The Games of Kings

Chapter Thirteen

If they didn't find Chris or Vanessa soon, especially Chris, Ramsey was going to go bat shit insane and empty a clip into the nearest wall. When he informed Benedict of his plans, the old man nodded sagely and asked for a warning so he could duck. The scary part was that neither man was joking. They were wondering down another long hallway when they found the next puzzle. It had become routine for them now. Benedict would read the puzzle while Ramsey unnecessarily watched their backs. They followed this standard operating procedure once more.

"Well, this is interesting." Benedict leaned over the computer screen.

"What's interesting?" Ramsey leaned against the wall, eyes behind them but he was sure no one would be attacking them.

"This puzzle." Benedict cleared his throat and began to read:

"A complaint was received by the president of a major car company:

'This is the fourth time I have written you, and I don't blame you for not answering me because I must sound crazy, but it is a fact that we have a tradition in our family of having ice cream for dessert after dinner each night. Every night after we've eaten, the family votes on which flavor of ice cream we should have and I drive down to the store to get it. I recently purchased a new Pantsmobile from your company and since then my trips to the store have created a problem. You see, every time I buy vanilla ice cream my car won't start. If I get any other kind of ice cream the car starts just fine. I want you to know I'm serious about this question, no matter how silly it sounds: 'What is there about a Pantsmobile that makes it not start when I get vanilla ice cream, and easy to start whenever I get any other kind?'

The Pantsmobile company President was understandably skeptical about the letter, but he sent an engineer to check it out anyway. He had arranged to meet the man just after dinner time, so the two hopped into the car and drove to the grocery store. The man bought vanilla ice cream that night and, sure enough, after they came back to the car it wouldn't start for several minutes.

The engineer returned for three more nights. The first night, the man got chocolate. The car started right away. The second night, he got strawberry and again the car started right up. The third night he bought vanilla and the car failed to start.

There was a logical reason why the man's car wouldn't start when he bought vanilla ice cream. What was it?"

Benedict squinted at the question then reread it. "I have no idea."

Ramsey blinked. "Really, you don't?"

"No." Benedict saw the slow smile form on Ramsey's lips. "It's good that at least one of us knows the answer."

Ramsey nodded, his grin growing. "Vanilla is the most popular flavored ice cream. Every time I go to the grocery store, it's always on display in a little case near the express check out so people will do that impulse buying thing and buy it. But the other flavors of ice cream were in the back of the store." He rolled his eyes. "It takes forever to get back there and to pick out a flavor. You should hear the fights the kids and parents get into to get the flavor they want. Then we have to get back to the check out lines in the front of the store."

"And this matters because?"

"This mattered because the guy's car is experiencing vapor lock."

"What is vapor lock?"

Ramsey smirked at his mentor. "Give you an unsolvable riddle and you solve it, but ask you about a car and you have no idea."

Benedict grinned back. "Hey, I resemble that remark and Chris is worse."

"Yeah, I know," Ramsey sighed, a silly little smile flirting about his lips. "Ask him to build an atomic bomb out of household cleaners and it's done in a day. Ask him to do more than drive and a gas up a car?" He shook his head in fond recollection. "Remember that time he tried to change the oil by himself?"

Benedict snorted so hard he almost choked himself. "Yes. I think his pocketbook is still trying to recover from having to buy a new car so soon."

They both laughed at the memory, tension finally easing.

"So," Benedict said after the chuckles stopped, "you haven't answered the question."

"Vapor lock happens when the excess heat from the engine boils the fuel in the fuel line and results air bubbles. The bubbles block the flow of fuel until the car has enough time to cool. When the car was running there was enough pressure to move the bubbles along, but not when the car was trying to start." As Ramsey talked, Benedict typed in the answer. Unsurprisingly, the door slid open.

"So basically, since buying vanilla ice cream takes less time, the car had less time to cool down and thus would not start."

"Exactly." Ramsey nodded.

As usual, Benedict let Ramsey clear their path before following the younger man out of their current location and into another long hallway. The door on the other end of the hallway, surprisingly, did not have a puzzle; it simply opened with a twist of the door knob.


