The Games of Kings

Chapter Ten


The Game Master hadn't left anything as tacky as a warning written in Chris' blood on the walls but the simple note on plain white paper was even more disturbing. It had stated plainly that this was a gift to them. That because they had not gone to the press themselves and therefore had not broken the rules of the game, unlike other teams in the past, instead of killing Vanessa, the Game Master was upping the ante by taking another prize. It was cold, logical and said everything about the man's psyche it needed to. This wasn't a madman that would make mistakes that would enable them to catch him. No. This was the brilliant man that had eluded authorities for years and would continue to do so until he tired of the game.

Ramsey could feel his blood pressure pounding through his veins. He wanted Christopher back and he wanted him back now. But as the note said, they would have to finish the game, according to the rules, if they ever wanted Chris back again. Well, Ramsey didn't feel like playing any more.

"Benedict, you and Dylan go back to the library and figure out that damn puzzle." He didn't see the concerned glances the rest of his team threw at each other. Instead, he could only see Chris, as he was the last time Ramsey had seen him in this apartment: sleepily chuckling over his lame joke before waving good bye.

"And us?" Alicia asked, braving his mood.

"We're through with this stupid ass game of his. We're going to find Chris the old fashion way." Ramsey pulled out his phone. "Director, I'd like a shot at interrogating those mercenaries."

The team shared another look, but when Benedict nodded, Alicia and Dylan nodded back. Alicia watched as the other two men left, leaving her to deal with Ramsey. This was going to be so much fun.


~*~*~*~*~*~


When he woke up and didn't recognize anything in the room, Chris let loose a very long, very colorful string of words. Then he got out of the bed, performed his morning rituals, and wandered into the kitchen to make tea. From what he could tell, it was the exact duplicate of the apartment where the Game Master was keeping Vanessa Hubert. This was an unexpected development. After all, the team had expected the Game Master to kill Vanessa Hubert, not take another hostage. Maybe the guy liked them and was cutting them some slack. Maybe he had already killed Vanessa and was intending to use him as the prize for his next game. For whatever reason he'd been taken, Chris knew without a doubt that the rest of his team would be looking for him. Especially his uncle and Ramsey.

He contemplated his situation as he sipped his tea. From where he was leaning on the kitchen counter, Chris could see the heavy and thick metal bars that ran vertically inside the doorway and took the place of a door. It seemed like a mind trick the Game Master would used to induce urgency in the players when the prize distracted them from answering the final puzzle with their pleas for freedom. Chris figured if he could get himself out of the apartment, it would be easier for his friends to save him. With the thought that "God helps those that help themselves," he rooted around the pantry and chose to lightly toast a bagel for breakfast. After spreading cream cheese all over it, Chris took the bagel and his tea over to the bars to examine them more closely.

Since he didn't know jack about electronic systems, other than the basics Dylan had taught him, there was no way he was going to be able to break through the electronic locking mechanism. So, Chris figured he might as well try to answer the final question he knew would be right outside his door. But first, he needed to see the puzzle because at this point, all he could see was the edge of the computer screen embedded in the wall, next to the bars. He polished off the bagel and began to search the apartment.

He found a compact mirror in the bathroom and chopsticks in the kitchen. Duct tape was nowhere to be found but since he wasn't MacGyver, he would make do with the glue he found in the desk. Chris carefully glued the two chopsticks together to get better stability and then glued the mirror to the sticks. He slid the contraption through the bars and to his left. Chris cheered quietly when the mirror slid into position. The screen embedded in the wall flashed on to show two short lines of text:

Substitute digits to make the following equation true:
MAINTAIN + INTERNET = FIREWALL

He sighed when he finished reading the puzzle then slid the makeshift arm and mirror back inside his apartment prison. He stood, grabbing a pencil and paper from the desk. Well, at least he had nothing but time to solve this sucker.


~*~*~*~*~


The letters of the word jumble blurred and sharpened in random intervals before Ramsey's eyes; eyes that were tired of tracking down leads only to find them dead ends. The mercenaries knew nothing beyond a Cayman account that paid for their services. All of the properties' purchases had been handled by fifth or sixth parties or even through computer transactions that were bounced all over the globe. It had been nearly three days without a trace of finding Christopher from his and Alicia's end.

