Lara wanted to check the hotel security footage, but she desperately needed sleep. At midnight she set her alarm, lay down with her gun, and tried not to think about the Puzzle. Tomorrow’s contest was in some ways the most challenging because it would exercise her brain instead of her body. Just her against the clock, trying to MacGyver her way out of a locked room.
Chapter 19
Wed., May 10, 6:05 a.m.
After a rough night of waking every hour, Lara rose early and dressed for a run. Weapon strapped to her side and Mace in hand, she pounded down the stairs and looked over her shoulder every few seconds while passing through the lobby. A certain element of fear and caution were part of her nature after years of being a cop, but she’d never felt hunted before and she hated it. Yet she wouldn’t let it stop her from doing the things that kept her sane.
Outside, the sun shimmered above the horizon and the early morning air was still fresh—warm but not blistering. She ran along the perimeter of the property for an hour, slowly peeling away the stress of yesterday’s incarceration. On the west side, she caught glimpses of the dark cool river. To the east, the expressway hummed with morning commuters. By the time she returned to the hotel, the day had heated up and sweat poured from body.
Rejuvenated, Lara showered, dressed in the mandatory pocketless clothes, and made herself a protein and carrot shake. She left her gun under the mattresses, grabbed her shoulder bag, and caught a shuttle to the arena. Her turn in the Puzzle wasn’t for another hour, but she wanted to arrive early and check the posted times of the first few to complete it.
In the main lobby, contestants ate in the cafeteria and milled around the electronic scoreboard. When Lara approached the group at the board, they fell silent and turned to stare.
“What’s the fastest time posted so far?” She grinned, daring anyone to ask about her arrest.
“Eleven minutes and thirty-six seconds by Julian Romero of California,” a woman said, her voice subdued. Lara recognized her as Suzie Ventola from New Mexico. Julian’s eleven minutes were nearly double last year’s winning time, so Lara wasn’t worried yet.
Suzie added, “The first contestant, Taro Chang from New York, didn’t finish in time and is out of the competition.” The rules allowed only fifteen minutes. Contestants who didn’t get the door open in the allotted time were sent home.
“I was a little surprised to see your name on the roster this morning,” Makil Johnson said. “I heard they arrested you.”
“They did, but it was bullshit, so the Gauntlet organizers bailed me out.” Lara didn’t want anyone to know the commissioner had personally picked her up.
“Do they know who killed Kirsten?” Suzie asked, still subdued.
“Not yet, but I’m hoping the hotel’s security footage caught someone outside the room. Or will at least clear me.” Lara wanted to move on. “Any buzz about what’s in store for us?”
“No,” Makil said. “All the social hubs are blocked. But I wouldn’t be surprised if they recycle some themes from the first year.”
Lara expected some of that too. AmGo couldn’t keep coming up with totally new stuff; it was too expensive. The elevated maze had been a revised version of something they designed for the first Challenge. The one consistency was that the Puzzle had three different scenarios each year and contestants were randomly assigned. Or so the organizers said.
A motorized camera cart pushed out through the double doors that led to the small arena housing the Puzzle. Behind the cameraman came Minda and her co-host Serena, with a grinning Jason Copeland wedged between them. They stopped in the lobby under a row of skylights.
“Seven minutes and thirty-six seconds,” Minda said for the viewers. “Early in the Puzzle rounds, Jason Copeland of Illinois has set an amazing benchmark for the other contestants to beat. What do you think, Jason? There are seventeen more competitors. Do you think that time will hold?”
Jason gave a confident smile. “I think it’ll be hard to beat. I plan to go into the Battle with a strong lead.” Only the fastest twelve competitors in the Puzzle went on to the Battle tournament, and only three proceeded from the Battle to the Obstacle.
Lara saw Minda’s assistant, Serena, head for their group. A knot formed in her stomach. It was time to face the viewers and talk about Kirsten’s death. She would have rather had her back teeth extracted.
