Chapter 35

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Professor Hattamari lay on the rough floor of the vaulted room in Bannerman Castle, every muscle in his body tensed and ready to spring. Mr. Yemeshigi stood beside him, peering into a dark corner.

"I'm telling you," Hattamari whispered desperately in gabbled Japanese, "there was a small noise! Over there, in the corner!"

"Sssh!" Yemeshigi spat. "Don't move. Stay very still." Yemeshigi strained his eyes into the impenetrable darkness at the far side of the room. He saw nothing, but he sensed that there was something there.

"It was a rat," Yemeshigi said finally. "Or a loose floorboard."

"It's a ghost," Hattamari moaned, covering his eyes with his wringing hands.

Yemeshigi stooped over and picked up a piece of charred wood which lay near his feet. He swung his arm in a graceful arc, and threw the wood into the corner.

Nothing happened.

"Get up," Yemeshigi commanded the Professor. "There's nothing here."

Professor Hattamari rolled over onto his stomach and began writhing against the floor."We are going to die here. We are going to die, and it will be all your fault."

"Shut up," Yemeshigi grunted, kicking his companion with his soggy shoe. "We've got to--"

A low, unearthly moan emanated from the corner.

Yemeshigi and Hattamari froze, their perennial squabbling silenced by common surprise and terror.

A voice came to them out of the darkness, a loud, low powerful voice, whose volume seemed to shake the sleeping castle.

"HOW DARE YOU DISTURB ME?"

Professor Hattamari sighed weakly as his bladder let go.

"HOW DARE YOU TRESPASS IN THIS CASTLE? THIS IS CURSED GROUND! CURSED!"

Yemeshigi's brow furrowed. It wasn't a ghost. It couldn't be. This was ridiculous. This was some sort of prankster, also on the island, who wanted to--

"GET OUT OF HERE," the voice boomed. "GET OUT NOW OR DIE!"

The board which Yemeshigi had tossed into the corner was now hurled back at him, narrowly missing his head. It clattered to the floor as Professor Hattamari sprang to his feet.

"We must get out of here!" Hattamari panted, as he pulled on Yemeshigi's arm. "The ghost intends to kill us!"

The Professor jerked Yemeshigi halfway across the chamber, to a huge wooden door that Yemeshigi hadn't seen before. Frantically, Hattamari pulled on the iron ring attached to it.

"GET OUT! GET OUT!"

Professor Hattamari yelped and pulled on the door handle with all his might. With a groan of protest, the wood splintered, and the iron ring pulled out of the door. Hattamari wassent sprawling backwards to the floor. A sudden crack signaled that the rotting floorboards were about to give way.

"Get up, you idiot," Yemeshigi shouted. "You're going to fall through the floor!"

A young woman with auburn hair stepped out of the shadows. "Oh, my God, be careful!"

Hattamari glanced at her, whined uncomprehendingly, and scampered to his feet. He tookone step towards Yemeshigi, and the floor beneath him crumpled and fell away with a rolling crash. Before he knew what was happening, Yemeshigi was falling down, down, into a pitch-black, mildewy darkness.

*****

"Did you find him?" Shilah asked, as Vesper slid open the door to the loft. Clad in sweatpants, a bulky bomber jacket, and a New York Yankees baseball cap, her mistress was barely recognizable.

"No, I didn't find him." Vesper responded quietly, peeling off her coat.

"Oh, Ms. Shillington," Shilah said nervously, fiddling with her apron string, "perhaps it's better this way. Mr. Chad was a loony tune from the balmy tree. Yessir, he was."

Vesper regarded her dully through fatigued eyes. "Go get me a drink, Shilah. A very big drink."

Shilah scuttled off toward the kitchen as Vesper walked into the living room and collapsed on a creamy divan.

Chad was gone. Not off laying in a nearby doorway, not mixed up with a gaggle of homeless Soho folk, but really gone.

