Fringe - the Zodiac Paradox (32 page)

Kenneth pulled off the road and parked just south of the playground that lay adjacent to the carousel. Walter rose up cautiously and looked around.

“Have we heard from Leslie lately?” he asked.

Nina picked up the walkie-talkie.

“Leslie?” she said. “Report in please.”

Leslie’s voice popped from the speaker.

“Going a bit slow,” she said. “Payton is really feeling the bumps. Don’t know if he’s going to be okay for this.”

“Damn delicate flower,” Nina growled. She keyed the mike. “Well, get there as soon as you can, please. The clock is ticking.”

Bell shook his head.

“Our blend should have no impact whatsoever on the digestive system,” he said. “It has none of the impurities of mushrooms.”

“It’s fear, Belly.” Walter pressed his dry lips together. “Garden variety. I’m feeling pretty sick to my stomach myself.”

* * *

Leslie barreled down Fell Street like a race car driver on speed, pushing the crotchety old van to its limit, swearing out the window and cutting off cars with the horn blaring. Lucky for them, Payton didn’t seem to have anything left inside him to throw up, but he still looked pretty queasy.

To Leslie’s surprise, Susan seemed exhilarated by her aggressive driving, even letting out a little cheer when she finally cut in front of a cigar-smoking cabbie who was being a jerk and wouldn’t let her into the lane. Leslie was even more surprised when Susan gave the cabbie the finger as they passed. Maybe there was hope for her yet.

“I don’t know if this is such a hot idea,” Payton said.

“That milkshake wasn’t such a hot idea,” Leslie snapped. “But you survived, didn’t you?”

“I think this is fun,” Susan said with a big happy grin. “It’s like being in a cool spy movie or something. And I didn’t even want to come to this class in the first place, because I thought it would be boring!” She patted Payton’s arm. “You’ll be okay. Just visualize peace inside your stomach, like Doctor Rayley says.”

“Uh... okay,” he said with a wan smile. “You’re probably right.”

Leslie tried not to be bothered by the fact that men always listened to women like Susan, and almost never listened to women like her. There was too much on her mind to let something like that get to her.

She drove into the park, searching for Bowling Green Drive. She’d never driven in the park before, since she normally rode her bicycle everywhere, so she got a little bit flummoxed by the one-way streets. The ticking clock made each minor mistake seem epic, and she hated to make
any
mistakes in front of Susan. It was important for her be perceived as a strong, competent leader, especially given the stakes of this particular mission.

She forced herself to remain calm and double back without comment, searching for the entrance to the parking lot for the lawn bowling club.

* * *

May parked the station wagon on Stanyan Street. Gary ran around to the back and grabbed the picnic basket containing the biofeedback machine, along with a folded plaid blanket. David just stood quietly waiting at the curb.

“How are you feeling, David?” May asked as they waited for a break in the traffic.

“Good,” David said, a little half smile playing over his lips. “I feel good.”

“I don’t feel good yet,” Gary said. “But we should be feeling good any minute now, right?”

“Right,” May replied, crossing the street and motioning for the two men to follow. “Any minute now.”

The Sharon Meadow wasn’t too crowded when they arrived. There was a birthday party taking place in the far northern corner, and several trees had been decorated with cheerful, brightly colored balloons and streamers. All the revelers were gathered around a picnic table, clamoring for slices of a large pink cake being doled out by a tiny, grandmotherly woman in a sweater that was almost the exact same color as the cake.

A pretty young woman with a long black braid that hung nearly to the backs of her knees played fetch with a brindle Boxer puppy. An earnest young Latino man was playing an acoustic guitar while two female friends sang in harmony. On the far southern end, a young couple was enthusiastically making out on a blanket, willfully oblivious to everyone else in the park. The wide center of the meadow was basically empty, with the majority of the population sticking to the shady parts.

It wasn’t a ton of people, but there were more than May might have preferred. In fact, a public park seemed like a pretty risky place for a dangerous experiment. If it really was dangerous.

Was this all just part of the test, like the famous Milgram experiment in which students had been told they were delivering painful electric shock to subjects, when in fact they themselves were the ones being studied?

