Memory Maze

  “What kind of institute is it?” Felicity asked, mystified.

  “It’s … brain research.”

  “You’re a seventh grader!” she exploded. “What kind of brain research could you possibly be doing?”

  “I can’t tell you,” he said evasively. “It’s something that runs in my family. Liam’s got it, and so do I.”

  The train appeared as a single headlight in the distance. In a minute or two, it would be here. Then Jack would be aboard and gone, on his way to his brother and that institute, whatever it was. She didn’t have to think too hard to realize that his story made very little sense. And even if he was telling the truth, it was clear that he was too stressed out to be making huge decisions like running away from home. She had observed Jack becoming increasingly tense and distant in the past weeks — why else would a guy be sitting out in his backyard at two AM? She’d never realized just how far gone he was.

  As the train pulled into the station, Felicity understood she had a decision to make. She liked Jack a lot, and if he wasn’t quite as friendly in return, it was only because of all the weird stuff he had to contend with. Haywood was so boring, and he was the most interesting thing ever to show up in town. As his friend, she had a responsibility to stick with him at this dangerous time to make sure he didn’t mess up his life. With any luck, his brother and this Mako guy would convince him that he was too young to strike out on his own. But if worst came to worst, and he insisted on doing something totally crazy, at least she’d be there to call the cops or the Magnuses or both. Even if he stayed angry at her forever, she’d still have the satisfaction of knowing she’d done the right thing.

  The doors slid open and Jack stepped aboard. She was half a step behind him.

  He looked at her in confusion.

  She smiled. “I’ll buy my ticket from the conductor.”

  Braintree didn’t like to drive fast.

  Actually, he didn’t like to drive at all. But he made excellent time getting to the Quackenbush mansion. The house was impressive, and the grounds of the estate even more so. But this was no sightseeing trip. He had to keep Jax from going home, where he would be snatched up by the FBI.

  He approached the impressive bronze portal and rang the bell. He rang again. And knocked.

  Nobody came.

  Strange. Surely a billionaire had enough staff to man the front door. At last, he tried the latch. To his surprise, it opened. He stepped inside, startling a young maid who was standing in the foyer, weeping into her starched white apron.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked her in amazement.

  She blubbered. “Mr. Quackenbush is — he’s —”

  Braintree was alarmed. “What are you trying to say? Has he died?”

  The tears became a torrent.

  “Where is Jack Magnus?”

  She looked completely blank.

  “The boy who comes here every afternoon!”

  A deep voice behind him said, “I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name.”

  Braintree wheeled to find Zachary walking in the front door. “I’m Jack’s uncle,” he said briskly, sticking to the cover story, although it hardly mattered anymore. “I’ve come to take him home.”

  Zachary was stiff and formal. “Jack is no longer here, and he won’t be returning. I’m not at liberty to give out any further information.”

  The founder of the Sandman’s Guild understood that everyone was at liberty to give out information under the right circumstances. He locked eyes with Zachary and had him hypnotized inside of five seconds.

  “Now that I have your attention, you will tell me where Jack Magnus is.”

  “I took him to Haywood,” Zachary droned. “To the bank.”

  “Why the bank?” Braintree probed.

  “He had a large check from Mr. Quackenbush.”

  Braintree knew that Jax had no bank account in Haywood. The Opuses had set up a joint account for themselves, but had not bothered to open one for Jax. It had been their goal to be able to resume their New York lives someday soon.

  What could Jax have hoped to accomplish at a bank?

  “Think back to when Jack got out of your car,” the sandman persisted. “What did he do next?”

  “He went to the bank.”

  “You are reliving this moment second by second. Jack leaves the car and shuts the door. Tell me exactly what happens next.”

  Zachary’s report came in the form of a detailed narrative, delivered in a monotone. “He steps up onto the sidewalk and looks in both directions. He approaches the front door of the branch….”

  “Does he go inside?” Braintree prompted.

  “No. He crosses the street and starts up the concrete stairs….”

  The old man was shocked. Those stairs led to the train station — the New York–bound platform. And if Jax was headed for the city in his confused and angry state — and further agitated by the death of Quackenbush — who could guess what his intentions were?

  Braintree concentrated his power, determined to scour this man’s mind for every last scrap of information. The PIP image grew to fill his entire field of vision, and thousands of impressions appeared in his head, an overwhelming storyboard of months, possibly years of Zachary’s life. He labored to filter the information down to the parts that involved Jax, although the task was nearly impossible. He saw so much, yet it was difficult to focus on smaller parts of the greater whole. Braintree had scant experience with this level of mesmeric connection. In this way, too, his pupil had surpassed him.

  He was just about to break the link when a fleeting image reached him by sheer random chance. There was the famous tycoon Avery Quackenbush, looking ancient and infirm in a high-tech wheelchair. An attendant was maneuvering him past Doric pillars to the front entrance of a Manhattan brownstone. There was no mistaking the discreet brass plaque next to the door:

  Braintree felt icy fingers clutching at his heart. Quackenbush had met with Mako?

