The Shadow Constant

by AJ Scudiere

  Getting him situated included waiting for him to come around. It took a little while, but when he did, he formed a clear sentence, “What time is it?”

  Kayla didn’t answer, just concluded him to be alert and so she Tasered him again. She did ask if anyone else wanted the privilege first. They didn’t.

  This man had come into her home, posing as a cop and clearly with some other purpose. She had no remorse as his muscles clenched and he flopped a little. His unconsciousness rendered him very compliant, if heavy, while they trussed him up. This time it took long enough for him to come around for Kayla to get impatient.

  She kicked his foot a few times until he first grumbled, then growled. At last he opened his eyes and asked again what time it was.

  Evan pointedly looked out the window and said “Midafternoon. Why do you ask?”

  The man looked away.

  He definitely looked worse for the wear. His pants no longer bore the nice pleat he’d entered the house with. His T-shirt was a little stained, and it looked like he’d drooled a bit from being Tasered. Sucked to be him. Maybe he should rethink his career path.

  But then he looked them in the eye again and asked more pointedly, “What time is it?”

  “You want a clock?” Kayla asked, looking at him sideways.

  “Never mind.” His jaw clenched.

  She turned to Ivy. “Wanna get the clock from next door?”

  “What?!” Both Ivy and Reenie looked at her oddly.

  Kayla looked back at him. “The man wants to know the time. Let’s not have it be said that we are bad captors.” Her grin was half-hearted at best.

  Reenie frowned. “I think the sheer fact that we are captors means we don’t owe him much.”

  “True.” Kayla smiled again. “But we can be a little nice. Ivy, you want to get the clock from next door.”

  “But—”

  Kayla cut her off, then imitated Evan’s sigh nearly perfectly. “Just get the poor man a clock. Please.”

  As soon as Ivy left, Kayla looked at him again, maybe with a little glint of crazy in her eye. “If you try to escape again, I’ll reach for whatever’s handy. It may be a frying pan, or that Tazer or it may contain bullets. I won’t feel any remorse regardless of the method necessary to stop you. If you try to escape and you drag those blocks and scratch the floor, this guy—” she pointed behind her to Evan, “will kill you—slowly and painfully. He may use you to rebuff the flooring, among other things.”

  She was answered with a single terse nod and a glance over her shoulder as Ivy arrived with the seventies-era wall clock that had come as part of the décor. Without saying anything, Ivy knelt by the one outlet that had been added to the room some time ago. Since this wasn’t a room they planned on showing right away, the wallpaper remained. Small birds flitted amid the paper flowers. Kayla wanted to barf. The clock fit right in. The constant ticking, which would be interminable in the otherwise silent room was an added bonus.

  Ivy didn’t say anything, just stood and resumed a spot near Reenie, so Kayla continued. “We’ll be speaking to your people soon. Do you have a message for them?”

  Behind her, she heard shuffling and a short near-snort from Evan. They hadn’t discussed this. But the man didn’t need to know that.

  His expression morphed, one eyebrow up. Not serious. “Tell them I’m at the fucking Shangri-la and not to come. I’m having a fantastic time.”

  She smiled. “Will do.”

  Kayla left, the others trailing behind her, leaving the man strapped to cinderblocks and unable to touch any two of his extremities together. If he wanted to scratch his face, he could use a shoulder.

  Kayla was satisfied.

      

  “What was that?!” Evan’s hiss was the only answer he could find to his dilemma. He wanted to yell, but he didn’t want the man to hear him. They couldn’t leave the house; they’d already left the man partially untended. Evan wouldn’t be that surprised if he ran up the stairs right now and found empty straps and the terrace doors open.

  Kayla gestured for them all to come closer. “Let him think we’re disorganized, that he can play us against each other.”

  “What about contacting his friends?” Evan was mad; she had no right to make a blanket statement like that. “We should have voted on that!”

