Finally, things were starting to go his way. Olaf could not keep the smile off his face. He might not have the exact passwords to get the sugar bowl yet, but he had enough information to get them. All he needed was to get one of those stupid volunteers to help him, and there were many for him to choose in the Hotel, and he still had one harpoon left.
As for the upcoming judgment... even the idea made him want to laugh. Justice was just another fairytale the volunteers believed in. There was no real justice anywhere. Anyone could get away with arson or murder or scaring poor, innocent children, if they knew the right people. Beatrice and the four eyes she eventually married got away. Olaf could easily get away too,
There was only one way to get real justice, and it was by doing it with your own hands. Fighting fire with fire. The volunteers were too busy with their books and codes to realize it. Beatrice's children, on the other hand, sometimes surprised him. They had the potential to actually get something done, as their mother had.
But they had no chance. They were only three orphan brats, and Olaf was a criminal mastermind. He was already starting fires before they were even born.
He just needed the sugar bowl, and then he could destroy them. All of them. Tonight would be the last time Olaf would be locked in a tiny place. He kept the triumphant smile on his face the whole walk to the closet, accompanied by an unreadable manager.
"Nice night, huh?" Olaf said. If the manager was his ally, he would agree. If he was not, he had no shame in provoking him that way.
The manager frowned for a moment, but his face soon became unreadable again. These twins (or triplets, or whatever) were really frustrating sometimes.
They soon arrived, and the manager opened the door marked with the number 165. Fallacies and sources of error. Someone had a sense of humor.
"This will be your room for tonight, sir. I'm afraid we offer no room service for wanted criminals."
Olaf laughed.
"Nice joke, Ernest."
The manager frowned again, before unlocking and opening the door. "Room" 165 was smaller than Olaf had expected it to be, and he would be unable to lay down there. And of course, it offered no furniture of any kind.
The manager made the same gesture he would make to introduce any other guest to their room. Olaf gave him a harsh stare, that went apparently ignored, before entering the closet.
Ernest, or maybe Frank, turned away to leave, but turned back once again.
"Olaf."
"Count Olaf, please."
Instead of a nicer greeting, Olaf received a fist on his face. It was not a weak punch either, it actually felt like it would leave a mark. Not a very typical volunteer action.
"Frank-!"
"This is for messing with my family." The manager cut him, speaking in a voice that was anything but unreadable. Olaf could hear the anger, no, the pure hatred in it. It was unfair, Olaf had not been the one to pull the switch. He would have done it without thinking twice, yeah, but he didn't, and he hated being blamed for crimes he didn't commit.
Frank, unless he was Ernest, took one step behind.
"You will not escape this time." He said, voice still dripping with hatred, and Olaf didn't really care but he could remember hearing the same tone before. Maybe everyone who lost someone important sounded the same way. "And I am Ernest, by the way."
With those words, the manager closed and locked the door, leaving Olaf alone in the small, dark closet.
