Restoring Harmony Part 27

Everyone at the table did, including my grandparents, and I nodded to Michael and Brandy to follow along.

"Amen," we said, when she had finished saying grace.

"Now you can eat," I told the kids.

Spoons clinked against bowls all up and down the long narrow tables. About two dozen people shoveled the food into their mouths without a word. They looked rough and dirty against the spotless floors and s.h.i.+ning windows.

I brought my grandparents up to speed in hurried whispers while we ate. "Spill told the Brothers our whole story," I explained to my grandparents. "And they decided to help us."

"We sure were surprised," Grandpa said, "to get swept up by them at the train station. We were already in the trailers before we even knew what was going on."

"I was standing on a bench," I said. "You should've seen it from there. It was almost like a dance."

Before we finished, Michael had laid his head down on the table and fallen asleep. A girl about my age, in a long black skirt and white blouse, took our bowls away. "The dormitories are usually closed during the day for cleaning," she said, "but Elder Mathew requested that we let you all sleep. I'll show you the way if you're ready."

"I want to wait for Spill," I said.

There was a common room, also closed until the evening, but I offered to clean it in exchange for being allowed to stay in there, and the girl said I could. I took the bucket she gave me, glad to have something to do, and got to work. I had dusted the worn furniture, emptied the ashes out of the fireplace, swept and scrubbed the floor, and cleaned the mirror, and Spill still hadn't shown up. After that, I alternated between pacing up and down the small room and staring out the front window. Finally, I saw four Brothers riding up on their bikes. I ran out to meet them.

Spill and Paul weren't with them, though.

"Where are they?" I asked.

One of the boys handed me a note and then they all rode away.

It said: The Brothers will take you to Elliott Bay tonight at 10:45. We sail at 11 pm on the Marybelle, moored about halfway down dock J on the left side. Meet you there. S Why hadn't he come back to wait here? I went to the common room half mad, half worried. I was still there, pacing, when Grandpa came down later in the afternoon.

"Sit down," he said. "Try to relax. Have a sandwich with me."

"I can't relax," I said, still pacing. "I'm just so worried we're going to end up in quarantine somewhere. We have got to get you home to take care of Mom."

Grandpa got up and led me over to the couch. "You're doing the best you can, Molly. You have to stop being so hard on yourself. We'll get there. And your mom will be okay."

"But what about the diabetes?" I demanded.

"If your dad has to," Grandpa said, "he'll get her to the hospital."

"It's a ferry ride," I said. "And then twenty-two kilometers away! She can't travel that far."

"Molly . . . all you can do is have faith. That's how I got through your grandmother's illness."

I hadn't really considered how hard Grandma's stroke must've been on Grandpa. "Yeah, okay." I sighed. I knew he was right. "I'm just feeling blue."

He put his arm around my shoulder. "We're almost there."

"I'm also worried about Spill. I just keep thinking that because he's twenty-one they're not going to give up now. The Organization wants him back, and as Randall says, 'The house always wins.' "

"Ah . . . Soriano."

"What?"

"The House Always Wins. It's a famous book." It's a famous book."

Grandpa took a bite of his sandwich.

"It is?"

"Sure. It came out in twenty-nine or thirty. This guy, Soriano, wrote a book predicting that while the Collapse was inevitable, it wouldn't really affect the rich because the house always wins, the house always wins, or the rich are always rich. The people who run the world, just like the people who run the casinos, always come out on top. Get it?" or the rich are always rich. The people who run the world, just like the people who run the casinos, always come out on top. Get it?"

"Yeah . . . ," I said. "And he was right too, wasn't he?"

"Well, he was right about one thing."

"What's that?"

"If you want to make a lot of money fast so that you're one of the rich ones, write a book telling them how to hold on to their money. The ebook was a huge success. It was on the New York Times New York Times Best-Seller list for over a year." Best-Seller list for over a year."

Something clicked into place in my brain. "And the author's name was Soriano?"

"Yeah. I can't remember his first name. Alfonso? Maybe . . . no, Alfonso Soriano was a baseball player. . . . Hmmm."

Grandpa flipped through the pages of his memory, but I wasn't listening anymore. If my hunch was right, I had all the information I needed. Soriano's first name didn't matter because pa.s.swords were usually just one word.

42.

A GROUP OF ABOUT TEN BROTHERS TOOK US TO Elliott Bay, and I gave them my bike as a thank-you for their help. "G.o.d be with you," Elder Mathew said, shaking my hand.

"And also with you," I answered, feeling a little silly, but that was how the other boys always answered him.

The five of us made our way down the long dock towards the Marybelle Marybelle. About half the berths were filled, and even though most of the boats had at least one lighted lamp hanging on them, all the decks were deserted. The Marybelle Marybelle's single lantern illuminated the peeling letters spelling out her name. The smell of salt.w.a.ter sent a wave of homesickness over me.

Because of the polio threat, boats from the U.S. were banned from going into Canadian waters. The captain of the Marybelle Marybelle told us as we boarded that the plan was for him to let us out on a deserted beach near Victoria. told us as we boarded that the plan was for him to let us out on a deserted beach near Victoria.

He wore black pants and a heavy wool coat with the collar turned up. His hat was pulled down low, and he had a bushy mustache that flopped around when he spoke. "That guy earlier never mentioned a suitcase," he said.

I shrugged and heaved it onto the deck anyway.

"Cost you extra, that will. It'll slow us down."

"How much?" Grandpa asked.

"What's in it?"

"Why?" I asked.

"Weight."

"No gold bars," I said, "if that's what you're thinking. Just personal stuff."

"Well, we'll discuss it when we get there."

