And worse, he still didn"t know if his copying had been successful.
He wanted to kick something.
6
Jack paced the dark, narrow aisles of USED. He"d let himself in but left the lights off so he could hang out while the film was running. Every twenty minutes or so he"d sneak over for a peek into the basement. So far, the same every time: some watching the TV and making wisecracks, some playing cards, some in deep conversation. He"d seen Mr. Vivino and Mr.
Bishop, the local lawyer and proud father of blubber-butt Teddy, with their heads together. They looked like they were planning a revolution.
The one thing Jack could never see was the TV screen, so he had no idea what the men were watching. At this point, he didn"t care. He just wanted it to be over so they could move on to the main attraction.
He stopped at the store counter and grabbed the flashlight Mr. Rosen kept there. He
flashed it on one of the clocks. It had been an hour or so since the film started. He doubted it was over yet but guessed he should check again anyway. Who knew? Maybe the tape would jam and they"d start the next film early.
Once more he hurried across the street to the rear of the post. As he peeked in the
window he spotted Mr. Bainbridge approaching the TV.
“I think that deserves an Academy Award, don"t you?” he said to his buddies.
Some laughed, some clapped, some kept talking, and the card players barely looked up from their hands. Mr. Vivino and Mr. Bishop still plotted in the rear of the room.
Mr. Bainbridge ducked out of sight, then reappeared holding another cassette box.
“Okay!” he announced. “For our next Oscar contender we have Electric Lady!”
This was greeted by halfhearted cheers and clapping from the vets, and a silent fist pump from Jack.
Yes!
He settled onto his already wet knees and sent up a prayer that there"d be something on that tape.
Mr. Bainbridge stuck his cigar in his mouth and pulled out the unlabeled cassette. He frowned as he turned it back and forth in his hand.
Put it in the machine, Jack thought. Just. Put. It. In.
Finally he shrugged and did just that.
“Okay! Electric Lady—here we go!”
A few scattered claps amid the chatter and then he stepped to the side and watched. Jack couldn"t see the screen, only Mr. Bainbridge"s face. But soon enough, if Jack"s copy had been successful, that face would tell the story.
He studied his expression. The smiling anticipation changed to a puzzled frown. But that didn"t mean much—if Jack"s tape was blank, that was how he"d react.
Jack watched the frown deepen as the squinty eyes widened and the cigar slipped from loose lips and fell to the floor.
Jack tightened his fists. He could think of only one thing that would cause that sort of reaction.
The video had transferred.
And then he heard the voice from the TV"s speakers.
“I’m sick of it , god dammit! Sick of it!”
Mr. Bainbridge gaped. “What the … ?”
“How many times do I have to tell you not to—”
“Stop-it-stop-it-stop-it! Stop-it, Daddy!”
He wasn"t the only one noticing something wrong. A couple of the men who were seated up front lost their grins as the reaction began to spread through the room like ripples from a stone dropped in a still pond.
“Sally!”
One of the card players noticed and nudged the guys on either side. A player with his back to the screen turned. And then farther into the room people stopped talking and stared at the screen.
Gradually the room became a silent sea of stunned faces.
“Don’t you ever hit me!”
Only Mr. Vivino and Mr. Bishop, against the back wall, continued talking. Eventually they must have realized something was wrong because they clammed up and looked around.
“Wha—?God dammit, someone’s at the window!”
Jack focused on Mr. Vivino"s face … watched the blood drain from it as his eyes bulged and his jaw dropped.
“What the hell is that?” he shouted.
“Well, if I didn"t know better,” one of the card players said, “I"d say that was you beating the crap out of Cathy.”
Mr. Vivino let out a cry like an enraged animal and charged the TV with his arms extended before him, fingers curved into claws.
“Gimme that tape! Gimme that tape!”
But he never reached the set. Hands grabbed him and stopped him. He fought, he twisted, but a grim-faced pair of his fellow vets held him back from the machine.
