The Girl in the Wall (17 page)

Then the door opens and The Assassin strides in. My heart lurches painfully in my chest. How could I have felt like the silence was a bad thing? I’d do anything to keep it longer.

“So it seems you have some secrets you’d like to share with us,” The Assassin says.

My limbs feel tingly but in an awful way, like bugs are crawling on me. This is going to be the part where they threaten me, maybe even hurt me, to get me to tell them what I know. Whenever Ariel and I watched movies with torture scenes we’d talk about how we’d never give up our friends, even if we were being sliced up with machetes. But secretly I always wondered if I’d spill everything the second the machete came out of its sheath and now I realize I’m going to get the chance to find out.

“Not really, sir,” I say, hoping manners help.

He smacks me across the face, hard. My neck snaps back and my cheek is on fire. I gasp and raise my hand to my injured face. I had no idea that being slapped hurt so much.

“Let’s try that again,” The Assassin says, his hand raised in case I’m too stupid to know what he’ll do if he doesn’t like my answer.

“Okay, that’s enough of that,” a familiar voice says.

At first I can’t see him because my chair is facing away but he comes and stands in front of me, his salt and pepper hair perfectly combed as always, his suit neat despite the tension of the moment. But that is all that is the same about John Avery. His face, usually a mask of pleasant acquiescence, is sharp, his eyes cold as he looks me over.

“We don’t need to get rough with Sera,” he tells The Assassin. “She’ll respond just fine to a reasonable conversation.”

I so don’t like the sound of that. Back in the tunnel I was feeling calm and accepting of things but now I feel like I am about to crawl out of my skin. My need to be out of this room and away from these people is a howl rising up inside me.

“Sera, I know you haven’t been close to your classmates lately,” John says, leaning back comfortably on the edge of the desk behind him. “But I feel certain you would not want to watch while we sliced off their fingers and cut their throats an inch at a time until they bled to death in front of you.”

I think I am going to throw up. I can’t believe this is John talking, the man who ordered pizza for us on sleepovers and stepped in for Ariel’s dad at the last parent/student dinner we had. This man is not that genial father figure, this man is a psychopath.

“And I believe you have become friends with the singer,” John says. “We can arrange for him to be first. Perhaps in his case it is his tongue we will cut out first.”

I am choking on the bile that has risen in my throat, my body convulsing with each shattering cough. Through my teary eyes I see John nod, pleased with my reaction.

“There’s something you’d like to tell us, isn’t there,” he says gently.

What can I do? How do I choose whose death warrant to sign? And how will I live with myself after I’ve chosen? Though that probably won’t be a problem for long. John has revealed himself to me, there is no way I am walking out of this room alive.

“So tell us,” John says, leaning down so his face is close to mine, his sour breath hot on my cheek. “How did you get out of the bathroom?”

I have to tell him something and in the tiny part of my brain that has managed to stay rational I realize that it comes down to numbers and odds. Maybe Ariel can still find a way to escape or maybe they won’t find her right away and the attack will happen downstairs and she can join in. Or maybe the police will come. Ariel will have a shot, albeit a long shot, and that is better than the chances of all my classmates if they are led up here, tortured, and executed. So I clear my throat, which is raw and burning from the acidic bile.

“There are tunnels in the walls.”

“What?” John asks, his eyes narrowing.

“It’s from the Underground Railroad or something,” I explain, my voice high and unfamiliar in my ears. “There are these tunnels inside the walls.”

“How do you get into them?” he asks, looking at me closely to see if I am making the whole thing up.

“The metal grates, like the one in the fireplace in the living room,” I say. Each word hurts. “They have little latches on them.”

John considers this for a moment, then nods and smoothes his tie, like he has just completed a satisfying business transaction. “That would explain how she’s managed to hide from us this long. And she is still there?”

It’s too hard to answer that one so I just nod my head once.

“Let’s go get her,” John says to The Assassin and the other agents behind me.

