The Games of Kings

Chapter Eleven

The house at Two Two One B Baker Street was enormous, large enough to have two separate wings and to house a complex obstacle course. The case files from previous games indicated that the Game Master would make them run through mental and physical challenges to win their prize. They also indicated that the Game Master would be watching through video feeds so there was a van from the task force parked a mile away monitoring and tracing the video signals.

The front door, strangely enough, didn't have a lock or a puzzle to solve. It simply opened with a twist of the knob and swung in, almost welcoming in its ease of movement. Ramsey was instantly suspicious. He swept in low, feeling the displacement of air as Dylan swung his gun in an arc up high. The way was clear, but dark. Feeling along the wall to the right of the door, his hand hit several switches. The house lit up, a falsely cheery illumination that once again beckoned and welcomed.

Forget shadows and cobwebs, this thin veneer of safety and welcome rattled his nerves more than anything else he'd ever encountered. The foyer was enormous, entirely lit by an equally large chandelier. Two magnificent staircases curved along the sides of the circular room, and then split off into two different directions.

"Ramsey."

He turned to find Benedict nodding towards the only furniture in the entry way. The wooden table was centered between the two staircases and had a piece of parchment paper leaning against an artist's easel on it. In beautiful calligraphy were their instructions:

Two towers, two prizes. A prince and a princess.
Save one, save both, but solve this maze you must.

"There's no time limit," Alicia pointed out, "there's no need to split up."

How she knew what he planned, Ramsey didn't bother to ask. He simply shook his head. "I want them found ASAP. You and Dylan take the left. Benedict and I'll go right."

She nodded, obviously not liking it, but followed orders all the same. "Be careful. The other houses were all booby trapped."

He nodded before taking point to ascend the right staircase.


~*~*~*~*~


Alicia and Dylan ran into their first riddle within seconds of climbing the staircase.

"Gertie just came from the office of her dear departed aunt's lawyer. She was told that her aunt (who loved language teasers) left her a certain amount of money in United States dollars. The lawyer explained that according to the terms of her aunt's Last Will and Testament, Gertie will get fifty times the original amount bequeathed if she could correctly guess the amount left her by midnight tomorrow. 'God, that would be thousands of dollars if you succeed,' the lawyer had said as he handed her a note from her aunt. It read:

RAIN RIDDLE: OLD ASTRONOMY HOST ALLOWS ABLE LASS ENTRY IN OWN LAND ESTATE. Love Aunt Alley.

Question: How many thousand dollars did her millionaire aunt leave Gertie?" Alicia read, Dylan hovering over her shoulder. The riddle was on a computer screen set into the wall near a door. Since the all the other doors had nothing on them, this had to be the right way to the tower where Vanessa Hubert was being held. "Any ideas," she asked, looking up at her partner.

"Yeah." A mischievous grin lit up Dylan's blue eyes. "I've seen this riddle before."

"Oh good, because I have absolutely no clue." Alicia stood aside to let Dylan at it.

"You never did brain teasers as a kid?" He typed in sixteen thousand into the numeric keypad.

Alicia watched with as the door retracted on its own, gun held at the ready, but still shook her head to answer his question. "Too busy playing outside."

Dylan nodded, not surprised. Alicia was athletic while he hadn't grown into his size until college and being the geeky, beanpole nerd didn't really endear him to sports.

"Are you going to explain the answer to me?" She was slowly making her way down the hallway, opening doors and examining the floor and ceiling for traps.

"All those words can be transformed into another word by adding the letter 'g' to the front of them."

"And 'g' is a slang term for thousand. Clever."

Dylan ducked his head, shoulder length dreads falling forward to hide his blush again. He hadn't really solved it, but he liked the way Alicia smiled at him when she said that.


~*~*~*~*~


Whatever it was that Chris expected to see when he opened the door was definitely not a basketball and an extremely tall black man. He also didn't expect the guy to bounce him a basketball. Chris caught it out of sheer reflex, eyes darting from the ball in his hand and the tall man advancing on him.

"Ain't you the one that's'posed to be in da tower?"

Chris nodded slowly at the man's question, then blinked in surprise when he laughed.

"Ain't nuthin' in the rules 'bout that. Guess we're gonna play then." He pointed to the single basketball hoop behind him. "You score five and you get outta here. You don't and you stay in that. Got it?" The big man pointed to a corner of the room where a large steel cage sat.

Chris nodded slowly, unable to believe his current circumstances. He shook off the confusion as the other player came even closer, gathering his wits and looking for a distraction to formulate a plan. He carefully set down his pillowcase bag, still clutching the basketball. "Uhm, are we playing by the rules for basketball?"

