Could he really sleep knowing that when he woke up it would be time to go?

  He forced himself to close his eyes, and almost at once he felt his leg give an involuntary twitch. He was distantly aware of his breathing growing deeper, dreamily aware of his questions being answered. Could he sleep at such a time? Evidently, he could. Was he just trying to put off the dreaded moment? It hardly mattered. He was slipping away, already almost fully asleep, and whether he slept a few minutes or a few hours, his experience would be the same.

  The time would pass in a heartbeat. He would open his eyes. He would still be afraid. And the moment would have come.

  The neighborhood of Westmont, shortly after noon on a warm Saturday, was nothing like the Lower Downs would have been. No children shouting in the street, no one setting up tables to sell secondhand items on the corners, no loud music coming from apartment windows or car stereos. A mail carrier was quietly making his rounds, and there were a few people out walking their dogs, a few parents pushing strollers down to the neighborhood park, from which could be heard the screech of seesaws and swing sets. Beyond the park was a church, in whose parking lot a teenager was trying out tricks on a skateboard. Other than the playground equipment, though, and the telltale clatter and scrape of the skateboard, the neighborhood was weirdly silent. The well-off people of Westmont were doing more or less what one might expect, but they were keeping their voices down.

  Jack drove slowly along the tree-lined streets. Slumped in the passenger seat, Reuben craned his neck to peer out. The windows of Jack’s car were darkly tinted, and on such a bright day he couldn’t easily be seen from outside, if at all. Still, he shrank even lower as the Counselor’s residence loomed into view ahead of them. It occupied an entire block.

  “He couldn’t find anything bigger?” Jack said, wagging his head.

  It had always seemed natural to Reuben that the Counselor lived in a mansion, for as The Smoke’s representative, he was more important than the mayor and far more lavishly compensated. What had seemed strange were the accounts of the cracked windows and missing shingles, the broken shutters and overgrown gardens, the bats roosting in crumbling chimneys. It was supposed that the Counselor was an odd man who cared for nothing but his job, that his riches were wasted on him because he allowed himself no time to enjoy them. But as Jack drove slowly around the block, Reuben found himself wondering if the man actually liked his home the way it was. This was an unsettling thought.

  The wall surrounding the property was made of old gray stone, and here and there Reuben saw broken places in it through which some intrepid small person might squeeze, but there always appeared to be rosebushes or similarly thorny plants on the other side. The wrought-iron palings atop the wall had pointed tips, like spears, and were tangled through with those same thorny plants. Trespassing onto the Counselor’s property would seem to call for a great deal of bleeding.

  Jack had come around to the front gate again. It was elegant but formidable, composed of wrought-iron bars and standing ten feet tall. The driveway was flanked by untrimmed topiaries that resembled only vaguely the animals they’d once been shaped to represent—lions and swans and giraffes grown grotesquely fat, shaggy, and distorted, as if by a vile sort of magic. At the end of the driveway, parked by the mansion’s front steps, was a shiny black limousine.

  “This is tricky,” Jack mused, moving on. “If I drive in there, they’ll close that gate behind us, and there’s no such thing as a quick getaway if you have to open a gate.” He steered back the way they had come, pulling to the curb when they drew near the park and the church. “Let me think a minute.”

  Reuben only nodded. He was starting to feel sick now. After they passed through the gate, there’d be no going back.

  The plan was simple enough: Jack had already arranged the meeting. He would pretend to haggle with the Counselor about the reward, then exit as quickly as he could, leaving Reuben behind to eavesdrop and snoop. The Counselor would surely call The Smoke, and with any luck he would say something, or Reuben would find something, that would lead them to The Smoke’s hideout. Afterward Reuben would simply sneak out again. But what sounded simple in theory would be complicated and scary in practice, and his nerves and stomach were urging him to turn back. He felt a need to go to the bathroom again, though he’d gone just before they left Mrs. Genevieve’s shop.

  That had been a tough parting, with Penny hugging them both and looking as frightened as Reuben felt. Mrs. Genevieve had hugged Reuben, too, which had almost made him cry. She had pleaded with him not to go along, but he’d insisted that Jack needed a lookout. “I’ll be waiting in the car,” he’d said. “So I can honk the horn if I see something fishy or if something goes wrong.”

  “Which it won’t,” Jack had put in.

  “But what if someone sees you?” Mrs. Genevieve had protested.

  “At that point he’ll still have the watch with him,” Jack assured her, expanding their lie with a smooth ease that no other Meyer could have managed. “If anything spooks the kid, he can vanish.”

  Mrs. Genevieve still hadn’t liked it. But at least she hadn’t barred the door.