The pretty brunette touched her arm. “We need you for some camera time before your turn.” It wasn’t optional.
Lara followed her over. As Jason moved out of the camera’s eye, he winked and whispered, “Go get ’em, killer.”
Lara bit back a response and kept moving. She stepped into the spot where Jason had been and gave the viewers a shy smile.
Minda introduced her again and summarized her win in the Challenge. Then the director turned to Lara and said, “That was Monday afternoon. Tell us what happened Monday night.” Minda pushed the mic at her.
Lara looked right into the camera. “While Kirsten was packing to go home, I went out for a short run. When I came back, Kirsten was on the floor, right inside the door to our hotel room. I’m a paramedic, so I immediately checked her pulse and discovered she was dead. It was a shocking moment.”
“The police arrested you later that night, why?”
Lara had thought about what she would say, but hadn’t really settled on something. It was too late to reconsider. “The police believe Kirsten was attacked with a stun gun. Unfortunately, I have a stun gun in my luggage. I carry it out of habit because my job is sometimes dangerous, and because I used to be a police detective.” Some viewers would find that sympathetic; others would not.
“They released you on bail, so the case against you must be weak.”
“They have no case. I just happen to be Kirsten’s roommate.”
Serena, the assistant, cut in. “Tell us about the argument you had with Kirsten before you went out.” Her tone was more investigative journalist than reality TV host.
“I wouldn’t say we argued.” Lara struggled to hide her irritation. The viewers had probably seen the clip ten times by now. “Kirsten had been drinking and she was upset about losing, so she made some negative comments. I sympathized with how she felt and tried to diffuse the situation. But then she grabbed me, so I reacted in self-defense. It’s part of my training. A few minutes later, I left so she would have time to pack and leave.”
“Have the police dropped the charges against you?” Serena asked
“No, but I expect they will. It would certainly make it easier for me to focus on the competition.” Relieved to change the subject, Lara continued. “I’m excited to participate in the Puzzle. Jason’s time will be hard to beat, but I’ll do my best.”
Minda took over the interview. “Do you have a strategy?”
Lara laughed softly. “I suppose I’ll try some of the obvious solutions first, but other than that, all I can say is that I plan to think and move fast.”
“Are you surprised to still be in this competition?”
“I’ve only completed one phase and I’m grateful to have won it. I expect to solve the Puzzle and go on to fight in the Battle.”
“I like your determination. I hope it serves you well in the next phase. Are you ready for the Puzzle?”
“Let’s do it.”
Minda turned and waited for the cameramen to come around front, then they all moved through the double doors into a giant high-walled arena made of the same plastic-metal blend. The space contained three, twelve-by-twelve, cube-shaped rooms, each with an elevator-style door operated by a keypad code to the right.
“Please leave your bag with Serena and step into the scanner,” Minda instructed.
Lara did as instructed. The machine was similar to those used in airports and ensured that no one entered the puzzle with tools sewn into their clothing. She waited for the beep and walked back to Minda. The cameras followed her every move.
“Lara Evans is about to enter the Puzzle,” Minda said to the v
iewers. “Which room has she been assigned?”
An electronic scoreboard on the wall flashed a red neon B.
“Room B it is.” Minda gestured and they moved toward the middle cube. With a few clicks on the keypad, the director opened the door. “The timer starts when the door closes. If you don’t get out in fifteen minutes, we’ll open the door for you. If you want to exit before that, simply say to the camera: ‘Exit, please.’ Of course, if you make that choice, you’ll be booted from the Gauntlet. Please do not touch the camera above the door, or you’ll be disqualified for that too. Ready?”
“Yes.”
“Good luck.” Minda stepped aside.
Lara squared her shoulders, grinned for the fans, and strode into the bright white cube. The electronic pocket door slammed closed behind her. She stopped and took in the room’s details with a sweeping glance of her trained eyes: solid walls made of the same electroplast as the outer arena. No busting through sheetrock to get out. Light came from a recessed narrow perimeter along the edges of the ceiling, but otherwise the ceiling looked blank as well. The walls were completely bare except for a single electrical outlet to her right.
