have—than be the next victim of Jaws’s toothy shredder.
My dad is frowning big-time now. He knows how I feel about sharks. “So Wyn was allowed access to all the in-house prototypes?” asks Dad, with more than a hint of anger in his voice. “A shark tank would be impossible to create with the currently released modules.”
“Mr. Salvador gives his son full access to the database,” Kora replies in her clipped voice. “Wyn likes to experiment with the newer modules and he provides valuable feedback. His father trusts him implicitly.”
“Sounds like that was a mistake,” grumbles Dad.
Kora purses her lips. “I believe your daughter has access to some beta modules as well?”
“Yes, but she doesn’t abuse it,” says Dad, which is technically not true, but I do my best to play the part and look innocent.
Kora casts a skeptical eye in my direction, but then nods curtly at Dad and continues to scroll through her tablet.
“What happens after the sharks?” I ask, after a moment of awkward silence.
“Anaconda,” Kora says matter-of-factly and, unless I am imagining it, with a bit of pleasure at my expense.
“Nice,” I murmur.
“I believe there are carnivorous plants in that room as well,” she adds.
“Wow, this Wyn sounds like a real nature lover,” I say, feeling myself loathe the guy more and more with each passing moment.
“The programmers who’ve entered the maze have made a diagram of their findings,” Kora says, pressing an icon on her tablet and passing it to me. “You should use the rest of the flight to familiarize yourself with it.”
I take the tablet from her and Dad leans in to look over my shoulder. After a few moments, he lets out a long whistle. “Looks like Wyn thought of everything, didn’t he?” he asks.
“And this may just be the beginning,” Kora replies.
I look at her in question.
“None of the programmers made it to the end of the maze,” she explains. “No one made it past the fourth room.”
“So what, they just quit? Or are they still working on it?” I ask.
Kora turns her eyes from me. “As of yet, none of them wish to re-enter the maze. Some of them are physically exhausted and are recuperating in one of Mr. Salvador’s medical facilities. Others are . . . compromised.”
“Compromised?” my dad asks, frowning again at Kora.
Kora shifts uncomfortably in her leather seat. “The doctors think perhaps a slight case of PTSD, though that has yet to be verified.”
“They went crazy?” I ask, my voice louder than I mean it to be, while Vic snorts at Kora’s soft-pedal.
“Perhaps it’s more accurate to say they went into shock,” replies Kora. In any case, they’re all currently under the care and supervision of the world’s best doctors. I’m sure they will be fine after a short rest.”
“And you expect me to send my only daughter into some monstrous playground that scared the living daylights out of grown men?” Dad asks.
Kora bristles. “Not all the programmers were men, Mr. Bauer.”
I can’t help it. Now it’s Dad’s turn to shift uncomfortably and I grin behind my hand. I mean, Kora does have a point, even if she’s using it to change the subject.
“My apologies,” says Dad, then clears his throat. “I didn’t mean to imply, of course, that—”
“But back to the maze,” I say, trying to save my dad from any more potential embarrassment. “So no one knows how it ends. And we can only assume that Wyn saved his best defense for last.”
Kora nods.
“The Big Bad,” my dad mutters. “God only knows what that might be.”
I blow a big breath out of my cheeks.
If there’s something worse than a shark tank, I’m not sure I want to know.
UNCORRECTED E-PROOF—NOT FOR SALE
HarperCollins Publishers
..................................................................
I LOOK OUT THE WINDOW AND SEE THE PERFECT BLUE GULF OF MEXICO below me, the Florida Keys stretched out like a long-armed tentacle through the sea. I try to breathe in the beauty of it, but the tentacle has reminded me of a giant squid and now it’s all I can think about. Giant squid. Could that be Wyn’s grand finale?
God, I hope not.
After going through the list of maze obstacles with my dad, I’m not sure whether I want to congratulate Wyn after I level him, or break his nose. He certainly chose some creative ways to keep people from finding him.
“Looks like he’s preying on people’s phobias,” my dad says as we study the diagram together in awe and horror.
Claustrophobia, arachnophobia, agoraphobia . . . Wyn tucked them all into his little