  “Okay, I know what we’re going to do,” Jack said now, and he grinned. “They’re really going to hate me for it, too.” He shifted in his seat, one arm draped casually over the steering wheel, and looked at Reuben. “I’ll meet you in this park afterward, all right? I’ll wait for you however long it takes.”

  “What if someone notices you?”

  “Then I’ll go away for a little while, but I’ll definitely come ba
ck. If you don’t see me at first, just hang tight. You’re a kid, so you’ll blend in there. Make sense?”

  Reuben nodded. He took a deep breath. “Got it.”

  “And listen, if something goes wrong while we’re in there—if they spot you somehow—just get out. Don’t worry about anything else, just go. And forget about the park. The park is where we meet if everything goes well. If something goes wrong, you get out however you can, as fast as you can, and we’ll meet up again later at Mrs. Genevieve’s shop.”

  “But what about you?”

  “I’ll make trouble,” Jack said. He winked. “Don’t worry, it comes easy.”

  The thought of something going wrong made Reuben’s stomach flop. He looked bleakly at Jack and said nothing.

  Jack narrowed his eyes, studying him. “You still up for this? We don’t have to do it, you know. We can try to figure something else out. It isn’t too late.”

  Reuben shook his head. “No. I can do it.” He hesitated. “I’m just scared.”

  To his surprise, Jack reached over and put a hand on top of his head. He looked Reuben in the eye. “That only proves you aren’t stupid. The more important thing is that you’re good at this. You really are. So don’t panic, all right? Just keep your cool and remember that you’re the expert.”

  “I am?”

  Jack raised an eyebrow. “Aren’t you the one who found the watch and figured out its secret? And then tracked our family down? And found the smugglers’ tunnels? I still don’t know how you managed that. So yeah, if anyone is the expert, kid, it’s you.” He tousled Reuben’s hair. “Now, are you ready? We’d better get moving or we’ll be late.”

  He’s right, Reuben thought, a little wonderingly. You’re the expert. And to his surprise, he did feel rather better. He nodded at Jack. “I’m ready.”

  “Let’s do this,” Jack said, and gunned his engine. He did a U-turn in the street and roared back toward the Counselor’s mansion.

  When they drew up to the gate, Reuben was crouched in the passenger seat, keeping out of sight, his watch at the ready.

  “There are four guys at the gate now,” Jack muttered for his benefit. “They must’ve seen us circling the block. And now they’re swinging it open for me, how nice. Okay, time to disappear, kid—this one wants to talk to me.”

  Reuben vanished. He heard Jack suck in his breath.

  “That is seriously mind-blowing,” Jack murmured. He rolled down his window.

  A voice said, “You the one who called from a pay phone?”

  Jack laughed. “What do you think? Am I supposed to be impressed that you know it was a pay phone?”

  “I don’t care what you think,” said the man, though he sounded annoyed. He probably wasn’t used to being challenged. “Drive on up and park behind the limo.”

  “Roger that,” Jack said. He rolled his window back up. “Hold on,” he whispered.

  The car surged forward, throwing Reuben against the back of the seat, then just as suddenly slammed to a stop. Reuben tumbled halfway into the floorboard. “Be quick,” Jack hissed, throwing open his door and jumping out. Reuben scrambled after him, feeling his way with his free hand.

  “You can’t park there!” a man yelled. “We can’t close the gate!”

  “I won’t be long,” Jack said coolly, stepping forward to give Reuben room.

  Reuben slipped out behind him, tapping his back to let him know he was clear. Jack closed the car door, and Reuben heard the jingle of keys as Jack thrust them into a pocket. Several angry footsteps were approaching.

  “Go on ahead,” Jack muttered, and Reuben headed up the drive.

  “I told you to drive up and park behind the limo!”

  “Yeah, sorry, I’m bad at parking,” Jack replied. “Don’t worry. I’ll move it when I come back out.”

  “You’ll move it now!” The man sounded both shocked and furious.

  Reuben had reached the limousine. He felt his way around it, located the front steps, and climbed up to the mansion’s broad portico. The doors lay straight ahead. Would they swing in or out? Front doors usually swung in, didn’t they? In his nervousness he found he couldn’t remember, couldn’t think clearly.

  You’re the expert, Reuben reminded himself, and once again it helped. He felt for hinges, found none. Of course. The doors swung in. He got into position and waited.

  Meanwhile Jack was saying, loudly but calmly, that he had ten minutes to tell the Counselor what he wanted to know. “A minute longer and the whole thing’s off. Do you want me to tell him that you slowed me down?”

  There was no verbal response to this, but Reuben heard Jack walking up the drive. He imagined the Directions looking at one another, irritated but stymied. A moment later he heard them coming up the drive, too. They were muttering among themselves, walking quickly as they tried to catch up.

  “Do I just go right in?” Jack called, springing up the steps.

