Amanda Lester and the Gold Spectacles Surprise

by Paula Berinstein

  Knowing as he did that ninjas often infiltrated castles, he began with the assumption that he would encounter just such a complex. Real Japanese castles were set up as mazes in order to fool invaders, but in a game such as this they would be even more complicated. He was absolutely certain that he would encounter stairways leading nowhere, holes in the walls, false floors and ceilings, and secret compartments and escape routes. Fortunately he had a few tricks up his sleeve that he could use to navigate them, and he spent part of his hour brushing up on them: a set of algorithms and a sensor that would help him find his way through and map the castle as he went.

  The next item on his list was site preparation. His plan was to get in as fast as possible and conceal weapons for future use. As he was doing that he would also check for trip wires, booby traps, and secret alarms, which Nick would undoubtedly install wherever possible. The trick there would be to disrupt his efforts while preparing his own resources, as his opponent would attempt to do to him, which was why he attempted to anticipate his tactics.

  The last task was to don a disguise. Nick would probably clothe himself all in black, but Holmes knew that real ninjas didn’t do that. Skilled in espionage, they would attempt to blend in, so they would assume the role of a monk or some other faceless, nameless person no one would notice. Holmes very much liked the idea of impersonating a monk. The garb was loose and would cover him completely. He could hide all sorts of goodies underneath and move about anonymously.

  The hour was almost up. Holmes strode up to his mother’s mirror and regarded himself. He couldn’t believe how different he looked now: strong, tall, confident, and frankly, badass. If he had looked like that when he was with Amanda Nick never would have won her. Too bad he’d been so clueless a year ago but he’d make up for it now. He’d whip Moriarty’s ass and then . . . no. He didn’t even want her anymore. She could rot for all he cared. But he would very much enjoy destroying that arrogant ass and imagining how she’d feel as she watched.

  He was right. When he entered the game he was confronted with a monstrous castle, so massive that it could have encompassed several of the largest the UK had to offer. He had no doubt that, Tardis-like, it was even larger on the inside. The assignment was to get in, locate the realm’s most secret documents, and make off with them. It sounded simple but Holmes knew he was facing one of the most difficult tasks he had ever encountered. It was well known that the private portions of this particular game had been programmed by hackers who were as adept as he was.

  It seemed that the castle, which was surrounded by and built upon a set of stone walls, had but one entrance, a wise decision on the part of its designers. One entrance was easier to defend than several. That meant that unless Holmes could find a way to scale walls and enter through a window, he would have to get through that gate or give up. Of course so would Nick, so the more difficult it was to penetrate the castle the better. If Nick couldn’t get inside he would forfeit the game.

  The entrance lay at the top of a steep incline. Holmes had half expected the castle to be surrounded by a moat but none existed. That was a good thing: no drawbridge to be pulled up and thwart his entry. But the ramp leading to the door was narrow and precipitous, and it would be easy for a guard to simply push an intruder off the side, so he would have to make himself look as non-threatening as possible.

  The problem was that the programmers were no dummies. They knew all about enemies pretending to be monks, and when he got to the guards he was challenged.

  “What is your order?” a tall, skinny guard demanded.

  “I am Soto Zen,” said Holmes, who had done his research. Soto was the largest of the three traditional Zen sects in Japan, emphasizing a type of meditation known as shikantaza.

  “Wrong answer,” said the guard. “You must turn around.”

  Holmes was perplexed. Why shouldn’t the guard let an ordinary monk into the castle? Such men came to instruct Japanese rulers all the time.

  “I beg your pardon,” he said. “I was led to believe—”

  “We are Rinzai here,” the guard spat. “Samurai. Do you not know that the Shogun practices Rinzai?”

  Whoops. No, Holmes hadn’t known that and he was annoyed with himself. He would have to think fast. What if—

  “You misunderstand me,” he said. “I have come to learn. I wish to be enlightened in the ways of the Shogun. I was invited by—” Think! What’s the name of a Rinzai monk? “Zen master Eisai.” He hoped that would do. Zen master Eisai had died in 1215. He had no idea what time period the programmers had assigned to the game. He hoped Eisai would be alive now.

  “Eisai himself invited you?” said the guard. “Where did you meet him?”

  Now what? Eisai had spent a lot of time in China. In fact he had brought the Rinzai school to Japan from China.

  “I was traveling in China,” said Holmes.

  The guard peered at him suspiciously. “What were you doing there?”

  Holmes was getting annoyed. He had no idea what to say. Not even inside the castle and already he was making mistakes. He could sure use a cup of tea to get his mind going.

  “What’s that you said?” said the guard. “Did you say tea?”

  Holmes hadn’t realized he’d spoken aloud. Now he was in for it. “Uh . . .”

  “Zen master Eisai brought green tea to Japan. It is a blessing. You may enter.”

  Holmes had no idea what had just happened but he was thankful for whatever it was. He stepped past the guard and into the castle, activating his sensor as he entered a dark room.

  The interior looked nothing like an English castle. Rather than being made of stone it was clad in wood and looked very much like a set of connected Japanese tearooms. He had no doubt, however, that the Spartan appearance was deceptive and that in the way of English castles, this castle would be filled with nooks, crannies, niches, secret passages, and all manner of cool places.

