Hildy had smacked down on her alarm too quickly that morning to hear Sonny Somers reassure his listeners that the storm still posed no danger to Long Beach Island. Some computer projections had it swerving eastward to threaten Bermuda; others brought it ashore near Charleston. At worst, if it should churn up the eastern coast to New Jersey, it meant a weekend ruined by rain.
But the lowering barometer had added to Hildy’s feelings of foreboding. After discussing with Tony G. what to do about the possibility that Mike was heading for a deadly rendezvous, she got into her red VW Beetle and drove off the island, west on Route 72, planning on picking up Route 202 at the Red Lion traffic circle, then turning southward.
She had tried calling Mike a dozen times. She didn’t know what she could possibly say to him to keep him away from Jimmy the Bug, except to beg him to come to see her. Maybe he would put aside his plans and run to her side. It seemed like a long shot.
It was probably just as well he wasn’t answering his cell phone. She guessed he had turned the power off so it wouldn’t ring at an inopportune time. According to Corrine, when Hildy called her back after regaining her composure, he should be giving Kiki the bad news about their relationship right about now.
Afterwards, Mike told Corrine, he was driving to meet his partner in Delaware, which was at most ninety minutes from Atlantic City. The two of them were supposed to follow the thieves who delivered the stolen machines to the Delaware contractor. That’s the point where projecting the future became uncertain.
After the thieves collected their payment, would they return with the money to Jimmy the Bug? Would they be driving to his office in the Pine Barrens? Who knew? But the likelihood existed that they would.
Hildy had to do what she felt she had to do. She figured out the driving times. She should reach the Sleep-E-Z Motor Lodge a few hours before Mike showed up. Then she had to stop him.
‘‘Ay, there’s the rub,’’ as Hamlet had said. How could she explain her presence on Route 202, blocking Mike’s arrival? How could she explain her knowledge of Jimmy the Bug’s office or the arsenal inside? She’d sound insane if she told him a genie explained it all to her.
She and Tony G. tried to come up with a pretense for her presence, for her insistence that Mike proceed no farther. Outside of the truth, which wasn’t an option, there was no believable explanation. Sighing, filled with misgivings, Hildy finally agreed that the only way to prevent Mike from walking into a death trap—if he did show up at the Sleep-E-Z Motor Lodge—was to use one of her two remaining wishes to save him.
And a lot could go wrong with a little magic.
Now, on her way to meet her destiny, or at least Mike’s bronze Ford Fusion, she had, of course, brought the genie along to grant the wish, but she insisted he ride in his bottle. The centurion made a fuss about that, but she said she could hear his directions to the Sleep-E-Z just fine if he shouted through the glass. She wasn’t driving around with Tony G., big as life in the passenger seat, any more than was necessary.
He argued she was being unfair. He promised to stop criticizing her driving skills. Nevertheless, Hildy remained silent and stubborn and refused to be swayed.
She didn’t want to tell him why. She had come to realize she was getting too used to having the big Roman in her life. He had put her into harm’s way, he had complicated her existence beyond anything she imagined was possible, but he had also brought her Mike. Because of Tony G., the future she longed for was within her reach. And she liked the ancient Roman, even if he was bossy, interfering, and too ready to point out her faults.
But thanks to unforeseen circumstances, she was probably about to make her second wish. If she made a third, the genie would be gone. Knowing that, she had asked him where he’d go.
He had gotten a strange look on his face and said he didn’t know. He might be stuck in the bottle for a while until someone else found him.
She asked him how long ‘‘a while’’ could be.
The proud centurion turned his head away and wouldn’t look at her. ‘‘Maybe a thousand years,’’ he said in a quiet voice. He added that that was what had happened before. He had nearly gone mad. He looked at her and said in truth he’d rather be dead, but evidently a genie was immortal and couldn’t die. It was the sorcerer’s punishment, and he supposed it was what he must endure.
Deeply troubled by this, Hildy asked the genie what he’d prefer to do instead of being cast back into oblivion in his bottle, adrift on the sea or lost in the desert sands.
Tony G. didn’t answer quickly but at last he said he wanted a job of work. He wanted a purpose. He did not desire to be human even if such a thing were possible. He would never willingly give up his magical powers, but he didn’t want to be bored. What he needed was an existence filled with excitement, with importance, with meaning—the qualities that from the beginning of time gave substance to life.
