Page 103 of The Paradox Club

“Thirty minutes. Forty-five at the most.”

“Why not just draw a map that doesn’t lead to the island?”

“Someone is going to ask you if this map leads to Maxwell’s Island and, Marie, I love you, and you have many talents, but lying isn’t one of them. And if the people who come for this map think you’re lying, they won’t respond with kindness.”

“I’m supposed to give this to Pilgrim 3?” Marie had asked.

“Only if you fear for your safety. Or Tess’s.” Harry had paused a moment. “Or for anyone else that you love.”

As soon as Montag 5 was out of the house and she had extricated herself from David’s embrace, Marie grabbed a coat and the car keys.

“I might need to take a later flight tomorrow,” she said, kissing David on the cheek, “but I’ll see you in Florida.”

“I don’t understand,” said David. “Where are you going?”

“I have to attend to something,” said Marie.

“What do you have to attend to?”

“Unfinished business.”

Nemo 7 followed the black sedan through the streets of Madison. But moments after Montag 5 turned onto Route 113 heading north, he got back off. Montag 5 wasn’t going to the island. He was going to the airport. Nemo 7 texted Richard, hoping the president hadn’t yet gotten to the wilds of Wisconsin, where cell phone service could be spotty.

Montag 5 arrived at Madison airport. Maybe he’s taking radio back to NYC? More when I know.

Find out his destination, wrote Richard. If impossible to retrieve radio at airport, return to Vilas Avenue and await further instructions.

Pilgrim 3 switched her phone off airplane mode the second the wheels touched the ground in Madison. The text from Montag 5 read, Arrived at airport. In baggage claim. The timestamp on the text was six minutes ago. She texted back immediately. In the seat next to her sat a bewildered Anderson Tait, a staff writer for Scientific American and the only journalist among her contacts who had agreed to hop on a flight to Wisconsin with no explanation beyond “You will witness the greatest scientific breakthrough of our time—perhaps of all time.” Ever since the flight left Newark, he had pestered her for more information, but Pilgrim 3 had remained tight-lipped. If things went south, she didn’t want this journalist, or any journalist, to know what she had tried to do. Only when she had successfully demonstrated the portal would she fill Mr. Tait in on the details.

As soon as the FASTEN SEAT BELT sign turned off, she bullied her way to the front of the plane, dragging Mr. Tait behind her and mumbling about a medical emergency to anyone who got in her way. She made it to the curb outside baggage claim thirteen minutes after the plane reached the gate. Montag 5 stood waiting for her.

“You have directions?” said Pilgrim 3.

“I have a map to the island.”

“Then let’s go!”

Nemo 7 watched as Pilgrim 3 and a man he didn’t recognize climbed into Montag 5’s stolen car. He had overheard what Montag 5 said to Pilgrim 3, so he texted Richard, Montag 5 and Pilgrim 3 headed to Maxwell’s Island with radio. After a moment his phone reported that the message couldn’t be delivered. Nemo 7 had no way of warning Richard that Pilgrim 3 was now headed to Maxwell’s Island. As instructed, he returned to Vivian’s house in Madison and waited, trying to text every few minutes without success.

HARRY’S FAILED EXPERIMENT

“Is that the best idea?” said Richard. “Telling her about your stories?”

“What have we accomplished by keeping secrets?” said Vivian. “Driven the poor child from one therapist to the next, forced her to exist in a world she doesn’t belong to without explaining why. What’s the point? She should know everything.”

“I like your stories, Aunt Vivian. Sometimes they seemed more real than the world around me.”

“Because they are real,” said Vivian. “But to understand why, I have to tell you about that night.” Vivian fell silent for a moment and Tess realized for the first time since they arrived on the island how different it felt and sounded in October than in the summer. No crickets chirping or owls hooting. The warm smell of grass and green trees replaced by the crisp musk of autumn leaves. Tess could grow to love this version of the island as much as the summer version, she thought.

Finally Vivian began. “I remember it like it was yesterday. He had the radio on, and the alignment was just a minute or so away. I’d never seen him so excited. Once he made the decision he jumped in with both feet. You know how Harry was; his scientific curiosity was this driving force that could have made him do anything. And that was the lesser of the two forces acting on Harry that night.”

“The other one was me,” said Tess.

“Yes,” said Vivian.

“Harry said love was the strongest force in the universe.”

“In two universes, as it turns out. There we were in the circle of trees, the radio playing romantic music and the lightning flashing in the distance and the air crackling. You couldn’t hear it, but you could feel it—this tingling under your skin. I thought it was the electrical storm, but Harry said no. He had felt that before, he said, and this was something different. This was another universe approaching. This was you approaching.