Even as he thought it, Reuben heard the front door slam.
The sound of the door slamming was followed by that of a man running—not walking, running—across the entranceway. Reuben, in his panic, instinctively reached toward his belly, his hands searching for the sweatshirt pocket that was no longer there. The phone jangled again, a hideous alarm. He darted forward and scrambled under the cabinet just as the door flew open. The Smoke’s shoes flashed by as Reuben fumbled behind him for the watch. He found the winding key and vanished. The ringing phone was cut off mid-jangle.
“Have you found him?” The Smoke’s voice snarled into the darkness.
Of course, that was why he’d been running—to pick up the phone before it stopped ringing. And now, despite the fierce buzz of alarm in Reuben’s head, a wonderful thought managed to make itself heard: Jack got away!
The Smoke, breathing hard, was listening to the person on the phone. “I see,” he said after a moment. There was relief in his voice. “Good. No, not now. Are you certain he doesn’t know? You’re absolutely sure. Then no, not yet. See where he goes, then call me. But if he spots you, take him. Do not risk his getting away again.”
Reuben’s relief evaporated, replaced by horror. This possibility hadn’t occurred to him—Jack, on the run, being followed without realizing it. What if he went to Mrs. Genevieve’s shop? They had been supposed to meet at the park unless something went wrong, in which case they would rendezvous at the shop.
This definitely qualified as something going wrong.
The Smoke sighed impatiently. “Our employer already knows who did his duty and who failed,” he said. He was speaking in his guise as the Counselor, of course. “But yes, should you happen to succeed in this, I will make a point of commending you. Bear in mind that if you fail, there will be little I can say. Do you understand? Yes, yes, I have no doubt that you will make your best effort. There’s no point in saying so. Simply do not fail. I can give you no other advice.” The phone slammed down. “Fool,” The Smoke muttered.
Reuben’s skin tingled painfully, as if he were being stung all over by ants. Just like that, everything had changed. He would have to come back. He had no choice. Right now he had to get out of here, had to warn Penny and Mrs. Genevieve. Everything else would have to come later.
The Smoke flung open the door to the parlor and stalked out. He hadn’t taken time to close the door when he stormed in from the entranceway—this was Reuben’s chance. He crawled from beneath the cabinet and felt his way out.
He was creeping invisibly across the entranceway when he heard the front door burst open, heard the Directions coming inside, and heard the door close again. The men headed straight for him, arguing in low voices. Reuben skipped sideways, out of their path. This was good. Once they were in the office, it would be easy to get away.
But then The Smoke’s voice called out from the office. “Morrison, a word with you.”
“Oh man,” whispered a troubled voice, presumably Morrison’s.
“Good luck,” one of the other men muttered.
Morrison entered the office and closed the door behind him.
“Better him than me,” said one of the Directions.
“That’s real big of you, Quigley.”
“Well, I wasn’t the one to let the guy go.”
“I have a feeling you’d have let go, too, if you got hit like that.”
“Tell me again why you didn’t grab him, Clark?”
Clark sounded nervous. “I was—I was too far away. The guy was quick. And Morrison was in my way.”
“Morrison better just hope they bring the guy in.”
“They will. They have a tail on his car.”
Reuben couldn’t leave by the front door. The men would definitely notice a door opening of its own accord. He might get away, but if The Smoke found out he’d been here, he’d never get another shot at executing his plan. Next time The Smoke would be ready for him. Did he dare to wait? He didn’t think so. For all he knew, every second counted.
Reuben found the grand staircase and began to mount the steps. Some of them creaked, but the men were still talking and seemed not to hear. Then he was at the top, feeling his way forward into a hallway, out of view of the entranceway. He reappeared at once, glanced around to get his bearings, and took off. Moments later he was raising the window in the bedroom. He dropped the heavy coil of rope behind the shrubs and climbed out.