His confession surprised her. His pain reached her soul and tore at her heart. After all, she held his future in her own hands. To wish, or not to wish, would make all the difference.
The stars were out and the moon was high when Hildy pulled her little red car onto the shoulder of the narrow, unlit two-lane highway a short distance south of the Sleep-E-Z Motor Lodge. The genie told her to move it a little farther until it was partially hidden by some holly bushes. After that, she switched off the lights and parked.
She peered into the bottle. The genie, now only about two inches high, stood on the other side of the amber glass. She asked him if he could see where Mike was right now, at this very moment.
He crossed his arms and frowned. ‘‘I am not God!’’ he shouted. ‘‘I am not omniscient. I’m a genie. My vision is little better than yours.’’
‘‘Oh,’’ she said. ‘‘I thought you might know.’’
‘‘I don’t,’’ he yelled. ‘‘Can’t you let me out of here! It’s dark. We’re in the middle of nowhere. No one can see me.’’
‘‘Oh, all right,’’ she conceded and pulled the cork out of the bottle.
A murky gray smoke, tinged with sulfurous yellow like a noxious fog, spilled over the sides of the bottle. A second later a decidedly grumpy genie sat in the passenger seat of the small red car. ‘‘I get cramped in there, you know.’’
‘‘No, I didn’t know. I thought you had rugs and cushions and all the comforts you could want.’’
‘‘Not likely. I was imprisoned in there, remember. It’s more like a cell.’’
‘‘Oh, I’m so sorry.’’ Hildy felt terrible. Her lip trembled.
‘‘Oh no, not tears,’’ he muttered under his breath. Aloud he said, ‘‘Ms. Caldwell, don’t get upset. I might have been exaggerating about the austerity of my quarters. But never mind that. I wanted to be out because I think we probably have some time before Mike and his partner show up, if they’re going to show up. Let’s take a look around.’’
‘‘I thought the place was filled with security cameras and booby-trapped.’’ Hildy didn’t sound at all enthusiastic about traipsing around in strange woods in the dark.
‘‘It is, but the cameras are only around the perimeter of the motel, and I know where the explosives are buried. We’ll be safe. Come on.’’ One minute Tony G. sat solid as flesh and blood in the passenger seat. The next instant he simply appeared outside of the car. He tapped on Hildy’s window.
‘‘Hurry up,’’ he urged.
‘‘Oh, all right,’’ she said. ‘‘But I’ll get out by opening the door, thank you.’’
Warning her to stay close behind him, the genie led the way, slipping carefully in and out between the scrub pines. Fortunately the forest floor of the Pine Barrens is a huge basin of light golden sand, the remains of a long-vanished sea. It reflected enough moonlight to make it possible for Hildy to see where she was walking. But low branches snagged her clothing and the pine needles scratched her arms like mean children’s fingernails. An owl hooted. In the underbrush, an eerie rustling came from the movement of scampering things. A rabbit darted past.
Hildy’s heart beat fast. ‘‘Where are we going?’’ she whispered, holding on to the back of Tony’s toga.
‘‘To the rear parking lot,’’ the genie replied. ‘‘I think what Mike hopes to find is there.’’
A few minutes later, Tony G. was peering under tarps. ‘‘As Archimedes once said, ‘Eureka, I’ve found it.’ ’’
‘‘That’s terrific. Can we go now?’’ Hildy’s anxiety was reaching new heights.
‘‘Wait. Look over there. See those speed bumps on the driveway into this lot?’’
‘‘Yes, I see them. Why?’’
‘‘They’re filled with explosives. As soon as an intruder drives over one, ka-boom! All of Jimmy the Bug’s crew know enough to avoid them.’’
Hildy had a vivid image of Mike innocently pulling into the Sleep-E-Z and his car exploding into a thousand burning pieces. She shuddered. ‘‘Can we get out of here?’’ Her teeth chattered when she spoke despite the warm night air.
‘‘Wait, Jimmy the Bug set more booby traps. If somebody tries to walk back here, like we did, there are trip wires all over the place.’’
‘‘You mean I could have stepped on one?’’ Hildy thought she was going to hyperventilate.
‘‘I led you around them, but you do have to watch where you’re walking.’’
‘‘I really want to get out of here!’’ She tugged at the genie’s toga.
‘‘We should see if Jimmy the Bug is on the premises.’’
‘‘I see lights on. That’s good enough for me. Come on, I don’t want to take a chance on Mike and his partner slipping by us.’’