“Who did this?” he shouted. “Who"s the Peeping Tom son of a bitch who did this?”
“Wait a minute! Wait a minute!” said Mr. Bishop, pushing to the front. “I only caught the end there. What"s this all about?”
“Rewind it, Kurt,” someone said. “I missed it too.”
Mr. Bainbridge bent and reached forward. “I could do with another look myself. Not sure I believe what I saw the first time.”
“Don"t!” Mr. Vivino cried, trying again to struggle free. “It"s a lie! It"s a fake!”
When Mr. Bainbridge straightened, he had his cigar again. He stepped back to join the rest of the vets who"d crowded forward in a tight, three-deep semicircle before the TV, their eyes fixed on the screen.
Jack didn"t need to see. The scene was burned onto his brain. The voices conjured the visuals.
Mrs. Vin the painful arm lock…slammed against the wall…
The vets" faces became grimmer.
Sally rushing up…getting knocked down.
Gasps from some of the vets.
Aldo Vivino kicking his wife.
The hardened vets wincing.
Finally the angry shout about seeing someone at the window … end of video, end of story.
Dead silence in the room as all turned shocked gazes toward Mr. Vivino.
Finally Mr. Bainbridge spoke: “Al … Al, my God, you kicked Cathy? Kicked her? What the hell"s wrong with you?”
Mr. Vivino wrenched free and lunged toward the TV, screaming, “Gimme that tape! Gimme that goddamn tape!”
Mr. Bainbridge swung a fist that caught him in the gut. Jack winced as the man doubled over and sank to one knee.
“I don"t think so,” Mr. Bainbridge said.
After catching his breath, Mr. Vivino rose to his feet. He was pale and sweaty and looked somehow smaller as he licked his lips and darted quick looks left and right.
“Hey, guys, it"s not what it looks like.”
“I think it"s exactly what it looks like,” Mr. Bainbridge said in a voice dripping with scorn.
“We"re soldiers, Al. Women and children are noncombatants.”
This brought a chorus of agreement from the other vets.
Jack realized that they had started off the evening as comrades in arms, good-buddy veterans of foreign wars. That had changed. They were now husbands and fathers, and they were sickened and angry.
“And you know what?” Mr. Bainbridge said, getting in Vivino"s face. “You"re not going home to night. „Cause if you do, you"ll probably take it out on Cathy. So Evelyn and I are going over, and we"ll stay there all night if we have to.”
Mr. Bishop stepped forward. “I cannot believe this, Al. I can not believe it!”
“Hey, you know how it is.”
Mr. Bishop reddened. “I know no such thing. I"m going to help Cathy get a restraining order against you. And as for that tape, I"m delivering it to dye-fuss first thing tomorrow.”
Dye-fuss? Jack thought.
Then he got it: DYFS—Division of Youth and Family Services. They dealt with cases of child abuse.
“No!” Mr. Vivino wailed. “You can"t do this!”
Jack had heard enough. He rose, brushed off his knees, then his hands.
What was that expression? My work here is done.
He felt strange. He hadn"t known if his plan would work, but he"d expected to feel happy and satis
fied if it had.
Well, it had worked out perfectly: Mr. Vivino"s abuse had been exposed and his name was mud.
He wouldn"t be beating on Sally and her mom anymore.
So why didn"t he feel great?
7
Jack"s mind was elsewhere as he pulled his bike out from beside USED. He was just
starting up Quakerton Road when he was startled by a screech of tires. He looked up and saw the grille of a Bentley inches from his front wheel.
The window rolled down and a familiar voice spoke from within. “You almost dented my car.”
Jack walked his bike to the window. “Sorry, Mister Drexler.”
His sharp-featured face floated into view. “Even worse, if you"d broken a leg I"d
have to find a new groundskeeper.”
Groundskeeper … was that what he was?
“Wouldn"t want to put you to extra trouble.”
