The Paladin Prophecy (45 page)

“What happened in 1941?” asked Nick.

Ajay paused Brooke’s message again. “America entered World War Two,” he said. “It also happens to be the year that former secretary of agriculture Henry Wallace became vice president of the United States.”

“The guy in the photo became the vice president?” said Nick, wide-eyed. “That’s big. I have no idea what it means, but that’s huge.”

“It’s not nothing,” said Will.

“Search for Henry Wallace and the Knights
together
,” said Ajay to his syn-app.

“That information is not available online,” said Ajay’s syn-app.

“Which means there
is
some,” said Will. “Where do we find it?”

“Probably the Rare Book Archive,” Ajay said. “You need a signed request from a teacher to get in.” He continued Brooke’s message.

“I also found this about the Crag,” said Brooke; then she read from a book: “ ‘The castle on the island was built by Ian Lemuel Cornish, a New England munitions manufacturer, who made his fortune during the Civil War … and it was later bought by Franklin Greenwood, the second headmaster of the Center, who used it as his personal residence.’ ”

“Franklin Greenwood,” said Ajay. “Son of Thomas, the founder.”

“And it’s currently owned by Stan Haxley, an alum who’s on the board of the Greenwood Foundation. That’s all for now. Later,” Brooke said, then winked at the camera. The message ended, the screen went blank, and their syn-apps reappeared.

“Get me what you can find on Lyle Ogilvy,” Will said to his syn-app.

In seconds, Will’s syn-app showed them a color yearbook photo of Lyle Ogilvy as a freshman. He was sallow, pimply, and unattractive but hardly the dark-visaged troll they knew. In his school blazer and tie he looked almost innocent. Vital statistics scrolled alongside the image.

“Ogilvy, Lyle,” said Ajay. “Born in Boston, October fourteenth, 1992. The only child of a senior oil company exec and a prominent dermatologist.”

“Which one of them went to the Center?” asked Will.

“Dad, class of seventy-four, then Princeton, class of seventy-eight,” said Ajay.

Lyle’s sophomore picture replaced the last one. He wore a fake smile and the same outfit but looked older and heavier, a year deeper into a perilous adolescence. The dark circles under his eyes had started to blossom.

“Something’s happened to him,” said Will, studying the photo closely. “He looks frightened. Let’s see his junior year photo.”

Another photo appeared over the previous one. Lyle’s transformation into the fearsome figure they knew appeared complete. His smile had warped into a sneer, and the fear in his eyes had been replaced by imperious contempt.

“Whatever happened to the bastard just hit critical mass,” said Ajay.

“My guess is he’s been recruited by the Knights by now,” said Will. “And he’s probably had a visit from the Bald Man.”

A blinking icon of a black telephone mushroomed on-screen, accompanied by an ominous bass note.

“You have an instant message,” said Will’s syn-app. “Someone wants to speak with you. Would you like to open a conversation screen?”

“Maybe it’s Brooke checking in,” said Will. “Yes.”

The phone icon expanded to a large frame. A signal connected; the image seemed to be from the point of view of an embedded tablet camera, but whatever it was pointed at was so dark no detail appeared. Then the image moved; they saw the surface of a gently shimmering fabric.

Will whispered to Ajay, “Record this.”

The fabric swept to the side and a face swooped down to the camera. They saw dark eyes glinting through narrow slits in an armored mask. It was the Paladin who’d chased them through the tunnels.

“Will West,” he said in a raspy growl, electronically filtered to disguise the voice. Will gestured for Nick and Ajay to move away from their camera.

“What do you want?” asked Will.

The Paladin tilted his head to the side, disdainful. “Your head. On a stick.”

Will swallowed. “You’re going to have to come and get it, then.”

“I don’t think so.”

“I know who you are,” said Will.

“You don’t even know who
you
are,” said the Paladin.

Will stared at the screen and listened hard. He heard faint sounds in the background of wherever this was—natural sounds that he subconsciously knew went together—and tried to identify them.

“At least I’m not hiding behind a mask,” said Will.

“No. You’re just hiding in your room.”

“I’m not hiding anywhere. You know where I am.”

“We are going to meet … and you’re going to come to
me
,” said the Paladin. “Right now. Alone.”