It was a struggle, and it wasn’t quiet, but with the window ledge biting into his knees, Reuben managed to get the window mostly closed. There was nothing he could do about the rope. From a distance, against the backdrop of this enormous building with its myriad details, the rope seemed unlikely to be noticed. It also seemed unlikely that The Smoke and his men would come back here inspecting things at a time when they were so preoccupied with Jack. Reuben hoped so. The rope would give him a way back in.
With his feet braced against the wall, he climbed down. The rope hurt his hands, but Reuben scarcely noticed, and soon he was crouching behind the shrubs. He had seen no one, heard no one approaching. He moved to the spot where the growth was thinnest, fixed the hole in the wall in his mind’s eye, and disappeared. He pressed out through the scratching branches into open air, trotting uncertainly over what used to be flower beds but was now more of a weedy lot. When his groping hand closed painfully around a thorny stem, he knew he was close. He flickered into sight, spotted the hole to his left, and vanished again.
Then he was beyond the wall, hurrying invisibly across the street, reappearing behind a tree. He set his eyes on another tree, disappeared again, hurried again. In this way he left the mansion behind. As soon as it was safe to do so, he put the watch away and ran as hard as he could.
Beyond the park and the church was a street lined with shops, a post office, a fire station. He and Jack had driven down it on their way here. Now Reuben hastened along the sidewalk, his chest heaving painfully, until he spotted an old pay phone booth. He got change at a newspaper kiosk, staggered into the phone booth—and stared in disbelief at the little sign taped to the phone: Out of Order.
He kicked the side of the phone booth half a dozen times and came out gasping. The man at the newspaper kiosk was looking at Reuben disapprovingly, but Reuben ignored him, already distracted by the sight of a city bus at the corner. He peered desperately at its sign, wishing it would say Middleton.
The letters came into focus: Middleton.
Reuben blinked in disbelief. He could still do this.
Ten minutes later he was leaping from the bus steps. He was only a few blocks from Mrs. Genevieve’s shop. He moved fast, keeping a lookout for Jack’s car. He didn’t see it. No Directions, either. From the alley across the street he peered toward the shop. The sign in front still said Closed, which could be good or bad. Reuben couldn’t make out what was going on inside.
He vanished, hurried across the street, and pressed his nose to Mrs. Genevieve’s shop window. He reappeared only for an instant, but in that instant he found himself staring directly into Penny’s anxious green eyes, not two inches from his own.
Reuben yelped and disappeared. He heard Penny’s own startled cry, muted by the glass. Then he heard her running to open the door, heard her stage-whispering his name. “Come in!” she hissed. “The coast is clear!”
He found her arm—it was trembling like his own—and let her lead him back to Mrs. Genevieve’s sitting room. “It’s Reuben,” she announced as she closed the door. “He’s right here with me. He nearly gave me a heart attack.”
Reuben reappeared. There stood Mrs. Genevieve, looking unnerved as ever by his sudden materialization. Recovering, she grabbed him by the shoulders and squeezed, as if she wanted to compress him like an accordion. As if she wanted to shake him. Instead, she leaned forward and kissed him on the head. “I am so glad,” she whispered. Then, evidently overcome, she sat down heavily in a chair.
“Where’s Jack?” Penny asked. “What happ—”
“W
e have to get out of here,” Reuben interrupted. “Right now. Mrs. Genevieve, sorry, but please get up.”
Mrs. Genevieve looked stricken. “What do you mean?”
“Now, Mrs. Genevieve. Please!” He turned gravely to Penny. “Jack’s being followed and doesn’t realize it. We need to leave right away. He could be here any minute.”
Penny gaped at him, uncomprehending. “They’re following him? But how—?”
“No time to explain. We have to go. We—”
Penny’s hands disappeared into her hair. “They’re following him? We have to help him! What should we do?”
Reuben grabbed her elbow. “Listen to what I’m saying, Penny. If Jack shows up and we’re still here, it’s over. Do you see? We’ll be trapped. We have to go!”
Mrs. Genevieve had risen shakily to her feet, her face gone pale. “Where will we go?”