~*~*~*~*~


When Chris read his next puzzle, he thumped his head on the screen. "God, why couldn’t it have been another physical challenge? Or something else! Anything else! At least then I'd have a chance." Before him the computer screen glowed mockingly. On it the puzzle read:

What do these three music groups have in common:

1.The Rolling Stones
2.The Kinks
3.The Beach Boys

Chris stared at the question then moaned again. "How should I know? These people were big before I was even born!" A slight exaggeration, but honestly, he had no idea. Of course, he knew who they were, he even knew most of their music thanks to Uncle Benedict. But he had no idea what they could possibly have in common other than being bands. He studied the keyboard below the screen. Unlike last time it did not yield any clues to the possible answer because it was as standard as keyboards came. It was even a little faded, as if it had been used before, numerous times. He sighed, staring at the question and not having a single clue as to its answer.

"Well, better try something. The least that can happen is that I'll get a question wrong for the first time in my life." Chris laughed at himself because he knew that wasn't true at all. He bit his lip then typed in "they're all rock bands" into the computer.

No one and nothing but a solitary camera heard his scream as he fell through the floor.


~*~*~*~*~


Alicia had absolutely no idea what Dylan did and was doing, but in a little over an hour he was telling both women to move away from the bars. Alicia and Vanessa scrambled away from the doorway then watched with apprehension as Dylan also covered his own face and head with one arm. They quickly followed suit. He extended the other and did something that literally made sparks fly. When Alicia raised her head from behind her protective arms, the bars keeping the other woman prisoner slid open with barely a sound. Vanessa dove out of the prison apartment and straight into Alicia's arms. The other woman sobbed once before quieting, but her shivering was still noticeable.

"I'll let Ramsey know we found her."

Alicia nodded vaguely at Dylan's words, concentrating on soothing the distraught woman.

"Hey, Ram, it's me." The radio in Dylan's hand crackled to life.

"Status report, D."

"Alicia and I found Vanessa Hubert. We're all fine."

"Good. Get the hell out of here then."

Dylan sent her a look that spoke volumes. They could both hear the tension in Ramsey's voice. "You have any luck?"

"No." Disgust and frustration came through the radio waves loud and clear. Ramsey was not happy.

"Do you want us to join up with you and help you find Chris?"

"Thanks for the offer, Dylan, but no. Get yourself and the ladies out of here. I'm sure Ms. Hubert just wants to go home to her family."

Dylan was about to say more, but the pleading look in Vanessa's eyes spoke more loudly than words. "All right. We'll see you and Chris outside."

"You can bet on it. Ramsey out."

Dylan slipped his radio back into the proper vest pocket and began to gather his tools. "You heard the man, let's get out of here."

Vanessa jumped up in her eagerness to get out of her prison. Alicia stood, exchanging worried glances with Dylan over Vanessa's head. "Dylan, what happens if they don't find Chris?"

"Don't talk like that, Al." Dylan lead the way back out with Vanessa behind him and Alicia taking up the drag position. "Ramsey and Benedict will find him."

"You're right." Alicia nodded. "They'll find him."

Dylan nodded towards the only other door in the hallway besides the door they came out of and Vanessa's apartment door. "I hope we won't have to solve more riddles and puzzles to get out of here."

"I don't think so. The reports from the other cases never mentioned puzzles on the way out but," she shrugged, "the Game Master can change his standard operating procedure at any given time."

"So, what you're saying basically, is that we have no idea and to be careful?" Dylan turned a baleful look on her.

She grinned at him. "Yup."

"Hell."

That last terse word was the only one spoken as the three of them made their way out of the Game Master's house. Outside, still parked two blocks away, the van stood waiting, filled with two FBI agents still monitoring and tracing the video feeds.

"Anything useful?" Dylan let the two women climb in first and left Alicia to fuss over Vanessa as he turned to survey the equipment surrounding them.

Moreno shook his dark head. "No. So far the video signals have been bounced all over the planet and off every major satellite I can think of. This guy is good."

"Or has better equipment than we do." St. Clair, his partner, muttered shooting a disgusted glare at a part he was attempting to fix. To Dylan, it looked like the motherboard to some computer here in the van.

"Well, could someone call for a car for Ms. Hubert? Have them take her to the federal building and notify her parents to meet her there," Alicia requested from behind them, pulling out a blanket to wrap around Vanessa.

