“Also,” Ms. Hyde continued, “in the likely event that none of you win the book, publication rights will default to Lion House Books.”
“In other words,” Jack said, “they threatened to sue me if I didn’t let them run the show. Don’t worry. I think at least two or three of you have a real fighting chance.”
The four runaways all looked at one another.
Lucy was strangely delighted by the cryptic remark. It was something the Mastermind would say. He always played fair, but that didn’t mean he always played nice.
“Which two or three?” Andre was brave enough to ask.
“Only Lucy and Melanie bothered to ask the name of the driver who picked them up from the airport. Well done, ladies. If that had been a game, you each would have a point already.”
“Wait, what the hell?” Dustin said. “You’re going to just randomly test us without telling us it’s a game?”
Jack grinned fiendishly and said, “Very likely.”
He’d meant it as a joke, maybe, but the friendly convivial atmosphere was gone. The tension in the room was thick as fog.
The brass, Ms. Hyde, passed them another sheet of paper with the rules.
There would be games every day, Lucy read. To win the book, a contestant must score ten points. Most games were worth two points to win and one point for second place. Except for the last game. The final game was worth five points.
“Five points for the last game?” Andre asked.
Jack grinned. “I always bet on the underdog.”
“And if no one scores the requisite ten points,” Ms. Hyde reminded them, “the book will go—immediately—to Lion House.”
“Requisite,” Jack said, nodding. “Also a good word.”
“If one of you does win the book,” the lawyer continued, still ignoring Jack, “Lion House has authorized me to purchase the manuscript from you for a very generous six-figure sum.”
Six figures. Lucy’s breath quickened. One hundred thousand dollars—or maybe more? With that amount of money Lucy could easily afford an apartment and a car and take care of Christopher. It wouldn’t last long in California, but it would be a great start.
Jack waved his hand dismissively. “Take it to auction.”
“What if two people score ten points?” Dustin asked.
“No one will,” Jack said. “It will be very impressive if even one of you does.”
Jack didn’t seem old now, not when he met her eyes and held her gaze without smiling. She didn’t feel like she was in the presence of Jack Masterson, beloved children’s author, anymore. Here was the Mastermind, the king of Clock Island, the wizard of riddles, the shadow-wearing secret keeper who gave children their wishes but only if they earned them.
The room turned quiet, hushed, as if secrets were about to be revealed. The only sound came from the ocean breeze rushing past the house and the occasional crackle of the fire.
“Oh, fair warning, there will also be”—Jack paused as if searching for the right word—“challengespresented. They will not be worth any points, but if you refuse to meet the challenge, you will be disqualified and sent home. Do we all understand?”
Andre shook his head. “Not really, Jack.”
“I can hardly blame you,” Jack said, still playing the enigmatic Mastermind. “But let’s begin, shall we?”
Outside, the wind blew harder. Lucy took a deep breath.
Let the games begin.
—
As the wind pickedup, it rattled the shutters and sent the fire in the fireplace flickering.
Jack waited. The wind died as if he’d asked it to, and it politely obliged.