As May and Gary spread out the blanket for the three of them to sit, she could see the burnt-out shell of the Sharon House through the trees, and wondered if Walter and his friends were in place yet. Real or not, dangerous or not, the experiment would begin in just ten short minutes.

“Alright,” Bell said to Kenneth. “Are you good to go?”

Kenneth looked a little unsure, but did his best to cover it with a mask of cocky confidence. Judy and Simon sat side by side in the back seat of the bus with the hushed expectation of kids waiting for a puppet show to begin.

Walter checked his watch. In about three minutes, the special blend of acid would be kicking in.

“Excellent,” he said, without much conviction.

“Start the biofeedback machine,” Nina said to Kenneth. “As soon as we’re out of sight.”

“Let’s go,” Bell said. “We have to be in place before the killer arrives.”

He headed north, through the trees, toward the carousel. Nina followed close behind him. Walter cast one last glance back at the bus and its occupants before hustling to catch up.

When the carousel came into view, the three of them paused and hung back, scoping the area for any sign of the killer. The carousel itself was open and running, with a small group of people waiting for the current cycle to end so they could have their turn. The organ music was cheerful and upbeat, accented by excited, high-pitched squeals and laughter. A little less than half of the colorful menagerie animals were occupied.

Beside the carousel stood the Sharon House, a Romanesque stone building stained with soot. It had been closed down and fenced off after a fire gutted the place. Many of its tall arched windows were broken and boarded up. There was a large, charred hole in the north side of the roof.

Just as they suspected, this burnt-out building would be the perfect hiding place for a sniper who wanted to shoot people on the carousel. It was also perfect as the epicenter for their psychic web, a place where they could open the gate in private, away from curious bystanders.

When they circled around the back of the building, they spotted a large slit cut into the chain-link.

Bell put one hand on the fence, eyebrow raised.

“He must have beat us here,” Nina said.

“Could have been kids,” Bell said. “Or vagrants.”

“Should we go in?” Walter asked. “Or...”

A scrawny black kid about sixteen years old sidled up to them. He had an impressive Afro, sunglasses and an orange leather jacket that he had clearly borrowed from a much bigger friend.

“Hey, man,” he said. “You from Reiden Lake?”

Walter and Bell exchanged a look.

“Who are you?” Bell asked.

“Your friend said you’d be here,” he said, instead of answering. “He gave me five bucks and asked me to give you this note.”

The kid held out a slip of paper. Walter frowned, scanning the tree line. No one. The deep sense of unease in his belly twisted like a knife.

“You want the damn note or not?” the kid asked.

Walter took it.

“Did he say anything else to you?” Walter asked.

“Nope.”

The kid strolled away, uninterested now that his job had been fulfilled.

“Well,” Nina said. “What does it say?”

Walter unfolded the note. It was written in code.

“God
dammit,”
Walter said. “We don’t have time for this. We’re going to start tripping any second now!”

“Look,” Bell said, pulling a pen from an inner pocket. “He’s obviously using Reiden again as the key. He
wants
us to read this.” He drew up a quick Vigenère cipher and started laying out the key on the back side of the note. The message was short, and once the key was established it translated swiftly.

My dearest friends,

I have taken a hostage, but I am growing tired of this world. Leave Miss Nina Sharp behind and come to me so we can talk. Come around to the north side of the house. If I see that redheaded bitch I will kill the hostage. If you come alone, I will let the hostage go.

I want to go home.

Again, the note was signed with the infamous cross hair symbol.

“I don’t trust him,” Nina said immediately.

As Walter stared at the cross hair symbol, it seemed to swell and welt up on the paper like a fresh brand on raw flesh.

The acid was starting to kick in.

“Belly?” Walter asked.

“Yeah,” Bell replied. “Me, too.”

Nina rolled her eyes.

“Oh, this is just great,” she said.

“What are we going to do?” Bell asked.

“Look,” Nina said. “Here’s the plan. I’ll go into the building from this side, set up the central biofeedback rig, and then I’ll come through to the north end from the inside, and cover you two with Lulu. Agreed?”

