Lucy returned to her bench and wrapped her—well, Hugo’s—jacket tight around her. The night was growing colder, but Jack seemed unmoved by it.
“Perhaps you think you know why you’re here—to win my new book. But it’s more than that, of course. The first time you came here, you carried in your hearts a wish. A wish to be like the children in my books. Well, now you’re going to get it. While you are here this week, you will become, as you once wished, like a character in one of my books. Sadly, I’m not nearly as impressive or shadowy as the Mastermind, but he’s authorized me to speak on his behalf. And he has one message for you all. But I don’t need to say it. If you’ve read my books, you already know what he wants to tell you. Anyone?”
Andre furrowed his brow. Dustin stared blankly. Melanie shrugged.
But Lucy remembered. Even Christopher could have told them.
“Um…so, if the Mastermind is going to tell us what he tells the kids in the books,” Lucy said, “his message will be, ‘Good luck. You’re going to need it.’”
Chapter Thirteen
After they finished eating and catching up, Jack led them back to the house. Hugo had stayed behind in the library with his sketchbook, working on something. Maybe the new book’s cover? Lucy wanted to peek, but Jack asked them to take their seats. Lucy folded herself into a large armchair patterned in book print. It was a relief to be inside again, warm and cozy. But that relief was short-lived.
“Now,” Jack said with a heavy sigh, “I’m afraid that as much as I would have liked to keep this game between us…the powers that be had other ideas. Hugo?”
“I’ll fetch the brass,” Hugo said as he closed his sketchbook and got up and left the room.
“What’s the brass?” Andre asked.
Lucy left her chair to pour a cup of tea for herself.
“I am.” A woman stood in the library’s doorway, wearing an expensive-looking pantsuit. Jack began humming the theme from Jaws. Ah, Lucy got the joke. She was a shark—a lawyer.
“My name is Susan Hyde, attorney for Lion House Books, publisher for the Clock Island books. You all will be playing for the only extant copy of—”
“Extant,” Jack said, nodding. “Good word.”
Ms. Hyde continued, unamused by Jack’s interruption. “All contests, riddles, and games have been submitted in advance and approved by us to ensure fairness. In the event of cheating in any form or fashion, including but not limited to using your landlines, smartphones, computers, or any other internet-connected device, you will be immediately disqualified. Colluding with other contestants and/or attempts at bribery—”
“Are always welcome,” Jack said. “I accept tens and twenties and chocolate truffles.”
Everyone laughed. Everyone but the lawyer.
“First things first,” Ms. Hyde said. “Paperwork. Critical paperwork that should have been signed the minute you entered the house.”
Jack looked up at the ceiling and said, “Lord, save me from lawyers.”
“Hey now,” Andre said, half joking.
“Yes, forgive me, son,” Jack said. “Would you mind signing some satanic piece of paper that says you won’t sue me, my agent, or my publisher if you don’t win the game?”
“It’s also a release,” Ms. Hyde continued. “You won’t press charges if you, say, go for a swim and drown.”
“I promise if I drown,” Melanie said as she got up for tea, “I won’t press charges against anyone.”
“It’s not a joke,” Hugo said from the doorway. “The water out here can kill you in a heartbeat.”
“It’s fine, Hugo,” Jack said. “None of them are going to get hurt. Yes?”
Everyone agreed they’d behave.
The lawyer simply said, “Good.”
She pulled four clipboards out of her briefcase and passed them around.
“Nobody signs anything yet,” Andre said, holding up his hand. “Let me look at it first.”
The room fell silent as Andre paced the floor while he read through the agreement. Hugo stoked the fire in the fireplace. Dustin’s leg bounced so hard it shook the floor. Melanie sipped her tea. Meanwhile, Jack blithely whistled the theme song to Jeopardy!.
Twice.
“Looks good,” Andre said. “Nothing out-of-bounds.”
He was the first to sign. Lucy took the clipboard and signed her name on the line. If it hadn’t felt real before, it did now.
Lucy handed the clipboard back.
“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.