"Yeah." The man nodded solemnly, pausing in mid-step.

Chris took a few steps forward, licking his lips, staring uncertainly at the ball then at the player, plan pulling together in his mind lighting fast. "And the five that you were referring to?"

The player's face scrunched up at the question. "Five points, dude. We play to five points."

"Oh." Chris stepped closer to the basket. "And to score the points I would have to get this ball into that basket?" He pointed to each item to illustrate his question.

"Yeah." The player drew back, face falling into comically disbelieving lines. "Dude, ain't you ever play b-ball before?"

"Actually," Chris shrugged, embarrassment coloring his tone and his face, "I was pretty klutzy as a child and was always more interested in books than in sports."

The other man shook his head, apparently disgusted by his lack of knowledge of the game. "Man, that's sad."

"I'm sorry?" Chris offered, smiling slightly.

He shook his head again, rolling his eyes. "Tell you what, little man, I'll spot you two. How's that?"

"Spot me two?" he parroted, eyes wide and questioning.

The player sighed. "I'll give you two points to begin with. Nows you've got to score only three more points, got it?"

"Yes, sir, I think I do."

"Good." The player fell into a classical guarding stance then abruptly straightened. "You know the rules for the game, right?"

"Technically, yes." Chris nodded fervently.

"Well." He eyed Chris, almost not trusting his assertion. "Okay, let's play."


~*~*~*~*~


"What is an apt anagram for Ivanhoe by Sir Walter Scott?" Benedict glanced over at Ramsey but the younger man was too busy exploring ahead to pay attention. "Ramsey?"

"Huh, what?" Ramsey turned back to join the older man.

"Anything interesting over there?"

"No."

"Well there's a riddle I could use your help with over here."

By the abashed look, it was clear his subtle reprimand worked. Ramsey silently read their first riddle over his shoulder and then shrugged. "Never read it. Was there a movie?"

Benedict almost smacked his team leader in the head but he saw the smile flitting about Ramsey's lips. "You know the answer."

Ramsey nodded; turning to make sure no surprises would be sneaking up on them one last time before tucking his gun into his holster. Hands now free, he began typing on the keyboard provided to answer the puzzle. The door slide open by itself.

"A novel by a Scottish writer." Benedict read out loud, smiling. "Never read it, huh?"

Ramsey grinned. "So I lied." He threw the words over his shoulder as he reached for his gun again. He walked through the opened door first, eyes back to searching for traps and danger.

"You know, Ramsey," Benedict said, almost conversationally, "I had high hopes for Chris." He didn't have to hide his smile as Ramsey's broad shoulders visibly tightened. "A nice girl, two point five kids, Thane, and a white picket fence."

Ramsey stopped dead, free hand clenching and unclenching. "Benedict, if you're against –"

"But I think I like the nice boy, four kids, Thane, and two new sets of in laws better than that old dream." He smirked as all the wind in Ramsey's sails whooshed out in a sigh.

Ramsey glared at him, poking him in the shoulder. "You, old man, are a menace."

"Welcome to the family." Benedict chuckled, clapping him on the shoulder.

"Great, just what I need," the younger man groaned. "Another parent to add to the collection."

Benedict cackled.


~*~*~*~*~


Chris thanked God that there was no time limit to this particular one on one basketball game. If there was, he would have never been able to beat his opponent. He stood there, dribbling the ball, dribbling it badly actually, as he maintained the air of nerdy white kid who has never played the game in his life. He watched out of the corner of his eye as the man he had mentally label the BNG, the Big Nice Guy, watched him dribble the ball and shook his shaved head. Since BNG had spotted him two points already, all he needed now was three points. Finesse would be required to score the points but make it look like beginner's luck; otherwise, Chris was sure he wasn't going to win this game. He only hoped that if he did win this game, that the other player would gracefully let him go without a ruckus.

Chris stared at the basket from his current position as he faked learning how to dribble the ball correctly. It wasn't until he looked at the floor of the playing field that he realized he only need one shot to get those three needed points. One shot from the three point arc that was twenty-three feet and nine inches from the basket was not an easy shot to make, but if he could do it, he would win the game and be one step closer to getting himself out of here. "Uhm, when do we start playing?"

BNG rolled his eyes, but smiled gently. "Whenever you start moving, little man." He was so nice about it that Chris really hated playing the guy.

