by Mark Levin
“What do you make of it, wingman?”
Benji scowled. Why couldn’t his parents get with the program? “That’s Sonny H.”
A new voice crackled over the line.
“I still like Baby H. better.”
Maddy.
“Chill,” Benji said. He paused. “Or I’ll post ‘Ode to a Noah’ on his home page.”
Maddy gasped. “You do it. You die.”
“You’re writing poetry?” Rebecca asked. “How sweet.”
“People,” Roger said. “Can we keep to the subject: the Vadims.”
“Well, what can we do?” Rebecca said. “Maybe they’re staying in all day.”
Benji sighed. “No one stays in a hotel room all day, Momma H.”
Right on cue, the elevator opened. This time the family of four that stepped out was the Vadims—a dark-haired man, an attractive woman, a little boy, and a teenage girl with bright red hair.
“We have a sighting!” Benji said. “I repeat: We have a sighting!”
“Yes!” Roger said.
“How many?” Maddy asked.
“All four!” Rebecca said. “Mrs. Vadim is wearing a red dress with heels. Mr. Vadim is in a green sweater. I think it’s cashmere.”
“Thanks for the fashion report, Momma H.,” Maddy said.
“They’re walking across the lobby now,” Benji said.
“Nice work, you two,” Roger said.
“Poppa H. and I are ready to go in,” Maddy said.
“Wait a second,” Rebecca said. “We discussed this, Madeleine. Only your father goes.”
“But Benji got to steal the car keys and . . . ”
“Your brother is lucky he’s still alive! Please don’t give me another heart attack. Only your father.”
Rebecca clicked off for emphasis, then glanced across the lobby at her son. He took another sip of coffee. Rebecca shook her head and smiled.
Upstairs, Maddy looked at her dad.
“Dad?”
Roger looked guiltily at the door. “I know you want to come, but you heard your mother . . . ”
“Yeah,” Maddy muttered. “I heard her. I always hear her.”
Roger slid open the glass door to the balcony and Maddy followed him out onto it. Across the way was a view of a green park. In the far distance was the golden dome of a cathedral. But at that moment Roger and Maddy were only interested in what was directly below them: the Vadims’ balcony and a door to their room. And inside? Perhaps a clue that would lead them to the true meaning of the MGF.
Roger peered over the edge and gripped the balcony bar with his hands.
“Wish me luck, sweets.”
But Maddy still hadn’t given up on taking a more active role in the adventure. “Slow down, Dad. Don’t you think it’d help to have me with you?”
Roger glanced at his daughter. “Didn’t you hear your mom?”
“Yeah, I did. But you know, you’re not the boss of me, Dad.”
Roger turned around. “I hate to say it, Mads, but actually I am the boss of you. And for four more years according to the great state of Illinois.”
“Daddy! Please!”
Roger smiled. “Calling me ‘Daddy’ won’t work either. You’re not coming, and that’s what’s called a nonnegotiable. Now watch out.”
Before he could chicken out or Maddy could talk him into letting her come, Roger climbed over the railing. Holding on as tightly as he could, he began to lower himself over the other side so that he was hanging out over the edge of the hotel.
“Wow,” he said nervously. “Long drop down, huh?”
He swung himself back and forth twice, then let go and sprawled heavily on the Vadim terrace, landing awkwardly on his side.
“Wow,” he said again. “That was farther than I thought.”
“Was it?”
Roger blinked. For a moment he thought he was daydreaming. Was Maddy standing right beside him? He blinked again and allowed her to help him to his feet.
“I guess we’re not in the great state of Illinois anymore, are we, Dad?”
“How’d you get down so easily?”
By now Maddy was smiling as happily as she had since she had gotten on the plane. “Mom made me take gymnastics for three years. Finally paid off.” Before Roger could stop her, Maddy was sliding open the balcony door. “You coming?”
For a split second Roger considered digging in his heels and forcing Maddy to go back to their room. It was an idea he quickly let go. As she had put it, they weren’t in the great state of Illinois anymore. Whether he liked it or not, Maddy was becoming a young lady whose opinions and desires could not be ignored.