Benedict and Dylan were no closer. They were going over the library with more than just a fine tooth comb. Every piece of available forensics equipment had been brought in but nothing had been found. It didn't help that the main branch of the Los Angeles library was a monstrosity of a building with four sprawling stories of books and study rooms and a subbasement to boot. Since the Game Master's clue only gave them the library's address, they had nothing to go and had to examine everything from books to desks to computers.

Frustration was at an all time high and he knew that if he didn't stop snapping and bitching at his friends, family, and teammates, he was going to have to start groveling for forgiveness very soon. And it had only been three days since Chris was taken. But in his mind, a day without Chris was a day too much. Their relationship was too new, too desperately wanted for so long that the worry and inability to do anything was grating on his nerves. So much so that the director had noticed and had subtlety warned him. It was only the threat of what might happen later, after they found Chris, which had tempered his behavior.

But Ramsey knew that if Chris wasn't found safe and whole, there would be hell to pay.


~*~*~*~*~


Benedict rubbed at his eyes, hoping to relieve the strain of staring at words and books all day. Too many days had passed without his nephew's presence. Benedict was ready to track down the Game Master himself and extract Christopher's whereabouts from him. He knew Ramsey would be willing and able to help. Pulling his hands away from his eyes, Benedict began tracing the lines of tile of the library's flooring hoping to relieve the eye strain. It was an old trick to get the muscles of the eye to move differently than when reading. He could feel the blurriness receding, but as he continued to trace the floor with is eyes, a speck of what looked like blood caught his attention. It was tiny but quite visible against the pale marble tiles. It was right on the corner where the bookshelf met floor. It was so precisely placed at that angle Benedict frowned in suspicion.

"Dylan?"

The computer expert joined Benedict at the base of the huge bookcase that lined the entire wall and was filled to capacity with books. He hunkered down to stare at the dot of what might have been blood. "It probably belongs to a random patron," he said, playing devil's advocate.

"And maybe it's not," Benedict countered.

Dylan agreed and ran to his case to get swabs. "It'll be at least a day or so before we get a match. But I'll put a rush on it and see if we can get it faster."

Benedict nodded, saying philosophically, "We have the time."


~*~*~*~*~


It took him a day and a half, but Chris finally cracked the code. Luckily, it was him in the cell with that problem because Uncle Benedict would have given up on the math problem before he'd even started it. Of course, if Uncle Benedict had been the one taken, he would have kicked back, grabbed a book and read while waiting for them to rescue him. Chris wasn't sure if it spoke more of Uncle Benedict's faith in them or his laissez faire attitude.

The answer to the problem though, had proven to be long in coming but easily solved after deciphering what letters represented each number. Maintain had turned out to be thirty-five million, four hundred ninety-two thousand, five hundred and forty-nine. Internet had the larger value of forty-nine million, two hundred sixty-seven thousand, nine hundred and sixty two. Checking both the math and the coding, firewall represented the sum of the two numbers at eighty-four million, seven hundred sixty thousand, five hundred and eleven.

Setting up the mirror and the chopsticks again, Chris now had to figure out how he was going to reach the keypad to punch in the numbers. There was no way he could hold the mirror out there to see what he was doing and punch in the numbers at the same time. He just wasn't built like a contortionist, thank you very much. So, he pulled the mirror and chopstick contraption back inside his apartment to decide what to do next.

After fixing himself lunch, Chris wandered through the apartment, sandwich in hand, searching for something that he could use to punch in the numbers or to hold the mirror while he punched in the numbers. Several things were promising; the problem was how to attach it to the contraption. Gluing the flat mirror back to the square portion of the chopsticks had been easy as the chopsticks were wooden and the back of the mirror was rough enough to glue to the utensils. The problem now was the slickness of the mirror itself. The generic white glue wasn't strong enough to adhere an object to the mirror. No duct tape and definitely no hot glue gun could be found.

Chris sighed as he flopped onto the couch after an hour of searching the apartment. He'd found the perfect tool to punch in the numbers: a perfectly sized wooden dowel he'd found in the hobby chest the Game Master had supplied to keep his prizes from dying of boredom. But he still hadn't found anything to glue the dowel to the mirror. The only adhesive in the hobby chest was white glue and tape. He stared at the bookcase facing the sofa, eyes not really seeing it. Rather, Chris slumped there, options being thought up only to be discarded. He rubbed his eyes; letting them rest until the burning sensation went away. He'd been up for far too long. He sighed gustily and decided to save it for another day.


