“Is everything all right, Will?” asked his syn-app.
He even sounds more like me. He must be recording and sampling my voice.
“Yes,” said Will. “I want you to look for photographs of ANZAC Special Forces helicopter units that served in Vietnam. Look for a chopper with the call letters Alpha Tango Delta three nine Zebra.”
“Are you looking for any person in particular?” asked “Will.”
“I’m trying to find out what happened to an old friend,” said Will. “His name was Dave Gunner.”
“I’m on it,” said the syn-app. “You have a video message from Nando.”
The syn-app opened a video of Nando in his taxi, speaking into the lens of his camera phone. “Wills. Had a badass nightmare about bugs last night, but aside from that I’m okay. Listen, we ran this down on that National Scholastic Whatever Program.” In his other hand, Nando held a BlackBerry. He read from it: “Corporate HQ in DC. Branch offices: LA, New York, Miami, Chi-Town, the ATL, and Denver. All in federal buildings, so it has some kind of relationship with government. But it’s a nonprofit, privately owned by something called the Greenwood Foundation. Catch you later. Peace.”
Will couldn’t move for a moment. “The Greenwood Foundation,” he repeated as it sank in.
“Yes, Will?” asked his syn-app.
“The Greenwood Foundation is the trust that runs the Center,” said Will.
“That’s correct,” said his syn-app.
Will picked up his tablet and hurried to Ajay’s room. Ajay was standing over something at his desk. Nick was on the phone.
“Brooke and Elise still haven’t checked in,” said Nick, hanging up. “Elise is on the equestrian team. She usually rides on Saturday afternoon.”
“In this weather?” asked Will.
“There’s an indoor ring near the stables,” said Nick.
“She probably isn’t wearing her pager,” said Ajay. “I had time for a closer look at your bird, Will.” The dismantled pieces were spread out on his desk. “Check out the eyes.” Ajay picked up the eyes, twin buttons connected by strands of gold wire to a silver box. He held the intricate apparatus underneath a framed magnifier.
“Two sophisticated lenses,” said Ajay, pointing with a stylus, “that, properly synchronized, deliver three-dimensional optics to here.” Ajay pointed to the silver box. “A central processor equipped with advanced facial recognition software and a high-powered wireless transmitter. The real mystery is there’s no power source. I can’t figure out what was driving it, and I’ve never seen robotics this advanced.”
“Aphotic technology,” said Will softly.
“What’s that?” asked Ajay.
“The name for this, and that gear we saw in Ronnie’s video; the Carver and the glowing metal sheet,” said Will. “You’d better sit down for a second, guys.”
Looking apprehensive, Ajay and Nick sat down. Will took a deep breath.
Make it as simple as possible, and don’t mention Dave or the Hierarchy.…
“The Black Caps and Knights work for a race of beings called the Other Team,” Will said. “The Other Team is originally from here, but they’ve been trapped in the Never-Was since before humans were on the planet. And they want back in. They created all the monsters we’ve seen as part of their plan to break out.”
Ajay and Nick looked at each other. “Uh, okay,” said Nick.
“Speaking of which,” said Will, “did you check out the bug from my computer?”
Ajay blinked, then picked up the Altoids tin from his desk and opened it, revealing a thin layer of black goo inside. “I’m afraid it’s decomposed,” Ajay said. “I’ve examined what’s left and can’t find anything that resembles biological DNA.”
“That’s because these creatures from the Never-Was have a different biology,” said Will. “The Other Team needs help from people here, using technology that they gave them to bring them over.”
“That’s where the Caps and Knights come in,” said Nick.
“Yes,” said Will. “And the truth is, while we’ve uncovered a lot, in some ways we’re only at the beginning of what we need to know.”
Ajay’s eyes were wide. “So this Other Team wants to break out of the Never-Was … in order to do what?”
“To, uh, take over the world,” said Will, mumbling slightly. “And in so doing, capture, enslave, and destroy all of humanity.”
Ajay and Nick looked at each other again. “How do you know this, Will?” asked Ajay cautiously.
“I have a source on the inside,” said Will. “That I can’t talk about.”
“Although your end-of-the-world scenario strains credulity,” said Ajay, swallowing hard, “our faith in you to date has not been misplaced. So I think I speak for both of us—”
“Dude,” said Nick firmly, holding out his fist. “Whatever it takes.”
Feeling greatly relieved, Will gave them both a fist bump.
Will’s syn-app announced, “You have a message from Brooke, Will.”
“There she is,” said Will. “Ajay, put her on the big screen.”
Ajay merged their tablets to his wall screen, and Will told his syn-app to play the message. Brooke appeared in the library, whispering to her tablet camera. “Will, I ran a global search through school histories, yearbooks, and newspapers for anything on the Knights of Charlemagne. I got several hits.”
Brooke read from the articles as she browsed through them on her screen.
“The earliest mention of the Knights is in the 1928 yearbook. It was a newly formed social club limited to twelve members per year, all seniors. Their motto was ‘Making Better Men for the Benefit of Man.’ It doesn’t seem that they were involved in anything more sinister than croquet tournaments and amateur productions of Gilbert and Sullivan. In 1937, the Knights appear in a photo with a distinguished visitor, Henry Wallace, then secretary of agriculture under President Franklin Roosevelt. Take a look.”
A black-and-white photo came up on-screen, showing that year’s twelve-man Knights of Charlemagne group and their guest of honor, Henry Wallace, around a long table in an ornately decorated dining room, raising glasses in a toast to the camera.
“Pause,” said Will, and the image froze. Will pointed at one of the students. “I could swear I’ve seen that kid before.”
“How is that possible?” asked Nick. “It’s from over seventy years ago.”
“I don’t know,” said Will. “Maybe I saw his picture somewhere. Where was this taken?”
“It looks like the formal dining room,” said Ajay. “Strange. A big shot like the secretary of agriculture visits the Center, and no school officials, not even the headmaster, get invited to this dinner?”
“Continue,” said Will.
Brooke’s message resumed. “This event seems to have been the Knights’ high-water mark. There are only a few more mentions of them; by 1941, they disappear completely. It seems that they were disbanded, some kind of disciplinary action, but I can’t find any explanation.”
“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 L
emuel 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.