"Sure thing, ma'am." St. Clair dropped the tools he was using to unsuccessfully fix the motherboard and grabbed his cell to order the requested car.

"Hey, D, where's your boss and Dr. Hardy?" Moreno flicked a few switches in an attempt to continue their trace.

"They're still in the house. They haven't found Chris yet."

"Damn, that sucks." Moreno tossed a commiserating look at the two members of the Behavioral Analysis unit.

"Yeah." Dylan left the van to lean against it, staring at the mansion in the distance. He hoped Benedict and Ramsey found their lost lamb soon.


~*~*~*~*~


It was a shock to find a room with so many doors leading in and out of it. Ramsey counted at least twenty doors around the circumference of the circular room. In the middle of the room, a lone island stood about waist high. He pointed at it. "That's our next puzzle." The words were not enthusiastic at all.

Benedict nodded, heading for it. He barely glanced at the screen before Ramsey grabbed his arm. "Ram, what—"

Ramsey put his finger against his lips in the universal sign for silence. Benedict did as he was bid, straining his ears. He finally heard what he thought were muffled shouts for help. He slowly turned to the right; dimly aware the Ramsey was searching the left side of the room. He pressed his ear against the first door, but heard nothing. He glanced at the rest of the identical doors in the circular room and decided that playing Hansel and Gretel would be most beneficial. He pulled out a Sharpie pen from his vest pocket, marking a large X over the door. Ramsey saw him from the other side of the room and mimicked his actions.

The two men circled the room counterclockwise to each other, pressing their ears to the doors and listening. Benedict was almost to the end of his circuit with only three more doors to go when the muffled thumping became louder. He pressed his ear to the door and clearly heard the scream for help. "Hello?" he yelled back. "Are you in there?"

A pause made him think he had heard wrong, but then he recoiled in shock.

"Uncle Benedict?"

"Christopher!"

Ramsey was by his side in a second. "Chris, is that you?"

"Ram! Ram, get me out of here!" The plea was heartbreaking, panicky and completely unlike Chris. "It's too tight! Too small! Ramsey, please!"

"Benedict!" Ramsey grabbed him by the shoulders, tense fingers digging into his muscle and skin. "Ben, is Chris claustrophobic?"

"No!" He stared blankly at the door. "At least, not that I know of and I raised him!"

"Jesus." Ramsey raked his hands through his hair. "That trap was meant for me but the bastard got Chris instead."

Old eyes widened but Benedict nodded at the revelation. "That's not important. We need to get Chris out of there." He spun to search the immediate area around the door but found nothing. He spun again and eyes lit upon the pedestal in the middle of the room. He nearly slipped in his haste to get to the stand, catching himself on it before righting his footing. He swore when he read the screen. "Ramsey, there are two puzzles here."

Benedict jerked his head up when Ramsey didn't answer to find the younger man standing motionless before the door that held Chris prisoner. "Ramsey!"

"Jesus." Ramsey repeated, eyes boring holes into the door. It was as if he hadn't even heard Benedict. "He's trapped in there. It's probably dark and tiny. Airless."

"Ramsey, please! Get me out of here! Please!"

"Chris!" Ramsey pounded at the door with both fists, not even noticing the pain of impact.

"Ramsey, we have to solve--"

"No! He's right on the other side! I don't want to think about a fucking puzzle!" Ramsey cocked his gun, flipping off the safety. "Move back."

"No!" Benedict ran as fast as he could, grabbing the gun just in time and lowering to the ground. "You can't shoot the lock! Other teams have tried it. It just triggers whatever trap is inside! One team did shoot it off only to inhale poisoned gas." He reached out with his other hand and shook Ramsey out of his nearly berserker rage state. "Ramsey!"

"All right!" He jerked away from the door and from Benedict. He tore his hands through his hair in frustration, forgetting about the gun still in his right hand. He snarled when some of the strands caught in the grooves of the gun and simply ripped them out, not once noticing the pain. "What do we do now?"

Benedict hauled in a deep breath, waving at the computer screen in the center of the room on a pedestal. "We solve the puzzle."