  Now to find the documents. They could be anywhere, but wherever they were they would be hidden and secured. In a tower? A dungeon? The prince’s chamber? He would reconnoiter and make decisions as he went along.

  The room he was standing in was large and bare except for the many people it contained. Monks, warriors, and servants were milling around in seeming chaos. It struck him that Nick could be any one of them and that he might even change his appearance at will. He would have to keep an eye on each of them while he searched. Nick wouldn’t be the only danger though. The programmers would have given their characters instructions to watch out for hidden enemies and destroy them when found.

  Holmes was pretty sure that the documents would not be in a heavily trafficked area so he decided to seek out the less populated portions of the castle. Several doors led off this main atrium. One appeared to open into a service area. He couldn’t tell about the others so he picked one at random and stepped through.

  Sure enough this wasn’t a typical Japanese castle. Ordinarily such places would be reserved strictly for military use with the princes and their families living in adjacent structures. But this one was designed more like the contemporary notion of a castle, in which the ruling family lived, worked, and defended itself, along with others who dwelt within the perimeter: workers, courtiers, and so on.

  Holmes found himself in a huge dining hall, far larger than the one at Legatum. The long table that lay at the center looked like an impossibility, but in a digital world anything could be built. It was an elaborate polygon constructed to facilitate separate conversations rather than one long free-for-all. You might say that it comprised a series of pods. It had been set with sumptuous tableware, and servants bustled around making ready for what seemed to be a celebration but could very well have been an ordinary meal for all he knew. He wasn’t sure about that but he did know one thing: there would be no documents here.

  He left the dining room and returned to the foyer. He hadn’t noticed before, but one of the other doors leading out of the room opened onto a flight of stairs. It seemed likel
y that the private chambers would lie at the top of the castle and comprise the most promising areas to explore. He would take it.

  As he started up the stairs the hubbub died away and everything changed. The passage was narrow—so narrow that he almost filled it side to side—and steep. He looked behind him. Good. No one had followed. He turned back and continued up.

  Suddenly there was a cry and a man loomed above, nearly knocking both of them down the stairs. But Holmes was prepared for just such an eventuality. He grabbed the man’s ankles and pulled, knocking him on his tailbone. Then he stepped around him and ran up the steps. He glanced around to see if there was a place to conceal himself. All he saw was a long corridor with a dozen doors leading off it. He opened the first and stepped inside, closing it behind him. And then he smelled the smoke.

  Something was on fire in the corner of the room. Holmes couldn’t tell what it was or if the fire had been deliberately set, but he knew the whole place would go up if he didn’t act quickly.

  He was unlikely to find water nearby so he peeled off his robes and threw them over the fire, then stomped on them. The heat on his foot was so intense that he yelped and jumped back. The flames were beginning to burn through his garment. The fire was going to spread!

  He looked around for something else he could use to damp it but the room was empty. Now he had the choice of raising the alarm or trying to find some other way of putting it out. But without his robes he would be recognized as an intruder and imprisoned or worse. He couldn’t chance that. He had to stop the fire himself, now. Then he would worry about another disguise.

  He opened the door to the hall and scanned the area. Nothing. He ran to the next room and flung open the door. Tatami mats! If he was fast enough he might just be able to douse the flames with them. He pulled a couple of them off the floor—they were heavier than they looked—and raced back to the fire. He threw the mats over it and held his breath. Smoke was still billowing out from underneath, but less and less. It was working!

  He tore back next door and grabbed two more mats, then sprinted back and threw them on the fire. Yes! The mats had formed enough of a seal that they were depriving the fire of the oxygen it needed to burn. He ran back and grabbed more mats. Things were looking good. The fire breathed one big sigh and died.

  Now Holmes was without a disguise. It was lucky that no one had seen him running from room to room but he couldn’t count on his good fortune lasting. He would have to find another way to conceal his identity. If he could just locate a spare kimono, or another monk’s robe, he would be fine. He might have to do a lot of searching, though, and during every moment he would be vulnerable. He would have to be quick, devious, and forceful.

  He opened the door and peered out again. No one was about so he stepped across the hall and carefully opened the door opposite. He could hear no voices inside so he pushed the door just a little more and stuck his nose through. It seemed to be a bedroom of some kind but no one was inside. He slipped in and closed the door behind him.

  Castles don’t have closets and this one was no exception. An armoire stood at the end of the room but there were no other doors or niches of any kind. Perhaps there were some clothes inside that he could use. He opened the double doors and to his astonishment it held no garments at all, but the opening to a hidden passageway. One of the secret corridors he was expecting. Good.

  He stepped inside and shut the doors behind him. It was dark but he had brought a small torch. He turned it on and found himself inside a tunnel lined with stone. That was weird—a stone tunnel in a wooden building. But he reminded himself that this was a digital world and anything was possible.

  The stone made the air dank and Holmes could see mold on the walls. That wasn’t abnormal for an English castle but it did seem odd in a Japanese one. The good news was that he heard and saw no one, which meant that as long as the situation persisted he could travel around the castle undisturbed.