“Yeah, I’m coming,” he said. Then he smiled, thrilled to have company. He had been more frightened than he had realized. “Let’s crack this case.”
Roger followed his daughter into the room. The lights were off, but there was plenty of sunlight shining through the balcony window to see around. And what Roger and Maddy saw was a mess. A suitcase was open on the bed, with clothes strewn over the pillows. Through the bathroom door, Roger saw a tube of toothpaste open on the floor.
“Boy,” Maddy said. “They’re bigger slobs than me.”
“Just be sure not to touch anything,” Roger said. “We don’t want to leave any fingerprints or be framed for anything.”
“Got it,” Maddy said. “I’ll take the bedroom and you take the bathroom and closets.”
And so the two Hitchcocks got busy, looking around the room, desperately trying to find something— anything—that would let them figure out exactly what they had been dragged into. Though they were looking for the grand prize—some sort of vial filled with the mysterious MGF—all they found instead was more of the Vadims’ discarded belongings. Under the bed, Maddy dragged out Jean-Claude’s Elmo pajamas and a teddy bear. Behind the night table was a pair of men’s underwear and a sweat sock. Behind the TV was a piece of hotel stationery, covered in doodles (again, courtesy of Jean-Claude). Likewise, Roger didn’t find anything in the bathroom other than the Vadims’ toiletries and an open deck of cards that was covered with leaking shampoo.
“Nothing,” he said, walking back into the room.
“Me either,” Maddy said.
As if on cue, Roger’s cell rang. He tapped his Bluetooth.
“Yes?”
“Just checking in, Roger.”
Roger mouthed to Maddy: “Your mother.”
“Are you in the room?”
“Yep. Haven’t found anything yet.”
“Is Maddy safe upstairs?”
Roger winked at his daughter. “Worry not, Momma H., Maddy H. is safe and sound.”
“Be careful,” Rebecca said. “Don’t be too long.”
“Over and out, Momma H.”
He hung up.
“Thanks, Dad.”
Roger smiled. “You owe me one.” He looked around the room again. “What next? The closet?”
Maddy stepped over a pile of clothes and pulled open the door. In contrast to the mess in the room, the closet more accurately reflected the Vadims’ public persona: every suit, dress, shirt, and pair of pants was perfectly pressed, hung in a neat row.
“I guess they don’t let Jean-Claude in here,” Maddy said.
Roger brushed his hands over the suits. “They sure brought a lot of clothes. Hmmm . . . Wait.”
“What, Dad? Did you find the vial?”
Roger shook his head but smiled. He reached into the inner pocket of a jacket and pulled out four passports. “No, just this.”
“Oh my God,” Maddy breathed. “The mother lode.”
Roger quickly opened the first passport. On the first page was a picture of the man they had seen in the outdoor café. To the side was his name: Xavier Vadim.
“So they are the real Vadims,” Maddy said.
“Seem to be,” Roger said.
Maddy smiled.
“What?”
“He looks like you, Dad. You know, like the handsome French version
.”
Roger rubbed a hand through his daughter’s hair. To his delight, she didn’t flinch. “This is fun, isn’t it? We haven’t had daddy-daughter time since the Box Car Derby. Remember? How old were you, Mads, like eight?”
Maddy nodded. “We totally should’ve won that, Dad.”
“Our car was aerodynamically perfect,” Roger agreed, and a white business card slid from the passport and fluttered slowly to the floor.
“Whoa, what’s that?” Roger asked.
Maddy picked it up, then held it to the light.
“It’s the business card for the Bulgarian National Bank,” she said. “The main branch.”
Before he could answer, Roger felt his cell phone vibrate.
“One second, Mads,” he said. “Your mother is getting nervous.”
Roger clicked on his Bluetooth.
“This is Papa H.”
“Get out of there. Now.”
Roger thought it was a joke.
“What?”
Now Benji’s voice crackled over the line.
“Get out, Dad! The Vadims are coming back!”