"Goddamnit! Stupid fucking puzzles!" He stomped to the computer screen embedded in the pedestal. Then read the puzzles out loud.

To find the correct door out of this room, figure out this mystery:

"Check it out, Dan," said Detective Sing's friend, Johnny. "There's a bloke over there that's betting everyone he can make a one inch rope fit through a half inch hole! Have you got any money, it should be so easy to make a killing, there's no *way* he can manage it without cutting the rope!"

"Hold your horses," said Detective Sing. "There is a way to do it, and he's just taking you for a ride. Save your money for buying me a drink."

What was the trick?


To find the correct door behind which holds a player or a prize, figure out this mystery:

Detective Mike Trombley relaxed as he thought about his impending vacation, his first in over ten years. His body was racing with excitement, especially since he had been bumped up to first class. This is going to be the perfect cure for these aches, he thought. No chasing leads or examining clues for two weeks. Plus, the chance to get out of L.A. will be nice. The trip seemed a little long, but with family in Victoria willing to put him up, Mike could not resist. Besides, Mike figured, a 9:00 pm Qantas flight on Friday meant that he could leave work at a normal hour to make it to the airport. Mike was soon asleep in the comfort of his first class chair.

He woke later when he heard the captain announcing the time and temperature. Good, he thought, almost there. He began to straighten out his clothes when he heard a commotion in the coach section.

Almost immediately, two stewardesses rushed past him into the next cabin. He could hear bits and pieces of their conversation.

"What do you mean she keeps yelling for a dog?"
"Wouldn't that be in baggage?"
"How did she..."
"You better hold her down Johnny."
"Ma'am, your dog will be waiting for you."

Mike was soon so intrigued by the problem that he walked back to the next section. He asked a stewardess what had happened. She told him that an old woman in coach was screaming about a dog and pointing to a calendar. They could not make out the rest of what she was saying, since none of them spoke German.

Mike soon realized what the woman's problem was, and then proceeded to explain some facts about the flight. She immediately calmed down. What was the woman screaming about?

Benedict had to jump for Ramsey's gun arm again when the younger man snarled at the computer screen. "Ramsey!"

"It's a stupid fucking puzzle and I really need to shoot something, Ben." The pleading light in Ramsey's eyes was almost comical. "Please, Ben, really I do."

"I know, Ram, I know. But we need to figure this riddle if we're going to get Chris out of there." Benedict would have laughed except he could still hear Chris' whimpering. He could only pat Ramsey on the cheek and turned his attention to the puzzle.

"Yeah, okay." Ramsey put his gun away, and then ran his hands through his hair one last time.

"Why don't you try to calm Chris down while I take a look at this puzzle, okay?"

"Yeah, okay." Ramsey turned away from and headed back towards Chris' door. From his position, Benedict could hear Ramsey trying to keep Chris calm, but how well he was doing was a crap shot. It was obvious the Game Master was watching his players and knew that Chris was trapped behind one of the doors and was now forcing them to answer a much harder riddle to get Chris out. Benedict was of the firm opinion that the Game Master was a sadistic bastard that needed killing.

He turned back to the riddles, barely glancing at the first one. That one was easy and when the time came, they would know the answer to get themselves out of the room. But it was the second one that claimed all of his attention. It was the one that would get Chris out of his suffocating prison. He read the riddle over and over again. He discarded the superfluous pieces of information like most of the dialogue. Since the woman in the story kept pointing at the calendar, Benedict knew something about that had to be important. "Ramsey?"

It took the younger man a moment to answer because he was assuring Chris he would be right back. Ramsey jogged over to the pedestal. "Yeah, Ben?"

"I think I figured it out."

"Great, punch in the answer so we can get Chris out of there." Ramsey frowned at Benedict obvious hesitation. "Ben?"

"What if it's the wrong answer?" Benedict's eyes were tortured as he stared up at the taller man.

Ramsey opened his mouth but snapped it shut with a click as he thought about it, remembering the near fatal incident with the riddle regarding wine bottles. "God, we can't risk killing him."

Benedict nodded grimly, staring down at the screen. They both jumped when the Game Master's voice boomed out, surrounding them in sound.

"You'll never know until you try!" The voice was gleeful and singsong.