Chad had left in the night, with no explanation, no demands, no threats. He had simply vanished into the city.

Not long after his departure, Vesper had discovered a two week's supply of Malazone, the sedative she had skillfully addicted him to, tucked away in a drawer amidst her panties.Chad had been fooling her. He hadn't taken his pills. And now, he was off somewhere, away from her watchful eye. She had no way of knowing how much he remembered, no way of knowing if he truly did know all of her secrets.

I should have killed him when I had the chance, Vesper thought wearily.

If he did know the full truth, and if he could get over his tinnitus and his terrible mood swings, he could ruin her. Undoubtedly. The Sooner Than Never hunt would be over, and Chad Bismarck would be a billionaire.

The very thought made her nauseous.

She rubbed her eyes fitfully. She had spent the last four nights combing the city, looking for the slightest trace of him. But she had found nothing.

What day is it? she thought stupidly. It was almost October. There was slightly more than ninety days left in the Sooner Than Never treasure hunt.

She ruminated on her precarious position. Ninety days. Could Chad piece together hisstory in ninety days? Would Will Gilbert and Laura Dial solve the novel's riddle in ninety days? Or would some other idiot?

Takamoto and Vesper now controlled 47% of stock in Waterbury Publishing. A mere 4% more, and Waterbury would be hers. But she only had ninety days.

It was truly a race against the clock now.

It was time to start making alternate plans, just in case.

Shilah appeared next to the divan, proffering an absurdly large crystal tumbler of Jose Cuervo on a silver tray. Vesper started at the sight of her.

"Ooo, Ms. Shillington. Relax!" Shilah smiled, tentatively. "Your nerves are shot!"

Vesper grabbed the drink and gulped it noisily. "Shilah," she commanded into her glass, "I want you to pack me two of the largest suitcases. Put my plainest clothes in one, and get some of the old clothes from the laundry room closet for the other."

"Are you going on another trip, Ms. Shillington?" Shilah asked sweetly.

"I don't know. Not yet. I may have to go away soon, for a very long time, and I want to be ready."

Shilah's lower lip trembled. "Is this because Mr. Chad left?"

Vesper's eyes narrowed. "Partially."

Shilah held the tray to her chest like a shield. "Oh, Ms. Shillington, it's all my fault! It's all my fault that he got away!" A tear skidded down her cheek.

"Yes, it is, you simpering idiot," Vesper sneered at her. "Now go pack my things like I told you to."

"Yes, ma'am."

As Shilah skipped away, a little qualm of conscience rolled over Vesper. If the emergency got too hot, and she did have to make a break for it, Shilah would have to die as well.

"And be sure to pack my passports, " Vesper called after her maid, "all of them."

*****

"Stare into the flame, Mr. Bismarck," Leia Freitag intoned in her rich, melodious voice. She held the candle a foot away from Chad's face, and he blinked at it dumbly. "Relax. Relax from the tips of your toes to the top of your head. "

Nina Kellogg shifted uncomfortably in her chair. Leia spun around to scowl at her, forcefully pressing a finger to her lips.

"That's it, Mr. Bismarck. Breathe and relax. Breathe and relax. You should feel as if your body is spreading out around you, that you are becoming one with the sofa. Relax."

Nina rolled her eyes and glanced at her watch. It was nearly 2 am. She would have to take another sick day tomorrow.

"Yes, Mr. Bismarck. You are totally relaxed. Feel your body. Feel your breathing. Relax." Leia set the candle down on a nearby table, and situated herself on a chair beside the sofa.

Nina regarded her suspiciously. Half Bette Midler, half Ethel Merman, this red-haired Jewish woman was, she suspected, not a terribly good hypnotist. But it she was the only one Nina found in the Yellow Pages who would take an appointment at 1 am.

