The Cracks in the Kingdom Page 34

  Hector nodded.

  They were bumping up the driveway now, and he was slowing a little.

  There was a car parked out front.

  “That’s Tovey and Kim’s car,” Jimmy said.

  Hector switched off the ignition, and took out the keys.

  “You think they’ve already got Abel?” he said. “You think they might be here, bringing him home?”

  They both sat in the car a minute, the quiet seeping in at them.

  “There,” said Jimmy, pointing.

  Elliot Baranski was across the field by a fence, a hammer held high. As they watched, he brought it down fast. The thud echoed out toward them.

  Jimmy and Hector opened their car doors.

  They watched Elliot. They saw him look up, see them, then turn back to his hammering.

  They took a couple of steps.

  The quiet was full, but something was edging its way in sideways. A distant, shuffling, mechanical sound. Tiny but relentless.

  Hector cupped his hands to his mouth, and shouted Elliot’s name.

  Again, Elliot looked back, and again he returned to his hammering.

  “Elliot!” they both shouted, and both waved their arms.

  Now Elliot shaded his eyes a moment, then they saw him lower the hammer to his side, and begin to cross the field toward them.

  “Never saw him move like that,” Jimmy said.

  Elliot was wearing his usual jeans, boots, and T-shirt, but everything looked too big for him. His body seemed small. Too small to carry his head, which was set at an angle like it hadn’t been properly affixed, might topple to the ground any moment.

  Hector and Jimmy glanced at each other.

  They looked back to the farmhouse. Through the window, they could see Tovey and Kim seated side by side, Petra Baranski opposite them. Nobody in there seemed to be speaking.

  “None of this looks good,” Hector said.

  Jimmy scratched his eyebrow. “Whatever’s happened,” he said. “We can’t let the agents know the reason we’re here. They’d be compelled to arrest Elliot.”

  “Agreed. Hey there, Elliot! You okay?”

  Elliot was getting closer, swinging that hammer as he walked. There was something defiant in his expression. It looked like he was trying for a smile.

  He opened the gate, stopped a little short of them.

  “Hey,” he said. “Tovey and Kim are inside. You hear the latest? Seems my dad’s been dead all along. The Hostiles have been playing them. Used some old recording they had of Dad’s voice. Showed them his magnifying glass. Kept them negotiating over nothing all this time.”

  “Oh, now, Elliot,” said Hector, and both he and Jimmy moved toward Elliot, but Elliot let the hammer fall with a thump to the grass so he could hold his palms up in the air to stop them.

  “Don’t even worry about it,” he said. “This is just another way of Dad being gone. How’s it any different really? It’s been over a year now; we’re used to it.”

  He raised his voice a little for this final phrase: that distant, mechanical noise was getting more persistent.

  The three of them looked up. It was high, just a speck, and it was far, but it seemed to be heading this way: a black chopper.

  Behind them, the door to the farmhouse opened.

  The two agents stepped out, and more slowly, Elliot’s mother. Their movements seemed cautious. You could see their heads swinging from the Sheriff’s car to Hector, Jimmy, and Elliot by the fence. Then to the chopper up in the sky.

  “This is crazy timing,” Hector said, speaking low and fast, “but see that chopper? I’d say that’s coming for you. We hear you found a crack through to the World and never got around to reporting it the way you should have?”

  Elliot gazed at Hector.

  “I’ll take it that’s not a denial,” Hector said. “Well, seems someone’s found you out and reported you. You’ve got about two minutes to get inside, throw together a few things, and get the heck as far from here as you can.”

  “Go into the woods,” Jimmy advised. “See if you can make your way through to Sugarloaf, and hitch a train from there. Disappear awhile, and we’ll see if we can sort things out for you.”

  Elliot was turning a stone over with his boot. He looked at Hector and shrugged.

  “They want me,” he said. “They can come and get me.” Then he smiled that new, freakish smile again.

  The chopper was growing in the sky, its noise building. Not enough to drown their voices but getting close to that.

  Hector looked back at the porch. Petra and the agents were lined up now, each staring up at the sky.