Ramsey growled, hands clenching and fisting with the need to hit the bastard. Benedict placed a slightly shaking hand on his friend's shoulder. It was like trying to calm a frothing beast, in his opinion. "Game Master, I presume?" He raised his voice to the ceiling, not sure where the receptors were, but didn't like the significance of looking up to answer someone who called themselves 'Master.'

"Yes, Dr. Hardy, yes, indeed. Have you been enjoying my games thus far?"

"Oh, immensely." Even the most delusional sociopaths could not miss the absolutely arid quality of Benedict's words.

"I think I will be a gentleman and take your word for it, Dr. Hardy."

"So kind of you, sir."

Gleeful laughter bounced off the sterile walls. "I fear young Christopher does not find me so kind."

Benedict had to shake Ramsey when the other man growled and tried to stalk away. "Yes, we discovered that."

"If it is any consolation, Agent Montgomery was correct in the assumption that the trap was meant for him, not young Christopher."

"No," Ramsey spat out, losing whatever patience he had with the conversation. He shook off Benedict's restraining hand. "No, it is not a consolation. He's scared out of his mind in there and we're out here trying to make nice with you."

"Nevertheless, I am sorry, Agent Montgomery. But I will tell you, Dr. Hardy, that with this particular riddle, if you do not get it right the first or even fifth time, no harm will come to any in your party. The other riddle, on the other hand, would bring dire consequences should it be answered incorrectly."

"Wait, are you saying you're going to let me guess the answer without repercussions?" Benedict jumped back to the pedestal, hands readily hovering over the keyboard.

"Yes, Dr. Hardy, I am."

"Your oath as a gentleman?"

"My oath," the Game Master solemnly promised.

Benedict exchanged one more uncertain look with Ramsey. The other man nodded his consent and Benedict started typing. When the error message popped up on the screen, both men froze, waiting to see if the Game Master would keep his word. When nothing happened to them, Ramsey ran to Chris' door, calling his name. Benedict sagged in relief against the pedestal when he heard the muffled answered.

"The woman was not upset about a missing dog, but rather about a missing day," Benedict explained to Ramsey without needing to be asked. He waved at the keyboard. "The woman was pointing to Saturday on the calendar when she was panicking. She's probably late for her daughter's wedding or something. I typed that in but it didn't take it."

Ramsey perked up at that. "Wait, did you explain why everyone else in the story thought she was yelling about a dog?"

Benedict shook his head.

"She's German, right?"

Benedict nodded his head this time.

"She's yelling the word 'tag,' which is German for the word 'day.' It is sounds just like 'dog' when pronounced by a German speaking person." Ramsey explained triumphantly. He pointed to the pedestal. "Add that to your explanation."

With the security of the Game Master's promise, Benedict typed in his answer again, including Ramsey's explanation as well. Just like previous times, when the correct answer was typed in and the enter key hit, the correct door swooshed opened.

"What the fuck?"

Ramsey's frustrated yell jerked Benedict's head up. He rushed to his team leader's side, cursing when he saw what had made Ramsey angry. Another door greeted them, just inside the doorway of the first door.

"Ramsey?" Chris' voice was less faint, more clear. He had to be on the other side of the door.

"I'm here, baby. We're almost through, okay. Just hang on for me for a little bit longer, okay?"

"Okay." The response was tiny and heartbreaking. "Hurry, please."

"I promise, baby. As fast as we can." The fire and hatred in Ramsey's eyes at his lover's pleas could have melted diamonds as far as Benedict was concerned. He followed the other man out into the outer room. They both watched suspiciously to make sure the outer door did not close on them again but they stood far enough away that Chris couldn't hear them. "What now?" he demanded.

"I have no idea." Benedict shook his head, feeling his own rage shimmer though his veins. He watched Ramsey pace back and for, every so often the younger man would stop and glare at either the door separating him and Chris or the pedestal. Benedict took the time to talk to Chris and try to keep his nephew calm. It really wasn't working all that well.

Chris continued to ask the same question: "Can I get out now?"

Benedict clenched his fists impotently. "Not yet, son. We've almost figured it out." Instead of an answer, all he heard was a whimper. "Chris? Chris! Christopher Robin Hardy, you answer me this instant, young man!"