~*~*~*~*~*~


"Benedict!" More than one person glared at Dylan's enthusiastic and overly loud whisper but the big man ignored the looks and continued his hurried pace to the profiler. "It was Vanessa Hubert's blood."

Benedict nodded, not in the least surprised. He dropped the book he was searching through and rushed to the south wall and the blood drop. Dylan was right behind him, easily able to out distance him but kept pace with the older man instead.

"What now?" Dylan stood with hands and legs akimbo, head tilted back to study the wall of books.

"I don't see anything out of place, nothing unusual. Do you?" He let his eyes roam over the wall, studying it more intently than ever, knowing this was where their next clue was hidden.

Dylan shook his head, dreadlocks swaying gracefully with the motion. "He left us a blood sample, right?"

Benedict raised an eyebrow at the obvious statement, but nodded anyway.

"Maybe he wants us to use a black light to find the next clue." Dylan set his case down and searched in it's depths for the instrument.

"He knew we would use chemiluminescence luminol to find more blood." Benedict pursed his lips, nodding.

"We're going to have to get the library to shut down all the lights in this part of building."

Benedict huffed out a chuckle. "You don't ask for much, do you?"

Dylan's smile flashed in the sunlight. "Nope. You talk to the administration people. I'll start covering up the windows."

Benedict eyed the windows that were high up, higher than the bookcases that were at least seven feet tall. "I think I got the easy job."

Dylan hid his snickers.


~*~*~*~*~


"I didn't get the easier job." Benedict glared at Dylan as the younger man snickered some more.

Dylan had been done for quite some time with his job of covering the windows. He even had time to requisite and receive several large scale black lights. He had the feeling they were going to need all of the wall illuminated and took the necessary steps. "But, Benedict, I did all the hard manual labor! You just had to talk to some suits. You're a suit, you talk the same language." He laughed at the dirty look Benedict threw at him.

"It took me an hour just to convince them to let me talk to their supervisor. Another hour and a half of waiting for him to get out of his meeting with the city council and another hour to convince him to let us shut just this section of the library down." Benedict ranted, not bothering to lift a finger while Dylan set up the last black light. "I could have saved myself the trouble by waiting another hour for the library to close."

Dylan laughed so hard he nearly dropped the light. Finally, he manhandled the light into position. He turned to his friend, grinning. "Ready when you are."

Benedict gave him one more dirty look before flicking off the light switch. Once the room was flooded with darkness, Dylan typed in a command into his laptop. All of the black lights flickered on at once.

"Impressive." Benedict crouched down where the computer expert had set up his equipment. "Did you rig all of this together?"

"I wrote a program to turn them all on at once, yeah." Dylan's grin flashed in the darkness. "I had time on my hands."

Benedict smacked him on the shoulder, satisfied with the laughing grunt, before turning his attention to the illuminated wall. His jaw dropped. "Holy Shit."

Dylan nodded mutely, eyes glued to the wall as well. "How could no one see him do this?"

Benedict shook his head, shrugging helplessly as he moved closer to the wall of books. A grid of lines and squares were painted on the spines of the books in black light paint. The lines were neither delicate nor artistically rendered. Instead, they were done with the precision of an architect or engineer mapping out a building. His eyes widened at the thought, feet automatically moving backwards. "It looks like a map."

His awed whispered made Dylan whip his head back and forth hard enough to swing his dreads. He stared at Benedict before moving backwards as well to take in the whole wall. "Damn. That had to take time. How the hell did he do this without getting caught?"

Benedict waved a vague hand towards the doors. "It's a regular library. It doesn't even have a special archive."

"Easy to break into and no security." Dylan nodded. "Damn shame they don't have cameras anywhere."

"Probably why he picked it." Since the big picture was solved, Benedict moved closer to carefully inspect the eight squares that had been drawn on the map. Behind him, he remotely heard the whirling and clicking of Dylan's camera as he documented the map. The locations of the squares were vaguely familiar. Well, five of them anyway. "It's a map of Los Angeles." Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Dylan bob his head. He pointed the second to largest square. "This is the federal building." He pointed to another. "And my house."

Dylan stopped taking pictures, taking the five steps necessary to put him next to Benedict. He pointed to the other squares. "My apartment. Al's house. Ramsey's."

"And Christopher's apartment." Benedict let his fingers linger over that square. "But what are these?" He pointed to the other two squares that were in the same region of the map.