‘‘And I was beginning to have a good time,’’ Tony G. sighed.
‘‘I don’t care! I just want to keep Mike from driving back here and getting blown up!’’
Hurrying as much as they dared, Tony G. and Hildy returned to the car, barely in time to see a flatbed tractor trailer rumble past. It turned in at the Sleep-E-Z. The headlights of another car appeared on the highway a few moments later.
‘‘Duck!’’ the genie ordered and pushed Hildy’s head out of sight below the roof of the car.
The headlights passed them by and pulled into the motel’s driveway. Hildy and Tony peeked out from behind the VW.
‘‘We need to see what’s going on,’’ the genie said. ‘‘Are you ready to wish?’’
‘‘Yes, and I wish I didn’t have to,’’ she answered in a soft voice.
‘‘Well, remember what we rehearsed and be careful what you wish for.’’
Hildy nodded and they raced toward the motel in time to see that two men had emerged from a bronze Ford Fusion and were moving cautiously toward the single lighted room in the motel. Hildy knew one of them was Mike. She saw him remove a gun from his waistband and hold it at his side. The tall black man with him did the same.
The genie said, ‘‘You don’t have much time.’’
Just then the Ford exploded with a terrible bang. Gunfire went
crack, crack, crack.
The door to the motel room flew open—
‘‘Wish, Ms. Caldwell!’’
‘‘I wish that all bullets are blanks, all explosives are duds, all weapons are useless, and Michael is unharmed,’’ she said quickly.
Nothing else blew up, but the noise of gunfire continued. When no one fell to the ground or screamed, even when Michael and his partner were in point-blank range, the two thugs who had been driving the flatbed trailer came racing around the side of the motel. They rushed at Mike and Jake and began throwing punches. Soon all four of the men were rolling around on the ground. Hildy winced at the sound of the blows.
While the fight raged on, a third man, short and stocky, came through the open motel room door, looked around, and ran toward the woods. Hildy was too worried about what was happening to Mike to worry about the portly man’s escape. Then the fighting stopped. She saw Mike stand up.
‘‘Okay, let’s go!’’ the genie insisted, tugging on her arm. ‘‘We’ve done all we can.’’
He and Hildy turned and ran toward her car. When they reached it, Hildy threw herself into her seat and the genie showed up instantly in his. She felt excited and exhilarated. Mike was safe. Everything was going to be okay.
She threw the Volkswagen into gear and pulled onto the highway.
It was when she had driven a few hundred feet and was about to pass by the Sleep-E-Z Motor Lodge that things went from all right to all wrong.
Chapter 25
Mike stood in the road, flagging her down.
‘‘Oh my god!’’ she cried out. She snapped her head toward Tony G. ‘‘Get in your bottle. Get in there now!’’
Where the genie had been sitting was suddenly simply air.
She pulled off the road and Mike ran over to the car. She rolled down her window.
‘‘Hildy! I don’t believe it! What an incredible thing. Why are you here?’’ His face was dirty, his shirt was torn, but he appeared otherwise unharmed.
‘‘I—I was visiting a friend, another teacher from the high school. She lives in, in’’—Hildy thought frantically for the name of a town she had seen on a nearby road sign—‘‘in Vineland! But why are
you
here? It’s the middle of nowhere.’’
‘‘I’ll explain later. Come on, you can help me get Jake to your car. He’s hurt. My cell phone doesn’t have any service out here. We need to get Jake to a hospital and get hold of the cops.’’
‘‘Okay,’’ Hildy said. ‘‘Sure. But excuse me a minute!’’ She smiled brightly before suddenly ducking out of sight under the dashboard.
Mike was baffled about what she was doing. Maybe she was tying her shoes, he thought.
In fact Hildy knocked the bottle on the floor and deftly stashed it under the front seat. Then she jumped out of the car. ‘‘Let’s go!’’ she called. She joined Mike and they hurried up the long driveway together, past the empty swimming pool and toward the building.
‘‘Why didn’t you use the motel’s landline to call nine-one-one?’’ she huffed as she ran by Mike’s side.
‘‘Can’t,’’ he said. ‘‘Look.’’
‘‘Oh . . . oh my.’’ Hildy’s eyes went round as saucers. Flames leaped out of the motel’s windows and through the open door where the little man had run. She guessed that the explosion of the rental car had sent debris onto the motel roof and set the place on fire. ‘‘I didn’t think of this,’’ she moaned.