Ramsey ran to his side at his yelling. "Chris! Chris, listen to me! The puzzle's on your side of the door. You need to solve it to get out of there." Ramsey plastered himself against the door, straining to hear through it. Benedict stared at him, wondering where that answer came from, but let Ramsey do what needed to be done. "Chris? Answer me!"

"I . . . I see it." Chris' voice was faint and shaky. Ramsey clenched his gun even tighter, wishing he could simply shoot the lock off. But Benedict was right, he couldn't do it if it the Game Master had booby trapped it like he had for other players.

"Okay, what's the puzzle, Chris?" He tried to keep his lover focused on the puzzle and on him rather than the suffocating tightness surrounding him.

"It says 'Which element from column B can be added to column A?' Column A has Iridium, Vanadium, Xenon, Lanthanum, and Dysprosium. Column B has Radon, Uranium, Barium, Platinum, Magnesium, and Phosphorus."

"Shit, Chris, you know I suck at Chemistry!" The lame joke got its expected effect when Ramsey heard Chris chuckle weakly through the door.

"Ramsey, I don't know. I don't know the answer." Chris' voice choked off.

Thoughts flew through Ramsey's mind. He turned to Benedict, but the older man shrugged before going back to his notebook, scribbling furiously as he tried to help his nephew solve the puzzle from this side of the door. A thought clicked as he watched the older profiler. "Chris, what kind of locking mechanism does the door have?"

"It's, uh, it's a key pad. You know the kind with the numbers zero through nine on it."

"Okay, then maybe the puzzle has something to do with numbers?" Ramsey held his breath as he heard the muttering Chris had a tendency to do when thinking.

"Magnesium, Ramsey! It's magnesium. The first letters of each of the words in column A are Roman numerals. Magnesium is the only one in the second set that fits!"

Ramsey strained as more muttering barely came through the solid door.

"I is one, V is five, X is ten, L is fifty, D is five hundred, and M equals a thousand. But how . . . oh! Maybe this? No. Addition? No quite."

Ramsey smiled, body relaxing infinitesimally as Chris' rambling became calmer and calmer as the brilliant young man lost himself in the puzzle and completely forgot about the tiny closet he was trapped in.

"Got it!" He heard from the other side of the door. Seconds later, the door beeped letting Ramsey yanked Chris out of the trap and straight into his arms. He clutched at his lover, acutely aware that Benedict was patiently waiting his turn, but he couldn't quite let Chris go just yet. "You all right, baby?" He pulled back only enough to run his hands over Chris' head, down his shoulders and arms, and across his chest and back to check for injuries. Finding none, he left his hands on slim hips. He glanced back up to Chris' eyes only to find them glazed over. "Chris?"

Chris shook himself then frowned at Ramsey before thumping him on the chest. "Don't do that!"

Benedict hid his smirk unnecessarily because the other two men were still wrapped up in each other. It looked like whatever psychological damage Chris may have suffered was washed away by the love and lust between he and Ramsey. He had absolutely no problem with that.

"Do what?" Ramsey replayed the last few seconds, then grinned like a shark, realizing his hands on Chris' body did more than just check for injuries. "Oh. Sorry."

"No, you're not." But it was obvious that Chris was going to forgive him anyway when he slid his arms around Ramsey's neck and tilted his head back. Ramsey saw no reason to deny the asked for kiss and lowered his head. The kiss would have lasted quite a bit longer if it hadn't been for the loud throat clearing and the hard tap Benedict delivered to Ramsey's shoulder. The two lovers reluctantly let go of each other. But while Ramsey grumbled and glared, Chris laughed and slipped out of his arms to return his uncle's hug.

"You okay, kid?" Benedict eyed his nephew for injuries, taking the less on hands approached that Ramsey had utilized.

"Yes, sir." Chris sank back into Ramsey's arms when they wrapped around him from behind.

"Good." Benedict's eyes encompassed both of them. "Let's blow this popsicle stand."

"Amen," Ramsey fervently agreed, leading the way to the pedestal again, one hand still entwined with Chris'. "We have another puzzle to solve to get out of here, right, Ben?"