Dylan took two steps back to look at the map as a whole again. "The Boddy Mansion and Lady Heather's."

"Ah." He let his eyes roam over the painted map again. "So what does this tell us?"

"Other than the bastard's been stalking us?"

Benedict huffed out a surprised laugh. "Yes, Dylan, other than that."

"Well, on maps, X always marks the spot." With that last piece of wisdom, Dylan went back to taking more pictures.

Benedict didn't roll his eyes because so far, the younger man's hunches had proven quite useful. From recognizing the changes of the Clue manual to recognizing the horn as a musical instrument, Dylan's insights had proven right. So, in that case, if X marks the spot, where was the X? Benedict stepped back in order to see the whole wall. The map was still alight because of the black lights, but there wasn't an X in sight. At least, not that was complete. "Dylan, does that look like an X with the intersection of the lines cut out?"

Dylan stopped taking pictures and joined Benedict on the far right side of the wall. What Benedict had to tilt his head back to see was on eye level for the much taller man. The section of books was in the eight hundreds part of the Dewey decimal system. The section they were looking at was for literature and it was quite obvious that what should have been a complete X marking the spines of three books, instead was a truncated X on the spines of two books. There was no suspicious and easily spotted gap between the books. Rather, the truncated effect was subtle, only if you were looking for it would one see it. "It definitely could be an X."

Next to him, Benedict was already scribbling down the classification numbers of both books. "I'll see what is supposed to go there."

Dylan continued with the rest of the documentation of the wall as Benedict hurried out of to the main lobby where the librarians and circulation desks were. It took Benedict less than fifteen minutes to return. By the angry stomping preceding his entrance, Dylan didn't think it was good news. He took one look at the storm clouds crossing Benedict's face and felt his shoulders slump. "It's checkout?"

"No. Worse." Benedict spit out the words, flinging his notebook down in unusual fury. "It's here, in this library, somewhere."

"Oh fuck me." Dylan slid down the column nearest to him, dropping to the floor, and letting his head thump against it. He eyed just that wall of books. "Ben, if we have to search through every book—"

"Then that is what we're going to do." The old profiler yanked out his cell phone, stabbing at the numbers. "Alicia, if Ramsey can spare you, we need help down here."

Less than thirty minutes later, Alicia's quick footsteps were heard in the hallway. She entered moments later and was all business. "What's my assignment?"

Benedict handed her the information sheet. "We're looking for The Annotated Sherlock Holmes. It is supposed to be a rather large book; two volumes in one hardbound novel. The classification number is eight hundred and twenty-three point eight."

"Librarian says that it has a red cover with gold lettering, but we can't be sure," Dylan rumbled from the far side of the bookcase. "We're starting here, 'cause it's the best bet, but it could be anywhere in the library." He threw her a despairing glance. "They don't have a way of electronically monitoring the locations of their books inside the library."

Despite the seriousness of the situation, Dylan's exasperation with outdated methods amused her. Alicia made sure her game face was on before turning back to Benedict. "Should I start looking in here?" She eyed the numerous rows of bookcases to their left.

Benedict nodded absently, eyes still running as quickly as possible over the books before him. "The game is afoot, Watson, the game is afoot." The absently murmured words froze both Alicia and Dylan, both turning to stare at the profiler.

Alicia shot Dylan a glance. "Ah, Ben?"

"Yes?" Again, the word was absently said, direct mostly at the books.

"Why do we have to find the book?"

"What?" That certainly got Benedict's attention.

Alicia threw up placating hands before Benedict could let loose with whatever was building thunderously in his face. "There's only one famous address I know associated with Sherlock Holmes."


~*~*~*~*~


Ramsey stared at the word jumble. He rubbed his eyes when words not part of the original Clue game popped out at him from the first line. He let his hand wander over the table top, never taking his eyes off the words, as his hand closed over a yellow highlighter. He stood sharply, not noticing the chair falling backwards. In a second he was right in front of the paper. He ignored all the other words circled in pen. He highlighted most of the letters of the first line of the word jumble.

He was still staring at that line when the jarring ringing of his cell phone made him jump. He snatched it from his pant pocket, eyes still glued to the line. "Montgomery," he barked out.

"It's Ben. We think the address of the next clue is –"

"Two hundred and twenty-one B Baker Street."

"How?"