"Okay." He took two tentative steps forward, then two steps to the left. BNG shadowed his moves, but Chris could tell from his body language that the other player's defenses were down. He was pegged as the nerdy white kid who couldn't play basketball and the other man was not expecting anything great from. Just the way Chris needed him to think. He took too more steps forward, placing him squarely in the three point arc. He dribbled twice more, and then took his shot. He crossed his fingers, lips moving in silent prayer as the ball sailed over the other man's head and straight for the basket. It hit the back rim, circling around and around, losing velocity with every turn around the basket until it slowly tipped in. Chris stared in disbelief and relief. Then he turned wary eyes upon his opponent.

BNG was eyeing him and the basketball now rolling unused on the floor in turns. "You played me," he accused.

"No, sir, I didn't," Chris lied his ass off. "I played a lot of videos games." The stereotypical nerd persona definitely did come in handy. "I've got great hand/eye coordination." He glanced ruefully down at his feet. "I've got two left feet though."

The big man wavered, uncertain, but in the end, Chris was allowed to leave peaceably. He was out of the room and in another hallway before leaning back into the wall with relief. He made sure his opponent did not follow him before heading down the hallway and to his next puzzle.


~*~*~*~*~


Ramsey and Benedict stared in awe at the machinery that greeted them in the next room.

"What the hell is all this?" Ramsey poked at what looked like a pair of gloves that had wiring all over it. Next to them were shoes, also wired, a helmet, and a plastic gun. There were several sets of each lined up along the long table that dominated the otherwise empty room.

Benedict, from what appeared to be a console, read out loud, "Welcome to the world of virtual reality. Play the game, win the game, and the exit will open. To play, simply put the booties over your shoes, the gloves over your hands, and the visor and helmet over your head. Your avatar will move just as you move. Now, grab the gun and win the game."

Ramsey glared at the screen containing the directions, and then poked at the gloves again with the muzzle of his gun as if nudging a dead rodent. "Where's Dylan when you need him?"

"Not up for the challenge?" Benedict was softly laughing. It wasn't often Ramsey was phased by anything. It was refreshing to see.

"I can't even beat Joseph at Super Mario Cart," he huffed out in frustration, hand running through burnished hair. "For some reason I can shoot a bull's eye fifty feet away, but can't coordinate myself to drive a cart on a screen." He eyes Benedict, daring him to say anything. "Joseph and Tyler put me on the game when they want to laugh at me."

Benedict coughed, harshly, several times, trying to cover up his own laughter. "Ah, well, maybe this will be better?"

Ramsey grunted, not at all happy, but he gamely put on the virtual reality helmet. He didn't slide down the visor though; instead he helped Benedict with his. They also had to put on boots and gloves. The last pieces of equipment were heavy plastic guns, almost the same weight and dimension as their regular weapons. Ramsey hefted his, testing the balance. "At least it's going to be a shoot 'em up game instead of those stupid carts."

Benedict forcibly bit his lip and turned away to examine his own gun.

"I know you're laughing at me."

Benedict lost it.


~*~*~*~*~


After their first answered puzzle opened its door, Dylan and Alicia stepped into a long hallway. There were no doors on either side of the hall, only a single one at the end of it. Still, the two agents carefully made their way down the hall, watching for traps. They reached the end without difficulty and found their next riddle on another computerized screen. This time, instead of a keypad, there were four large buttons marked with the letters A through D.

Alicia glanced at Dylan, who took position his customary position behind her, watching the hallway behind them, and then read the riddle out loud.

"A car thief, who had managed to evade the authorities in the past, unknowingly took the automobile that belonged to Inspector Detweiler. The sleuth wasted no time and spared no effort in discovering and carefully examining the available clues. He was able to identify four suspects with certainty that one of them was the culprit.

The four make the statements below. In total, six statements are true and six false.

Suspect A:
1. C and I have met many times before today.
2. B is guilty.
3. The car thief did not know it was the Inspector's car.

Suspect B:
1. D did not do it.
2. D's third statement is false.
3. I am innocent.

Suspect C:
1. I have never met A before today.
2. B is not guilty.
3. D knows how to drive.

Suspect D:
1. B's first statement is false.
2. I do not know how to drive.
3. A did it.

Which one is the car thief?"

Dylan softly banged his head back against the doorjamb. "I really hate this guy."

Alicia licked her lips, studying the problem. "What if we randomly pick?"

His head came up, the grin he threw over his shoulder was huge. "It's not like it's one strike and you're out, right?"

She shook her head, grinning back. "So which one first?"

"Letter C," Dylan answered decisively. "The answer is always C in multiple choice questions."

