The Odds - Jeff Strand Page 0,68
why you think I’m going to feel guilty about this.”
“Because you ruined the game!”
“You are one out of touch guy.”
“It’s not just about you. You should think about others.”
“So what were the points all about?” Ethan asked.
“Before the final battle started, the players could use their points in exchange for weapons and advantages. Let’s say you’ve got three points. Do you use them all for a machine gun, or do you spend a point on a six-shooter, a point on a bulletproof vest, and a point on a peek at a map that shows you the location of the hidden passages? Each player would have to make their own decisions.”
“Sorry I’m missing out.”
“There’s no rule saying players can’t combine their points. And yet it’s a zero sum game with only one winner. Is it best to form alliances and use teamwork to make it closer to the end? Three players working together could wipe out the rest of the competition, and then worry about turning on each other when the time came. But maybe it’s better to play it solo, so you’re a smaller target. Stay under the radar. Lots of factors to consider if you’re going to win this thing. It tests your mental abilities as well as physical. People working behind the scenes put their soul into this experience that you’re trying to shut down.”
“Well, I’ve never been on a private jet before, and you’re ruining the experience.”
“Rick should never have chosen you.”
“I agree.”
A limousine was waiting for them when they landed at a small airport near Las Vegas. There were sheets on the seats. Ethan had never been in a limo, either, but he wasn’t inclined to make use of the minibar or the ability to open up the roof and put his head outside.
After a short drive, the limo pulled into a parking garage.
“Call and let them know we’re here,” said Ethan.
“They know we’re here.”
“Tell them I’ll shoot you if they try anything.”
“They know that too.”
“Make sure they know how serious I am.”
“You get that they’re listening right now, right?”
“And I also want you to know how serious I am. I will kill you without hesitation.”
“Noted,” said The Claw Man. “Now can we please get the fuck out of the limo so I can get some proper medical attention?”
The parking garage had a private entrance to the meeting spot, sparing Ethan and the limo driver the need to carry a blood-covered man down the street. The door buzzed as they approached—apparently they were indeed being watched—and they awkwardly opened it and brought The Claw Man inside.
Mindy, the receptionist from the office where Ethan had gotten into this shitstorm, stood up from behind her desk as they entered. “Let me get the other door for you,” she said. “They’re right in there.”
“Thank you,” said Ethan.
As she went over to the door, he told the driver to set The Claw Man down. Ethan then pulled The Claw Man to his feet, stood behind him, and held the gun against the side of his head in the traditional hostage manner.
Mindy opened the door. Ethan and The Claw Man went inside.
The room was lined with monitors. Dozens upon dozens of them. Lots of views of various homes from the outside, and shots of rooms from the inside. He recognized his own bedroom. They’d had an excellent view of him pretending to have sex with Jenny.
The center of the room was occupied by a long desk, the kind you’d find in an executive boardroom. There were about twenty chairs, all of them unoccupied except the two at the far end. Two middle-aged men sat there. They looked unhappy.
Mindy shut the door behind them.
Ethan didn’t want The Claw Man to lose consciousness and fall, so he plopped him down in the closest chair, keeping the gun to his head.
“Don’t make me kill him,” Ethan said.
“We won’t,” said one of the men. “We understand that you’re very perturbed right now, and we hope we can work this out.”
“I hope so, too.”
“I am The Duke of Amusement. My partner here is Enigmaticus. And you’ve obviously met The Claw Man. So what can we do for you, Ethan?”
“I want you to stop the game. I want you to leave me and my family alone.”
The Duke nodded. “And if we don’t indulge your request, you will shoot The Claw Man in the head, right?”
“Right.”
“Well, this is a bit of a conundrum. On the one hand, we certainly don’t want you to kill him. He’s not just