Page 74 of The Paradox Club

“About an hour west of Detroit.”

“Excellent,” said Richard. “Does your car have GPS?”

“Yes.”

“We’re at a place called the White Pine Motor Lodge. In the middle of nowhere. The kind of place where Norman Bates checks you in.”

“Norman who?”

“Never mind. The closest town is Sturgis, Michigan, a few miles away. We’re on highway…”

“Twelve,” said Valentine 6, who had located the spot on her rental car’s navigation.

“Though calling this a highway is a liberal use of the word.”

“I’ve got it. I can be there in about an hour.”

“You still have the book?”

“Yes.”

“Bring some food,” said Richard. “And some coffee. I’ll call you if they start moving again. I’m parked by the old gas station across the street. Pull in behind the building and you’ll see the back of my car. It’s a gray Chevy something or other.”

“I’m on my way.”

Richard looked at the time on his phone. He couldn’t have slept long—he had only been parked here for forty-five minutes. His nap must have lasted no more than ten. He knew he’d struggle to keep awake until Valentine 6’s arrival, and he could feel the muscles in his legs tightening from all the driving he had done today. What he wouldn’t give to be able to take a run.

* * * *

Nemo 7 couldn’t believe his good fortune when Montag 5 tossed him the car keys and told him to go to McDonald’s and get some food. Montag 5 had taken Pilgrim 3’s instructions to keep his cohort in sight at all times to heart so far. But now he could get away from Montag 5 and possibly find a way to contact the president. Of course, Montag 5 still had his phone, which complicated matters. Did such a thing as a pay phone still exist? If it did, Nemo 7 had stopped carrying quarters in his pocket years ago. Maybe he could convince a stranger at McDonald’s to let him borrow their phone. Maybe not.

Richard watched as Nemo 7 emerged from the hotel room into the glare of the late-afternoon sun. The president took this as an excellent sign. Montag 5 was starting to make bad decisions. Letting Nemo 7 out of his sight was one of them; maybe he would make another. Richard thought about getting out of the car and approaching Nemo 7, asking about the details of the situation, hatching a plan together. But before he could make a move, Nemo 7 jumped in the black sedan and peeled away from the parking lot, spewing gravel behind the car. Richard saw no point in following. His ally would be back. He could wait.

AT THE WHITE PINE MOTOR LODGE

Curiously, after Vivian’s story Tess felt calm. She would have thought this sort of stressful situation would bring the voices and the compulsions flooding over her, drowning her in anxiety. But here, trapped in a room that should trigger claustrophobia, being held at gunpoint by a man who provided more than enough reason for extreme anxiety, the voices remained silent. It was as if they couldn’t threaten her with disaster because disaster had already happened. Yet now she missed them. Nemo 7 had gone to find food, thank goodness. The only sounds were the drip of the faucet, Vivian’s soft snoring, and the occasional car passing on the two-lane road outside. The man she now knew as Montag 5 sat with his back to the door in a chair that looked as if it might surrender to his bulk at any minute. An old copy of People magazine lay in his lap, but he rarely looked at it. He kept his gun gripped in his right hand and scanned the room every minute or so, always stopping his gaze on Tess.

At first, she thought his look was one of lust, and, in a way, it was. But there was no physical desire in the way Montag 5 stared at Tess. Yes, he clearly wanted to possess her, but not as a sexual conquest. Rather he seemed to desire her as some sort of treasure. He guarded her the way he might guard a pile of gold or a sack full of cash. She could almost see his eyes calculating her value. That dehumanizing stare, she thought, should surely be enough to awaken the voices, but no. And for once in her life, she needed them. She needed the voices to tell her what to do. Couldn’t they, this one time, provide some more helpful advice than Tap the doorknob or Count the cars? Couldn’t they tell her how to escape this situation? How could she save Aunt Vivian if the voices stayed silent?

The next time Montag 5’s gaze landed on her Tess decided she’d had enough silence.

“What do you want with me?” she said. “Why am I so valuable to you?”

“Did you hear George Clooney is the sexiest man alive?” said Montag 5, holding up his magazine.

“Jesus, how old is that thing?” asked Tess. But Montag 5 lapsed into silence. After a minute or two she tried again. “You didn’t answer my question.”

“It’s from 2006,” said Montag 5.

“Not that question. The question of why you’re so keen on capturing a random college student and transporting her across state lines—which, by the way, makes you a federal criminal.”

“Will Smith has a new movie coming out,” said Montag 5.

Clearly engaging with Montag 5 would get her nowhere, so Tess turned her attention to her sleeping aunt. Vivian lay on her side facing Tess, who still sat in her spot beneath the window. Tess felt momentarily soothed by the gentle rise and fall of the covers marking Vivian’s steady beathing. But then, that motion stopped. Tess sat up a little straighter, glanced toward Montag 5, who was actually reading his magazine, and then looked back at Vivian. Her aunt’s eyes opened slightly and without moving in any other way, Vivian mouthed the word boxer. Or maybe it was boxing. Tess couldn’t be sure. And though she stared at Vivian with an intensity that she hoped demanded more explanation of this cryptic message, her aunt closed her eyes and resumed her slow, rhythmic breathing.

Was Aunt Vivian making some reference to her story about being a blind boxer? Tess had never hit anyone in her life, and she had no doubt that any attempt she made to box with Montag 5 would end in her immediate defeat. What was Vivian suggesting? Tess reviewed every detail of the boxing story in her mind, trying her best to play it like a recording. Tess wasn’t blind, and she certainly wasn’t a boxer, but two moments now struck her in ways they hadn’t before. The first had nothing to do with the story. When Tess had mouthed off at Montag 5 and he had pointed the gun at her, Vivian had said that he’d never shoot Tess and Montag 5 had agreed. Tess was not in danger from Montag 5’s gun, she thought—probably because she was a valuable asset for some reason. But he would shoot Vivian in a heartbeat.

The other moment Tess remembered was after Vivian told the story and she had asked Tess if she understood its meaning. Tess remembered exactly how she had replied. “You used a psychological condition to exploit your opponent’s weakness and achieve victory.” If a psychological condition was a weapon, then Tess was heavily armed. But how did you use OCD and anxiety to defeat a guy with a gun threatening to kill the one person left in the world who still loved you?