Code

CHAPTER 43

I NEEDED THE Virals alone. ASAP.

But Jason was lounging at our table, shoveling hors d’oeuvres like a starving man.

With no time to plan, and slightly freaked, I kept it simple.

“Can you give us a sec, Jase?” My smile felt more like a grimace. “I need a quick Morris Island moment.”

“Okay. Sure.” Jason gave me an odd look, but didn’t press. “There are some folks I should say hi to anyway. I’ll swing back in a few.”

“Thanks so much.” As soon as Jason was out of earshot, I hissed, “The bomb is definitely here!”

“Seriously?” Hi’s knuckles whitened on his cane. “How can you be sure?”

I pointed to the sunburst above the entrance.

“Oh.” Shelton went rigid. “Damn.”

“It’s identical,” Hi said miserably.

Ben shook his head slowly. “I don’t believe it.”

“Believe it. The bomb is somewhere in this building.”

“How do we find it?” Shelton was nervously scanning the room. “We don’t have a clue to follow, or even a guess!”

I snapped my fingers at Hi. “Notes.”

He pulled the rumpled pages from his jacket pocket. “We keep beating these to death, but never get anywhere.”

We huddled close while Hi read my list aloud. Places we’d been. Facts we’d learned. Hurdles we’d cleared.

The Gamemaster’s final message claimed the answers were there, somewhere in that tangle of information.

But, as before, nothing added up.

“New plan.” Ben removed and draped his jacket over a chair. “We search the building, top to bottom. Everyone takes an area.”

“Yes. Good!” Doing anything was an improvement over nothing.

I was about to say more when Kit and Whitney joined us.

“Tory, darling,” Whitney cooed, “you must come and meet the ladies from the Women’s Committee. Your father has already charmed them.”

Kit blushed. “Doubtful. My reputation usually results in disappointment. I’m hardly the Indiana Jones people envision.”

“Pssh.” Whitney flapped a hand. “Modest.”

“I’d like to meet them, Whitney,” I began, “but the boys and I were just—”

“These women pulled strings for you, Tory.” Whitney’s tone became a little less honeyed. “We need to express our gratitude.”

I was about to refuse—what could possibly matter less—when Hi jumped in. “You go ahead, Tory. We can inspect the buffet tables alone.” Then he whispered under his breath. “We got this. Go. Sneak away when you can.”

Reluctantly, I followed Kit and Whitney to the adults’ parlor for rounds of hand-shaking and banal conversation. Precious time slipped by. Too distracted to focus, I responded to questions like a trained parrot.

My anxiety increased with each passing minute.

This was nuts. Everyone there was in mortal danger, yet only I knew it.

Was that fair? Should I be screaming warnings? Sounding the alarm? Rallying a massive search of the premises?

Break the rules and innocents will suffer.

The Gamemaster’s warning. I knew he wasn’t bluffing.

He’d already killed once. I had zero doubt he’d do it again. And his eye seemed to be everywhere.

The Gamemaster could be in this room, right now.

We had to beat The Game by honoring his rules. But how?

Soon I could stand it no longer. I had to help the other Virals.

When Kit and Whitney turned their backs, I scurried into the ballroom. Failing to spot the boys, I sped down the catwalk and out the main entrance.

I halted on the landing, frozen by indecision.

Sensing eyes on my back. I spun. Chance was a few steps behind me.

“Thinking of running?” he asked softly.

“What? No.” Why was Chance following me?

“I’d understand. It could be a wild night.”

Something in his half smile made me … uncomfortable.

Glancing back into the ballroom, I spotted Shelton back at our table. Our eyes met. He motioned to the right and slipped through a door.

“I have to go.”

I retraced my steps down the catwalk, drawing more snarky giggles from the Tripod’s table. Ignoring them, I ducked out after Shelton.

Please have good news.

Shelton dashed my hopes immediately.

“Zilch.” Anxiously cracking his knuckles. “Hi checked the rooms on this floor, and I covered the one above. Wasn’t hard, since none of the doors have locks.”

“Where’s Ben?”

“Right here.” Ben hurried down the hallway to join us. “I checked the lobby and first floor. Nothing out of the ordinary, no obvious clues.”

“The bomb could be in a duct somewhere,” I said. “Or lodged behind a ceiling tile.”

“Possibly.” Hi didn’t sound convinced.

“Spill,” I demanded.

“It’s just …” Having ditched the top hat, Hi’s hair formed a wild brown tangle above his brow. “The previous caches were all placed where they could be found. Clues pointed directly to their locations. So why would the final one be different? To me, it doesn’t fit the Gamemaster’s style to hide something where we couldn’t reasonably be expected to track it down.”

Hi was right. The Gamemaster had said so. We already held the key to locating The Danger. I thought furiously. What had we overlooked?

I was concentrating so hard, I didn’t hear Jason approach.