  The true brilliance of the plan laid itself out in all its fiendish glory. Mako had told the billionaire about Jax’s extraordinary hypnotic abilities, knowing that the tycoon had the resources to track down anybody. At the same time, the director must have implanted a series of mesmeric time bombs meant for Quackenbush to pass on to Jax. Now those time bombs had gone off, and Jax was on his way to Sentia.

  If Mako had tried to trap his quarry at the mansion, there would have been resistance — not only from the boy’s considerable mental arsenal, but also from the billionaire and his staff. Even Elias Mako couldn’t count on being able to hypnotize everybody. Why risk a battle when there was another way — an ingenious way — to compel Jax to serve himself up on a silver platter?

  Braintree ended the connection abruptly, which sent Zachary staggering into the arms of the maid. A second later, the president of the Sandman’s Guild was in the Avenger, burning rubber for the main gate.

  “How do you know your way around so well?” Felicity had to scramble to keep up with Jax’s long strides as he led her through the crowded Grand Central Terminal to the subway tunnels below. “It’s like you lived here your whole life.”

  He cast her a sideways glance. “I did, until we moved to Connecticut.” He frowned. “No offense, but why are you here?”

  “I’m keeping you company,” she replied with a dazzling smile. “My parents are both working late. I’d be bored stiff at home.”

  “The thing is,” Jax tried to explain, “I’m going to find my brother. It’s kind of a big deal for me.”

  “I can’t wait to meet him.”

  Jax regarded her critically. She genuinely didn’t seem to get it. This was a delicate family moment, and she was a total stranger. Of course, he’d never convince her of that. She considered herself his best friend in Connecticut. Which she was, he supposed, because of a sheer lack of competition. She was his only friend, except for Mr. Quackenbush, and he was dead now. She probably thought spying on people made you their nearest and dearest.

>   Besides, she never left him alone in Haywood, so why would he expect it to be any different here?

  He weighed his options. He could never talk her into backing off; she was just too stubborn. Of course, he could just leave her flat … no, he couldn’t. How could he strand her in a big city where she didn’t know her way around? He couldn’t be that cruel. She was never cruel, just nosy.

  That meant bringing her along. It would take a little bit of extra explaining at Sentia, but her presence could do no damage. Anybody in the place could hypnotize her and wipe her memory clean of whatever she shouldn’t have seen.

  “Okay,” he told her. “We’re looking for the number six train. And when we get where we’re going, you have to let me do all the talking, okay?”

  She made a zipping-the-lip motion. “You won’t even know I’m there.”

  Jax wasn’t holding his breath for that.

  As they rose out of the subway entrance at Sixty-Eighth Street, Jax was aware of an overpowering feeling of déjà vu. Had it really been only a matter of months since he’d been a regular at Sentia? To see these familiar stores and buildings on the walk between the subway and the institute was like re-experiencing a past life. It seemed as distant as Avery Quackenbush’s childhood memories of the Great Depression.

  He steered her past Corrado’s Pizza onto East Sixty-Fifth Street — Sentia’s block. The institute headquarters was visible now. The sight of its Doric pillars and winged griffins brought out a haunting sense of unease that he couldn’t quite explain. Perhaps it was just nervousness at the prospect of meeting his brother. Would Liam be happy he’d come? Would he even remember he had a younger brother named Jackson? For all Jax knew, his brother’s memory might have been wiped clean. Look how much he himself had forgotten.

  “Classy place” was Felicity’s comment.

  He did not reply. Something about the institute struck him dumb.

  The two stepped off the elevator at the fifth-floor reception area. There, all up and down the hall, were photographs of a tall hawk-nosed man shaking hands with A-list celebrities, ranging from former presidents to actors to sports heroes. Dr. Mako.

  Jax frowned with the sudden understanding that there was something important about those pictures. But his train of thought was interrupted when Felicity pointed to one of them and stage-whispered, “Oh, wow, who’s that guy with Justin Timberlake?”

  He was about to reply when there was a loud gasp followed by the crash of breaking glass. Jax wheeled. Kira Kendall stood staring at him from the wreckage of the water pitcher she had just dropped.

  “Jax?”

  “Hi, Kira.” He retrieved her name as if from some ancient memory. They were the same age, and had been young hypnos together here at the institute. He struggled to cross-reference that with Liam, who would have been there, too — right?

  But before he could continue that train of thought, an impeccably dressed woman with supermodel good looks stepped out of her office to investigate the disturbance.

  “What was that —?” Maureen Samuels, assistant director of Sentia, stopped short at the sight of Jax. She rushed over and enfolded him in a loving hug. “Jax, I never thought I’d see you again!”

  “I — I —” His Sentia experience was returning to him, and none of it was what he expected it to be. “I didn’t think I’d come back here….”

  “Aren’t you going to ask about Liam?” Felicity prompted.

  “Liam?” Miss Samuels repeated.

  “My brother,” Jax supplied.

  A violent force yanked him away from the assistant director, and held him in a choke hold. “Welcome home, Dopus! I’d say I’ve missed you but, you know, honesty is the best policy!”

