Page 18 of The Paradox Club

“I’ll fly up this afternoon. I’ll call you when I get there.”

Richard assumed Pilgrim 3 was having him watched, and he knew she wouldn’t dare risk sending tails who were not members of the Paradox Club, so he had no trouble spotting the two men assigned to follow him as soon as he was in the ticket line at the airport. He played the old man character for all he was worth—hobbling through the cavernous ticket hall on his cane, telling the agent he needed a ticket to Los Angeles in a voice loud enough to be heard not just by the men ten feet behind him but by everyone else in the vicinity. He lingered near the ticket desk long enough to hear the two men buy tickets to LA before accepting the proffered offer of a ride in a wheelchair to the security line, where he had his only moment of panic as the tall young man from the airline pushed him toward the TSA PreCheck area. But his tails had been smart enough to anticipate this and had paid extra to be in the shorter line themselves. When pre-boarding began, he tottered over to the bathroom, where he spent twelve minutes in a stall making a variety of noises designed to turn the stomachs of his pursuers, then spent another three minutes washing and drying his hands. By the time he returned to the gate only a handful of people still waited to board. One of his tails had apparently already gone down the jetway and the other went through the door as soon as he saw the president hold a boarding pass out to the gate agent. Then it was a simple matter to whisper to the agent that he had the gates mixed up, sprint back down the concourse, and board his actual flight seconds before they closed the jetway door and before his tails could even make it back into the terminal. He settled into the first-class seat he had purchased online that morning and smiled. Pilgrim 3 had no idea who she was dealing with.

THERAPIST N − 7

“Why do you like your aunt Vivian’s stories so much?”

“They calm me down. I don’t know why, but they make the voices go away.”

“The intrusive thoughts.”

“The voices.”

“Auditory hallucinations.”

“You can call them intrusive thoughts or auditory hallucinations or whatever you want, but when Vivian tells one of her stories, they back off. I like that.”

“Do you think that’s because the stories relax you, make you feel less stressed?”

“The voices don’t only come when I’m stressed.”

“But you said they’re worse when you’re stressed.”

“I guess.”

“Are you stressed right now?”

“I don’t know. Aren’t all teenagers stressed?”

“You’re tapping out a pattern on the arm of the chair.”

“So?”

“So that’s a compulsive behavior, Tess.”

“I know. But it makes me feel better and it doesn’t hurt anyone.”

“Does it make you feel better the way your aunt’s stories do?”

“No.”

“So why do you think those stories have such an effect on you?”

“Aren’t you supposed to answer that question?”

“Not really, but I can. I think it’s because of your father.”

“What about him.”

“You said he told you stories.”

“But I don’t remember most of them.”

“Do you remember any of them?”

“Yes.”

“How many?”