Page 92 of The Paradox Club

But that idiot Montag 5 and the turncoat Nemo 7 had let the girl escape, and Pilgrim 3 felt certain she was heading to the island. Valentine 6 was probably with her and that meant Gatsby the Great was heading to the island also. All Pilgrim 3 knew about the island’s location was that it was a three- or four-hour drive from Madison. If Montag 5 could discover the exact location, and if he could retrieve the girl immediately upon arrival there, he’d still have to drive all the way back to New York. He couldn’t very well take a kidnap victim on a commercial flight, and Pilgrim 3 didn’t have the financial resources to charter a private plane. That meant as much as four hours from the island to Madison, and another fourteen back to New York—and that was without stopping. Add four hours for Montag 5 to get back to Madison from his current location, an hour to convince Marie Maxwell to lead them to the island, four more hours to drive there, plus an hour for the change from Central to Eastern Time. That all added up to twenty-eight hours, with no time for sleep or food. And Montag 5 had already been up for two days straight. Even if everything went perfectly, he probably couldn’t get back to the club in less than thirty hours, and judging from the last few hours, things would not go perfectly.

Of course, she could just have Montag 5 hop on a plane with the radio, like the incompetent idiot had suggested—she might still do that. But if there was a chance to get the girl as well and the book in the bargain, she couldn’t resist. With the radio and the artifacts from the vault, she might succeed—but if she failed, in front of a group of journalists in the middle of New York City, no one would ever take her seriously again. With the radio, the girl, and the book all present on Harry Maxwell’s magic island, success was all but guaranteed.

She looked at the clock over the mantel. Five past seven. Today was October 13. The alignment would happen in just under twelve hours. And it could take thirty hours for Montag 5 to bring the girl to New York. So, New York was out. In not much more than the four hours it took Montag 5 to return to Madison, Pilgrim 3 could fly there. Once Marie gave up the location of the island, they could still make it there before 5:22 a.m. Montag 5 could deal with the traitors Valentine 6 and Nemo 7. Pilgrim 3 knew the island was what Harry called a thin place, a connecting node between universes, and recent evidence confirmed that he had made a connection there himself, ten years ago. While creating a portal to another universe on an isolated island in northern Wisconsin wouldn’t attract quite the same attention as doing it in the middle of Manhattan, she knew at least one reporter who would come with her. She could be sure there would be evidence. Pilgrim 3 could still have her name in the history books.

RETURN TO MAXWELL’S ISLAND

“If Montag 5 has the radio, won’t he just fly back to New York and give it to Pilgrim 3?” said Vivian. “He has time.” Richard’s rental car sped down the highway, heading north through Wisconsin.

“I can’t believe we were so stupid,” said Richard. “Of course Montag 5 wasn’t going to leave the radio in the car.”

“If Pilgrim 3 gets the radio,” said Tess, “does that mean she’ll be able to create a portal in New York tomorrow?”

“That’s one question we have to ask,” said Richard, “but there are two others. First, can Nemo 7 and Valentine 6 get the radio back from Montag 5? Second, now that she knows Tess is alive, will she be able to resist…”

“Resist what?” said Tess.

“Suppose we concentrate on the first question,” said Vivian. “How are we going to get the radio back?”

“Nemo 7 and Valentine 6 have Montag 5 in sight. For now, they just need to keep tailing him. I’ll call and bring them up to speed.”

“Aunt Vivian,” said Tess after a moment, “can I ask you a question?”

“I can’t promise an answer,” said Vivian, “but you can certainly ask.”

“When we were in the car with those men, I asked you to tell a story and you said you couldn’t unless one came to you.”

“That’s right.”

“But when we were in the hotel room, you told me the story about being a blind boxer. Did that one come to you? Because it felt like you didn’t believe that one the way you believed the others.”

“What makes you say that?”

“Your other stories, when you tell them you seem so convinced. I can see it your eyes and hear it in your voice. It’s like you believe those things actually happened to you. But the blind boxer story felt like you were telling a story, nothing more.”

“You’re very observant, Tess,” said Vivian.

“She knows you too well,” said Richard.

“Since you asked,” said Vivian, “no, the blind boxer story didn’t come to me the way the others do. I created that story all by myself.”

“As a way of telling me what to do?”

“Exactly. And you understood, as I knew you would.”

“But the other stories…”

“Suppose we get some sleep,” said Vivian. “It’ll be late when we get to the island, and we want to be rested.”

Tess jolted awake as the car bumped over the dirt road that led the last few miles to the lake.

“How long did I sleep?” she said.

“About five hours,” said Richard. “We made a couple of stops for food and gas and some camping supplies, but Vivian let you sleep. There’s a gas station sandwich in the bag on the seat.”

Tess glanced over to see Vivian sleeping. After her own slumber she felt rejuvenated, as full of energy and hope as she had felt in years. And then a voice in her head told her something interesting. It didn’t threaten her or force her to perform some silly task. It simply said, It’s not the sleep, it’s the island.

“Aunt Vivian, wake up.” Tess gave Vivian a gentle shake. “We’re almost there. Can’t you feel it?”