  He checked the map his sensor was creating. It was pretty skimpy. Well, it would be. He’d barely seen any of the complex. It would take a lot more exploration before the thing filled in. But map making wasn’t his objective. Getting those documents was. And he had an idea.

  Simon’s sensor had probed the pit at the quarry. Sure, it had been scanning the physical world, but there might be a way to adapt it to work in a virtual one as well. Unfortunately he would need time, which meant he’d have to hide while he messed around. He couldn’t leave his avatar out where someone might find and capture or slay him, so he would have to locate a hiding place. The corridor was deserted, but would it remain that way? He wasn’t sure he could count on that.

  Ninjas were known for hiding in plain sight. Perhaps there was a way he could make himself look like a common object while he worked on the sensor. Or maybe—why not? He would go back to the room with the armoire and wedge himself under the bed. It was silly but it might work. He’d keep the other idea in reserve for later.

  He made his way back to the entrance and listened. No noise came from the bedroom. He pushed open one armoire door and listened again. Nothing. He moved one eye to the crack. Still nothing. He cautiously stepped through and checked the bed. There was just enough room underneath for him to hide, so he slipped into the space and lay there. Now it was time to go find Simon in the real world and see about that sensor.

  What Holmes hadn’t reckoned on was that Simon was still irritated with him and might refuse to help. He was and he did. That annoyed him but it didn’t matter. He would make the sensor himself. It shouldn’t be difficult with his skills. It would take some time, though, and who knew what Nick was up to in that castle. Holmes hadn’t even come across him yet, at least not that he was aware. He might be making off with the documents at that very moment. Perhaps the sensor was a luxury he couldn’t afford.

  He returned to the game, crept back into the secret passageway, and moved forward. When he passed the point where he had turned back, the floor began to slope up. He figured that if he followed it the whole way he would end up in one of the turrets. They were the remotest parts of the building, certain not to be much used, the perfect spots to hide things, which was exactly why he didn’t think the documents would be there: much too obvious. In fact the more he thought about it, the more he realized that plain sight was exactly where they would be, just as Thrillkill had hidden the antidote to Nick’s poison in Amanda’s bag. The situation couldn’t have been more similar. He wondered why he hadn’t realized that before. It was far more dangerous to search out in the open. Of course the prince would hide the documents where everyone could see and no one would expect them.

  Now Holmes realized that the most likely place for the documents to be hidden was that busy foyer after all. Where, he didn’t know, but he was certain they were there somewhere. Now he really would have to find a new disguise.

  Suddenly he heard an oof up ahead of him, then the sound of running as someone blew past him. The man, who was dressed as a monk as he had been, was covered in blood. He turned around and laughed, cackling so hard Holmes thought he would bring the ceiling down. Then he reached under his robe and dangled some papers.

  “You lose, Sherlock,” he said, then took off down the corridor.

  Nick! He’d got the documents. But why the blood? Holmes turned toward the incline and ran around a bend, and then he saw. Nick had killed two guards and left the dagger behind. The game dissolved and the screen went dark. His rival had won the first round.

  14

  Strange Bedfellows

  Simon had changed his mind. The whole debacle with Belize was down to him. How could he have let Blixus get away with the metadata? To have endangered the actor the way he had, that was all his fault. No wonder two guards at MI5 had been murdered. He had seen it in his news feed and been horrified. If he hadn’t exposed the man, drawn him out where Blixus and Waltz could find him, those two men would still be alive. He had to fix things. And that meant finding the two criminals.

  The only
lead he had wasn’t to Blixus but to Waltz. He had Lila Lester’s address in London. Since Waltz was her boyfriend he might have gone there, although the idea of bringing a hostage into her home seemed awfully cheeky. But Waltz was a cheeky guy and Simon could well believe he would. What was he supposed to do, though, phone Mrs. Lester and ask if Waltz had caught up with Blixus? No, his only option was to go there and see for himself.

  He was getting used to the London journey and had got his travel routine down to a science. He would skateboard down to the Windermere rail station, take the train to Oxenholme, and transfer to a train headed for King’s Cross. Where he’d take the tube after that would depend on his mission. Since Lila lived in Belgravia, this time he would disembark at Sloane Square after transferring to the Piccadilly and Circle lines. It was a piece of cake. What turned out not to be a piece of cake was Ivy’s reaction.

  He hadn’t meant for her to find out until it was all over, if then. Unfortunately as he had made his way to the front door he had run smack into her and Nigel and his voice had given him away, or so she claimed.

  “What are you up to, Simon?” she said in a way that implied disapproval. He couldn’t believe she knew. What was she, psychic?

  He looked at his feet. “Nothing.”

  “Then why are you looking at the floor?” she said in her freakily perceptive way.

  He should have realized she could tell. He knew perfectly well how to catch someone lying. They’d studied the signs in Criminals and Their Methods and Profiling. What the other students could detect by watching for facial tics and parsing body language Ivy would know almost before it happened. Sometimes he thought she could feel vibrations, she was so sensitive to her environment. It would be useless to attempt to fool her.

  “I’m going to London,” he said, hoping against hope that she wouldn’t ask why.