  Kayla nodded, much calmer than she should have been given the way he was yelling. “We didn’t have time to vote first, I just thought of it. And the fact is, we can still vote. I only told him we were contacting them, no one has actually done it yet. I wanted to see what he’d say.”

  “And?” Reenie’s hand gently laid across his forearm. How she stayed calm—or at least calm-ish—through all this was beyond him.

  Kayla looked at his fiancée now, “I think there’s a message in there. Maybe the word ‘Shangri-la’ or that he’s telling them not to come for him. If we talk to them and we decide to deliver the message, I think we should do it word for word. What do you think?”

  Now he was pissed, but he knew he didn’t really have anything to be angry about. Kayla had played some good cards. But he lashed out for what he could. “What about the clock? There’s a cord, he can break the face to make sharp pieces . . .”

  Ivy seemed to sense that he was just venting rather than asking legitimate questions. Kayla started to launch into, “Well, if he—” but Ivy cut her off. “If he can get to the clock, he can get to other far more dangerous things than some cheap plastic and a cord.”

  “Fine.” The word pushed its way out between his clenched teeth. “Should we vote? Do we contact them?”

  Kayla raised her hand, needing no time to think it over. “I say yes. We need to find out what his code means.”

  Evan looked at the other two. Reenie shrugged. “I don’t want to bring down bad shit here, but it seems to be finding us anyway. I don’t think contacting them will make it any worse. If we’re lucky we can trade him for something useful.”

  Ivy shook her head. “I have no vote. I keep waffling. I’ll do whatever anyone else decides.”

  Evan looked at all three of them and made his decision. Keeping the man was a pain in the ass. And furthermore, the man would eventually make a break for it, possibly—or even probably—hurting one of them in the process. “Contact.”

  He stepped in before anyone else could. “I’ll do it.”

  Kayla just nodded again. “I’m going to upload schematics. I told them we already had information out there, so now I need to go put it out there before anyone figures out that I lied. Then Ivy and I are going to film a how-to video for the net and post that.”

  Evan took Reenie’s hand. “That leaves you on watch first. Are you good?”

  “Sure, just let me get my stuff together so I can work.”

  Kayla and Ivy had already disappeared, so he consciously let out a breath and stole a far too brief and far too hungry kiss. If they could get through this, then marriage should be a piece of cake. Whatever went wrong, they would always be able to say to each other, ‘Remember when those hitmen were after us? We did okay then, and we’ll do okay now, too.’ They just had to get to later.

  After Reenie was settled in the hallway without incidence, Evan made a quick check of all the straps. They seemed just as tight as they had been before. The man didn’t scowl or speak, just stared into the middle distance.

  Things were as good as they could be.

  Evan left Reenie there, wishing he didn’t have to, headed down the steps and—skipping over the broken one—out to the back corner. Standing there, facing the house, he took a deep breath then spoke calmly.

  “We have your man. He says ‘Tell them it’s fucking Shangri-la and not to come.’ You know how to reach us.”

  There would be no answer, so he turned and walked away to wait.

  34

  The Carriage House

  It seemed fitting to film in here.

  Ivy pointed out that she should be in the video, too. Someone should
translate the tech-speak, she said. Kayla figured having Ivy in would also dial down any weirdness from her own personality as well.

  So, piece by piece, they demonstrated gears and cogs, then proceeded to film how to put the machine together. Kayla had the small gas generator and battery standing by. They couldn’t show the Whitney Device exactly as it was. It needed to look hybrid—normal—so people would build it. But the efficiency alone had to be high enough to attract builders and buyers.

  There were already a handful of downloads and comments on her dinky websites. Ivy had already managed to duplicate the site in a number of unlinked places. It wasn’t beautifully designed, since none of them knew how to do that. But Kayla already had a few comments. One person wanted to know where to get parts. One said he already had one running. He’d sent a picture—an elderly gentleman, an engineer from the old days, a tinkerer at the ready when she’d needed him. He reported a great efficiency rating and was telling all his cronies.