Had it been present in any of last year’s Puzzles?
A small metal table and plain wooden stool occupied the middle of the room. The table held an assortment of items, but nothing that would plug into the wall socket.
Lara spun and examined the door. A small wave of panic rose in her throat. There was nothing on the wall this year! No key mechanism, no coded fingerpad. In past Puzzles, contestants had used the provided items to create keys that would unlock the door. Crap. They’d made it harder.
She ran to the door and tapped along the perimeter, just in case appearances were deceptive. No luck. She spun back and took five strides to the table. Her heart sank as she inventoried her tools: a short piece of thin nylon cord, a straw hat, a tube of chapstick, a tube of superglue, a bar of soap, a stick of gum, a clump of steel wool, and a room key card.
Oh hell.
For a moment her mind went blank, the stress and fatigue of the last few days making her feel overwhelmed. Lara forced herself to focus, looking at each item and determining its properties. The glue and gum each had sticking power, but what was she supposed to stick together? The soap and the chapstick could be molded, but into what? The hat made no sense at all, simply a distraction. Lara decided to approach the Puzzle backward. The door was electrical and would only open by triggering an electrical mechanism. She glanced at the wall socket. Was she supposed to stick something in there? It couldn’t be that simple. Past Puzzles had required using multiple items.
The recessed florescent lights were the only other things that were electrical. Should she break through their thin plastic barrier, looking for a switch? That would require putting the stool on the table and dragging the combination around the perimeter of the room until she found the switch. There wasn’t a switch, she told herself. That went against the nature of the Puzzle. Lara hurried to the wall with the outlet and began to scan up and down. She moved quickly around the room, scanning for small bumps, recessions, anything. The walls were perfectly smooth.
She ran her eyes across the ceiling and stopped directly in the middle. A faint circle about four inches in diameter was visible in the vast unbroken white. What could it be? A recessed ceiling sprinkler? Why would a Puzzle room need a sprinkler? The only thing that triggered a sprinkler was heat from a fire.
Four minutes had likely passed. If she wanted to win this, she had to take a chance and get out in the next two minutes.
It was time to start a fire.
She grabbed the superglue and dumped it on the brim of the straw hat. With her free hand, she picked up the hat and the baseball-sized wad of steel wool and ran for the electrical outlet.
Crap! She still had to get the cover plate off. She set down her items, ran back to the table, and snatched up the hard plastic credit-type card.
Kneeling on the floor in front of the outlet, she used the corner of the card to loosen the tiny flat-head screws and pull off the electrical cover. Lara grabbed the double socket mechanism and tugged it gently away from the wall, where it was still attached by electrical wiring. She begged the universe not to shock her and yanked the wires free from the outlet.
Letting out the breath she’d been holding, Lara grabbed the steel wool and shoved the two metal ends of the wiring into the wool, forcing them to touch. A tiny spark lit the fine gray threads on fire. Yes!
Lara pressed the burning wool ball against the brim of the superglue-soaked hat. It ignited in a foul-smelling flame. Now she needed to keep it burning long enough to set off the sprinkler. She hurried to the table, and with her free hand, hoisted the stool onto the surface.
Burning hat in one hand, Lara jumped up on the table, aware of the viewers watching her for the first time since she’d entered the cube. Yes, it was awkward and weird, but she was getting out. She climbed on the stool and her weight made it slide toward the edge. She eased off and tried again, moving more carefully.
She climbed to the seat of the stool and kneeled on the flat surface. She held the burning stinking hat to the faint circle in the ceiling. A weird laugh escaped her throat. If she was wrong, not only would she look ridiculous to the viewers, but she might catch the stool on fire and have to be rescued from the room.
