said.
Mrs. Sigsby smiled. “Really, Luke, think. What have they ever done for you?”
“You wouldn’t understand,” Luke said. “Not in a million years.”
“Go on, Wendy,” Tim said. He took her hand and squeezed it. “Get a room, then come back.”
She gave him a doubtful look but handed him the Glock, got out of the van, and headed for the office.
Dr. Evans said, “I want to emphasize that I was here under—”
“Protest, yes,” Tim said. “We got that. Now shut up.”
“Can we get out?” Luke asked. “I want to talk to you without . . .” He nodded at Mrs. Sigsby.
“Sure, we can do that.” Tim opened both the passenger door and the slider, then stood against the fence dividing the motel from the closed car dealership next door. Luke joined him. From where Tim stood, he could see both of their unwilling passengers, and could stop them if either decided to try making a run. He didn’t think that was very likely, considering one had been shot in the leg and the other in the foot.
“What’s up?” Tim asked.
“Do you play chess?”
“I know the game, but I was never very good at it.”
“I am,” Luke said. He was speaking low. “And now I’m playing with him. Stackhouse. Do you get that?”
“I think I do.”
“Trying to think three moves ahead, plus counters to his future moves.”
Tim nodded.
“In chess, time isn’t a factor unless you’re playing speed-chess, and this game is. We have to get from here to the airfield where the plane is waiting. Then to someplace near Presque Isle, where the plane is based. From there to the Institute. I can’t see us making it until at least two tomorrow morning. Does that sound right to you?”
Tim ran it in his mind, and nodded. “Might be a little later, but say two.”
“That gives my friends five hours to do something on their own behalf, but it also gives Stackhouse five hours to re-think his position and change his mind. To gas those kids and just take off running. I told him his picture would be in every airport, and he’ll buy that, I think, because there must be pictures of him somewhere online. A lot of the Institute people are ex-military. Probably he is, too.”
“There might even be a photo of him on the queen bitch’s phone,” Tim said.
Luke nodded, although he doubted if Mrs. Sigsby had been the type to take snapshots. “But he might decide to slip across the Canadian border on foot. I’m sure he has at least one alternate escape route all picked out—an abandoned woods road or a creek. That’s one of those possible future moves I have to keep in mind. Only . . .”
“Only what?”
Luke rubbed the heel of his hand up one cheek, a strangely adult gesture of weariness and indecision. “I need your input. What I’m thinking makes sense to me, but I’m still only a kid. I can’t be sure. You’re a grownup, and you’re one of the good guys.”
Tim was touched by that. He glanced toward the front of the building, but there was no sign of Wendy yet. “Tell me what you’re thinking.”
“That I fucked him up. Fucked up his whole world. I think he might stay just to kill me. Using my friends as bait to make sure I’ll come. Does that make sense to you? Tell me the truth.”
“It does,” Tim said. “No way to be sure, but revenge is a powerful motivator, and this Stackhouse wouldn’t be the first to ignore his own best interests in an effort to get it. And I can think of another reason he might decide to wait in place.”
“What?” Luke was studying him anxiously. From around the building, Wendy Gullickson came with a key card in one hand.
Tim tipped his head toward the van’s open passenger door, then brought his head close to Luke’s. “Sigsby’s the boss lady, right? Stackhouse is just her ramrod?”
“Yes.”
“Well,” Tim said, smiling a little, “who’s her boss? Have you thought of that?”
Luke’s eyes widened and his mouth dropped open a little. He got it. And smiled.
3
Nine-fifteen.
The Institute was quiet. The kids currently in Front Half were asleep, aided by sedatives Joe and Hadad had handed out. In the access tunnel, the five who had started the mutiny were also sleeping, but probably not deeply; Stackhouse hoped their headaches would be fucking them up most awesomely. The only kids still awake were the gorks, rambling around almost as if they had somewhere to go. Sometimes they