“Hey, crew!” He swung a lazy arm around my shoulder. “Ready to break it down with Charleston’s finest?”

Ben shoved Jason before I could react. “Get lost, jackass! Bigger things are happening than this stupid ball!”

Jason stepped nose to nose with Ben. “We had an agreement, Blue. Don’t make me embarrass you in front of your friends.”

“Stop it, both of you! I can’t have you acting like idiots. Not now!”

Things could not have gotten worse. But they did.

Whitney swooped in like a Predator drone.

“There you are!” Annoyance pinched her painted features. “Let me know next time you’re planning to slip away. We’re supposed to be in position already!”

I shook my head, failing to comprehend.

“It’s time, kiddo.” Kit was straightening his bow tie. “Let’s go turn some heads.”

“Now?” I was light-years from ready.

“Of course, now.” Whitney tapped her diamond wristwatch. “It’s showtime!”

“I … but …”

Microphone feedback screeched through the door. A woman’s voice welcomed all present to the “evening of a lifetime.”

It was really happening. I froze like a deer scenting coyotes.

“We’re not in position!” Whitney sounded horrified as she peeked through the door. “Everyone’s seated!”

“This hallway leads to the landing,” Kit said. “We don’t have to cut through.”

“Then move!” Using two hands, Whitney propelled me down the corridor and around a corner to the main landing.

The other debutantes were already lined up like a procession of swans, flanked by fathers and escorts. The mass flowed like a flouncy, jittery stream down the grand staircase.

A thick curtain had been stretched across the doorway, blocking the ballroom from view. I spotted Ashley up front, Madison and Courtney farther back in the line. No help there.

A frantic-looking woman spotted me, nearly threw out her back waving my party to the head of the queue. Inside, the speaker paused for a round of applause.

“Now, remember the routine.” Whitney was grooming me like a cat, wiping away smudges and spit-stamping stray hairs. “Walk straight down the catwalk at a leisurely pace, then turn and do your curtsy. Then your father will come to meet you, and pace you up and back.”

Like a show pony. Then her words breached my skull.

“Curtsy? Say again?”

Whitney’s eyebrows nearly shot off her head. “Surely they taught you the Saint James Bow in cotillion? We’re not talking the Texas Dip here!”

“Saint James what? Who?” I began to hyperventilate.

Whitney turned horror-filled eyes on Jason. Behind me, I heard Ashley snicker.

“We never covered it.” Jason looked stricken. “They assumed we all knew it already, which I thought everyone did.”

Whitney’s eyes squeezed shut.

Beyond the curtain, the crowd stirred as another woman took the mic. “Guys!” Hi had poked his head through the curtains. “Botox Lady is up. I think you’re on.”

Shelton danced on the balls of his feet. Ben looked at me helplessly.

I knew there was a bomb in the building. I knew the ball was meaningless in the face of that danger. But at that moment, I was more terrified of making a public fool of myself than anything the Gamemaster had contrived.

Whitney’s eyes snapped open.

She grabbed my shoulders. “Pay attention!” Then she scooted backward, took a deep breath, and adopted a wide pageant smile. “Like so.”

Dipping her chin demurely, Whitney bent her knees and swept one foot behind the other, fanning an imaginary skirt with one hand. Her head dropped gracefully and she held a beat, then rose, smile never shifting an inch all the way.

Quite a feat in her tourniquet dress. Marshals grinned in appreciation.

“Got it?” Whitney hissed, wringing her hands.

“Can you show me again?”

More applause from inside. Then the scrape of shifting chairs.

“No time.” Whitney nodded to Ben and Jason. “Which marshal escorts you off?”

“Do what now?” It was all getting to be too much.

Whitney physically repressed a scream. “One of them must take your hand from Kit, and then walk you the hell out of the room. Which. One?”

“I don’t … I haven’t …”

My blood pressure spiked. I wobbled. Spots peppered the edge of my vision.

Ben lurched forward to catch my elbow. “Jason will escort her.”

Unable to speak, I thanked him with my eyes.

“You’ll do great,” Ben whispered, patting my hand. “Just picture them all in their underwear.” I gave a decidedly unladylike snort.

Ben turned to Jason. “You know the drill. Get it done.”

Jason nodded and moved into position beside me.

I stole one glance at the Swan Lake parade behind me. Ashley flashed her vicious predatory smile, all but confirming why she’d skipped back and made me walk first. She was hoping I’d humiliate myself.

For some reason, that realization brought back my composure.

“Walk down, turn, curtsy, wait for Kit.” I straightened my shoulders as the curtain parted. “Up and back, then Jason comes and walks me out. Right?”

“Yes!” Whitney crushed me with a bear hug. “You’ll be great!”

A third female voice boomed from the loudspeakers.

I rolled my shoulders, bounced twice on my toes.

“Let’s do this.”

My hand shot out, found Whitney’s. Gave it a quick squeeze.

Then, body tingling, I started down the aisle.