“Now?” Roger said. “They just left!”
“I know,” Rebecca said. “But get out of there! I repeat—get out!”
Roger muted the mouthpiece. “We gotta move, Maddy. They’re coming back.”
“They’re already in the elevator,” Benji said. “The door just closed.”
Roger hung up. “They’re in the elevator. Let’s move!”
Roger pushed open the glass door to the balcony and ducked outside just as the front door to the room swung open. As her father disappeared outside, Maddy had no choice but to hit the floor and slither on her stomach under the bed. And not a moment too soon. The second she was hidden from view—next to Jean-Claude’s pajamas and teddy bear—the lights flickered on and she heard the Vadims—all four of them—enter the room.
She was trapped.
Chapter Eighteen
Flat on her stomach, there was nothing for Maddy to do but hold her breath and watch the Vadims’ feet moving back and forth across the room. Despite her mediocre French, a few things were clear. First, Veronique was furious—about just what Maddy wasn’t yet sure, but whatever it was, her parents were utterly unable to calm her. After a flurry of angry words, Veronique slammed shut the bathroom door and refused to come out. Which is when Jean-Claude decided to use the bed as a trampoline. With each jump, the box spring moved perilously close to Maddy’s head. After Benji’s heroics, Maddy had wanted to get into the mix of things, but she never bargained for getting crushed to death by a three-year-old. And there was no hope for a quick reprieve. The Vadims were too preoccupied trying to get their daughter to come out of the bathroom to rein in their overly energetic son.
Terrified, Maddy glanced out from under the bed. Through the balcony window she caught a glimpse of her father, crouched behind a plant. She wanted to scream. What was he doing just sitting there? Shouldn’t he barge in and drag her to safety? Punch out the Vadims if that’s what it took? Instead, she saw him take out his phone.
What in the world was he doing?
Outside on the balcony, Roger held his phone to his ear. Rebecca answered on the first ring.
“Roger?” she asked. “Are you finished already?”
“Put Benji on,” Roger whispered.
“What . . . ?”
“Just do it!”
Inside the room, Jean-Claude was now doing a somersault off the bed onto the floor. Roger prayed that the boy didn’t look under the bed.
“What, Poppa H.?” Benji said.
“Listen,” Roger whispered. “Don’t panic your mother, but I need you to do something.”
“Regardez-moi sauter!”
Maddy knew what that meant: “Look at me jump!” Suddenly, Jean-Claude was back on the bed. He jumped high and landed on his rear end right over Maddy’s head. The box spring hit her cheek.
“Jean-Claude!” his mother said. “Arretes!”
“It’s about time,” Maddy whispered to herself.
“Non!” the boy yelled.
He jumped again. This time the box spring hit her in the jaw. Enough was enough. Maddy peered out from under the bed. The balcony was ten feet away. If she ran for it, it would force her father to defend her if the Vadims tried to follow.
Whomp!
This time the box spring hit her on the forehead. Maddy eyed the balcony. She’d rather be caught by an angry French family than crushed to death by their hyperactive son.
She would go on the count of three.
On the first floor of the hotel, Benji was running faster than he ever had in his life. He stopped where two hallways intersected and looked to his right and then his left.
Yes!
There it was!
Sprinting down the hall, he all but threw himself at the fire alarm and pulled the lever.
Maddy slithered to the edge of the bed.
One . . .
Two . . .
Three!
A piercing whoop, whoop, whoop echoed through the room, loud enough to wake any sleeping guest.
“Mon Dieu!” Monsieur Vadim said. “C’est l’alarme!”
“Veronique!” her mother cried. “Vite! Vite!”
Maddy stayed put. She heard the bathroom door swing open and then saw Veronique march across the room, followed by her parents.
“Jean-Claude!” his mother said.
Finally the boy jumped off the bed. Then the front door opened and slammed shut. By then Maddy had realized what had happened. In seconds she was out from under the bed and on the balcony.
“You all right, sweets?” Roger asked.
“Fine.”
“Good. Now let’s get out of here before they realize it’s a false alarm.”