"C, huh?" Her grin grew.

"Hey," he muttered defensively, "it always works in school. Whenever I didn't know the answer, I picked C."

She chuckled under her breath, but punched in the C button anyway. Instantly, an enormous blade sliced its way across the hallway. Only because she was leaning against the wall answer the question was she saved from being sliced in half that was how close they were. "Dylan?" She turned her head wildly, sure he'd been right behind her and was caught by the blade, but was unable to move her body because the blade was inches behind her.

His inventive but unhurt sounding curses assured her he was okay. But she called out all the same.

"I’m okay, Al."

"Then why all the cussing?" She finally tilted her head just enough to see him. Like her, he was pinned to the wall in front of them.

"The damn thing caught my hair." His voice was so aggrieved she had to bit her lip. "The ends of my dreads were chopped off."

"I'm—" She clamped her hand over her mouth, sure that this was hysterical laughter bubbling forth. They'd had almost been cut in half and Dylan was whining about his hair. God, she loved that man. She swallowed hard, hoping the laughter would go down and away. "I'm sure we can get it fixed."

Dylan growled. "I really, really, really hate this guy."

Alicia completely lost it, howling and shaking with laughter. Her laughter died quickly when loud hisses sounded and a rush of air followed. She could no longer feel the blade against her back. Alicia moved carefully, turning just enough to see that the danger was no longer there. "Dylan?"

He was instantly at her side, large warm hand cupping her head, then running down her back checking for injuries. "I'm okay? You?"

She nodded. "What just happened?"

"I think that was the wrong answer."

She rolled her eyes but Dylan grinned at her then sobered. "I saw the first one come out of the wall."

Alicia looked to where Dylan pointed, barely making out the tiny slice in the originating wall. She glanced up at him with serious eyes. "I guess we can't just make guesses anymore." She moved back to the screen. "Which one?" she muttered, starting to try to work out the problem.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Dylan shake his head. "I saw this in a Batman cartoon once. The Riddler had trapped Batman and Robin in this virtual game. They were at this door and it had four keys with letters A through D on them."

"Kind of like this one?" She jerked her thumb at the four big buttons.

He nodded again, eyes narrowing at the screen and the buttons, then he turned them on the hallway behind him. "The keys were references to musical notes. Three of them had sharps on them so if they picked the wrong one, the same number of blades would come at them."

"Kind of like those just did?" Alicia nodded at the three slim slits in the wall.

"Yeah."

"So what was the answer?"

"That's just it. In the cartoon, C was the answer because it doesn't have any sharps." He waved a hand the screen then at the blades. "This time it was definitely wrong!"

"Well, if the number of blades matches the order of the letters then A should only have one blade, right?"

Dylan nodded at her theory, bracing himself flat against the wall. She caught his eye as she pressed the A button. As predicted, only one blade sliced through the air, the blade farthest away from them. "Well, the answer definitely can't be D then."

Alicia nodded. "That leaves B." Again they braced themselves, but instead of a whoosh of air displacement to herald a blade swinging down, the door between them quietly slid open. "Thank God," she whispered. Dylan nodded in agreement, letting Alicia step through first.


~*~*~*~*~


The guns had been indicative of their game they were set to play. But instead of urban combat, Ramsey and Benedict found themselves in the old west. It was, like in the movies, a single street bordered on each side by wooden buildings. Saloons, restaurants, and hotels lined the streets next to mercantile stores and it even had a blacksmith's forge on the far edge of the town. The virtual reality game was amazingly real, engaging all of their five senses. Ramsey could even smell the stables and feel the dusty wind rolling through the town.

A figure in the corner of his eye had him swinging around. A young man in a bowler hat nodded to them. "Howdy, folks. You new in town?"

"Yes, sir. Ah, sheriff." Ramsey saw the badge and knew its significance, but it was strange to see such a young man wearing the badge. Long dark hair peeked out from under the bowler and blue eyes twinkled at them. How someone who looked like that could possibly sheriff was a mystery to Ramsey.

"Well, welcome to Four Corners." The dark haired young man grinned at them. "Just follow the rules and you'll be just fine."

"Ah, thanks."

The young man tipped his hat at them before vanishing into the sheriff's office.

Since the virtual reality seemed so real, even the heat of the noon day sun was very realistic. "Hey, Ben, let's get out of this heat."

Benedict did not argue in the least, quickly following Ramsey into the cool shade cast by the sheriff's office. "What do you think he meant by following the rules?"