Before she could regret her actions, the circle popped out of the ceiling and a chrome sprinkler head dropped down. Water sprayed out, soaking her face and dampening the flame on the hat. For a moment, she froze, getting wet and feeling stupid.
Behind her, the door zipped open.
“Yes!”
Lara slid down from the stool, jumped off the table, and charged out of the cube. Minda and her crew were exactly where she’d left them, watching the live feed from the room and giving a running commentary for the viewers.
Lara glanced up at the scoreboard for her time: 5:36!
Chapter 20
Four and a half months earlier: Wed., Jan. 18
After Isabel’s funeral service, Paul went in to work because he couldn’t bear to be alone in his apartment for another minute. His safety net was gone, but he vowed to toughen up and become his own support system. As he neared his office, Camille greeted him in the hallway with a hug. Paul was so overwhelmed by her comfort and the full-body contact he nearly started to cry. Had anyone but Isabel ever hugged him?
Camille stepped back. “You should have taken the day off.”
“I’m fine. But thank you. My foster mother was my best friend and I’ll miss her.”
“You’ve got me as a friend.” Camille smiled and went into her office.
Paul decided it was time to ask her out on a real dinner date. Would it seem like a sympathy move? In some ways it was, but he could live with that. He would ask her later that afternoon.
The day passed quickly and Paul worked through his lunch hour to make up some of the time he’d missed recently. He took a MetaboSlim and drank a can of V8, his new lunch program until he lost another fifteen pounds.
Around four, Camille came to his office to ask about a procedure for new employees. He wondered why she hadn’t just sent a message. That’s what everyone else did. Nobody walked around the office unless they had to. Was she coming on to him? Paul could barely concentrate on her question. It was time to ask her out.
Paul stood, wanting to look her in the eye. “Will you have dinner with me tomorrow? I know it’s last minute, and it doesn’t have to be tomorrow, but I’d like to spend more time with you.” Paul kicked himself for not keeping it simple.
She bit her lip, thinking. “I have plans for tomorrow, but next Friday, I’m having dinner with some friends at Perry’s and you’re welcome to join us. We have room in the reservation.”
“I’d love to. What time?”
“Seven-thirty. Shall we carpool?”
“Sure.” Paul’s heart hammered with excitement. “Shall I pick you up?”
“I’d r
ather drive, if that’s okay.”
“Sure. I’m in the Potomac Towers. Number 37.”
“I’ll pick you up at seven.”
Paul watched her walk out, too excited to even think about her gorgeous butt. He had a real date! He wished it would be just the two of them, but it was still a step forward. Camille was taking it slow and he didn’t blame her. He was still a work in progress. Paul touched his nose reflexively. The swelling was gone and he could finally see his new normal. Plus he was down fifteen pounds and had an appointment to have his front teeth capped next week.
He’d never been to the restaurant she’d mentioned so he keyed it into the AmGo search engine. The sushi menu disappointed him and the prices were startling. Could he afford to date Camille? How did she afford such restaurants on her salary?
His iCom beeped, but Paul didn’t recognize the number. Maybe it was his mother’s lawyer. “Hello?”
“This is Liz Jung, from George Howard Hospital’s business office. I’d like to talk to you about Isabel Turner’s hospital bill. I understand you are her only relative.”
So now the hospital considered him a relative. Paul fumed at the hypocrisy. “She has a sister in Florida.”
“The nursing home says she has dementia and is unable to communicate.”
“What do you want?” This woman seemed to bring out the worst in him.
“We’d like to know how you plan to take care of the invoice. Her insurance company has already been billed, so what’s left is her responsibility.”
“How much is it?”
“The total is $23, 658.” She didn’t even pause.
“I’m sorry, but I can’t pay that. Also, Isabel was my foster mother. We’re not technically related, as her doctor pointed out to me.” Paul hung up, surprised by his assertiveness. It was unlike him. He attributed it to his new self-esteem, and maybe the diet pills too. They made him feel energetic and confident.
The Gauntlet Assassin (An Action Thriller) Page 13