  The adjustment, the one she’d called the shadow constant for so long, was now just a number. Just a report about what speed to run, how to align, no longer a concern or a sticking point.

  They worked without breaks. Ivy turned on the wattage when she was on camera, smiling and generally glowing on screen. And when she leaned over to point out a gear, Kayla wondered if some people weren’t going to tune in just to get a look at that bright green bra under the white tank top that was both too pale and too cute for this kind of work.

  Kayla worked hard because she had plans for more. This evening she was going to start drawing up plans for a heat-pump model. She would advertise it at just over double efficiency. They also needed a video about running an entire house on a Whitney Device. People needed to know they had to make a binary decision—pay for power or run completely off the grid. She had lots to do.

  They worked until Reenie announced dinner.

  Dinner conversation was not sparkling. It was a rote hunt for a solution regarding their captive. Though tempting in its simplicity, not feeding him wasn’t an option. But feeding him was decidedly problematic. Plates, silverware, anything solid really, could become a weapon or at the very least a mess. In the end, they’d decided on a protein shake—only a straw and a big plastic cup.

  Later, Kayla and Ivy took their food into the upper hall to relieve Evan of watch. The man sat there, tied at all four corners, and sipped his possibly nasty-tasting protein shake. He watched the women and the clock the way a cat lies in wait.

  And Kayla watched him.

      

  Kayla kept vigil that night, letting Ivy, Reenie and Evan get some decent sleep.

  She didn’t have room to draft anything from her cramped spot in the hallway, but she could edit video. She watched footage, making preliminary cuts and splices so that at least her time wasn’t wasted. Besides, she had her suspicions and she wanted to wait them out.

  Around eleven, when everyone else had been asleep for more than an hour, her prisoner became slightly more alert. It was subtle—he was good at concealing it. What he didn’t know was that he was sitting in front of someone who couldn’t interpret if he meant good or ill, who couldn’t distinguish most sarcasm from regular speech, but who would notice even the smallest changes.

  He no longer slumped, but inch by inch worked his way up to nearly sitting. His shoulders moved a bit, as though he were ready to go full “Hulk” and snap his bonds. Kayla didn’t see that happening. Maybe he could move the cinderblocks, but she rested easier because he wasn’t beefy enough to operate with four blocks weighing him down.

  She made edits, wanting to go into the room, but not having an excuse. He was interesting to watch, slowly shifting and flexing. She tried to imagine alternatives—maybe he was just fighting sore muscles. So why not stretch outright? But he was subtle, thinking she didn’t notice what he was doing.

  He wasn’t one of the captors from when she and Ivy had been taken. She’d sent his photo to Reggie to see if he was another rogue employee, but that had come back negative. That didn’t please her. It meant that this was more than just one or two guys operating on their own.

  Kayla was about to rip a hole into Big Oil, and she was going to do it even knowing they had unlimited resources. Their people could come like the tide. But she was going to fight the tide—right now, by watching, by playing underhanded, and by hoping she’d done the right thing.

  At 11:30 she picked up her phone and tapped out a message to Reggie. At midnight, she subtly hit one button and sent it. All the while she wondered if this man was as good at watching her as she was at him.

  Just after midnight, he became openly tense.

  Though he tried not to give it away, he heard the sounds of Reggie’s car at the road, stopping, door slamming in the far distance. Kayla wondered about that. Hazelton House was the only exit from the road along this stretch. Unless someone was coming here, there was no reason to stop along the street.

  The man’s head twitched, came up just a sliver of an inch higher as though he was listening. His eyes darted to the clock and she wondered whether she should feel vindicated. But she wasn’t there yet. And she didn’t even know what “there” would be.

  She was convinced his message was a signal of sorts. Someone may have watched him come in, known that he hadn’t come back out. But maybe not. Maybe his message simply explained why he hadn’t shown up for his next appointment.