The Paladin stepped to the side. Behind him, deeper back in the middle of the dark room, was Brooke. She was sitting on a plain wooden chair, her ankles tied to its legs with rope, her wrists secured behind her through the slats. She had a blindfold over her eyes and a gag in her mouth. Thick headphones covered her ears. Her whole body was tensed, coiled. She was clearly terrified.

“Son of a
bitch
,” said Nick.

Nick stepped toward the screen. Will put both hands out to hold him back.

The Paladin’s face swooped back in front of his camera, obscuring Brooke. “You’ll come to me, or there’s going to be a lot of
this
.”

The Paladin raised a gloved hand; he was holding a black device the size of a cell phone with buttons on it. He stepped aside so that Will could see Brooke again. Then he touched one of the buttons.

Brooke’s entire body jerked taut and she cried out, muffled by the gag.

“Stop!” said Will. “Please, don’t—”

The Paladin lifted his finger off the button. Brooke gasped for breath.

Will closed his eyes. To keep anger from overwhelming his mind, he focused on the background sounds again. This time it clicked: lapping water, the creak of ropes and wood.

I know where you are
.

The Paladin’s face filled the frame again. “Come alone, West,” he said.

“Where?” asked Will. He felt sweat beading on his forehead.

“If you want to find me, look behind me.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” asked Will.

“You have fifteen minutes to figure it out,” said the figure. “If you’re one second late, if I see that you’ve brought anyone with you or that you’ve alerted authorities—and trust me, I’ll know—it’s going to get a whole lot worse for her.”

He pushed the button again; this time Brooke screamed through the gag. The Paladin reached toward the camera and cut off the feed.

“Oh my God, Will,” said Ajay. “They must have grabbed her as she was leaving the library.”

“I’ll kill him. I’ll freakin’ kill him!” shouted Nick at the screen.

#75: WHEN YOU NEED TO MAKE A QUICK DECISION, DON’T LET WHAT YOU CAN’T DO INTERFERE WITH WHAT YOU CAN.

“Calm down,” said Will firmly. “That’s not going to help her.” He set the stopwatch on his phone, counting down from fifteen minutes, and led the others into the great room.

“What can we do?” asked Ajay.

“It’s not what we
can
do,” said Will. “It’s what we’re
going
to do. Did you record that?”

“Yes,” said Ajay.

“What about Elise? Do you think Lyle got her, too?” asked Nick.

“No,” said Will. “He would have played that card. ‘If you want to find me, look behind me.’ What do you think that means?”

“I have no earthly idea,” said Ajay.

“Dudes, it’s the statue,” said Nick. “Of the Paladin in front of the Barn. I mean, obviously.”

“Another frighteningly reasonable conclusion,” said Ajay.

“Maybe now you’ll stop misunderestimating me,” said Nick.

“So the Barn is where Lyle
wants
me to go,” said Will. “But that’s not where he
is
. Let’s move. Nick, you in?”

“Does a duck have a waterproof butt?”

Will looked through the front door peephole at Eloni standing guard outside. “Which window is farthest from the front doors of the building?”

“Yours,” said Nick.

#94: YOU CAN FIND MOST OF THE WEAPONS OR EQUIPMENT YOU’LL EVER NEED AROUND THE HOUSE.

Ajay and Nick trailed Will out to the kitchen, where he grabbed a couple of items before heading for his room.

“Will, you’re not serious about doing as he says,” said Ajay.

“What other choice do we have, Ajay?” Will said. “Nick, get some rope.”

“I’m on it.”

“I strongly advise against this. The situation’s far too dangerous—”

“Would you please sack up, Ajay?” said Nick as he hurried to his room. “Or go clutch your pearls and faint someplace else.”

“But maybe Eloni could help—”

“Not now he can’t,” said Will, checking the stopwatch. “There’s no time.”

Fourteen minutes
.

“Will, be reasonable. Lyle’s already tried to kill you once today,” said Ajay. “We need the help of qualified professionals—”

#61: IF YOU WANT SOMETHING DONE THE RIGHT WAY, DO IT YOURSELF.

“If you want something done the right way, do it yourself,” said Will.

He threw open his bedroom window. It was only two o’clock, but it looked like twilight. The temperature had fallen drastically. Will looked down at the three-story drop. Snow continued to fall, piling up around the base of the building.

