Kathy Reichs - Code

A hollow feeling welled in my gut.

Nine. Eight. Seven …

“Guys,” I whispered, “I don’t think this is a joke.”

I held up the iPad.

Six. Five. Four …

Hi paled. Shelton swallowed. Ben clenched his fists.

The Gamemaster’s warning flashed in my mind.

Accept my challenge and complete The Game, or innocents will die .

“We have no choice,” I said quietly.

The boys nodded.

Three. Two …

Feeling helpless, I pressed the white button.

The display cycled through a series of colors before fading to white. Trumpets sounded. Then a snarling clown face filled the screen.

Black letters appeared in the now-familiar script: Clues to Follow!

I wanted to scream in frustration.

Whoever this Gamemaster was, he was toying with us. Shoving us around like his personal playthings.

The clown glared up at me. Sneering. Taunting.

We’d become pawns in a madman’s game.

PART TWO:

CLUES

CHAPTER 14

I LEANED AGAINST one of Bolton’s granite lions.

Across the courtyard, a crowd of students lounged on wooden benches lining the central walk. The morning was sunny, a balmy sixty-five. No one was in a hurry to trudge inside.

The boys were bunched beside me, tapping their phones, searching for coverage of last night’s explosion on The Battery.

I left the legwork to them. I just wanted answers.

“No one was hurt!” Relief was evident in Hi’s voice. “But the wedding gazebo went up like a Roman candle.”

“Lucky.” Shelton pushed his glasses back into place. “Usually that thing is crawling with people. It’s practically a landmark.”

“Someone could’ve been killed,” I said. “The Gamemaster clearly didn’t care.”

Ben frowned. “Do the police know what happened?”

“It was a bomb all right.” Hi scrolled his iPhone. “This story calls the blast an act of terrorism.”

Terrorism. Great. We’re entangled with a freaking fanatic .

“So what now?” Hi glanced at his watch. First bell would ring any minute.

“Cops?” Shelton suggested.

I shook my head. “Against the rules, remember?”

“We care about that?” Shelton snorted. “Hi just blew up Battery Park.”

“Accident!” Hi protested. “I didn’t know what would happen! You see a button, you push it. That’s practically a law of nature.”

Level stares.

Hi waved away our skepticism. “The Gamemaster would’ve set it off anyway.”

On that point, I agreed. “The bomb was a warning: Play the game or people die.”

“Okay, no police,” Ben said firmly. “And no talking to anyone else, either.”

“Maybe.” I’d been thinking about that. “Maybe not.”

“The rules were clear,” Ben argued.

“We can’t go to the cops, reveal the clue, or talk about the game.” Ticking fingers as I spoke. “But we don’t have to be led around by our noses.”

Shelton sighed. “Meaning what?”

“We turn the tables.” I thumped my bag, which contained both the Gamemaster’s iPad and what remained of the second cache.

Yesterday, watching the smoke rise, I’d made a decision. We needed a way to fight back. An edge our adversary didn’t expect. That meant evidence.

Swift as thought, I’d slipped back inside Castle Pinckney. The boys hadn’t been quick enough to stop me. A risky move, but worth it—I’d retrieved the scorched container and escaped unscathed. I’d even smiled through the berating they’d delivered back on the beach.

“The rules say we can’t talk about—” I made air quotes, “—‘The Game,’ but they don’t mention the Gamemaster himself. We’ll use his own materials to track him down.”

“How?” Ben’s face was unreadable. “All we’ve got are the puzzle box, the two-page letter, and a blown-up cache.”

“Don’t forget the iPad.” I pulled the tablet from my backpack. “Right now it only shows the clue that appeared last night, but we might eventually unlock more.”

At midnight the night before, a pictogram had suddenly filled the iPad’s screen. I’d spent an hour trying to make sense of it before giving up, snapping a pic, and forwarding it to the boys. Daylight wasn’t providing additional inspiration.

“The image is incomprehensible.” Hi examined the display with dubious eyes. “I stared at this all morning, and it’s still nonsense. We’ll never crack it in time.”

Hi wasn’t kidding. I couldn’t even fathom a guess.

The picture was deceptively simple—the number 18, encircled by a long string of characters: CH3OHHBRCH3BRH2O. Surrounding that arrangement was a solid black circle, which, in turn, was surrounded by a larger blue one. A capital K crowned it all.

Beneath the image was a digital stopwatch. Sixty-four hours, counting down.

Shelton shuddered. “I don’t like thinking about what happens at zero.”

“Me either.” I shoved the iPad back into my bag. “Which is why we have to find the Gamemaster first. We can work the clue and try to catch him at the same time.”

“Sounds fantastic,” Hi deadpanned, “but how do we do it?”

“Analyze everything. Every scrap of material we have. Hope the Gamemaster made a mistake.”

First bell pealed. Students began filing into the building.

“Shall we?” I headed for the doors, the boys at my heels.

Classmates pressed close as we funneled through the entrance. Without warning, I found myself shoulder to shoulder with Madison.

Startled, I nodded and smiled, as if greeting her was the most natural thing in the world.

Madison’s eyes widened. She rabbit-stepped backward, expensive jewelry rattling as she bumped the students behind her. Then she lowered her head and wormed through the mass of bodies with undignified haste. Casting one backward glance—red-faced, eyes nervous—her brunette curls disappeared into the river of identical Bolton Prep uniforms.

I suppressed a sigh. Maybe things were better this way.

“She’s still not over that beat down,” said a voice behind my ear.

This time, the sigh escaped. “Hi, Jason.”

I turned left down the hallway. Jason hustled to walk beside me, bumping into Ben, who had moved to occupy the same space.

The boys glared like stray dogs squaring off in an alley. Shelton and Hi kept moving past us, oblivious, or choosing to avoid the awkward scene.

“Watch where you’re going,” Ben snapped.

“I am,” Jason said dryly. “I’m going to chat with Tory.”

Ben snorted. “I’m sure that’ll make her day.”

Jason’s eyes flicked to me, momentarily uncertain.

“Enough, both of you.” What was it with these two? Oil and water . “Jason, I need something from my locker before class. Talk later?”

“Sure, Tor. I just thought you’d want to know first.”

That stopped me. “Know what?”

“That Chance will be back at school this week,” Jason said. “Probably tomorrow morning.”

“Oh.” Oh my . “Thanks.”

“No problem. See you later.”

Jason straightened his tie, then turned and reached as if to fix Ben’s. Ben flinched, then flushed scarlet, eyes growing hard.

Jason smirked as he headed off down the hall, ignoring Ben’s icy look.

My legs resumed walking, but my mind wandered. Chance. Back tomorrow. A plan was needed.

Ben stomped at my side, his face a thunderhead. I knew that flinch was gnawing at him. He’d lost that round. Meatheads .

Shelton and Hi were waiting outside class.