  So she listened to Reggie come up the drive, and watched her captive. Reggie came on foot, slowly and around the side, just as Kayla instructed. And when the dogs barked, she jumped. She shouted for Evan, just as planned, and he went racing by, leaping over her legs and paperwork, aiming himself down the back steps to check out what had triggered the dogs.

  Kayla looked at the man, and back down the hallway, then back at the man.

  His tension had multiplied. His eyes darted from her to the clock.

  She stood, ready to run. She knew what Evan would find, and she had to tell him . . .

  With a sharp look revealing the man’s arms flexed at the end of their tethers, she stepped out of view of the doorway. It was a risk, losing sight of him, but she thought he was waiting rather than preparing to bolt. So she took that chance.

  She bolted down the stairs, running into Evan at the bottom. He was starting to yell up to her, “Don’t worry Kay, it’s—”

  Only at the last minute did he comprehend her frantic hand waving and her finger pressed to her lips. ‘Nothing’ she mouthed to him ‘It’s nothing!’

  “It’s nothing.” His tone was solid but his face scrunched up.

  She nodded and pointed at herself. “I know” she mouthed, then said out loud, “Are you sure?”

  “Yeah, must have been an animal.” He continued at her prompting, still a bit confused. She hoped it didn’t show in his voice. “I went out and checked. I think it was just a . . . animal or something.”

  “Okay.” She handed him a page she’d written out, explaining the clock and Reggie waiting downstairs. Then she turned around and headed back to the spot she had abandoned. A quick glance into the room was all she needed before settling herself as though the dogs had been startled by nothing of consequence.

  Their captive was sitting straighter, his expression less tense. He was definitely awaiting something, but Kayla wasn’t quite sure what or when. She prayed she’d played her cards right and hoped he believed the commotion was his friends coming for him. She was hopelessly bound not knowing if she’d gotten the timing right at all.

  She worked for another hour, Evan staying downstairs with Reggie, keeping the sound at a minimum, not letting on that another person had arrived. Periodically, Evan would come halfway up the steps and look over the landing. “Do you need anything, Kayla?”

  “No, I’m fine.” She tried to stay neutral; she may have added Reenie’s accent or Ivy’s shoulder shrug. Those were things people did when sounding normal. Unsure if she’d nailed it, she hoped that anything she scr
ewed up or misplaced got written off as her own personal weirdness.

  The time came and went and she began to wonder if she wasn’t as smart as she thought she was. She’d been so sure that the message was a code. But there was no way of knowing if someone would come tonight, or if they wouldn’t even try to get him back for another couple of days. Even if it wasn’t a code, they could still come. At any time.

  And that wasn’t good. She needed something from him first, and all her hopes were bundled with the commotion Reggie caused and the clock in the room. Earlier, she had adjusted the Whitney Device attached to the house. She’d reset the constant, letting it run just a little faster than usual. Not enough to harm any of the large appliances, but enough.

  It was another thirty minutes before he started getting visibly angry.

  At nearly 2 a.m. he began yelling.

  “HEY!!!” He hollered it out to no one in particular. “Now!”

  Reenie and Ivy burst out of their rooms, but Kayla waved them past, told them that Evan was downstairs. Kayla returned to studiously ignoring the man. She wanted to see his clock, but she couldn’t look without making a real move.

  He was fully agitated now, his breathing heavy as he muttered, “It’s well past four now.”

  She spliced another section of footage and waited. And no one came even though you told them ‘now.’

  Finally, he spoke directly to her. “You. Come here.”

  “No.” She refused on principle. She couldn’t make it too easy for him; he’d get suspicious.

  “Yes.” He countered.

  Kayla stood her ground.

  “I’m negotiating my own release.” His eyes locked on her, blue—and human for the first time. “Please.”

  “I don’t trust you.” She didn’t, but she walked into the room to stand in front of him. “I need to know why I’ll let you go in the end.” Then after a moment’s debate, she added, “I’m pretty sure your message was a code.”