by Mark Frost
Hobbes gestured to a chair near the food. “Help yourself if you’re hungry,” he said.
“I’m not. And I’d rather stand.”
“Suit yourself,” said Hobbes, perching on the table’s edge. He picked up a handful of grapes and ate them one at a time, every move coiled and deliberate, never taking his unsettling light eyes off Will.
Without even using his Grid, Will felt certain that Courtney had moved into the room and was standing a few feet behind him. Will walked to the table and poured himself a glass of orange juice.
“I’m listening,” said Will.
Hobbes smiled again, oddly, and pointed his hand at the first screen to the left. He drew his fingers together and then spread them apart. The screen expanded to three times its size and flickered on.
It showed an overhead angle of a closed room that looked like a prison cell. Nick paced restlessly back and forth as the camera panned to follow him; there were bars across one side of the room. Nick looked like a caged leopard. Based on the look of the stone, Will decided the room must be somewhere in the castle, maybe down in its endless basement.
Hobbes pointed at the middle screen and expanded it with the same gesture. Will recognized the large round room in the tower with all the boxed archives. A high camera looked down on Ajay, sitting cross-legged on the floor, reading a document from one of the boxes.
Hobbes then gestured at the screen on the left, enlarging it as well. It showed a surgical theater, possibly the one they’d found in the underground clinic. Banks of bright overhead lights were on, and directly beneath them, masked medical personnel were strapping someone to the metallic operating table.
Brooke. The team around her buckled her hands to the table, prepping her for surgery.
She hadn’t gotten away after all. And what about Elise? Where did they have her?
This was probably all for show—effective stagecraft, something the Knights took perverse pride in—but the implied threat to his friends made Will’s blood boil. It took every ounce of self-control he possessed to keep from blasting Hobbes with all the force he had in him. But he had to do something.
He turned and splashed the orange juice all over Courtney, revealing her outline. She sputtered in anger.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” said Will flatly. “I didn’t see you there.”
Hobbes almost looked amused. He picked up a large cloth napkin and tossed it at Courtney, who grabbed it out of the air and stormed toward the door, wiping herself off.
As she left the room, two others came in. Will recognized the first as Davis, Courtney’s cohort, the “iron-fisted” one who’d threatened Nick in the cave. The second took Will a moment longer to recognize; he looked much bigger and bulkier than Will remembered, like an insanely roid-raged NFL linebacker but teeming with the same unstable intensity he’d always possessed. The bulging muscles exposed by his singlet rippled and pulsed with excess energy. His jawline and neck looked cartoonishly big, almost a parody of manliness, but his dark good looks and ruddy complexion were unmistakable.
“Hello, Todd,” said Will, trying to sound calm.
Todd’s cockeyed grin radiated even more malice than usual. He looked ready to chomp his way through the table to get at Will.
“Scrub,” said Todd, his voice an octave lower than Will remembered.
“Long time no see, buddy,” said Will, looking him up and down. “Working out much?”
Todd Hodak snorted and took a step toward him, cracking his clenched fists together. They looked like canned hams.
“Keep it civil, gentlemen,” said Hobbes sharply.
“So I guess you, what, transferred to gladiator school?” asked Will. “Or did they just grow you in a tank?”
Todd’s face flushed with anger.
Some things haven’t changed.
“Your turn’s coming, punk,” said Todd, jabbing a finger at Will.
“Mr. Hodak is going to visit your friend Mr. McLeish,” said Mr. Hobbes matter-of-factly, nodding toward Nick on the screen. “Mr. Davis will go with him. They’re going to punish Mr. McLeish and they’re not going to stop until we get your full cooperation. If he gives up the ghost before you come to your senses, Mr. Davis will visit your friend Ajay.”
Davis held up both his hands and his index fingers grew into lethal six-inch spikes.
“He’ll start with the eyes,” said Mr. Hobbes, setting two grapes on the table.
Davis plunged his spikes through the grapes and all the way through the table. Will worked hard not to react, but felt like his chest might crack open.
Hobbes directed the two toward the door, and Todd and Davis headed out. Hobbes walked over to the third screen, folded his arms, and studied Brooke in the operating theater.
“Or should we have Ms. Springer go first?” said Hobbes casually, as if thinking it over. “I’d hate to see her lose those lovely hands.”
Hobbes gestured and Brooke’s screen went dark. Will felt like he was about to lose his mind. He had to control himself. Listen. Watch. Wait. This isn’t the time to fight.
“Here’s another possibility,” said Hobbes. “What if we do all three of them at once? Would that prove more persuasive? Do I have your full attention yet?”
Why hasn’t he mentioned Elise? Could that mean she’d somehow gotten away?
“Leave them alone and tell me what you want,” asked Will, sounding cold and weary.
Hobbes considered that, his hand tracing a circle on the wooden box on the table. “One of your friends will do that for me.”
The door opened again. Courtney, now cleaned up and dressed, and Halsted came in, carrying Brooke between them. They had her in a kind of straightjacket, her hands wrapped around her sides and secured under thick canvas.
