Who’s Talking about Harry Maxwell?
WHO’S TALKING ABOUT HARRY MAXWELL?
“And you haven’t heard anyone talking about Harry Maxwell?”
“What about the big board?”
“No problems with her?”
“None so far,” said Montag 5. “I’ve checked on her a few times. She seems attentive.”
“I’m not sure I like her,” said Pilgrim 3.
“Why not?” said Montag 5.
“Because I’m not sure she likes me,” said Pilgrim 3.
“Pardon me, Madam Vault Keeper,” said Lidenbrock 2, “but why this sudden concern about security? The president is out of the way, just like you wanted. Everything is going perfectly.”
“Have any of us figured out Harry Maxwell’s math?” asked Pilgrim 3.
“We have not,” said Nemo 7.
“Do any of us know exactly what will happen on October fourteenth at five twenty-two a.m.?”
“We do not,” said Nemo 7.
“Is the president sitting comfortably by the pool in Florida?”
“He is not,” said Montag 5.
“Then everything is not going perfectly,” said Pilgrim 3. “What about the wife?”
“The president never had a wife,” said Lidenbrock 2.
“Not the president’s wife,” said Pilgrim 3, raising her voice. “Harry Maxwell’s wife.”
“Marie Maxwell? You know she never supported his actions in the first place,” said Nemo 7. “After the memorial service, we had no more contact with her. Lidenbrock 2 searched Harry’s office at the university before they emptied it, but he didn’t find anything.”
“And the house?”
“I searched that, too,” said Lidenbrock 2, “right after Harry died and before Marie got home. Nothing of interest.”
“I wonder if we should have been watching her all this time,” said Pilgrim 3.
“It’s not like we have a police force,” said Nemo 7. “Most club members have full-time jobs. We can’t exactly run a ten-year surveillance project. It was hard enough finding people to keep an eye on the president.”
“Don’t worry,” said Lidenbrock 2. “If anything happens, it will show up on the big board.”
“Don’t tell me not to worry,” said Pilgrim 3.
But she did not go on to express her real concern.
Pilgrim 3 wasn’t afraid that something would happen; she was afraid that something would happen without her.
That somehow, from beyond the grave, Harry Maxwell would find a way to thwart her quest for power and fame.
Because if the same thing happened on October 14 that happened on the other date Harry Maxwell had calculated—the date of his death—then Pilgrim 3 might have the opportunity to become very powerful and famous indeed.
“Keep watching that board,” said Pilgrim 3. “And be ready to go anywhere if it lights up.”
An hour later, from a quiet spot in the Ramble in Central Park, Nemo 7 called the president.
In the past few days, Richard had paid for two mediocre spa treatments, read a poorly written thriller that someone had abandoned in the lobby, eaten twice in each of the resort’s two restaurants, and tried without success to find a decent place nearby to take a run.
The pleasures of the Lakeside Hotel and Resort were wearing thin.
“Tell me something interesting?” he said when he heard Nemo 7’s voice.
“Not much to tell. Pilgrim 3 is as nervous as a two-tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs. I’m not sure she suspects Valentine 6, but she certainly doesn’t trust her. She doesn’t know where you are, but she thinks your disappearance means something. And she’s asking questions about Marie.”
“Not about Vivian?”
“She thinks Vivian was Harry’s friend, maybe his mistress, but nothing more.”
“So, what, I’m stuck at this place until the fourteenth?”
“Would you like to explain to me why you left Florida?”
“Tess showed up at Vivian’s. Six days ago.”
“She just showed up?”
“Had some kind of mental breakdown and left school.”
“That timing can’t be a coincidence.”
“Exactly what I told Vivian.”
“If Pilgrim 3 finds out about her—”
“Then there may be no way we can protect her,” said Richard.
“Where are you now?”
“About two hours from Vivian by car. If anything shows up on the board, I’ll be able to beat Pilgrim 3’s goons there.”
“So, what do we do?” asked Nemo 7.
“You keep watching and listening, I keep eating crappy resort food, and maybe on the fifteenth we can all go home and have a nice tall scotch.”
As Nemo 7 walked west through the park toward his brownstone, his phone rang and he heard the voice of Montag 5, summoning him back to the club. Fifteen minutes later he and Montag 5 were back in Pilgrim 3’s office.
“Where is Lidenbrock 2?” she asked.
“Apparently he has plans for the evening,” said Montag 5.
“Plans that are more important than club business?”
“He said something about dinner reservations,” said Montag 5.
“I’ve changed my mind about Marie Maxwell,” said Pilgrim 3. “Can you both get away for a few days?”
“Yes, ma’am,” the two men replied in unison.
