Page 68 of The Paradox Club

“Because she turned it on. The radio is different. We’ll just have to assume she has the book with her. I want you to find her and bring her back to the club.”

“Isn’t that kidnapping?”

“Rule forty-two of the Paradox Club: ‘The keeper of the vault shall take all necessary action to prevent untethered foreign objects being removed from either the vault or the club premises without authorization.’ All necessary action. That includes sending the sergeant at arms to retrieve a club member who has stolen club property.”

“Who is the sergeant at arms?”

“You are. I’m creating the position. It is a necessary action. Valentine 6 signed the rules; she knows we have every right to bring her in and confiscate the book.”

“I’m the sergeant at arms? Is that like your secret police?” said Lidenbrock 2.

“Not secret,” said Pilgrim 3. “The time for secret is past. Now go get her and be sure she has the book.”

* * * *

Ninety minutes later, Pilgrim 3’s private cell phone buzzed, and she saw Lidenbrock 2’s number on the screen.

“Do you have her?” said Pilgrim 3.

“She’s in the wind,” said Lidenbrock 2.

“What do you mean, she’s in the wind?”

“Isn’t that what they say when a suspect disappears?”

“How do I know what they say? I’m not a police officer.”

“All I know,” said Lidenbrock 2, “is that I found her purse with the tracking device in a garbage can in front of Terminal A. I looked around in departures but didn’t see her anywhere.”

“Is the book in the bag?”

“No, the book is in the wind, too.”

“Shit!” said Pilgrim 3.

THE WHITE PINE MOTOR LODGE

Eight miles east of Sturgis, Michigan, on a two-lane highway largely bypassed by Interstate 90, stands the White Pine Motor Lodge—twelve rooms that lacked anything approaching luxury when the establishment opened in the 1940s and whose allure has steadily decreased ever since. Miss Havisham would have kept the place in better repair, thought Tess as the car pulled into the gravel lot. Nor did Room 8, in which the four of them sheltered, offer any comforts. Vivian lay down on one side of the lumpy mattress; Montag 5 placed a wobbly desk chair against the door and sat there. Nemo 7 and Tess both sat on the floor, Tess leaning against the wall under the window so that she could see Vivian’s face.

“I’ve got to rest,” Montag 5 had said, half an hour ago. “I’m leaving the highway and finding someplace off the beaten track.” The White Pine Motor Lodge certainly fit that requirement.

Nemo 7 thought this might provide the opportunity he needed. Montag 5, by his own admission, hadn’t slept since the night before last. Once he dozed off, Nemo 7 could steal the car keys and get away with Vivian and Tess. But as soon as Montag 5 settled in against the door, Nemo 7 saw the flaw in his plan. The window was probably too small to crawl through—and at some point in the storied history of the White Pine Motor Lodge it had been fitted with what amounted to prison bars, presumably to keep intruders out but equally effective at keeping guests in. Montag 5 put the car keys in his back pocket so there would be no subtle way to retrieve them, or to open the door, even if he did fall asleep. And, perhaps most frustrating of all, Montag 5 did not fall asleep.

“I don’t need sleep,” he said. “I just need rest.”

Tess listened to one end of the phone conversation Montag 5 had after he settled in his chair, but it made little sense to her.

“Yes.…The girl and the radio…Maybe ten hours, that leaves plenty of time.…Not so far, but I’m watching.…Of course not, you know that about me.…Rest, food, a couple of hours…You worry too much about that book.…When we leave and let’s say every three hours after that?…Excellent.”

What did ten hours mean? How long they had left to drive? They had been traveling east—so what was ten hours east of here? Geography had never been a strong suit for Tess, but she guessed another ten hours might get them to the East Coast. New York? Philadelphia? Washington? Not that it made much difference to her where they were headed, but exercising curiosity helped battle depression. At least he had said something about food. When Tess’s depressions stretched for days or weeks her appetite waned. But she had been almost joyful a few hours ago, and her stomach had not yet caught up to her mood. She could murder a burger right now.

After surveying the room for any hope of escape and finding none, Tess let her gaze settle on Vivian’s face. No matter the situation, Vivian always radiated peacefulness. Even with her eyes closed and her light snoring, her face still glowed in the dimness of the motel room and her hair looked almost like a halo. Watching Vivian sleep, thought Tess, might help her fall asleep herself, and sleep promised the only escape from her current state of mind.

And then, Vivian winked at her. Vivian was not asleep. She opened her eyes slowly and stared into Tess’s for several seconds before whispering, “You have Harry’s eyes.”

“That’s what Marie always said,” replied Tess. “I mean before…”

“How would you like to hear a story?”