Nina's days with Chad had been abysmal. He alternated between banging his head against the wall while screaming with impenetrable, moody silences. He refused to wear clothing most of the time, and he drooled quite a bit to boot. Nina had not slept for more than a few minutes at a time for days, fearing that Chad would take to his heels or burn down her apartment if she dozed off completely. She had not been able to extract a single shred of information from him about Vesper and the Sooner Than Never Hunt. Leia Freitag, Jew hypnotist, was her last resort.

"Is he. . .uh. . .in a trance?" Nina whispered.

"Of course he is," Leia barked with sudden vehemence and volume. "Do you think I don't know how to do my job? I know how to do my job, sister. Of course he's in a trance! Jesus!"

Nina settled back in her chair.

"Chad," Leia cooed, in her hypnotic tones, "you've been having memory problems. Is that right?"

Chad croaked. "Yes."

"OK. OK. Well, we're going to piece together what you've been trying to remember. All right?"

"All right."

Leia shot a brief, triumphant look at Nina.

Chad stirred feebly. ". . . .did things that Marcy didn't do. . ."

Leia leaned in. "Who's Marcy, Chad?"

"My wife. . ."

Leia spun around and glared at Nina. "I thought you said your name was Nina?!"

Nina's face reddened. She hated lying. "It is. It is. . .Marcy. I told you it was Nina because I--"

"Whatever," Leia said dryly, turning away. "Who did things that Marcy didn't want to do?"

"Vesper. . . "

"Vesper? OK. Relax. Relax. Tell me about Vesper."

Chad wriggled on the sofa. His tongue bumped across his chapped lips.

"Vesper. . .gave me pills. . .made me take the blue pills. . ."

Leia's eyes widened in surprise. She gave Nina a sudden, deadpan look. "Was he in a cult or something? Are you playing games with me?"

Nina considered her words carefully. "He. . .he had a drug problem."

Leia scowled, and glanced down at Chad. "Why did Vesper make you take the blue pills?"

"Vesper. . . is not who she pretends to be. . ."

Nina leaned forward.

Leia's eyes shifted about the room. "Who is Vesper? And why is she not who she pretends to be?"

"Vesper killed Lily. Lily Waterbury. Vesper. . .Philip. . .Simon. . .killed Lily Waterbury."

"Jesus Christ, what the hell is he talking about?" Leia asked Nina under her breath.

Chad licked his lips. "Simon's book. . .Simon's book is all about Lily. Simon wants to expose the murder. . ."

"Wait a minute. Wait a minute," Leia huffed. "Who killed who?"

Chad sighed. "Lily was killed. . .had an affair with Philip, and Simon was angry. He sent her away. . . then Lily read his book. . .and Philip's sister. . ."

"OH MY GOD!" the hypnotist shouted, jumping to her feet. She spun to face Nina. "He's talking about Sooner Than Never! Simon Waterbury! That's what he's talking about!" She burst into sudden tears and began smiling all at the same time. "Relax, relax," she screamed shrilly at Chad's inert form. "Where is the money hidden?"

"Uuuh. . ."

"WHERE IS THE MONEY HIDDEN?"

"Vesper. . .Philip's sister. . .Philip. . ."

Leia's hand flashed and delivered a stinging slap to Chad's pallid cheek. He showed no visible reaction. "Tell me where the money is, you bald bastard!"

Chad cringed. "The clues are in the book. . .don't know where the money is . . .but it's all about Lily. He wants to expose Lily's murderers. . .and the poisoned food. . . "

"Holy shit," Leia breathed, "Who got poisoned?"

Suddenly, Chad's eyes lost their dazed expression. "Oh," he stammered, "Oh, the noises. And the voices. They're coming back!" He clenched his head in his hands and squeezed his eyes shut tightly.

Nina put her hand on Leia's arm. "Is he out of the trance?"

"Who cares?" Leia beamed, shaking off her hand. "I'm going to be rich!"

Nina's dull eyes went steely. "You signed a confidentiality agreement, Ms. Freitag."

"Confidentiality, my big white ass! You and I are now partners, Marcy Bismarck!"