“We can’t help Brooke without you, Ajay,” said Will. “What’s it going to be?”

When he heard it phrased so bluntly, Ajay put some starch into his full five feet. “You have my unqualified support. Even if it kills or severely injures me.”

“Get your coat,” Will said, and then asked him to bring along a few other pieces of equipment.

Will put on his winter gear and pocketed Dave’s sunglasses. Nick ran in with two jump ropes, which he knotted together. Will and Nick secured one end of the rope to a leg of Will’s bed and dropped the other out the window. Ajay ran back in, pulling on his coat and carrying a small knapsack.

“Here, we can use these,” said Ajay, passing out his homemade walkie-talkies. He handed the blue electric brass knuckles to Nick. “These are for you. Push the button with your thumbs to activate the charge, which should be strong enough to take down a Cape buffalo.”

“Awesome.”

Nick slipped them into his pocket, took two steps back, then launched into a swan dive out the window. He tucked in midair and somersaulted twice. Will and Ajay rushed to the window and saw Nick land in the snowpack, roll, and hop to his feet.

“Why did he even bother getting rope?” asked Ajay.

“For us,” said Will. “After you.”

Will anchored their end. Ajay grabbed the rope and lowered himself down. When Ajay reached the end of the rope, Nick signaled him to let go. He splashed into a snowdrift. Will rappelled halfway down, untied the second rope from the first, pushed away from the building, and jumped toward Nick and Ajay. They sprawled into another deep drift, scrambled up, and brushed the snow off each other.

“Set your watches,” said Will. “We need to be in perfect sync.”

“Two-oh-eight,” said Nick. “Central Standard Chuck Norris Time.”

“Check,” said Ajay.

“We have twelve minutes,” said Will. “Here’s how this is going to go.”

He explained their assignments. Thirty seconds later, they took off running in three different directions.

THE PALADINS

Will had never run in snow before, and this was deep; in some nooks and hollows it piled up to his knees. Heavier and wetter than it had been earlier, it was the consistency of slick pebbled Styrofoam. His rubber-soled boots squeaked and struggled for stability with every step, costing him 30 percent of his speed. As he calculated time and distance, he realized that how he was running wasn’t going to get him where he needed to be in time.

He had to run faster. In the last week, he’d twice reached into his reserves past where he’d thought possible; now he did it again. He ignored the uncertain footing. Stopped caring about his bulky coat and lousy visibility and the cold air searing his lungs. Will accelerated, and like a hydrofoil reaching cruising speed, he lifted above the snow, running on top.

He sped past the quad, across the fields where no tracks preceded him, toward the snow-covered woods. As the eye of the blizzard passed over the Center, the wind stilled, the temperature plummeted, and a cold mist rose from the cooling ground. The snow fell straight down, a blank white curtain dancing all around him. He scanned the tree line ahead, then shot the gap onto the path he was looking for.

The path through the snow-covered trees that Will had seen in his first dream about the Center.

No footprints led to the Barn. The broad plain in front of the building was a pristine field of white. The Barn wasn’t visible through the snow and thickening fog until he was less than fifty yards away.

He checked his watch. Three minutes to spare, but he needed to give the others time to get in place. He slowed to a steady trudge. The statue near the front doors materialized through the mist, its head and limbs clumped with snow like icing on a cake. He pulled the hood of the new blue parka tight around his face until only his eyes showed.

Will had guessed there would be a hidden camera so they could verify he’d come by himself. He thought there would be a speaker as well so the Paladin could drop another clue that would lead him inside. Where’d they’d be waiting to spring their trap.

He walked up to the big bronze statue. The cold eyes stared past him. Between them he noticed a small button-sized lens just inside the mask. He waved at it. Then he waved at it again.

“You’re alone,” said the same warped and filtered voice from the instant message. With a speaker hidden inside the mask as well, it was almost like the statue was speaking.

Nice touch
.

He nodded.

“And you’re on time,” said the Paladin.

He pointed to his watch and gave a thumbs-up. “What now?” he asked.

“Like I said, if you want to find me … look behind me.”

Behind the statue, the front doors to the Barn swung open. Keeping his head down, he headed for the doors. He reached into the pocket of the blue parka and flicked the button on his walkie-talkie.