If we got there. The boat's paint was peeling and cracked, the sails looked like they were made of sc.r.a.p paper, and the ladder leading to down below was rickety and shaky. In the hull, Grandpa had to hunch over to keep from hitting his head. There were two tiny seats, kind of like the ones on the airplane, except they had some sort of harness that strapped over your whole front.

"I'm going to wait for Spill," I said. I hurried up the ladder before Grandpa could stop me. The boat was barely rocking, but even the tiny bit of motion had sent my stomach reeling.

I wasn't sure what kind of a deal Spill had made with the captain, but if it cost more than one piece of gold per person, he was going to make up the difference and my father would pay him back. Before we'd split up, I had given Spill all my gold except one piece, which we'd placed in a tiny secret compartment that Spill had built into the heel of my boot.

"I'll be back," I told the captain.

"We sail at eleven, with or without you."

I jumped onto the dock and ran about halfway towards land. There was a big wooden crate with heavy ropes spilling out the top, and I crouched behind it to wait. I wanted to make double sure no one was following Spill. If someone was, I had Randall's gun, and this time I could use it if I had to.

Less than five minutes later, I heard voices, and I could just make out two figures moving down the dock towards me. I watched, and as they got closer, I realized that one of them was Spill, walking on his own, but the other figure was actually two people. Randall had hold of Brother Paul, his arms twisted behind his back and a knife to his throat. I waited until they were about ten yards away and stepped out of the shadows.

"What's going on?" My fingers clenched Randall's gun in my pocket.

They all jumped. "Jeez, Molly! You scared me!" Spill said. His hair was a mess, and even in the dim light from the closest boat lantern, I could see he'd been hit in the face and a bruise was already coming up.

"Just the person we wanted to see," Randall said. He smiled like we were old friends.

"Why are you holding Paul like that?" I demanded.

"Because I'm here to make a deal," Randall said.

I waited.

"Robert's already agreed to come back with me. If you come quietly, I'll let your grandparents go, and this guy too."

"I can't do that," I said. Slowly I took the gun out of my pocket and aimed it at Randall. Spill moved towards me like he was going to try to stop me, but I waved the gun at him and said, "n.o.body move. Where's the other guy? Randall's partner?"

"I hit him with a piece of metal piping," Spill said. "He's in the alley, out cold."

Randall laughed. "You shoulda seen Robert. He was like an action hero in the movies."

"Are you all right?" I asked Spill, and he nodded.

"You gonna shoot me, Handsome Molly?" Randall asked. Paul shuddered and let out a little moan. "You didn't do it last time you had the chance."

"I would've if I'd had to," I said, breathing slowly to keep my voice steady. "Or I would've tried anyway. I know you let us go. Spill explained about the pa.s.sword."

"I can't let you get away twice, though," Randall said.

I stood up straighter. "It's not up to you this time."

Randall laughed. "Am I supposed to be worried that you've guessed my pa.s.sword?"

"I didn't take you for the book type, Randall," I said. "Soriano had it all wrong, though. The house doesn't always win." had it all wrong, though. The house doesn't always win."

I saw him blanch, but he kept grinning, and the lamplight reflected off his white teeth.

"I'll make you you a deal," I said. "You let Paul go, and I'll give you your gun back so you don't get kicked out of the Organization." a deal," I said. "You let Paul go, and I'll give you your gun back so you don't get kicked out of the Organization."

"And what's to stop me from shooting you and Robert?"

"Oh, I'm going to stun you first and then we're going to escape."

"That could work. Or I could kill this guy," Randall said, "and then take you both down anyway."

"I guess you could try, but right now I have the gun set on Shoot to Kill Shoot to Kill and I really want to get home." and I really want to get home."

Paul whimpered again, and I felt kind of sorry for him because he didn't know what an excellent marksman I was.

"So let me get this right," Randall said. "I let the kid go. You stun me. You leave my gun, and you and Robert ride off into the sunset?"

"Something like that, yeah."

"Deal." In one swift motion he flipped the knife closed and pushed Brother Paul away. "Get outta here!" he said.

Paul stood there in shock for about a tenth of a second and then he ran, disappearing into the night. I'd had the gun set on Stun Stun the whole time, and I didn't hesitate. I laid my thumb on the thumbprint pad and fired. A red laser shot out and hit Randall in the chest. He fell to the ground, writhing, and then he lay still. the whole time, and I didn't hesitate. I laid my thumb on the thumbprint pad and fired. A red laser shot out and hit Randall in the chest. He fell to the ground, writhing, and then he lay still.

"Quick," Spill said. "Let's get out of here."

I laid the gun down on the dock, and we started running for the boat. I heard Randall scramble to his feet.

"I told you once, Molly," he yelled after us, "never tell your enemy what you plan to do or they can pretend it worked."

"Keep running!" I told Spill.

"Go! Go! Go!" Spill yelled at the captain as we threw ourselves onto the deck of the little boat.

The captain had already untied the thick rope, and he flipped a switch, sending a hum through the air, but Randall had caught up to us. Luckily the boat had pulled just far enough away to make it a long jump, and instead of trying it, he stopped and aimed his gun at us. "My suit's got a lining of HyperFoil," Randall told me. "Completely stun proof."

Spill flattened himself onto the wooden deck and tried to pull me down too, but I just stood there, smiling. "I figured," I said. "That's why I had a backup plan."

As the tiny boat pulled away from the dock, Randall tried to fire the gun, but nothing happened. We were thirty yards away by the time he realized what I'd done.

"That's right," I called to him. "I didn't just override your thumbprint, I reprogrammed it to mine. You have to figure out my my pa.s.sword now!" pa.s.sword now!"

Randall lowered the gun, and I swore he even laughed, but I couldn't be sure.