******

The four fearsome-looking men sat hunched in a corner booth at a dingy cafe on the outskirts of Philadelphia.

"So what the hell do we do now?" the Bull-Neck man asked in annoyance. "Pull them out of the back of the van, dust them off, and say, 'We're very sorry. We didn't mean to hit you over the head with shovels. We didn't mean to gag you and hog-tie you and throw--"

The Square-Jawed man slammed his mug of coffee onto the table. "How the hell was I supposed to know they were Feds? It was dark in that cemetery. Besides, the only other time I had ever seen that one guy, he was with that Laura Dial chick. I thought he was, you know, working with her. A friend or something."

"Isn't he the one she screwed around with last fall?" Fair-Haired asked. He was having a hard time keeping everything straight.

The Square-Jawed Man leaned in to the table. "I say we call Waterbury and tell him what's happened."

The other three stared at him, aghast.

"What's wrong with all of you?" Square-Jaw asked. "He'd cover our asses. He could pull a few strings."

Bull-Neck grimaced. "You don't get it, do you? You've been working for him for over a year, and you still don't get it. We mean nothing to him. Yeah, he pays us well, and he expects us to do our jobs, but he'd let us get locked up so fast it'd make your head spin. The guy's a frickin' lunatic."

"We were just doing our job, " Square-Jaw sulked.

"Our job," Bull-Neck fumed, "does not entail assaulting Federal agents. Our job, as Mr. Waterbury has put it so many times, is to 'preserve the god-damn theatricality' of the contest.' In other words, don't let anybody win too fast."

"Make sure that the whole thing turns into a real nail-biting race against the clock," murmured the Fair-Haired man, vaguely.

"So what are we going to do? Kill 'em? Or dump 'em in a hotel room in Atlantic City?" Square-Jaw questioned.

"Dump 'em."

"Dump 'em."

"Dump 'em. They won't remember a thing about this. The drugs'll wear off in a few hours."

"That settles it, then." Square-Jaw stated flatly. "Jesus, I'm getting too old for all of this crap."

The Man in Armani, who had been silent for some time, straightened his suit and spoke. "Do you know," he questioned airily, "that no where in our contracts does it state that we may not participate in the Sooner Than Never treasure hunt?"

They stared at him dumbly. Bull-Neck gurgled. "What. . .what are you saying?"

"I'm saying," Armani sighed, alarmed at their lack of vision, "that the prize could be ours. We know more about this goddamned thing than anyone else in the country. We know a lot, but not quite enough. We could nail Vesper Shillington, but we couldn't locate the cash. "

"Will Gilbert and Laura Dial will," Fair-Hair asserted. "I betcha they're gonna win. They're smart, those two."

Armani smiled. "They are smart. And they might win. "

No one spoke.

Armani shook his head in frustration. "What I'm saying, you idiots, is that it is our job to follow them, or whoever else happens to be in the lead."

"So?"

"So," Armani's eyes narrowed to slits, " We continue working for Mr. Waterbury until the last possible moment. We follow Gilbert and Dial, or whoever else happens to be in the lead, and we assure that we get to the prize money before they do."

"Snatch it away at the very last second," Fair-Hair rephrased for his own comprehension.

"Exactly."

"I say let's do it."

"Me too."

"Me too. It'll serve that old bastard right."

They sat in silence for a moment, each thinking of what they would do with a billion dollars, split four ways.

"Where are Gilbert and Dial now?" Square-Jaw asked suddenly.

"They were heading to New York, to go looking for the Hudson River clue. They must be there by now," Bull-Neck mused.

The Man in Armani glanced at his Palm Pilot, which was beeping like a mini heart monitor. "Their car is parked at a Kwik-E-Mart on Old Dutch Road in Newburgh, New York."

His three companions stared at him wordlessly. He smiled. "I had a locating device installed in their new car before they left San Francisco."

*****

"My God, Will," Laura breathed. "I think we killed them."

