Page 68 of The Most Dangerous Games

“Why you more than the rest of us?” Tipton had asked.

“Because I am needing it to save my life,” Tommasi said.

But Tipton knew just listening to this man, who said he was willing to do whatever it took to win, that he wouldn’t be willing to kill if it came to that.

He is about to go outside and take a walk by himself before lunch when he feels his phone buzzing.

He looks at the screen and smiles like he’s been invited to a private club.

THE HOST.

Tipton answers without hesitation.

“Hello,” Tipton says.

The Host’s voice is soft, almost conversational.

“Mr. Tipton. How’s your nose?”

Tipton touches it, still sore, still swollen.

“I’ve had worse,” he says.

“I’m sure you have,” The Host replies. “I didn’t call about your nose.”

“No,” Tipton says. “You didn’t.”

A small pause.

Then The Host says, “I saw you on the trail in Chile.”

Tipton doesn’t react. Not visibly. Not even alone.

“I’m flattered you were watching me,” Tipton says.

“I watch everyone,” The Host replies. “But you are . . . useful.”

Tipton keeps his voice light. “What do you want?”

“I want truth,” The Host replies, and somehow makes the word a threat. “I want to see what you do when you’re not protected by rank, or reputation, or deniability.”

Then: “And I’m reminding you what happens when you disappoint the people in charge.”

Tipton’s stomach tightens.

The leash he never talks about.

The Host lets the silence work.

“Tomorrow, you climb,” The Host says. “And you’ll be in a pod with someone you’ve been watching.”

Tipton’s eyes flick back down to Alek’s cottage. To Drummond.

“Lucky me,” Tipton says.

“Don’t do anything foolish,” he says. “I need you here. For now.”

The call ends.