  “Wilson!” Jax gasped as the burly hypno applied pressure to his neck.

  “Let go of him!” Felicity cried.

  “And you brought your girlfriend!” Wilson crowed. “I knew it was worth getting out of bed this morning!”

  “Let go!” Felicity reared back and delivered a swift kick to the bony part of Wilson’s shin.

  The big hypno howled in pain, and released his hold on Jax. Jax made it two steps along the hall before an athletic figure tackled him.

  DeRon Marcus grinned down at his face. “Miss me?”

  Wilson’s meaty hand took hold of Jax’s collar and dragged him roughly to his feet. “It was a mistake coming here, Dopus, and I’m glad you made it!” He cocked back a fist.

  “Jackson Opus,” announced a deep, mellow voice from the doorway to the office suites. “What a pleasant surprise.”

  Dr. Elias Mako.

  “Call off your monsters!” Jax panted.

  “They’re here for your safety,” Mako assured him. “Now, to what do we owe the pleasure of this visit?”

  “I came to see Liam!”

  Dr. Mako looked confused. “And Liam would be … ?”

  “My brother,” said Jax. “Where is he?”

  A slow smile of understanding spread across Mako’s darkly fierce features. “Why, he’s exactly where I put him — inside your mind.”

  Dr. Mako’s private parlor was a room that would not have been out of place in an English gentlemen’s club. The furniture was overstuffed, a soft glove leather. A roaring fire blazed in the fireplace. Jax sat wedged between Wilson and DeRon, on a small couch opposite the high wing-back chair from which Mako himself held court.

  Felicity, wide-eyed, was paired with Kira on a loveseat near Jax. It was clear that she was trying to assess just how much danger they might be in. They weren’t being held prisoner exactly, but they didn’t seem to be free either. The whole atmosphere was pretty threatening. They were badly outnumbered. What had Jack gotten them into?

  “Shortly after you disappeared from our little institute,” Mako began, “a dying man came to see me. A very wealthy and powerful man.”

  “Quackenbush,” Jax whispered.

  “He was seeking a way to prolong his life through hypnotism,” Mako went on. “And his limitless resources enabled him to discover what we do here.”

  Felicity leaped to her feet. “Hypnotism?”

  “Quiet your companion, or I will,” the director warned.

  Felicity sat back down beside Kira and made herself small.

  “A man capable of learning our little secret might very well be capable of finding the missing Jackson Opus,” Mako continued. “So I told him that you were the best in the business, and let him do the legwork. It turned out very well, wouldn’t you agree?”

  “I don’t understand any of this!” Felicity complained in a small voice. “Where’s Liam?”

  The director folded his arms and leaned back in his oversize chair. “I think by now even Jackson knows the answer to that question.”

  Jax’s thoughts churned feverishly. His parents and Braintree had warned him of the effects that the Quackenbush sessions were having on him. But only now was he beginning to understand just how confused he had become. The images whirled before him — Oscar drowned; Liam drowning. Oscar in trouble; Liam in trouble. Rescuing Oscar; rescuing Liam.

  Oscar Quackenbush, younger brother of Avery, who drowned during the Great Depression … Liam Opus …

  “There is no Liam,” Jax barely whispered.

  The director applauded slowly. “Light dawns on young Master Opus.”

  “But I’m not crazy!” Jax exploded angrily. “You did that to me!”

  “The Benders Only website was particularly clever, I thought,” Mako went on. “I was fairly certain you’d stumble on it eventually. Your generation trusts Google to do everything. You used those mirrors, didn’t you? Did it ever occur to you that, working between endless reflections of your own image, you were actually hypnotizing yourself? Sometimes it’s helpful to have your own institute to research such things.”

  “And you knew I would invent a whole person?” Jax croaked.

  “No,” the director admitted. “I suspected that a brain link with ninety-six years of memories would be overwh
elming to someone your age. I wasn’t sure exactly what the effect would be. My hope was that you might become permanently lost in your subject’s mind, never to emerge as an intact personality. But, of course, the actual result was beyond my wildest dreams.”

  Jax stared at him questioningly.

  “That you would waltz in my front door and present yourself to me like a special-delivery package. You see, Jackson, I set out to destroy you. But now I realize that the mind of an Opus and a Sparks is far too interesting to throw away. We are going to work together again — whether you like it or not.”

  Jax leaped to his feet. “I’ll never work with you, and you can’t make me! I’m just as powerful as you, and getting stronger every day!”

  Wilson and DeRon wrestled Jax back to the couch.

  “Try that again, Dopus,” Wilson threatened, “and they’ll be picking up the pieces with a shrimp fork.”

  “Not necessary, Wilson,” Mako said blandly. “There are other ways to persuade our friend. His lovely young lady, for example.” He reached over to the fireplace, picked up the poker from the implement stand, and leaned it against the firebricks with its tip in the flames.

  Felicity let out a whimper of fear as the iron began to heat up.

  By the time Gil Frobisher and Wendy Lee arrived at the Magnus house in Haywood, Jax’s parents had given up not a single piece of information about their missing son.