Will and Laura stood at the edge of the gaping hole in the floor of the vaulted room, peering down into the darkness below them. Their Wal-Mart flashlights barely penetrated the gloom of the pit. They could see and hear nothing.

"I didn't mean to kill them," Will murmured. "Really I didn't. I just wanted to scare them out of here."

Laura's brow furrowed. "No one but you, Will, would assume that imitating a ghost in a supposedly haunted castle would be the least bit effective. That one guy looked like he was going to have a heart attack." She squinted into the hole in the floor. "Hello?" she called. "Hello?"

No one answered.

"Will, we've got to get some help. Let's go outside and see if we can signal to someone on shore. There's got to still be a lot of reporters out there. Maybe we can find whoever is supposed to be guarding this place."

"You realize," Will said flatly, "that this will mean another arrest. We're trespassing in a condemned historic building on an island which belongs to the state of New York."

Laura's eyes widened. "I can't believe you! Those two men are probably seriously injured, if they're not dead. We've got to help them! We've got to--"

"Laura, those are the two guys that I saw inside the Winchester Mystery House. Sebastian and I hid from them in a wardrobe."

Laura blinked. "Will, " she said slowly, "we can't just let them die because they're competition. We've got to help--"

A moan rose up out of the pit. Laura shouted into it.

"Hello? Hello? Are you all right?"

They heard some vague mutterings in Japanese. The two men seemed to be arguing, tiredly.

"Can you move? Do you have any broken bones?" Laura asked anxiously.

A voice came up out of the darkness. "We are all right. We fell on some sort of air mattress. We just had the wind knocked out of us."

"Air mattress?" Will hissed in Laura's ear. "Why would there be an air mattress down there? I bet they're near the next clue!"

"Please," pleaded the other voice, thick with accent, "please help us get out this place. Mr. Takamoto will repay you handsomely." This statement was followed by a dull thud and a grunt.

'Takamoto?!" Laura's eyes narrowed. "Do you work for the Takamoto Company?"

Silence.

She turned to Will. "Will, the clue in Chicago. . .it was in the Takamoto building wasn't it? Or am I going crazy?"

Will called down the hole, threateningly. "Listen to me, boys. Did you ever read The Cask of Amontillado?"

Silence.

"Well," Will continued breezily, "it's about this awful man who buries another man alive in his wine cellar. He bricks him up in the wall and leaves him there to die."

Silence.

"Will!" Laura gasped. She knew where this was going.

Will signaled to Laura to stay quiet. "Either you tell us what your company has to do with all of this, or we'll cover up this hole and leave you here. There's plenty of debris around. No one would find you for days. Or weeks. Don't think we won't do it."

There was a sound of shuffling feet at the bottom of the pit, and some furtive, whispered snatches of Japanese.

"It's your choice," Will boomed, in a voice reminiscent of the one which he had earlier given to his ghost impression.

Down in the pit, there was a sudden click, and some sort of engine clicked on. The ground shook as the sound of music filled the air.

It was loud. It was thunderous. But it wasn't the Carpenters.

It was Julie Andrews as Mary Poppins.

"Chim-Chim-in-nee,
Chim-Chim-in-nee,
Chim-Chim Cher-ree,
When you're with a sweep, you're in glad company. . ."

The bottom of the pit flooded with light. Will and Laura saw the two Japanese men, standing beside a thick air mattress, about fifteen feet below them.

A curious snapping and rattling noise could dimly be perceived beneath the sound of the Disney ballad. Then, voluminous cascades of a flaky white substance began to flow from fist-sized holes in the walls of the pit, littering the floor and sending a glorious scent to their noses.

It was popcorn. Enormous amounts of popcorn.

The wooden door to the chamber burst open. A paunchy security guard stood in the doorway with his gun raised.

"Freeze!" he shouted over the din. "You're all under arrest!"

Will and Laura glanced at each other, shrugged, and good-naturedly raised their hands into the air.

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