“We don’t seem to have much of a choice,” Bell said.

“You have the extra walkie-talkie?” Nina asked Walter.

He checked inside the bag that contained the chloroform and handcuffs. The extra unit was there, right we’re he’d left it. He turned it on.

“Good,” Nina said. “If you get into trouble, use it.”

“Seems like a probable outcome at this point,” Bell said.

“Maybe he really does want to go home,” Walter suggested.

Nina turned away from them and squeezed through the slit in the chain-link fence.

“Go find out,” she said.

Nina followed the tan stone wall around the corner of the building, and slid alongside one of the boarded-up windows. The lowest board had been pried loose on one end and if she got down on her hands and knees, she could just wiggle through.

She looked around to see if anyone was watching. The sound of the carousel was clear, but from this angle she couldn’t see it. That meant all the people there and in the neighboring playground couldn’t see her, either. She pushed the canvas messenger bag in through the window frame ahead of her, and then squeezed in after it, loose nails scratching at her skin like metal claws.

Inside, the building was dim and redolent of char. Nina could see the cloudy sky through the hole in the roof, reflected in tarry puddles on the ruined floor. She remembered reading about the fire in the paper, something to do with glass blowing or kilns or something, but whatever the cause, the devastation was extensive. The interior had been burned down to the bones, nothing left intact but the exterior stone walls.

She could still hear that happy organ music from the carousel, an eerie counterpoint to the lonely, haunted house feeling inside the burnt-out building. She had never been a superstitious person, but found herself wondering if anyone had been killed in the fire, and shuddering at the thought.

Shrugging off the childish willies, she surveyed her surroundings and selected a spot near a descending staircase that seemed close enough to the exact center of the building, She unloaded the biofeedback rig and set it up, thumbing the power switch. Satisfied that it was working at maximum capacity, she drew Lulu from her purse and, barrel pointed at the damp floor, made her cautious way toward the north side, to check on Walter and Bell.

The big open space echoed her footfalls back at her, multiplying them and making it sound as if someone was following her. She paused for a moment, scanning the hazy corners and archways around her as the echo died off. Her eyes strained to separate the dim, sooty shadows. Pale ash kicked up by her feet swirled in what little light managed to find its way in.

Nothing. No one.

She continued, skirting another large black puddle and making her way toward a window on the north wall—a window with a single missing board.

* * *

Walter and Bell stood on the north side of the fence that surrounded the burnt-out building. The acid was really starting to make itself known, and shadowy figures seemed to lurk at the far edges of Walter’s peripheral vision. But if the killer was there, he didn’t make himself known.

“What should we do, Belly?” he asked, gripping his friend’s upper arm to steady himself. “We can’t wait here forever. The synchronization must begin in less than a minute!”

“I don’t know,” Bell replied, staring intently at the ground between his shoes. “I simply don’t know.”

That’s when Walter noticed the folded note tucked under the edge of the chain-link fence. He bent to pick it up, almost reluctant to unfold it. The paper seemed to pulse with a feverish infection in Walter’s hands.

“Do you see this?” he asked Bell.

“Yes,” Bell said. “But that doesn’t mean it’s real.”

He opened the note and found a message in plain, uncoded English.

I never had a hostage. But I do now.

The cross hair symbol winked at Walter like an eye. He dropped the note, wiping his hand on his pant legs as if it had touched something rotten.

“My God,” Walter said. “He’s got Nina!”

* * *

Nina reached the window with the missing board, and peered out. She could see Walter and Bell on the other side of the fence, waving their arms and having some kind of intense debate. No sign of the killer.

She checked her watch. Time was running out.

She was about to call out to them when she heard a stealthy, sliding footstep behind her. She spun, gun raised. The dappled shadows taunted her with a dozen hiding places, but she couldn’t see anyone.

“Show yourself!” she called.

Her echoing voice disrupted a brooding pigeon, who took off through the hole in the roof with a noisy flutter. A single white feather seesawed down from the ceiling and landed at her feet.