"Yes." Benedict carefully nudged both men aside. "I already figured that one out. It was rather easy." He winked at Chris. "I may not know jack about cars and hate math, but I do know something about ropes from my days in the Navy."

Chris read the riddle his uncle pointed to over his shoulder, a smile growing over his lips. "Oh, I know that too."

Ramsey shook his head but smiled fondly at them both. "So why don't you two geniuses type in the answer so we can get out of here?"

"Go ahead, Uncle Benedict."

Benedict knew his nephew was not deferring to him. Rather the young man was using the opportunity of his distraction to slip back into Ramsey's arms. He didn't blame his nephew for wanting comfort after his ordeal. So he turned back to the computer to give the lovers privacy and to enter the answer. As soon as he typed 'The rope is measured by circumference and holes are measured by diameter. The rope will easily fit through the hole' one of the doors that had already been marked by Ramsey or himself slid open.

Benedict tapped the two of them on their shoulders, smirking at their rather befuddled looks at being interrupted mid-kiss. "Let's get out of here."

Thankfully, their trip out of the Game Master's house was much, much easier than getting in and through it. They did not encounter a single puzzle, riddle, or trap. It was as if after winning the prize, the Game Master had absolutely no interest in keeping them from leaving with it.

"It is almost as if he's a lonely, rich child who entices people to play with him. After they've played whatever game he's devised, he has no use for them any longer." Benedict mused as they made their way downstairs level by level.

"At least until the next game is devised," Chris pointed out. He was still holding onto Ramsey's hand, neither man looked like they were tiring of that closeness at all.

"Damn sadist." Ramsey spit the words out, eyes still carefully studying their surroundings. It was obvious from his actions that their team leader did not trust that the game was truly over. Neither Benedict nor Chris could blame him and also kept an eye out for trouble. It never hurt to be careful. Especially against a known serial murderer and kidnapper.

"I wonder what kind of childhood results in a person so desperate for companionship that they would be willing to manipulate and kill for it?"

Benedict shook his head at Chris' clearly rhetorical question. If there was a soft touch in their group, it would have to be Chris. It was the reason why Benedict had pulled every string known to man to get his sometime sensitive nephew on the same team as he. He knew that Ramsey, Alicia and Dylan would take care of Chris even after he retired. Benedict could retire in less than a year and do it with peace of mind. Chris was the last of the children he and Diane had raised and now that the young man was settled with a career and with a man that could share his life, Benedict could truly enjoy his retirement.

The little group fell silent as the reached the lower strata of the house, almost reaching the level where they had found the dual staircase. When still no unexpected and unpleasant surprises had been dropped in their way, the trio finally relaxed their vigil. It was almost an unconscious decision to move faster once the door was in their sights. Ramsey wasted no time at all flinging the door open and pulling both profilers out into the early evening sun. They nearly ran the two blocks to the still waiting surveillance van.

Dylan threw the door opened and jumped down. He grabbed at his best friend and enveloped him in a bear hug, lifting the much lighter Chris off his feet.

"D! Can't breathe!" Chris managed to stutter out as he gently slapped the much larger man on the back, arms awkwardly pinned to his sides.

"Dylan, put him down!" Alicia's imperial order was unsurprisingly met with swift obedience.

"Thanks, Al, oof!" Chris lost whatever breath he had as Alicia grabbed him in her own embrace.

"Don't you do that again," she admonished, letting him go but still scolding him.

"Yeah, like he really had a choice." Dylan smirked at Alicia only to pretend to yelp when she smacked his arm.

"Well, if I have anything to say about, he definitely won't be doing that again," Ramsey declared, sliding an arm around Chris' slim shoulders, tucking him in the hollow of his body.

Benedict laughed at the flush that spread across his nephew's face as he snuggled into his lover's embrace. He figured now would be a good time to save Chris from their teasing. "All right, children, let's go home."

More than one set of eyebrows were raised into hairlines at the "children" part of his comment, but Chris simply laughed and tugged Ramsey into the waiting van. Benedict followed, pausing next to the passenger seat in the front to glance back at the Game Master's house. They could chalk up another victory for the law enforcement team, but the war would still wage as long as the Game Master still roamed free to terrorize another 'prize' and manipulate another team.


TBC with the Epilogue