  Petra was wearing a dress. Hector had only a handful of memories of ever seeing her in anything but trousers. She had dark pink lipstick on too, he could see from here, and her hair soft and pretty, so her face looked younger than usual. Something else too — her eyebrows were different. They were thinner and higher.

  She must have had them shaped in a beauty parlor.

  This was all, he realized suddenly, because she’d been expecting her husband home today.

  She was about to see her only son shot dead.

  A noise sounded, without his meaning it to, in the back of Hector’s throat.

  “Elliot,” he said, speaking slow, stopping to clear away that noise. “Elliot, you’re the bravest boy I know. You’ve spent the last year doing things would terrify people twice your age in the hopes of rescuing your dad. Not that surprising, I guess, since your mother’s the toughest woman I ever met. And today you’ll be feeling like you’re broken into pieces.”

  “Nope,” Elliot said, shaking his head firmly. “I told you. I’m fine. It’s just —”

  “All right, as you like. I won’t argue, I’ll just give you an order. As Sheriff of Bonfire, I am now ordering you, Elliot, to find one more piece of courage — just a little scrap more. See your mother over there? She’s standing on a ledge. She’s on the very edge. She’s lost her husband today.” Elliot swung around irritably. “Don’t let her lose you too.”

  Elliot was wiping his hand, back and forth across his mouth, like a kid who’s been drinking milk.

  By now the helicopter was a roar, a big dark shape. It had a sharp lean to it, like something skidding.

  “You don’t have time to pack a bag,” Jimmy yelled. He pulled a handful of cash from his pocket. “Take this —” Next, he drew a crushed paper bag from his other pocket and shrugged. “And half a cherry pastry. All I’ve got.”

  Agent Tovey was suddenly behind them.

  “That’s a WSU chopper,” he shouted. “You know what that’s about?”

  Hector looked at him, considering.

  Tovey took all this in: Hector’s gaze, Jimmy turning away, Elliot tapping a foot.

  “It’s coming for you?” he said to Elliot.

  Elliot ignored him, but Hector made a decision.

  “It is,” he said. “Flagrant Offender.”

  Tovey startled, then at once grew still.

  “Get out of here,” he said to Elliot. “I’ll stall them. But you’ve gotta go right now.”

  Elliot turned back, saw his mother on the porch.

  Tovey spoke urgently to Hector and Jimmy: “You two, get back to the Sheriff’s station, and see what you can do. I’ll tell them you were here about Elliot’s dad. I’ll do what I can for Elliot.”

  Elliot glanced toward Tovey.

  “You’re in shock,” Tovey said. “Use the adrenaline now —” And as he spoke, he took Elliot by the shoulders, swung him around, and shoved.

  Abruptly, Elliot was running.

  They saw his mother’s confused stare as Elliot, still running, ducked around the side of the house and disappeared.

  Then they all stood watching the sky.

  2.

  “It is not a suicide note!” Olivia cried. “It is merely a — how do you call it? — a cry for help!”

  “How can you tell the difference?” Jack demanded.

  “Can I see it?�
��

  They both looked at Madeleine.

  Jack handed over the letter.

  She read it standing by the rose bush in Belle’s front yard.

  To Mum and Dad,

  Hiya. Look, people always start these things off by saying, “Don’t blame yourselves,” and all that, but I’m thinking, why would I say that? You go ahead and blame yourselves if you want. LOL.

  Seriously. You can. It’s totally up to you.

  anyhow, the fact is, I’ve Fallen in Love with this Man, and it turns out he sees things the way I do. I mean, he sees that life is a useless crock, and what are we all doing living it? Until something random such as illness or an accident or whatever calls it off? That’s just balmy, going along with that. Is what he thinks, and I agree.

  So, anyhow, you’ll be all right without me. Tell Jack he’ll be all right too. He might be sad for a bit but his aura is the strongest I’ve ever seen. Tell Madeleine hey and I hope she keeps up with her Kingdom of Cello cause if she does she’ll be okay too.

