“You’re all going to put your hands up now,” she said.
“No, they’re not,” Shawn said. “Those guns are loaded with blanks.”
The lawyers exchanged baffled looks. “But we saw them kill the waiters,” Jade finally said.
“What you saw was an exercise in team building,” Shawn said. He nodded at the guards, and all four reached up and pulled off their masks. Their faces were red from the heat, and one of them seemed to be breaking out from some kind of wool allergy. But there was no mistaking who they were. The faces were even more recognizable than Cody’s bald spot had been once he pulled his balaclava off the back of his head. “As Tubs here told you hours ago. If you ever listened to anyone but yourselves, this all would have been over before it started.”
“We were kidnapped by a bunch of waiters?” Savage said.
“Worse,” Shawn said. “You were kidnapped by a bunch of actors.”
“But we saw them,” Jade said. “We saw them executed.”
“What you saw was the cruel and brutal murder of innocent five-gallon cans of catsup,” Gus said.
“Or ketchup,” Shawn said. “Although I’m not sure there’s a difference in the criminal penalty.”
“And pillows,” Gus continued. “Stuffed into the waiters’ clothes. Amazing how a trick that never fooled my mother managed to work with all these brilliant lawyers.”
“And all those psychic detectives.” Balowsky nearly spit out the words.
“Didn’t fool us,” Shawn said. “We were just playing along.”
“Playing along?” Mathis looked like he wanted to kill everyone at the clearing. “Playing along with what?”
Shawn turned to the leader. “I believe that’s your line.”
The leader nodded, then turned to face the lawyers and bowed deeply. Then he pulled at the beard. It peeled off his face, taking with it the shaggy red wig that covered his head, and revealing the features of last night’s chef. “Ladies and gentlemen, my name is Bron Helstrom, and these are the Triton Players. I’d like to thank you personally for being such an appreciative audience for our little performance. And I’d like thank my fellow performers, Cody, Coty, Bismarck, and Miranda, without whose inspired acting I could never have hoped to pull this off. And of course our employers, High Mountain Wilderness Retreats, and the author and sponsor of today’s entertainment, Mr. Oliver Rushton.”
“Rushton!” The word escaped from Savage’s mouth like a curse shouted after the improper application of hammer to thumb.
“He referred to our little play as a bonding exercise,” Helstrom said. “Apparently you were all supposed to unite and work together when faced with a common peril. In fact, we had specific instructions to drop character the instant you all agreed on how to handle the situation.”
“We could have been here forever,” Jade said.
“That’s why Rushton gave them a safe word,” Gus said. “As soon as one of you said ‘Archie Kane sent me,’ the show would end.”
“And we were supposed to figure that out how, exactly?” Gwendolyn said.
“Well, it would have helped if you were psychic like me,” Shawn said.
Or at least smart like him, Gus thought. Shawn had explained he’d figured out the safe word the same way hackers come up with passwords-he started from the assumption that Rushton would have used words that had particular meaning to him. And while this particular set of safe words wouldn’t have worked so well if Archie Kane had been along on the trip, as was undoubtedly Rushton’s original plan, Shawn assumed that the old lawyer wouldn’t have delivered the code to the actors until the last possible moment, to keep any of the others from finding it out somehow.
“Psychic, my ass,” Balowsky said. “Rushton told you. And when we get back, you may expect to be served papers in my lawsuit over this charade. You had the ability to stop it at any time, and you refused, which makes you as culpable as Rushton.”
“Do you really want to split the culpability like that?” Savage looked concerned. “My polo shirts have deeper pockets than these yutzes. We should focus our suit solely on Rushton.”
“Good point,” Balowsky said. “We can talk to the police about criminal charges against these two, along with the Powder Puff Players here. Anyone disagree?”
For once, there wasn’t a single argument from the rest of the lawyers.
“I am moved by your concern for the small businessman,” Gus said. “Not to mention touched to see how you are finally coming together to work as a team. I know Mr. Rushton would be so proud.”
“But there is still one thing you need to know,” Shawn said. “And that is that neither Gus nor I was ever told anything about this entire event, from the kidnapping to the safe words. We had as little idea as any of you.”
“Any of you except one, that is,” Gus said.
“Right,” Shawn said. “Because there’s no point in setting a safe word if nobody knows what it is. So that means that one of you was in on Rushton’s plan all along-and chose not to tell the others, or to stop the insanity.”
The lawyers glared at one another suspiciously. Gwendolyn gripped her weapon as if wishing the Blue Fairy would turn the blanks into real bullets just like she turned Pinocchio into a real boy.
“And if that’s not going to get you to work together as a team, I don’t know what will,” Shawn said. “Now, who’s in the mood for a hike?”
Chapter Forty-Three
Gus had thought the forced march down the mountain was as unpleasant as any hike could be. But back then, at least, the lawyers were all united in misery. As they trudged back up the steep switchbacks towards the previous night’s campsite where they’d been forced to abandon their backpacks, Gus could see them casting suspicious glares at one another, trying to figure out which one was the traitor secretly working for Rushton.
The Triton Players, for reasons Gus couldn’t begin to figure out, had gone back into character. The four servers marched in formation, rifles slung across their shoulders, behind Bron Helstrom. It would have been a more convincing performance without their leader, who did his best approximation of a military stride for as many as five steps at a time, then sank to his knees gasping for breath. In the spirit of improvisation, his troops would surround him, weapons at the ready, every time he stopped for air, but Gus could see why Helstrom hadn’t accompanied them on the earlier hike.
At least Shawn was in a much better mood. His shoulders were loose and relaxed, and the spring was back in his step. His step was so springy, in fact, that Gus practically had to run to keep up with him.
“So who was it?” Gus said.
“Kristin,” Shawn said.
“Who’s Kristin?” Gus said.
“J.R.’s devious sister-in-law and mistress,” Shawn said. “Or did you mean who shot Mr. Burns? Because that was just stupid.”
“I meant who was the one who knew the safe word all along and didn’t use it?” Gus said.
“Oh, that,” Shawn said. “It’s got to be Mathis. He had to know that as soon as the play was revealed, the rest of them would refuse to stay in the mountains any longer, and he was the only one who had any reason to keep us all here.”
“Oh, good,” Gus said. “We’re trapped a zillion miles away from civilization with a mad killer and an insane FBI agent who now has two reasons to want us dead.”
“Yup,” Shawn said. He didn’t seem to be troubled by Gus’ assessment of the situation. He didn’t seem to be troubled by anything at all.
“What are you so cheerful about?” Gus said.
“What’s not to be?” Shawn said. “We defeated an armed band of terrorists and freed all the hostages-including ourselves.”
“Except they weren’t terrorists and we weren’t really hostages,” Gus pointed out.
“Which makes it even better,” Shawn said. “It had all the sense of doom and incipient panic of a real kidnapping with none of the actual danger. Which means it’s like riding the roller coasters at Magic Mountain, only with less danger of being hit by a stray bullet.”