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I ask, “So what is the story here? If you’re just holding me for fun, to keep me as a plaything, you’re taking it all pretty seriously.”
“Hmm.” Mastermind says, “That is definitely the most tempting idea I heard all day.”
He and the Emperor laugh in a way that sends chills through me.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
“So,” shouting over the noise of the engine, I call up from the shaking metal floor, “How did they find us?”
Warrior says, “That’s what I want to know.”
I ask, “How many people can it be? How many people could know where we were?”
The Mastermind says, “Not many, A handful at most.”
“So,” I tell them. “Shouldn’t be too hard. Give each one a piece of privileged information, in strict confidence. Each piece is different, none of them are true.”
Mastermind chuckles.“Then we wait and see which lie comes back.” His is the most unsettling laugh of all three of them. “The canary trap.”
When we get to our destination, a silver half-moon gleams high up in a deep blue velvet sky, breaking through silhouetted spikes of tall pines. The house is a low ranch with pitched shingle roofs and heavy posted porches.
Inside, it’s cozy in the extreme. Much higher in the mountains, judging from the dry chill in the air. I would guess we’re not far below the snow line.
Two of the three bedrooms are hardly big enough for an adolescent. The other has the smallest imaginable double bed.
The men agree to take turns in the two smaller bedrooms.
The Emperor says, “More than ever, we’ll need at least one pair of eyes open, twenty four seven.”
I ask him, “In case we’re blown again?”
He gives me a sly look. “That, yes.” He looks me up and down, like he’s inspecting a piece of suspect contraband. “Along with our other worries.”
The walls are bare wood, adorned with pictures — mostly drawings — of bison, elk, buffalo, stags, and old time sailing ships.
Furnishings here are sturdy and rustic, mostly covered with heavy tartan throws or native-style rug weaves. It’s too small a place for all four of us. Too close and cozy for so much testosterone, muscular ego and fiery temper. I would include myself in most of that, too.
The Warrior and the Mastermind leave and take the Land Rover.
Settled on the couch with a cold beer, the Emperor watches me closely. He offers me a drink, but I pass.
He says, “Bourbon? Glass of wine?”
“Thanks. No. What is this place?” I seat myself in one of the cushioned chairs.
“Its a hunting lodge.”
“Is there food here, or do we have to go out and shoot some?”
“There’s food. The fridge is well stocked, and there are freezers out in the shed.” He watches me as he tips back a pull on his beer. “You hungry?”
“Not especially.” His head turns as I say, “How long are you expecting we’ll be here?”
He shrugs.
“The house we just left,” I ask him, “was that my house? Did I live there? Or was it yours?”
“No. Neither.” He’s taking his time. Like he’s feeling me out. Being careful what he says and trying to get a measure of me. “An architect built it for himself as a retreat. It’s been unoccupied a few years, though.”