He casts one last, reptilian smile at me. “Don’t worry, we’ll be back. And in case you wondered, there is nothing that can be used as a weapon in this room. We made sure of that before our first guest came.”

He means Marc and the bile is back in the soft tissue of my throat, scalding and sharp.

Then they are gone, the door locked behind them. I sink down in the chair and let the tears come. I am a quivering pathetic mess. I sold out my best friend before they even got the machete out of the sheath. Yes, it was an impossible choice but there had to be something else I could have done. Or I should have at least dragged it out longer, given the police more time to get here, or stalled until after the attack started downstairs. Instead I caved in seconds because I was scared. Am scared. The thought of The Assassin’s return has me in a blind panic. I don’t want to be hurt and I don’t want to die. I’m like a trapped animal, with nothing to defend me, nothing I can do to save myself. My stomach heaves in a final kind of way. I make it to the garbage can in time for the gush of puke that empties every last bit of my stomach contents out. Then I sit back in the chair, spent.

My body feels like a wrung-out towel but slowly I collect myself and realize that I am facing another choice. I can sit back and wait to be slaughtered or I can try and save myself. And obviously that’s what I’m going to do. I’m not just going to sit here and wait for them to kill me. There has to be
something
I can do to fight back and maybe even escape. But first things first. My face is a mess of sweat and puke so I reach into my pocket for a tissue.

And that’s when my fingers find the Swiss Army knife.

I am racing down the hall of the tunnel toward the upstairs game room, the spot closest to the office suite, when I hear something, something too close. I stop where I am and listen, a cold sweat prickling my face and sides, because the sound I hear is a grate opening. They know about the tunnels and this can only mean one thing: Sera told them. The sweat begins to snake down my sides. I don’t want to know what they did or threatened her with to get her to tell, I just want to get to her as fast as I can, before anything else can happen. But now my best route is a no go.

I spin around and head for the back guest bedroom. It’s not an ideal spot because I’ll have to walk down two halls to reach the office suite, but it’s close and who knows how many agents are going to start pouring into the tunnels. Hopefully enough to leave the halls somewhat empty.

I am getting close when I hear footsteps behind me. I gauge the distance but there is no way I can outrun this agent, open the grate in the guest bedroom, and get away. He is moving too fast for that. So I stop and turn, ready to fight with everything I’ve got. I know the agents are trained killers or whatever but honestly, the way I am feeling right now, this guy is going to be lucky to make it out of here in one piece. I am poised, hands in front of me ready to claw his eyes, when he suddenly stops.

“Ariel?” he breathes.

“Rock star?” I ask in disbelief, lowering my hands.

“I’m glad I found you,” he says. “These tunnels are like a maze and I am so lost.”

“What are you doing in them?”

“Sera,” he says, his voice breaking the tiniest bit. “They took Sera and I’m trying to find her.”

Wow, Sera really made an impression on this guy who is so not just any guy.

“I’m trying to find her too,” I say. “My guess is they have her in one of the rooms in the office suite.”

“So let’s go,” he says.

I start walking, talking as we go. “The only problem is that the office suite is a new addition so there aren’t any tunnel entrances into any of the rooms. I was heading to one of the closer spots but we’ll have to walk through the halls to get there.”

“Okay,” he says, walking so fast he steps on the heel of my sneaker. He doesn’t apologize and I speed up, ears pricked in case any agents in the tunnels come close.

The guest room is dark and the grate swings open noiselessly. So far so good. We step out quietly and walk to the doorway. I peek around and then snap my head back fast because two agents are in the hall about ten feet away, in the direction we need to go, and they are hanging out, chatting.

“Getting tired…” one of the agents says.

“I know,” the other one says. “Just standing around all night is boring.”

“Tell me about it,” the first one says. “I thought we’d see a little action but up here it’s just pacing and watching the office guys go by.”

Hudson and I back into the room. “Let’s get back to the tunnels and come out somewhere else,” he whispers.

I shake my head. “They know about the tunnels. It’s not safe in there anymore.”

“Wait, how did they find out?”