  “Wait for us,” one of the men said gruffly.

  But Jack said, “Oh, here we go,” and Reuben heard the door latch opening, followed by a squeak as the door swung inward. He darted forward and brushed past Jack. Stumbling slightly over the threshold, he caught himself and felt his way quickly to the side.

  “Beautiful entranceway!” Jack was saying, coming in behind him. His voice rang out in what was evidently a large open space, just as Mrs. Genevieve had described it. “Marble floors and a chandelier? Very nice! And look at that grand staircase! Does no one ever use it anymore? And, wow, look at the ceiling! Such detail! Shame about that water damage, though. Has the Counselor considered—”

  Hurried footsteps and a scuffle cut him off. Reuben heard shuffling, sliding noises, followed by a thump as Jack was thrown up against the wall. “You listen to me,” a man growled. “You don’t just barge in like that. Here’s how it works: We’re going to take you over to that door. You’re going to go in there and sit down. No more funny stuff. Believe me, this is not the place for it. Mr. Faug doesn’t like funny stuff. Now lift up your arms.”

  “What, are you going to tickle me? I thought you said no funny stuff.”

  “You worry me,” the man said. “I’ve got enough to worry about. We’re going to frisk you, make sure you’re clean.”

  “Well, I hate to break it to you, but I haven’t showered since yesterday.”

  “You worry me,” the man said again. Reuben heard the patting, swishing sounds of hands feeling for weapons. “Okay, he’s clean.”

  “Really?” Jack said. “Excellent. Lead the way.”

  Their footsteps clattered across the marble floor. Reuben crept along behind them. It was a long way to the door, he discovered. The entranceway alone was bigger than his whole apartment.

  “After you,” Jack said.

  “Suddenly he’s polite,” one of the men muttered.

  “Let’s keep it that way,” said another.

  The door was opened. The men began filing inside. Reuben came up behind Jack and touched his back. “Yep,” Jack said simply, as if to no one, but Reuben knew it was for him. They moved forward, Reuben’s fingertips against Jack’s back to guide him. Jack stopped just inside the doorway and rapped on something wooden to the right. “Nice cabinet,” he said. “Is it an antique?”

  Reuben got down onto the carpeted floor and crawled under the cabinet, which was very deep and very tall indeed. He scooted all the way back against the wall. There was enough room for him to sit on his heels with his head bowed. He felt a flicker of relief. At least for now he was out of the way, could simply be still and listen.

  “Of course it’s an antique,” one of the men was saying. “You think Mr. Faug likes the new stuff? The junk they make these days?”

  “I wouldn’t know,” Jack said. “I haven’t met Mr. Faug yet. I hope I will soon. We’re down to nine minutes now.”

  “He’s on his way. Go sit down.”

  “Shall I close the door?”

  “I’ll get it. You sit down.”

  But Ja
ck closed the door anyway, and Reuben heard two of the men sigh with frustration. There was movement in the room, the men taking up their positions as Jack took his seat. And all the while Jack chattered on, commenting on the nice mahogany desk, the enormous fireplace, the interestingly patterned carpet, the quaint old cuckoo clock. He was cultivating a personality, Reuben knew. He was now the sort of person who talked all the time, and therefore it wouldn’t seem surprising when he said odd things—things intended for Reuben’s benefit.

  A door squeaked open. Someone entered the room coughing, and Jack fell silent. The coughing sounds traveled in the direction of the desk, or at least where Reuben imagined the desk to be. A chair groaned, and the coughs began to subside.

  “Mr. Faug, I presume,” Jack said. For the first time, he sounded uneasy. “That’s a nasty cold you have there.”

  “Allergies,” said a gruff, froggy voice. The Counselor blew his nose.

  “It’s a shame,” Jack said, his tone lighter now. Whatever had unsettled him, he was quickly rallying. “I know I should mind my own business, but have you considered dusting? It might help. You have a nice place here, but honestly, it’s like a dust museum.”

  “Who is this man?” the Counselor croaked. “What’s his name?”

  “He didn’t have any ID on him, sir,” said one of the Directions. His voice came from the fireplace.

  “Wait, they were looking for ID?” Jack sounded indignant. “You might want to have a talk with them,” he said, presumably to the Counselor. “They told me it was weapons. Also, they were kind of rude.”

  “You told me that time was of the essence,” the Counselor croaked. “Yet you are wasting it with nonsense.”

  “It’s true. I apologize. I’ll get right to it. As I said on the phone, I’m in touch with someone who found the watch your boss is looking for. We’d like to claim the reward, but my contact is nervous. Powerful people scare him. So the idea is that you give me the reward now, and then I’ll call you later with the location of the watch.”

  “Are you the boy’s uncle?” the Counselor asked. He coughed again briefly.