The Long Game
Page 84
I thought about Ivy and what she was trying to do—what I needed her to do. “Good news or bad news?”
“Depends on who you ask,” Bodie told me. “I just got a call from Ivy, who got a call from Georgia Nolan.”
The First Lady. My brain took that piece of information and scrambled to fit it into the whole.
Bodie saved me the effort. “President Nolan just woke up.”
CHAPTER 58
Three minutes. In three minutes, someone dies.
President Nolan waking up was good news. It was also bad news because President Nolan didn’t have a daughter at Hardwicke. He had no personal incentive to negotiate with Senza Nome, especially given that the terrorist whose release they were demanding had targeted his son—and was carrying what the president believed to be his grandchild.
Two minutes.
I hadn’t heard from Priya since she’d hung up the phone. In contrast, I had heard from Ivy, who’d told me she had a plan.
I stared at the clock on my phone, willing the phone to ring, willing someone to tell me that the situation was under control.
One minute.
The time stared back at me, a brutal reminder of the promise I’d been made. Every hour on the hour, I will put a gun to one of your classmates’ heads. And, Tess? I’ll enjoy pulling the trigger.
The phone rang. I answered it. “Priya?”
“No.” Mrs. Perkins turned my stomach with a single word.
I had to convince her we needed more time. I had to do something. “The president woke up—” I started to say.
“All the more reason to move quickly,” the terrorist replied. “Once Nolan’s doctor has ruled him physically and mentally fit to return to office, the game’s rules change—and not in your favor.”
Not in your favor, either, I thought.
“I’m waiting,” I said, rushing the words out so she wouldn’t interrupt me again. “I did everything you asked. Ivy, Keyes, Priya Bharani—everyone is doing what you asked.”
“And I appreciate that,” Mrs. Perkins replied, an odd undertone to her voice, a hum of energy that hit me like fingernails on a chalkboard. “But it’s important,” she continued, “for you to realize that I am the kind of person who keeps my word.”
No. I couldn’t seem to push the word out of my mouth. When I finally managed to, there was no one on the other end to hear it.
She hung up.
My grip tightened around the phone as I slammed it and my hand into the wall.
My time was up.
I closed my eyes. They burned beneath the lids. I forced a breath into and out of my lungs, shaking with the effort.
The phone buzzed in my hand.
With tortuous effort, I forced my wrist to turn, forced my eyes to open and stare at the screen. My whole body pounding, each breath scalding my lungs, I opened the text message I’d received.
A video.
My mouth and throat and lips went dry. I could feel my heart beating in the tips of my fingers as my shaking hand hit the play button.
“Let me go!”
Two pairs of hands forced a struggling boy to his knees. The last time I’d seen him, Matt Benning had exuded a quiet power. Careful. Restrained. Protective.
There was no one to protect Matt now.
“I’ll do whatever you say,” he promised on-screen, his naturally low voice rising to a pitch that was painful to hear.
“Say hello to Tess.” The instruction came from off-screen. The voice was female. The two pairs of hands holding Matt in place were male.
“Hello, Tess.”
He was ugly-crying. Part of him thought that if he did as they asked, they might let him go. Another part of him knew better.
“Tell her to help you,” Mrs. Perkins instructed off-screen.
Matt’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. He stopped struggling against the hold of the guards, going deathly still. “Help me.”
His voice was lower now. He sounded like the boy I’d talked to at the party, the one who kept his head down.
“Say it again,” Mrs. Perkins said, stepping into frame. She knelt next to Matt and pressed the barrel of her gun to his head.
Matt began struggling wildly against the hands that held him in place, jerking against their grip as if there were an electrical current running through his body. “Help me! Tess—”
The second he said my name, Mrs. Perkins pulled the trigger. The gun went off. The guards held Matt’s body a moment longer, then let go. I watched as it fell to the floor.
Not Matt. Not anymore.
Mrs. Perkins addressed the camera. “You have one hour.”
“Depends on who you ask,” Bodie told me. “I just got a call from Ivy, who got a call from Georgia Nolan.”
The First Lady. My brain took that piece of information and scrambled to fit it into the whole.
Bodie saved me the effort. “President Nolan just woke up.”
CHAPTER 58
Three minutes. In three minutes, someone dies.
President Nolan waking up was good news. It was also bad news because President Nolan didn’t have a daughter at Hardwicke. He had no personal incentive to negotiate with Senza Nome, especially given that the terrorist whose release they were demanding had targeted his son—and was carrying what the president believed to be his grandchild.
Two minutes.
I hadn’t heard from Priya since she’d hung up the phone. In contrast, I had heard from Ivy, who’d told me she had a plan.
I stared at the clock on my phone, willing the phone to ring, willing someone to tell me that the situation was under control.
One minute.
The time stared back at me, a brutal reminder of the promise I’d been made. Every hour on the hour, I will put a gun to one of your classmates’ heads. And, Tess? I’ll enjoy pulling the trigger.
The phone rang. I answered it. “Priya?”
“No.” Mrs. Perkins turned my stomach with a single word.
I had to convince her we needed more time. I had to do something. “The president woke up—” I started to say.
“All the more reason to move quickly,” the terrorist replied. “Once Nolan’s doctor has ruled him physically and mentally fit to return to office, the game’s rules change—and not in your favor.”
Not in your favor, either, I thought.
“I’m waiting,” I said, rushing the words out so she wouldn’t interrupt me again. “I did everything you asked. Ivy, Keyes, Priya Bharani—everyone is doing what you asked.”
“And I appreciate that,” Mrs. Perkins replied, an odd undertone to her voice, a hum of energy that hit me like fingernails on a chalkboard. “But it’s important,” she continued, “for you to realize that I am the kind of person who keeps my word.”
No. I couldn’t seem to push the word out of my mouth. When I finally managed to, there was no one on the other end to hear it.
She hung up.
My grip tightened around the phone as I slammed it and my hand into the wall.
My time was up.
I closed my eyes. They burned beneath the lids. I forced a breath into and out of my lungs, shaking with the effort.
The phone buzzed in my hand.
With tortuous effort, I forced my wrist to turn, forced my eyes to open and stare at the screen. My whole body pounding, each breath scalding my lungs, I opened the text message I’d received.
A video.
My mouth and throat and lips went dry. I could feel my heart beating in the tips of my fingers as my shaking hand hit the play button.
“Let me go!”
Two pairs of hands forced a struggling boy to his knees. The last time I’d seen him, Matt Benning had exuded a quiet power. Careful. Restrained. Protective.
There was no one to protect Matt now.
“I’ll do whatever you say,” he promised on-screen, his naturally low voice rising to a pitch that was painful to hear.
“Say hello to Tess.” The instruction came from off-screen. The voice was female. The two pairs of hands holding Matt in place were male.
“Hello, Tess.”
He was ugly-crying. Part of him thought that if he did as they asked, they might let him go. Another part of him knew better.
“Tell her to help you,” Mrs. Perkins instructed off-screen.
Matt’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. He stopped struggling against the hold of the guards, going deathly still. “Help me.”
His voice was lower now. He sounded like the boy I’d talked to at the party, the one who kept his head down.
“Say it again,” Mrs. Perkins said, stepping into frame. She knelt next to Matt and pressed the barrel of her gun to his head.
Matt began struggling wildly against the hands that held him in place, jerking against their grip as if there were an electrical current running through his body. “Help me! Tess—”
The second he said my name, Mrs. Perkins pulled the trigger. The gun went off. The guards held Matt’s body a moment longer, then let go. I watched as it fell to the floor.
Not Matt. Not anymore.
Mrs. Perkins addressed the camera. “You have one hour.”