So either that surgical theater was right next door, or the image of Brooke on the screen had been prerecorded. For one horrible moment Will wondered if they’d already performed the threatened operation.
They brought her to the table and pushed her down to her knees in front of Will. Brooke didn’t appear to even know where she was, possibly drugged. But she didn’t look as if she was in the excruciating pain that Hobbes’s threatened torture would create.
“We’ll let you two get caught up,” said Hobbes, signaling the others to follow him out.
Will waited for the door to close before he dropped down beside her. He gently put his hands on her shoulders and waited for her to look at him. Her blond curls fell around her face in soft piles. She looked deathly pale, exhausted and lost, but even with all that her beauty still made his heart skip a beat. She seemed confused until her eyes sparked with tender recognition.
“Will.”
She leaned into him, cradling her head on his shoulder as he put his arms around her. Will noticed a series of locks down the back of the straightjacket.
“What happened?” he whispered in her ear.
She leaned back slightly so she could look at him. “I ran back through the cave. I didn’t know where I was or where I was going. I must have been lost in there for an hour.”
Her lips were chapped and she sounded parched. Will poured a glass of water for her and held it as she took a few sips, then nodded her thanks.
“I saw some light and ran toward it,” she said. “They were waiting when I came out.” She shuddered. “I don’t know what happened after that.”
“Did you see any of the others?”
She shook her head. “I woke up in an operating room. Hobbes was there. He told me what they were going to do to us.” Her voice trembled with fear. “To each of us. He said it so calmly. How they were going to hurt us … what he was going to do to my hands if you wouldn’t go along with what they wanted.”
Will felt his insides churn, his worst fear curled around his heart.
Not this. Not Brooke.
“Did he tel
l you what that was?” Will could hardly hear his own voice.
She shook her head. “He wouldn’t tell me anything else. Only that cooperating with them was the only way for you to save all of us.” She looked up at him, and he forced himself to hold eye contact with her. “Will, I’m so afraid.”
Until one of them tries to convince us to cooperate. They’ll appeal to our feelings, and also our reason. They’ll try to make us see it’s the only way we can save our friends.
“I hate to think of you giving in, in any way,” she said. “But I think he might be right.”
Will stayed absolutely still. “Do you?”
“I don’t even know what they’ve done to Nick and Ajay or Elise or where they are … What have they done to you? Are you all right?”
“They haven’t hurt me,” he said.
“Thank God.”
“Not physically, at least.”
He could tell she thought that sounded curious. Just the slightest crack in her elaborate façade, and then she was back on message.
“I’m so glad,” she said, leaning her head on his shoulder again. “I was so worried about you.”
What should I do? he thought. How do I move from this moment? How do I ever move on from here?
RULE #32: EVEN THE SLIGHTEST ADVANTAGE CAN MEAN THE DIFFERENCE BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH. NEVER GIVE IT AWAY.
“They’re watching us right now,” Will whispered in her ear. “Listening to every word we say.”
“What are we going to do, Will?”
“I don’t know yet …”
Better yet: go on the offensive.
“But I’ve figured something else out,” he said, “and you’re not going to like it.”
“What’s that?”
He put his hands on her shoulders, held her close, and lowered his voice further. “I think it’s possible that somebody, one of us, has been cooperating with them all along. Since the first day I got here.”
She froze for the slightest moment before responding. “Oh my God, Will.”
“You can see how dangerous that could be for us.”
“Of course.”
“I mean, who can we trust if we can’t trust our friends?”
“I can’t believe it,” she said. “Do you have any idea who it is?”
He lifted her gently off his shoulder and looked her straight in the eyes so he could watch carefully. “I think it might be Elise.”
Her pupils contracted, a small muscle twitched just under her left eye—relief—and then she simulated shock, so expertly that it took his breath away. An intake of air, her mouth forming a small O, eyes widening, eyebrows lifting ever so slightly.
And then, the dagger. “Will, I think … that’s so terrible, but I think you might be right.”
“You do?”
“I’ve suspected something, that something was wrong about her but I couldn’t fit my mind around how that could be, for the longest time.” She paused, furrowing her brow.
“Really?”
“How could she have fooled us so badly? But if you think about it … how else would they have known we were going to be at that cave?”
“Exactly,” said Will, hardening his heart.
Don’t forget: they know everything she knows. And she knows almost everything.
“I’m sure if we thought it through, we’ll come up with other evidence.” She shook her head in disgust. “They might even try to make you believe she’s in danger.”
“They’ll stop at nothing,” said Will.
“We mustn’t say a word to anyone,” she whispered urgently.
“I won’t.”
Brooke stared up at him, the sunlight from the high windows glancing across her cheeks, filtering through her golden hair, angelic. Now even the perfection of her beauty seemed like a lie. A single tear gathered in each eye and rolled gently down her face.
She’ll tell me she loves me now.
“I love you, Will,” she whispered. “I should’ve told you before … but I’ve never said that to anyone.”