Ramsey pointed to the clearly posted sign on the wall next to the door. It read:

"Welcome to Four Corners. No murdering, maiming, raping, stealing, pillaging, or any other activity that's against the law in other parts of the United States. Any activity will see the offender in jail. If you have any questions, please see one of the seven lawmen protecting this town. They will in turn send your questions to Hanging Judge Travis. He will be more than pleased to answer your questions."

"Well, that's pretty clear." Benedict smiled as he read the notice.

"Yeah, but not for the game. What exactly are we suppose to do here?" Ramsey restlessly searched the streets, seeing what looked like everyday life in the eighteen hundreds happening around him. "I don't think we're the bad guys."

"You're probably right. The Game Master would not cast us as the antagonist in a game. That is the role he relishes far too much." Benedict winked. "Besides, I really don't want to take on seven lawmen."

Ramsey snorted and then pointed down the street. "Maybe we're supposed to help them instead."

Benedict turned to where Ramsey pointed, squinting against the sun. A large band of men, that looked completely disreputable and more bandit like than anything else, were entering the town kicking up dust. The regular townspeople had already sensed the danger and were already dodging into stores and homes. Doors were closed, windows barred. Children were snatched off the streets and safely into their parents' arms.

Ramsey noticed that several men hadn't moved indoors. Instead, one by one, seven men arranged themselves in vantage points, giving themselves the high ground. "Oh my God."

"What?" Benedict grabbed the younger man's arm, moving them both out of the way.

"I think." His brow furrowed. "My mom use to watch this show called 'The Magnificent Seven' on television. I only caught a glimpse of it, but this looks a lot like a scene from that show."

"So, I guess we're helping the good guys protect the town from a bunch of banditos?"

Ramsey chuckled. "Yeah, it looks like we're doing the showdown at the OK corral." He nodded at the back of the young sheriff, who was the closest of the lawmen to them. "Maybe we should go introduce ourselves before the fighting starts?"

Benedict nodded, letting Ramsey lead the way to where the sheriff was conferring with another man. The other man was tall and dark haired like the sheriff, but sported a handlebar mustache. They both spun at their footsteps, he and Ramsey instantly raised their arms into the air. "We'd like to offer our assistance," Benedict said, crouching down beside them. The barrels of water offered meager protection at best, but he wasn't willing to be picky.

"Who are you?" the mustached man demanded.

"Dr. Benedict Hardy and Agent Ramsey Montgomery. We are federal agents."

The younger man was suitably impressed. The older man not so much, but he seemed to relax a bit. "You got a badge on you?"

"Yes." Benedict reached for his back pocket before realizing he wouldn't have it in this virtual reality, but he was pleasantly surprised when he found the badge there in his back pocket. He handed it over to the younger man who showed it to his friend. The older man nodded, smiling widely from under his mustache.

"Welcome to the party. We've got five others."

"Yeah, we spotted them." Ramsey spoke for the first time, eyeing the bandits as they continued to ride down the street. "You gentlemen have a plan?"

The sheriff snorted. His friend laughed. "Hell, no! We just try to stay alive while keeping the banditos from causing too much damage or from stealing anything."

Ramsey joined in his laughter. "Sounds like a good plan to me."

The other men cackled just as shots rang out. The foursome instinctively ducked.

"By the way, I'm Buck," the mustached man introduced himself. "And this here's JD."

JD tipped his hat before lining up a shot and taking out the closest thug.

"Why don't you boys stay here and cover our backs?" Buck motioned upward. "Me and the kid will get up there and even out the odds a little."

Ramsey nodded, moving to a better location to cover them. Benedict followed suit. Seconds later, they were embroiled in exchanging rapid fire with the mob of unwanted guests. Above them shots from JD and Buck's rifles echoed. Ramsey carefully took aim, grimly satisfied as bandit after bandit fell under the gunfire. There was even a bit of rush, when three of the gang members tried to make a run for it. They headed straight for him and Benedict. It was unfortunate for them because he was able to pick them off easily. Benedict even managed to get one or two of the troublemakers. After what seemed like an eternity, the two men heard silence broken only by the moaning of the dying or injured. As they stood, a flashing neon sign appeared the bodies of the gang, it was tacky but effective as it proclaimed "game over!"

Ramsey peeled off the helmet, trying to adjust his eyes to the darkened room after the harsh light of a noontime shootout. "Did that seem ridiculously easy to you?"

"I do not want to jinx anything but yes, it did."

"Great. Just great." Ramsey dumped the virtual reality gear back onto the table harder than necessary. "This just means the next obstacle is going to be hard as hell."


TBC