“I don’t know,” Reuben said. “Anywhere. We’ll figure something out. Mrs. Genevieve, please, what are you doing?” The watchmaker had opened the door to the bathroom. “Mrs. Genevieve!”
“Give me a moment,” Mrs. Genevieve said in a hoarse voice. “I must bring my pills. Only give me a moment.” She opened her medicine cabinet, fumbled for her glasses. She was taking deep breaths.
Penny had started to cry. “But can’t we help him? Can’t we do something?”
“I’ll write him a note,” Reuben said, casting about for his backpack. He found it and dug out pen and paper. “We’ll put it on the counter and leave the door unlocked. I’ll tell him he’s being followed. He can make a break for it.”
“But how will he find us again?”
Reuben had begun to write. He stopped and looked up. That question hadn’t occurred to him. “I… I don’t know.”
Penny’s face crumpled. She covered her eyes with her hands and began to sob.
“I’ll think of something!” Reuben said, desperate to calm her. But nothing occurred to him. All he could think about was their need to flee. He was gripping the pen so tightly it hurt his fingers, trying to squeeze an answer out of it.
Penny suddenly gasped and looked at him with shining eyes. “Wait! I have it! We don’t have to leave. We can put a sign on the door that says Keep walking, you’re being followed. We’ll watch from behind the counter. If he comes, we’ll see him read the sign and move on. Then I’ll run and tear the sign down. The Directions won’t ever see it!”
“And then we can hide out back here,” Reuben said, nodding excitedly, “and he’ll find some way to contact us when he knows it’s safe. Okay, let’s do it!” He tore a clean sheet from the notepad and began to write.
Mrs. Genevieve had emerged from the bathroom. “What is this you are saying?”
Penny grabbed her by the hand. “We can stay, but we have to put up a sign to warn Jack! Do you have a roll of tape?”
Mrs. Genevieve, her face awash in relief, squeezed Penny’s hand. “Yes, of course!” She moved quickly toward her workshop, was reaching for the knob when the doorbell sounded.
Someone had entered the shop. Even though the sign said the shop was closed.
Penny’s eyes were huge. “I forgot to lock the door!” she whispered. “Do you think it’s Jack?”
The three of them stood looking at one another, their faces full of dread. They had no idea what to do now. They didn’t even know what to hope for.
A light tapping sounded at the door. Then it opened, and in walked Jack, smiling. He saw Reuben and raised his eyebrows. “You’re here already? Did you get something good?” His voice was astonishingly casual. He dropped a handful of envelopes onto a side table. “These were in your mail slot, Mrs. Genevieve.” He looked around at them. “What is it? What’s wrong? Why do you all look so sad to see me?”
It was Penny who recovered first. She rushed to him, saying, “Oh, Jack! Reuben says you’re being followed! We were going to warn you! But now I think we have to run!” She looked over at Reuben. “Right? We should run?”
“Right!” Reuben said, snapping to. “We have to get out of here, Jack! Mrs. Genevieve, are you ready? Let’s go!”
Jack extended his palm toward Mrs. Genevieve. “It’s all right, Mrs. Genevieve, we don’t have to go anywhere.” He wrapped his arms around Penny and gave her a reassuring hug. “Take it easy, redbird. No one followed me here.”
“But that’s just it!” Reuben exclaimed. “They said you didn’t know you were being followed!”
“Well, they would say that,” said Jack with a lopsided grin, “because they didn’t know I knew. But I did. They followed me all the way to the Southport ferry—which is where I had to ditch my car, unfortunately, but at least I ditched those jokers in the process.”
Jack sounded so confident that everyone instantly relaxed, even though no one fully understood him. He told them all to sit down—they were making him nervous, he said, standing there looking ready to bolt.
“For a while I tried to shake them,” he explained. He was leaning back against the door, his ankles crossed, his hands in his pockets. “But then I realized that my car’s too recognizable, anyway. It’s no use to me now, at least until all this is over. So I headed down to the river port and circled around the neighborhood until the next ferry started to board. Then I got in line and drove on board along with a hundred or so other cars, and those guys followed me on.”