Will cradled her face in both his hands, looked her deeply in the eyes, and allowed himself one truthful moment.
“You’ll never know how much you meant to me,” he said.
Whatever else they do to me, it can hardly be worse than this.
Then he kissed her softly on the forehead. She raised her face and closed her eyes, ready to be kissed.
The door opened. Hobbes strode back in, followed by Courtney and Halstead. Will stood up abruptly, as if shocked, but he’d expected them. He was actually relieved they’d come in when they did. Now he had to keep selling the idea that he was in the dark about Brooke.
“You leave her the hell alone,” said Will, putting himself between them.
“I can arrange that,” said Hobbes.
“If you hurt her or any of my friends, whatever I agree to goes away. All bets are off. And from now on that includes Raymond. And I need to know that Elise is all right.”
“That sounds perfectly reasonable,” said Hobbes.
Will glanced at the screens. He saw Todd Hodak and Iron-Hands Davis step into view near the cage where Nick was being held. Nick stood up, ready for a fight.
“Then call off your dogs,” said Will.
Hobbes touched an earpiece in his ear and whispered softly in a mic concealed up his sleeve. Todd and Davis stopped, put hands to their ears to listen, and then moved back out of the frame. Nick looked disappointed, then looked up at the camera, realizing somebody was watching. He flipped off the camera before Hobbes made a gesture that turned off Nick’s screen.
Courtney and Halsted helped Brooke to her feet and walked her roughly toward the door. Brooke sought Will out with her eyes. He met her gaze for only a moment, but used it to try to reinforce their “pact” before turning away.
Will pointed to the other screens, at the image of Ajay.
“Once I know they’re safe, you can take me to whoever makes the decisions. Because I know it isn’t you, Edgar.”
“What am I to tell them?”
“That I’ll listen.”
Hobbes straightened up and looked at Will from a few feet away. Appraising him thoughtfully, without rancor. Hobbes spoke softly in his mic, then gestured at Ajay’s screen and it went dark.
“They might be right about you,” he said, then headed for the door. “Wait here.”
The door closed loudly behind him. Will was alone. He moved to the windows and looked down toward the docks. Stan Haxley’s seaplane was moored offshore again, bobbing in the water.
Haxley is here.
Will wondered how long it would take him to arrive. He must have been watching and listening from somewhere nearby.
How long will they make me wait?
The door opened.
FAMILY BUSINESS
Mr. Elliot had walked into the room. Alone. Dressed in an elegant three-piece tweed suit and a natty bow tie. A smile on his face. He raised his hand in a cheerful greeting as he entered, then folded both hands behind his back, his tall angular frame bent forward as if leaning into a stiff wind.
“Here you are, Will,” he said.
Will didn’t know what to say.
“By the by, thank you for such an excellent recommendation about your friend Ajay,” said Elliot. “What a bright fellow. He’s going to be a lot of help to you with sorting out all those files.”
Will just stared at him: Is he crazy or senile? Did he just wander in here by accident?
Elliot didn’t seem to notice or mind that Will wasn’t responding to him. He puttered over to the table, picked up the old wooden box, and set it down closer to Will.
“Here’s something I believe you already have an interest in, Master Will,” said Elliot, opening the box. “Come take a look.”
Will stepped closer as the lid drew back. The ancient brass astrolabe rested inside. Elliot lifted it out of its crushed velvet bed and held it up for them both to admire its elaborate gears, discs, and levers. Will noticed the faint hum of an energy source issuing from somewhere inside it. All the various pieces of the device seemed to vibrate in gentle harmony.
“Go ahead,” said Elliot. “Touch it again if you like. It won’t harm you.”
This is just too weird.
But Will felt the same mysterious pull toward the object that he’d experienced when he first found it in the castle’s basement. He put one finger on the brass, cool to the touch, but agreeable. He liked the way it felt. A lot. He ran his hand over its smooth weathered outer ring.
“Hold it,” said Elliot, offering it to him. “Both hands. You’ll get the hang of it.”
Will took it in both hands and felt the weight of his crushing worries and fears melt away. How is that possible? This ancient piece of technology—inscrutable and foreign—somehow filled him with confidence and a sense of peace he could hardly begin to fathom.
Some willful impulse of resistance prompted him to set the astrolabe back down in the box, but he found himself instantly regretting it. He wanted to pick it up and hold the thing again, wanted to feel that feeling again.
“I’d like you to have this, Master Will,” said Elliot kindly, moving the box slightly toward him. “My gift to you. As a token of our appreciation for the fine work you’ve done, in helping us organize the archives.”
“But I haven’t finished yet,” said Will, the only objection he could think to offer.
“Don’t you worry. I suspect that with you and Master Ajay working together, you’ll have the job done in no time.”
About time I start working on my own rules, thought Will.
Will’s List of Rules to Live By
#1: GIFTS FROM STRANGERS? I DON’T THINK SO.
Will put his hands on the lid and, with a supreme act of self-discipline, closed the box. “I don’t know what to say,” he said, then forced himself to take a step back from the table.
