“The president of the United States, ladies and gentlemen!” someone at the summit said into a microphone, loud enough to hear with the volume cranked down.
Morse turned back to Sam Whitaker. “Fine. Finish.”
Peter thought of and discarded half a dozen insufficient strategies as Morse drew theearrune on Martinelli’s forehead, neck and palms and Sam Whitaker laid down the final stones.
Morse examined the set up. He raised his arms over the transmitter. He was starting the spellwork that would kill Martinelli, the president, so many people?—
Fortrede.To tread—to tread utterly upon something.
The word in the marionette spell could befortrede.
Peter gripped Beatrix’s hand, aimed his palm at Morse and muttered,“Ic rædend þé, ic oferswiþe þé, ic?—”
Morse jerked his head around, eyes blazing, hand outstretched.
“—fortrede þé!”Peter bit out, finishing the incantation.
No spell came from Morse’s hand. The man stood with his mouth half open—frozen in place.
“What?” General Whitaker took a step toward Morse. “What is it?”
Peter hissed the spell at Whitaker’s son and used his last red on Whitaker. Then he pushed Beatrix on her cot toward the tableau of immobile men. He removed the two wizards’ coats, grabbed a fistful of leaves, took Beatrix’s hand again and cast at the transmitter.
When it exploded, he fell to his knees beside her, gasping with relief, pressing his forehead to hers. “We didit,” he whispered. “Wedidit.”
Now they had to get out. The thought had just occurred to him—dampening his euphoria—when he caught sight ofthe solution hanging from Sam Whitaker’s belt. A can opener. The device that could make a hole in the barrier around the complex so they could teleport out. Peter unhooked it, hardly daring to believe his luck.
A few minutes later, after pocketing all the wizards’ leaves and searching the three men for hidden communication devices or anything else that could conceivably aid escape, he cast shield-spell walls around them that reached nearly to the ceiling—just enough to let air in. He still didn’t know how he could get them arrested, but he had to try. It was either that or kill them, and he couldn’t bring himself to become the murderer Morse had made him out to be.
He dragged Martinelli and Beatrix into the hallway, anxious to teleport away, but stopped cold as Martinelli made a sound halfway between a grunt and a yell. Peter glanced around, afraid his friend had seen someone—Draden surely had more confederates. His eyes fell on the room beside the one they’d just escaped.
He had a sudden, electrifying thought.
“There?” he asked, grabbing Martinelli’s arm. “You want me to go in there?”
“Mhhmmmmm!”
He turned the handle. The door creaked open. Inside stood a chair, a long table and—he almost laughed out loud. Screens displaying the feed from the tele-vision cameras in the room next door. Film canisters lying about, all with dates neatly written on them. Whirring equipment that, when hepushed a few buttons, ejected more film. And a portable machine to play them.
He pushed the canisters and playback machine into a pile, then cast a spell so they would follow him out. Who’s going to believe me, Martinelli had asked. Now they had an answer.
Everybody. If they played their cards right:Everybody.
CHAPTER 32
Beatrix remembered just in time to keep her eyes shut so Draden’s men wouldn’t know she was awake. She lay on the cot, trying without complete success to take slow, deep breaths. Other than a soft rustling sound to her left, all was quiet. What was happening? Peter wasn’t holding her hand—did the wizards separate them?
“Well,” said the very last voice she expected, reedier than normal, “that’s one heck of a story.”
Beatrix’s eyes flew open. Rosemarie—Rosemarie—was propped up on a bed next to her, looking at a newspaper, Peter standing over her. As a strangled sound escaped from Beatrix’s throat, their heads turned in unison.
“Thank God,” Peter said, rushing over to her.
“What—”
“Everything’s OK,” he said. “We’re at the hospital. The weapon’s destroyed, and?—”
“Here,” Rosemarie said, holding out the newspaper. “Read this.”
