Page 32 of The Paradox Club

“You keep watching and listening, I keep eating crappy resort food, and maybe on the fifteenth we can all go home and have a nice tall scotch.”

As Nemo 7 walked west through the park toward his brownstone, his phone rang and he heard the voice of Montag 5, summoning him back to the club. Fifteen minutes later he and Montag 5 were back in Pilgrim 3’s office.

“Where is Lidenbrock 2?” she asked.

“Apparently he has plans for the evening,” said Montag 5.

“Plans that are more important than club business?”

“He said something about dinner reservations,” said Montag 5.

“I’ve changed my mind about Marie Maxwell,” said Pilgrim 3. “Can you both get away for a few days?”

“Yes, ma’am,” the two men replied in unison.

“I want you to go out there and keep an eye on her. See if she’s up to anything or if she has any visitors.”

“What about the big board?”

“We’ve got people watching the board, and I’ll talk to Lidenbrock 2 in the morning. Tell him no more dinners until after the fourteenth. You two go straight to the airport. I want you in place as soon as possible.”

“Yes, ma’am,” said Montag 5.

“And one other thing,” said Pilgrim 3. “I don’t want either one of you to let the other out of his sight—not for ten seconds.”

“You don’t trust us?” said Nemo 7.

“I don’t trust anyone,” said Pilgrim 3.

Nemo 7 wanted to call Richard and warn him that Pilgrim 3 had sent a reconnaissance party to keep an eye on Marie Maxwell, but Montag 5 took the instruction to watch his companion seriously. Nemo 7 couldn’t even get thirty seconds alone in a bathroom stall. “Keep the door open,” Montag 5 had said. They managed to get an evening flight out of Newark and by the wee hours of Tuesday morning they sat in a rental car across the street from Marie Maxwell’s modest house in the Eken Park neighborhood of Madison, Wisconsin.

“This is a total waste of time,” said Nemo 7 an hour into the stakeout. “The big board could light up anywhere and we’re stuck here watching the one place we’ve already searched.”

Montag 5 did not respond. Nemo 7 thought for a moment his companion might have fallen asleep, but when he turned his head, he saw Montag 5 staring intently at Marie Maxwell’s front door. There would be no calling Richard tonight, thought Nemo 7, and he slid down in his seat, hoping to catch a few minutes of sleep.

Nemo 7 had met Harry Maxwell shortly after joining the Paradox Club and felt drawn to him immediately. Nemo 7 had joined the club at the same time as Lidenbrock 2, a scrawny, awkward twenty-year-old completely lacking in both fashion sense and social graces. If there could be such a thing as a nerd in the halls of a club populated almost entirely by scientists, Lidenbrock 2 was it. Harry Maxwell, on the other hand, was the big man on campus. He oozed self-confidence but not in a conceited or off-putting way. Harry’s confidence rubbed off on others. When Harry entered a room, everyone became a better conversationalist. And Harry didn’t have to know you for thirty seconds before he would engage in much more than idle chitchat. When Nemo 7 had sat next to him in the junior lounge one spring afternoon, Harry propped his feet on an ottoman, turned to Nemo 7, and said, “What do you think about the ethics of trying to communicate with other species?” They had been friends ever since. Nearly everyone in the club had been friends with Harry. Even after he’d aligned himself against Pilgrim 3, those who opposed him in matters of club policy or politics still enjoyed his company. Until that September when Harry had entered the Paradox Club a changed man. The jovial, friendly conversationalist had been replaced by a silent brooding introvert who rarely spoke even when directly addressed. A month later, in a diner on Broadway, Nemo 7 had looked up to see that Harry had slipped into the booth opposite him.

“This is unexpected,” Nemo 7 said. “I feel like I haven’t spoken to you in months.”

“You haven’t,” said Harry. “But only because of me. I haven’t been myself lately.”

“I heard what happened,” said Nemo 7.

“Let’s not talk about that,” Harry said, leaning forward and lowering his voice to a whisper. “I’m thinking I might do something crazy and irresponsible.”

“Do you need my help?”

“I need you to become a spy for Pilgrim 3.”

“The vault keeper? The one who makes no secret of her ambition to take over the club and throw most of its rules out the window?”

“That’s the one. I need her to believe that you’re completely loyal to her.”

“But really I’m loyal to you.”

“And to the president,” Harry said.

“Of course. Always to the president.”