  Tell Holly that I haven’t done that essay about symbolism in Chaucer yet, which I know I told her I was just checking the footnotes, but that was a lie, I haven’t even STARTED it, and I hope that doesn’t do her head in, my betrayal of her on the issue of Chaucer, etc. LOL. I doubt it. She probably knew all along.

  and tell Federico I’ll catch up with history in the afterlife. LOL. And ah, tell anyone else whatever you want.

  Your daughter,

  Belle

  Madeleine looked up, blinking.

  “We should call the police,” she said.

  “Come,” smiled Olivia. “We must consider the situation.”

  She ushered them into the house and down the hall.

  “Not the kitchen,” she decided. “The sitting room. For this is a special occasion.”

  “It’s not a party,” murmured Jack.

  The sitting room was even darker than it had been the last time Madeleine visited, at night.

  “I will not open the curtains,” Olivia said. “Out of respect for this sombre occasion. As Jack points out, it is not a party!”

  They could hardly see one another and the clutter in the room formed small dark hills and curious shapes.

  “Madeleine’s right, we have to call the police,” Jack said. His voice was lined up ready to shout.

  “Pfft!” said Olivia. “We are not to bother them with her pranks and games. This letter, it is full of jokes. What would they even do? Laugh?”

  “Well,” Madeleine said carefully, “she says she’s fallen in love — and it sounds like she and this man have a sort of plan….” She had a sense that finding the right words here was important, but they were lost somewhere in the dim light. “I think we should — open the drapes,” she said.

  Olivia laughed again.

  “Fallen in love with a man! A man! She is a child! She does not know love, nor does she know men!”

  “It must be one of the four guys she was seeing,” Jack said to Madeleine. “But which one? Or what if she’s gone and met someone else?”

  “Four!” exclaimed Olivia, her voice trilling out into the shadows. “Perhaps she does know love? I hope not. She is only — what is she? Is she fourteen years old?”

  “Fifteen,” Jack said coldly, and he spoke to Madeleine again. “There’s the tyre fitter, the baker, the student, and the machine operator. Two of them live in other cities. They come here on weekends to catch up with friends at pubs. That’s how she met them.”

  “Four,” repeated Olivia, mystified and proud. “It is as if she is orbited by men! But they do not sound especially wealthy. This machine operator. This tyre fitter.”

  “Do you know their names?” Madeleine asked Jack.

  “I am thinking,” Olivia said, and she stood. They both looked up at her, trying to make out her face. “I am thinking that I must prepare a platter of fruit and cheeses. To help us with our conference.” She moved across the room, stepping between shadows. As she passed the window, she brushed against the curtain so it shifted slightly, letting in a thin beam of sunlight.

  The light crossed the darkness. It hit a pale pink shape sitting on a pile of books.

  Jack and Madeleine stared at this.

  “It’s a sugar mouse,” said Madeleine. “The kind you put on cakes.”

  They both spoke at once. “It’s the baker,” they said.

  The curtain fell back into place, the room into darkness once again.

  “You know this how?” Olivia said, her lips forming an upside down smile.

  “She said she’d never accept a gift from a boy,” Madeleine explained, “unless she was in love with him.”

  “What a strange child!” cried Olivia. “Such an absurd policy! No gifts!”

  “And the baker makes sugar mice,” Jack finished. “But he lives in Norwich — he’s one of the out-of-towners. I don’t know the name of his bakery.”

  Olivia moved towards the door again. “Leave her to play her games until she grows tired and feels foolish and comes home. You are both looking much too solemn. Come. I have been this morning to that little cheese shop in All Saints Passage, the name of which I always forget, but which —”

  “Do you remember his name, Jack? Did Belle tell you that?”

  “No.”

  “We should look in her room.” Madeleine stood. “See if we can find any more clues up there.”

  “Oh, now!” Olivia smiled again. “Leave her be! Respect her privacy! You are, what, the child detectives?”

  Jack squinted at Olivia.

  “Even if it is just a cry for help,” he said, “shouldn’t we answer the cry?”

