“Your brother lost all of his lives and is out of the game,” says the Game Master. “I had nothing to do with your brother losing his lives. So is that it? Are you all not playing anymore?”
Bernard chimes in. “I’m still going to play and I know this clue. I know the answer. I still want to play.”
“Bernard, you slime,” I say. “This guy killed our brother. I’m recording this conversation so I can send it to the police.”
“Nobody else has to play if they don’t want to play,” he says. “But I know this one.”
“I know it too,” says Gabriella. “If you’re playing, I’m playing.”
“None of us should play,” I say. “It doesn’t matter if you figure out the clue or not.”
“The last person to find the box will lose a life,” says the figure in the hockey mask. “Good luck to you all!”
The screen returns to static.
“Of course Bernard wants to keep playing,” says Alistair. “He has a damn helicopter.”
“We should make sure the cops know about his helicopter so they can question the pilot,” I say.
“I put it in his statement,” says Angelo Marino. “It’s all in the statement.”
“So now what?” asks Alistair.
“I don’t know,” I say. “Hold on, I’m calling Bernard.”
The phone rings but he doesn’t pick up. Exasperated, I dial Gabriella’s number.
“So are we still playing?” she asks me. “What if we all work together?”
“We have to stop,” I say. “I have a huge meeting this afternoon.”
“I think I know the answer, though,” she says. “All these questions are about Mom, right?”
“It seems that way so far,” I agree.
“Listen,” she says. “You get a train pass, but I have to walk everywhere. If this box is where I think it is, it’s going to take me forever to get there. I have to leave now. But I could tell you the answer if you want.”
“We have to stop,” I say. She hangs up on me.
I am a little bit annoyed that both Bernard and Gabriella seem to know the answer already while I don’t have the foggiest idea. I send Angelo Marino the recording of the game phone call.
“Send that to the cops,” I say. “Maybe they’ll believe us when they see it for real.”
Our game phones now show the clue and nothing else: “All the sea farmers know it was her favorite place to stand.” We can safely assume that “she” refers to our mother. I am also getting the sense that all of these clues will refer to places inside NYC. But this black box could be anywhere. I don’t have time for this.
19
“Do you know the answer to this one?” I ask Alistair point-blank. He shakes his head.
“Well, I have a ton of shit to do today,” I tell him. “I have a big meeting and I have to plan Henley’s funeral and deal with the press and I am still exhausted from yesterday. Let me know if you figure it out and we can go together.”
“I’m worried about you,” says Alistair. “You seem like you aren’t taking this very well. Not that you should be.”
That’s when I start sobbing. It is never tragedy that breaks me up. It is sympathy. I can’t handle it. I can’t handle a nice person sticking up for me.
I put my head down on my desk and gush fucking tears. All of my memories with Henley come rushing back. I wish I could call him and tell him what an asshole he is. I make a vow that I will use all the resources of the Nylo Corporation to get revenge for his death, no matter what.
Alistair knows me too well to try and comfort me. He lets me cry. He is still there when I am done. I feel a little nauseous. I’m bleary and dehydrated. Hungover. Crying is making it worse. I crack open a bottled water and drink almost the whole thing in one draft. The cold water hits my sour stomach and churns it, causing gouts of pain from all the stress acid, but I manage to keep my bile down.
“I can’t believe Gabriella and Bernard are going to keep playing,” Alistair says.
“We should hire security for them, for all of us. What was that private firm we contracted after 9/11?”
“Ellsworth Marshall,” says Alistair. “Are you sure that’s a good idea? Private security is such a pain in the ass.”
“We don’t really have a choice. We would be utterly negligent if we didn’t at least try to protect ourselves.”
“I’ll handle it,” says Angelo Marino. “I’ll get full security details from Ellsworth Marshall for all four of you by this afternoon.”
“I’ve got to prepare for this meeting,” I say. “I’m not going to be swerved from buying Playqueen by some punk in a mask. The execs will be here soon.”
“You don’t think Playqueen has anything to do with all of this?” asks Alistair thoughtfully. “That’s crazy, right?”
I frown, thinking about it. Would a little company like Playqueen resort to murdering all of us to avoid getting acquired? It seems outlandish, but Playqueen actually has a motive, unlike anybody else I can think of.
“Maybe,” I say, after a long pause. “I wouldn’t blame them. But they won’t win. This is all just a temporary blip on our epic family quest to conquer the whole world of games and amusements, becoming the undisputed leader in every category of fun.”
“I’ll keep working on trying to figure out how to follow these phones back to some kind of source,” says Alistair. “They must have been made somewhere. And there aren’t a lot of places in the world that could make something like this. Surely I know them all.”
Alistair and Angelo Marino leave. I call Pez. He answers immediately.
“I’m coming in this afternoon,” says Pez. “I have news for you. It’s not much, but it’s interesting.”
“And I’ve got something else for you to investigate,” I tell him. “We’re trying to acquire a company called Playqueen. We think it’s possible they might