I clear my throat but don’t actually speak. I’m afraid if I say Sera’s name I might lose it.

But it doesn’t take long for Hudson to get it. He draws in a sharp breath. “We have to get to her,” he says. In the dim light from the hall I can see him running his hand through his hair.

“Yeah, I know,” I say. “So this is what I think we do. You go out there and get the agents to follow you away from the offices. Then I can sneak to the suite and help Sera.”

“Not to sound like I just crawled out of a cave but I’m a lot bigger than you are and I think I have a better shot of getting her out of there,” he says.

I am truly going soft because rather than annoying me I actually find his chivalry slightly endearing.

“If there are ten guards out there with guns, then neither of us is going to be able to get her out,” I say. “But it’s me they want. If I show up that will take the heat off Sera.”

“Wait, so I’m supposed to just let you walk out there and sacrifice yourself?” he asks. “I don’t think so.”

He really did just crawl out of a cave, though a very gallant one.

“It’s just what makes the most sense,” I say, resting what I hope is a soothing hand on his arm to pacify him and also to get him to do what I need him to do. “I have the element of surprise on my side too. Plus, once you ditch those two agents you can come in and then we’ll have another surprise working for us.”

He sighs. “I guess you’re right but I go on record as not liking this.”

I would laugh if I had it in me. “Duly noted.”

“So where is the office suite after I get rid of these guys?” he asks.

“Right to the end of this hall, then turn left.” I tell him. I don’t want to think about how slim the chances are that he will actually get there, but then none of us has good odds here. “I’m not sure which room she’ll be in. There’s the main office plus three other rooms and a bathroom.”

“I’ll find you guys,” he says.

I expect him to talk for a bit about his plan for the agents in the hall but he just strides out, grabbing a vase off the bedside table as he goes. In the square of light from the doorway I see him hurl the vase, then take off in the opposite direction from the suite. I hear a crash, a howl, and then two figures in army green are streaking after him.

This is it. I sneak out into the hall that is now empty and race as quietly as I can to the end of the hall, then peek around to the left. Two agents are walking toward me. I leap into the nearest room, a TV room, and wait behind the door, heart thudding in my throat, hoping they didn’t see me.

“I can’t believe how far this has gone,” one of them, a woman, says. “I never signed on to kill a bunch of kids.”

They have stopped near the doorway and I grit my teeth, hoping they will move on.

“Yeah, me neither,” the guy says. “But then it’s not like we have to shoot them point blank. We’re just setting the place on fire.”

Why aren’t they moving? I want to scream in frustration and their stupid conversation is doing nothing to calm me down.

But then I hear a rustling, as though they are straightening up.

“Hello Mr. Avery,” the first guy says, his voice deferential.

“Good evening,” John says, his voice and nearness making my insides curdle. “I trust everything is going smoothly over here?”

“Absolutely,” the second agent says.

“I’m glad to hear it,” John says, in the same voice that read me
Paddington Bear
. “We just have one final piece of business and then we’ll begin wrapping things up. You can head downstairs at that point.”

The words pierce me, like a sharp blade slicing deep. That last piece of business is Sera, and her they will shoot point blank.

“Carry on,” John says, heading down the hall, his footsteps growing fainter.

I can’t wait this out anymore, not when John is going in that room to kill Sera. So I take a page from Hudson’s book and grab the lamp off the end table, almost tripping over the cord. I hoist it over my head like a football and run out into the hall.

I am crawling out of my skin by the time the door finally opens ten minutes later. The knife is still in my pocket. It’s too small to use to rush at someone from a distance, it’s more the kind of thing you use up close, like when someone’s trying to kill you. So it’s stowed in my pocket, comforting and cool against my hip.

The Assassin comes in, followed by John Avery.

“The transfer is complete and the plane is ready to go at the airport,” John says to The Assassin. “It will take us about fifteen minutes to get there.”

Fifteen minutes to the airport means they are taking the helicopter to the small airport for private planes. By the time it’s discovered that Mr. Barett is dead and everyone at the party has been killed, they will be long gone.