“But you didn’t stay on the ferry,” Reuben said.
“My car did,” Jack said. “And they did. But me, no. I got off. Surreptitious-like. Believe me, I’ve been all eyes since then. Nobody followed me here.”
The others were so relieved that for a few minutes they were positively giddy. There was no discussion of what had transpired at the mansion, or of what still lay ahead of them. Instead, they rehashed what had just happened, chattering loudly and laughing at every turn.
“We were so scared!”
“I was trying so hard to think what to write! But I couldn’t think of anything! And then Penny—”
“Oh, the look on your face, Mrs. Genevieve, when the doorbell sounded!”
“No, the look on your face!”
Jack sat down on the sofa with Penny, grinning as he listened and looked around at them all. Nothing they said could actually be very funny to him—such experiences generally being funny only to those who have shared them—but he was clearly amused by their excited jabbering and laughter.
“And, Reuben,” Penny said with a frown and a snicker, “why on earth are you wearing your sweatshirt backward? With the hood in front? You look ridiculous!”
Reuben glanced down in surprise. With everything happening so fast, he hadn’t thought to turn the sweatshirt around again, despite the awkwardness of having to reach behind him for the watch. He grinned and pulled the hood up over his face. “This is how I wear it!” he said, his voice muffled. “It keeps my nose warm!”
This, too, they all found hilarious, and eventually everyone but Jack was wiping away tears of laughter. And then at last their laughter was spent, and they began to compose themselves.
“Wow,” Reuben said, sighing, his arms hanging limply at his sides, “I needed that.”
It was true. He felt a million times better. It wasn’t just the laughter, though. The way both Mrs. Genevieve and Penny kept looking at him, as if they were so grateful and happy that he was okay, gave Reuben a sense of well-being he couldn’t remember having before. What was more, though he’d tried to be brave about the prospect of going through with his plan alone, the relief he felt now made him realize just how scared he’d been. Here in Mrs. Genevieve’s sitting room with his friends, with the watch in his pocket and a plan in mind, Reuben was hopeful again.
When the time came for him and Jack to share what they’d found out, Reuben didn’t know where to begin, didn’t know how to explain to Mrs. Genevieve that he—not Jack—had been the one to sneak into the mansion. He was hoping Jack would take the lead, and indeed it appeared as if Jack was about to speak when Mrs. Genevieve held up both hands.<
br />
“Before you begin,” she said firmly, “let me ask you to please do me the courtesy of telling the truth. Penny and I spoke a good deal while you were gone. Your sister is an admirable girl,” she said with a piercing look at Jack, who instantly caught her meaning.
“But an atrocious liar,” he said sheepishly. “Right. I should have guessed.”
Penny looked embarrassed but defiant. “It’s not like I set out to tell her! But it was impossible to keep a secret like that when we were both so worried!”
“I don’t blame you a bit, redbird,” Jack said mildly, and, inclining his head to Mrs. Genevieve, he said, “I apologize for the fabrication. We didn’t want to worry you more than we had to. For the record, I would have liked to do it different myself, but the kid here is running the show.”
“I’m sorry, too,” Reuben said. “I won’t lie to you again. I promise.”
Mrs. Genevieve accepted their apologies rather stiffly—she was not at all pleased with the thought of Reuben having taken such a risk—but then, expressing her relief that they were both safe now, she put the subject aside and asked them to proceed with their account.
“You go first,” Reuben said.
“Right,” Jack said, standing up to face them all. “Well, as the kid here already knows, the first part didn’t go particularly well, though I did learn something about the Counselor.” He looked at Reuben. “Did you pick up on my hints?”
“He’s the man from the subway,” Reuben affirmed.
“The creepy one?” Penny cried.
“I’m sure of it,” Jack said. “The kid’s description of him was pretty perfect. Anyway, that was about all I figured out before he had his thugs manhandle me. He demanded that I lead them to my imaginary rendezvous with my imaginary associate, so I took them all the way across town, to a park I know there.
The Secret Keepers Page 33