  Olivia shook her head firmly. “It is as when she was a small child — a toddler — this is called a temper tantrum. If you want a sweet, you stamp your feet and wail? No. We ignore you if you do that. So. Too. If you wish for help, you cry for it with threats to take your life? Ha! She must learn that this is not the way.”

  Jack and Madeleine stared.

  “Is it all right if we look in her room?” Jack asked.

  Olivia shrugged. “As you like. It is up the stairs.”

  “Yes,” said Jack. “I know.”

  There was another pause.

  “We’re off, then,” Jack said eventually.

  Madeleine followed.

  They left Olivia standing in the middle of the room, still smiling her odd smirk.

  3.

  It seemed easy at first.

  Elliot had followed the slope of the land until he was up on an elevated plateau, looking down on his farmhouse. From here he watched as the Sheriff’s car drove down the driveway and away. He watched the WSU chopper land. Five or six officers running at a crouch toward the house. Agents Tovey and Kim sauntering across the field to meet them. The WSU officers straightening.

  There was some kind of an exchange as the chopper engine cut.

  Now the officers were walking across the field with Tovey and Kim. Their mood seemed different: still brisk, but calmer. One of the WSU officers was talking, and Tovey and Kim were listening, nodding, their pace still leisurely.

  They all reached the front of Elliot’s house, and there was another pause. From here, the wind blew pieces of their voices way up to Elliot: not the words, but the tenor and tone. It seemed casual, even touched with laughter now and then.

  Next thing, they had all disappeared from Elliot’s view. They’d either stepped up onto the porch to talk, or gone inside the house.

  He rocked back and forth on his feet, while slow plans formed and unformed in his mind. There was Jimmy’s idea of cutting through the woods to Sugarloaf, and then taking a train someplace, and hiding out. But that seemed complex. He caught a glimpse of the sun on the river, which was full and high after last night’s rain. Now that was appealing. Just get on the Chokeberry and ride its current south, out of town, all the way through Golden Coast.

  He’d need a boat, of course. He couldn’t think, just now, where one might be. There�
��d be people fishing. He could ask someone politely to hand over their boat.

  And if they said no, he could just swim on over, and tip them out. Scramble aboard, start the motor while they flailed in the water —

  No. That was getting complex again. Not to mention unkind.

  Better just to build his own boat. A raft would be simple. Cut down a few saplings, strap them together —

  He smiled at himself. He was being a fool, he knew, but he also knew that things would work out fine. The WSU would never catch him. He was going through the motions of being “on the run,” and it was interesting enough, figuring out a “plan,” but nothing to get bothered about. He was indestructible.

  This feeling was familiar, and now he remembered why. He’d had it the weekend after the agents told him his father was a genius and would soon be home. Fantastic news or terrible news: In a way, they were the same.

  They put you outside of the rules.

  He started walking. Here’s what he’d do. He’d hide out in a friend’s barn until the WSU left. Country town full of friends and barns he had here. There’d be hay, water, light through the cracks, maybe animals to keep him company. His friends could bring him food in secret.

  He walked along Acres Road. In the middle of the road. Eventually, he’d have to cross through the woods — Nikki’s farm would be the easiest to reach from here — but for the moment, it was all so quiet. May as well get some space and air.

  There was a thin, distant clapping sound. He looked up into the blue, and saw nothing — and then, in the distance, three or maybe four black specks.

  Choppers, he realized.

  There were more of them coming.

  Not much Tovey and Kim could do about five WSU choppers.

  He took a jump over a puddle in the road, hit the edge of it, and watched the sunlight catch the spray.

  The pieces of a broken ceramic bowl sat in the grass on the side of the road. He’d always wondered, how did things like that get there? Did someone drive by and throw out their ceramic bowl? But why would anybody do that?

  Here was Olaf Minski’s property. He could see Olaf’s hives lined up at the edge of the field there, like packing boxes propped on bricks. That was an idea. He’d find some kind of stick. The branch of a tree. A tree trunk itself maybe. And he’d hook a hive onto the trunk and brandish it at those choppers. The bees would swarm. Sting the officers until they turned the choppers around and flew away.