“I want you to go out there and keep an eye on her. See if she’s up to anything or if she has any visitors.”
“What about the big board?”
“We’ve got people watching the board, and I’ll talk to Lidenbrock 2 in the morning. Tell him no more dinners until after the fourteenth. You two go straight to the airport. I want you in place as soon as possible.”
“Yes, ma’am,” said Montag 5.
“And one other thing,” said Pilgrim 3. “I don’t want either one of you to let the other out of his sight—not for ten seconds.”
“You don’t trust us?” said Nemo 7.
“I don’t trust anyone,” said Pilgrim 3.
Nemo 7 wanted to call Richard and warn him that Pilgrim 3 had sent a reconnaissance party to keep an eye on Marie Maxwell, but Montag 5 took the instruction to watch his companion seriously.
Nemo 7 couldn’t even get thirty seconds alone in a bathroom stall.
“Keep the door open,” Montag 5 had said.
They managed to get an evening flight out of Newark and by the wee hours of Tuesday morning they sat in a rental car across the street from Marie Maxwell’s modest house in the Eken Park neighborhood of Madison, Wisconsin.
“This is a total waste of time,” said Nemo 7 an hour into the stakeout. “The big board could light up anywhere and we’re stuck here watching the one place we’ve already searched.”
Montag 5 did not respond. Nemo 7 thought for a moment his companion might have fallen asleep, but when he turned his head, he saw Montag 5 staring intently at Marie Maxwell’s front door.
There would be no calling Richard tonight, thought Nemo 7, and he slid down in his seat, hoping to catch a few minutes of sleep.
Nemo 7 had met Harry Maxwell shortly after joining the Paradox Club and felt drawn to him immediately.
Nemo 7 had joined the club at the same time as Lidenbrock 2, a scrawny, awkward twenty-year-old completely lacking in both fashion sense and social graces.
If there could be such a thing as a nerd in the halls of a club populated almost entirely by scientists, Lidenbrock 2 was it.
Harry Maxwell, on the other hand, was the big man on campus.
He oozed self-confidence but not in a conceited or off-putting way.
Harry’s confidence rubbed off on others.
When Harry entered a room, everyone became a better conversationalist. And Harry didn’t have to know you for thirty seconds before he would engage in much more than idle chitchat.
When Nemo 7 had sat next to him in the junior lounge one spring afternoon, Harry propped his feet on an ottoman, turned to Nemo 7, and said, “What do you think about the ethics of trying to communicate with other species?” They had been friends ever since.
Nearly everyone in the club had been friends with Harry.
Even after he’d aligned himself against Pilgrim 3, those who opposed him in matters of club policy or politics still enjoyed his company.
Until that September when Harry had entered the Paradox Club a changed man.
The jovial, friendly conversationalist had been replaced by a silent brooding introvert who rarely spoke even when directly addressed.
A month later, in a diner on Broadway, Nemo 7 had looked up to see that Harry had slipped into the booth opposite him.
“This is unexpected,” Nemo 7 said. “I feel like I haven’t spoken to you in months.”
“You haven’t,” said Harry. “But only because of me. I haven’t been myself lately.”
“I heard what happened,” said Nemo 7.
“Let’s not talk about that,” Harry said, leaning forward and lowering his voice to a whisper. “I’m thinking I might do something crazy and irresponsible.”
“Do you need my help?”
“I need you to become a spy for Pilgrim 3.”
“The vault keeper? The one who makes no secret of her ambition to take over the club and throw most of its rules out the window?”
“That’s the one. I need her to believe that you’re completely loyal to her.”
“But really I’m loyal to you.”
“And to the president,” Harry said.
“Of course. Always to the president.”
“Can you convince her?”
“Can I convince Pilgrim 3 that I want to support her ambitions, make her trust me completely, and then serve as a mole for you and the president?”
“Yes. Can you do that?”
“Absolutely. But what exactly are you planning to do?”
“Nothing anytime soon. But I want to have all the pieces in place so when I’m ready…”
“Pilgrim 3 won’t stand in your way,” Nemo 7 said.
“Something like that,” said Harry.
And Nemo 7 agreed. He had wormed his way into Pilgrim 3’s inner circle, although Harry had done his crazy and irresponsible thing without Nemo 7’s help.
But after Harry died, Nemo 7 had quietly made overtures to the president to tell him that whenever Richard needed to know anything about Pilgrim 3, Nemo 7 would be happy to provide information from within the vault keeper’s camp.
And now that he finally had something compelling to report, he had that brute Montag 5 sitting two feet from him, tracking his every move.
For now, Nemo 7 would simply watch and wait, but the time might come, and soon, when the sleeper agent planted by Harry Maxwell over ten years ago would finally take action.