"The son of a bitch left it in the first clue, in the word jumble. We were so busy looking at the words involving the Clue game we didn't see the other words in the damn jumble." Ramsey clutched the phone harder, fingers digging into the metal and plastic of his phone. "You three get over there and wait for me. I'll bring the van."


~*~*~*~*~


As he did the morning before, Chris woke up, performed his morning rituals and then made himself breakfast. He munched on bagels with cream cheese on the sofa, starring sightlessly at the bookcase across the way. He contemplated the problem of gluing the small wooden dowel to the mirror in order to both see number pad and punch in the code. Finished with his breakfast, Chris decided to lean back and let his eyes and mind wander. He hoped the free thinking would help him find something of use.

The room before him held nothing exotic, just large bookcases filled with everything from the latest fiction novels to the classics. It even held an entire encyclopedia set and other reference books. His dark head jerked back up, starring at the reference books. Chris jumped up from the couch, grabbing the G volume of the encyclopedia set. He flipped through the thin pages furiously, not bothering with his usual care. There, under the generic heading of "glue" was exactly what he was looking for.

Waterproof Glass Glue -- This glue will also gel when cooled, soften to use by placing the jar in warm water. Good for adhering glass to glass, can be used for adhering glass to other objects when in its gelled state.
• 2 tbsp cold water
• 2 packets unflavored gelatin (1/2 oz.)
• 3 tbsp skim milk
• Oil of cloves (optional preservative)
Dissolve gelatin in cold water in a bowl. Bring milk to a boil and then stir into softened gelatin. Add a few drops of oil of cloves if glue is to be kept for more than a day. To Use: While the glue is still warm, brush a thin layer on the objects to be glued.

Chris read the recipe out loud as he nearly ran to the kitchen, eyes closing in remembrance of item locations. The water was easy enough, as well as the skim milk. The only tricky one was the unflavored gelatin. He placed the book on the counter then used a chair to climb up to more easily search the high shelves of the pantry. He found it in the back, crowing with excitement as he jumped down from the counter top.

It was easy enough to follow the recipe from the encyclopedia. Since he only needed a small amount, Chris knew it would be prudent to save his supplies just in case he needed them again. Within minutes, the paste was made and the wooden dowel was glued to the mirror. He had absolutely no idea how long it would take to dry and decided it would be better safe than sorry. He left the apparatus right where it was to dry and set about making lunch for himself. Afterwards, he checked on the gadget only to find it still wet. Chris thought of a way to entertain himself when he realized something. He had no idea how long it would take to get out of the Game Master's house. Especially not with puzzles waiting around every corner. With that thought in mind, Chris went about packing a bag with provisions.

There wasn't a single bag to be found in the apartment, but a pillowcase served just fine. He filled it with easily portable food that didn't need to be cooked as well as all the bottle water he could find. Chris didn't think he'd need a change of clothing, but grabbed one anyway. A few toiletries, a flashlight, and anything that could be used as a weapon also went into the bag and into his pockets. The pillowcase became so heavy that he ended up double bagging it as it were for fear of the cloth bag ripping. That done, he checked on the glue only to be disappointed once more. He then decided to catch up on his current literature and pulled a novel off the bookcase. He settled in to wait.

The hours went by in a blur as he finished the novel. It was a satisfactory read, leaving Chris with a sense of calm. He channeled that calm as he checked on the mirror and dowel, finding both firmly attached to the other. He grinned as he grabbed the answer sheet and jogged over to the door. He carefully slid the gadget out through the bars and turned it so that the dowel faced him. He gleefully watched as the keypad came into view, along with the computer monitor. The same problem glowed on the screen, awaiting an answer.

Chris carefully punched in the numbers, using just enough force to push the buttons in but definitely not hard enough to break the bond between the dowel and mirror. The contraption did its job perfectly and as the last number was punched in, Chris had to yank his arm back inside as the bars slid upwards. He stared in disbelief for seconds before grabbing his previously packed back and darted out into the hallway.

Before even moving further than a step outside his door, Chris paused, crouching down. He pulled opened the bag, searching in its depths for the one traditional weapon he found in the apartment: a long butcher knife nearly as long as his arm. While he wasn't a knife fighter in any stretch of the imagination, he knew the basics that Ramsey, Alicia, and Dylan had drilled into him. He hoped to God he wouldn't have to use any of it.

TBC