“Speaking of grounds keeping, I"m awaiting an invoice for your services.” “Invoice … is that like a bill?”
The thin lips curved ever so slightly upward. “Very much like a bill. In fact,
exactly like a bill.”
“Oh. Okay.”
Jack had never billed anyone in his life, but he was sure his father would know
what to do.
The window rose and the car glided away.
As Jack watched it go he realized the Lodge was empty now—or at least would
be for a while.
And it had no alarm system.
And the pyramid was probably back in its spot on the mantel.
And his luck had been running high today.
Still, he hesitated. A big step. Sneaking into the Lodge meant breaking the law,
risking arrest. But he and Weezy had as much right to that pyramid as anyone—maybe
more. And maybe getting it back would take Weezy off the emotional roller coaster she was riding. If nothing else, she"d stop talking about it. That would be a relief.
Do it, he thought.
If not now, when? He was feeling nearly invincible tonight. Now … it had to be now.
He headed back to USED for the lock-pick kit.
8
Thunder rumbled as they approached the rear of the Lodge.
“Why are we walking?”
Eddie whined. “That"s why God gave us bikes—so we don"t have to walk.”
“Did it ever occur to you,” Weezy said, “that we can"t leave three bikes outside.”
“Oh, yeah. Duh on me.”
Jack led the way. He"d been here only a little while ago to pick the lock. He hadn"t said anything about that because he didn"t want word of that particular skill getting around. He could have sneaked in and found the pyramid on his own—if it was still here—but he"d made a deal with Weezy.
…we’ll do it together…
“See?” he said. “All the lights are off and the car"s gone.”
“But how do we get in?”
“I don"t know.” He pointed to the back door. “Maybe they forgot to lock up. You heard Mister Drexler: No alarm system because why would anyone want to rob the place? Didn"t seem to worry much about a break-in. Try the door.”
Weezy grabbed the knob, twisted, and the door swung inward.
“What?”
Jack looked first at Eddie, then Weezy. He couldn"t make out their faces in the darkness.
Then lightning flashed. Instinctively he jumped, but the flash illuminated their uncertain expressions.
“Hey,” he said as thunder followed. “We"re here. We"ve come this far. The least we should do is take a quick look to see if the pyramid"s inside.”
“Okay,” Weezy said, her voice tight. “Let"s do it.”
Jack turned to Eddie. “You with us?”
A long pause, then, “Okay, as long as you can guarantee we"re not gonna see Gargamel in the white suit.”
“Mister Drexler?” Jack laughed. “I can pretty much guarantee it.”
“All right. But if I go in with you guys, it"s just for a look because, I mean, I don"t know any kid who"s been inside the Lodge.”
“But you can"t blab about it,” Weezy said. “This isn"t legal. You could get us all in trouble.”
“I won"t say a word. Just want to go inside so I can say—just to myself and nobody else, okay?—that I"ve been inside. But when it comes time to snatch back your baby pyramid, I"m outta here. Don"t want anything to do with that.”
“Fine. Whatever. Let"s get in and get out and get home.”
Jack stepped inside and turned on the flashlight from USED. He held the door for Weezy and Eddy, then closed it behind them. The other two each had flashlights of their own and turned them on.
“Keep the beams toward the floor,” Jack said. “We don"t want anyone spotting the light.”
Lightning lit the windows as he started into the kitchen.
“That"s it,” Eddie said. “I"m done.”
Jack turned to him. “What?”
“I"m here, I"m inside, that"s all I wanted. You two can go get your pyramid. I"m history. See you at home.”
With that he turned and slipped out the back door. It had started to rain.
Weezy seemed to waver, then said, “Let"s go.”
He led her to the front room where he swept his flash beam across the mantel, stopping when it found the pyramid.
Lightning lit the room as he heard Weezy gasp.
“They put it back! It"s here! It"s really here!”
“It sure is.” When Weezy didn"t move, just stood there staring, he added, “Go ahead. Take it.