Roger and Maddy sprinted out the front door and galloped up the stairs to their room. As soon as the fire department discovered that there wasn’t a fire, Rebecca and Benji followed. When the family was reassembled back in their room, Benji got out a pad and paper and went online via a hotel computer and called up a French/English dictionary. But safely in their own hotel room, Maddy was able to piece together what she had overheard without any help.
“The real Veronique doesn’t want to move to Argentina.”
“Argentina?” Roger said.
“Wait, wait!” Rebecca said. “How do you know this?”
Maddy shrugged. “I might have been trapped under their bed and overheard an argument.”
Rebecca’s eyes went wide in disbelief. She looked at Maddy, then at Roger, then back at her daughter, as if she didn’t know who to be angrier at.
“Save it for later, sweets,” Roger said. “This is important.”
“So is this,” Rebecca said. She turned to Maddy. “You told me you were going to stay upstairs. I don’t appreciate being lied to.”
Maddy trembled from head to foot. Here they were in a hotel room in Bulgaria in the middle of a plot that might very well land them all in prison and her mother had to keep acting like, well, a mom. Why couldn’t she cut her a break? Congratulate her for risking her life to get valuable information? Why did everything have to turn into a rebuke? Well, if her mother insisted on continuing to play the role of the overbearing parent, Maddy was happy to take the part of the aggrieved daughter.
“Lied to, huh?” she said.
She heard Benji suck in a sharp breath. “Easy, Mads.”
But there was no turning back. The words had been itching to get out of her mouth for months now.
“You’re the one who is lying to me,” she said. “To all of us.”
Rebecca was genuinely confused. She knew she was many things, but not a liar. “Lied to? What are you talking about?”
“Don’t act all innocent, Mom,” Maddy said.
“About what?”
Maddy looked nervously at her dad. “Morganroth and Inker.” She turned back to her mom. “I saw you going in there last month.”
Rebecca bl
inked. “So what?”
“So what?” Maddy said. Time to get it all out. “It’s a firm that does divorces! Come on! You’re going to leave Dad—it’s so obvious.”
By that time Benji was in the corner with his hands over his face, watching the conversation between two fingers. Maddy’s heart was pounding so fast she thought she was going to fall over. But she held her ground as her father turned to her mom.
“Sweetie?” Roger’s voice shook. “Is that true?”
Rebecca took his hand. “No. Not at all.”
“Don’t lie,” Maddy said. Her voice was shaking, too—in fact, she was so overwrought, she could barely speak. “I saw you there.”
“Yes,” Rebecca said. “I was going there to ask for a job, Maddy. A job!”
Benji slowly lowered his hands from his eyes. Roger exhaled.
Maddy felt the blood rushing to her face.
“A job?” she stammered. “Why?”
“For money, Mads,” her mother said. “With the price of corn going down the tubes, I thought it was time get back to work. I’ve been planning to do it for a while now anyway.”
Roger smiled and pulled his wife close. “She’s a trained lawyer, you know.”
“Yeah,” Maddy said. “I know.” It was all too much to wrap her head around. “If you don’t want a divorce, why do you always seem so annoyed at Dad? Why does everything bug you so much?”
Maddy could tell at a glance that she had hit a chord. Her mother looked almost ashamed.
“Listen,” she said finally. “I love your father, OK? Very much.” She looked at Roger, then back at Maddy. “No marriage is perfect. That’s what marriage is.”
“OK, so maybe I’m wrong about the divorce.” Maddy paused. It was now or never. If America had been able to claim its independence from Britain, shouldn’t she be able to declare hers from her mom? “But you still have to give me my space. I can do things, you know.”
Rebecca sighed and brushed a hand through Maddy’s hair. “I know. I guess a young lady like you doesn’t need her mother anymore.”
Maddy was surprised at how sad she suddenly felt. Yes, she had laid into her mother precisely the way she had wanted to. But maybe she had laid it on a little bit too thick.
“No, no,” she said. “I still need you.” She paused. “Just sometimes.”