It"s yours.”
She handed him her flashlight, and he stuck it in his back pocket. Then he watched as she took the pyramid from the mantel and cradled it in her arms like a baby. She gazed down at it a moment, then looked up at Jack. Were those tears in her eyes?
“I can"t believe it,” she said in a hushed tone that seemed to teeter on the edge of a sob. “It"s back … I"ve got it back. And they"re never taking it away again.”
Fine with Jack. The sooner they were out of the Lodge, the better.
“Let"s go then.”
Feeling jubilant, he trained his flash beam on the floor and led Weezy toward the back door.
They"d done it. No doubt about it—today was his day.
But as they were stepping into the kitchen, light flashed through the windows. But not lightning this time—headlights, swinging around to the rear of the Lodge.
“Oh no!” Weezy cried as a car pulled up to the back door. “Someone"s here!”
Jack dashed to a window and peeked out. His knees wobbled when he saw the Bentley.
Mr. Drexler was back!
As Eggers stepped out into the rain, Jack rushed back to Weezy.
“We"ve got to get out of here!”
He grabbed her arm and pulled her back to the front room where he found the door locked. No time to pick the double-key dead bolt.
Trapped!
“Jack!” Weezy wailed. “What do we do?”
Only one option.
“Hide!”
He led her to the stairs but decided against the second floor. That might be just where Eggers was headed. He tugged on the door to the basement Weezy had opened the other day. Mr.
Drexler had mentioned it was used as a storage area.
“In here! Quick!”
They stepped onto a small landing and closed the door behind them. Weezy huddled against him. He could feel her trembling.
“I"m scared, Jack.”
So was Jack, but he didn"t say so.
“We"ll be okay.” He was trying very hard to believe that. “What"s the worst that could happen?
We"re just trespassing. We"re not vandals. We haven"t hurt anything. And we haven"t left yet, so no one can accuse us of stealing.” He forced a soft laugh. “We"ll just be grounded for life.”
She squeezed his arm. “Don"t you understand? We"re not dealing with regular folks. This is the Septimus Order. They make their own
rules.”
Jack heard the back door open. He recognized Eggers"s voice, but he seemed to be speaking in German. No … it sounded like he was cursing in German.
Jack put his lips close to Weezy"s ear. “Maybe we"d be better off at the bottom of the steps.”
He turned on the flashlight and together they tiptoed down to the basement. Once they reached the floor he swept the beam around the big, windowless space and found it full of old furniture.
He couldn"t help thinking how Mr. Rosen would have a field day down here.
“What do you mean about the Order making its own rules? How do you know?”
“I"ve read a lot. You know that. No one"s actually come out and said anything, but they"ve hinted that the Septimus Order does not play nice with people who get in their way or ask too many questions.”
“What"s that mean?”
“Troublemakers simply aren"t seen anymore. They go away. They disappear.”
A chill rippled over Jack"s skin, but he shook it off. Mr. Drexler wouldn"t …
He realized he really didn"t know what Mr. Drexler would do. He was soft-spoken and
mannerly, but he also seemed cold and unfeeling. He was the Order"s “actuator.” He made things happen. If he saw Jack and Weezy as a threat, would he make them disappear?
He shook off another chill. That sounded crazy. Still … he didn"t want to find out.
Just then, stomping footsteps rattled the ceiling. Eggers—or someone else up there—was mad about something. With a start Jack realized what it was.
“He might think someone"s inside,” he whispered.
Weezy gripped his arm. “Why?”
“The back door was unlocked. And maybe he"s noticed the pyramid"s gone.”
Weezy"s grip tightened. “What if he searches down here?”
Just what Jack was thinking.
“Let"s find a hiding place.”
He pulled Weezy"s flashlight from his back pocket and handed it to her. Together they started walking the narrow lanes between the stacks of furniture, searching for a secluded spot. Jack found a big armoire and pulled open the doors. He flashed his light around the empty interior.
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