THE LABYRINTH

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"... and the next moment all of them were filled with wonder. For they saw, standing in just the spot the screen had hidden, a little old man, with a bald head and a wrinkled face, who seemed to be as much surprised as they were." (L. Frank Baum)

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Chapter Twenty Nine

Adam walked through the doorway.

Around his shoulder, he still carried the Port-all. Mac leaned against him, silent now, a worrying burden. Jeremy Carter followed like a storm cloud at his back, full of dark thoughts and ominous intent.

The first thing that he noticed was the change in light. No prying red strip invaded this place. It halted at the door, as though afraid to pass the threshold into the plain white corridor beyond. They had reached Thorne's sanctuary.

Adam wondered if that was a good thing or a bad thing.

His eyes darted here and there, seeking traps in every shadow. Would he ever be able to walk through a building again without feeling the vague sense of unease that plagued him now like a growing sickness?

"You okay?" he whispered to his boss.

"Need to rest..." Mac breathed. Adam stole a look at his face. It was ashen and his eyes were slightly out of focus.

"Very soon," he promised, hoping that his words were not a lie.

Next moment, his jaw dropped and he halted in his tracks, causing Mac to stumble and Carter to curse behind him. A tall and familiar figure had stepped into view. The sight was so unexpected that he had to blink several times before he could convince himself that what he saw was real. And yet...

And yet, why should he be surprised?

"Please tell me you're not Thorne," he groaned, half-jesting, half in earnest.

"Wouldn't that be something?" Arabella Kazinsky said, holding out her arm. "I'll have my bag back now, if I may."

Stubbornly, Adam stayed rooted to the spot. His mind was reeling as he tried to understand. "Okay - but what are you doing here?"

She stepped forward - and frowned as she took in, first Mac, and then Jeremy Carter who was still lurking behind them.

"My question first," she said sharply. "What happened?"

"Are you kidding?" Adam shook his head in disbelief. "Don't you know?"

Arabella was at his side by now, slipping one shoulder under Mac's arm to share the weight with Adam. In spite of his shock, he was grateful for the assistance.

"She knows. Look at her face," Carter growled in a low voice that was meant to be overheard. "Thorne's tower fights back," he added loudly, adding a scowl for emphasis. "The man's a killer."

Startled by his words, Adam had little time to dwell on them, as they hurried along together, dragging Mac with them. Ahead, the corridor opened out into a vast living space that was modern, harsh and far too sterile for his humble taste.

"Over there," Arabella suggested. "On the couch."

The couch? All he could see was a collection of solid-looking leather blocks, black and white in turn. But that appeared to be their destination; and where else could they settle Mac in such a barren room? Removing her shawl, Arabella rolled it into a cushion and placed it on the seat. "A pillow," she said, apologetically. "I'll find you a better one in a minute, but this'll do for now."

They lowered Mac into a sitting position and then helped him to swing his legs around. He groaned as they tipped him backwards, but he seemed relieved to be lying down at last. Adam dropped the Port-all to the floor and knelt beside the couch. "Help us," he demanded. "We have to get out of here."

"I'm so sorry," was all the woman could say in return. Her voice was full of guilt.

Glaring up at Arabella, his gaze slipped past her, drawn by a sudden movement. Two more figures stood in a doorway on the opposite side of the room. One was a middle-aged oriental woman, striking in a black dress that was simple, yet stylishly cut. Her hair was long and unadorned. The only hint of colour about her was the crimson of her full lips. Something in the glint of her eyes made Adam nervous.

Beside her stood Marcus Thorne.

And Adam knew him.

Not the glowering face from the backcloth, but the fussy little pianist. The man who had played with such cold and mechanical skill at the party upstairs was the lord of all they surveyed. "No!" he cried, staring at the intruders. "This isn't right. You shouldn't be here..."

"That's not funny!" Full of horror, Adam took a deep breath, ready to leap to his feet after all and confront the man who had put them in such terrible danger and who didn't seem to care. But Jeremy Carter was quicker. He tore across the room, releasing his ill-restrained fury like a wild beast from a cage. Diving on Thorne, he bore him to the ground in a tangle of arms and legs and swirling tartan. The little man shrieked in fear; a terrible sound. His companion hesitated for a moment and then reached out to claw at Carter's arm, trying to pull him back up whilst dodging his flailing limbs. Arabella ran to help her, beckoning for Adam to follow.

He scrambled upwards, following his first and kindest instinct - until a dreadful sense of indecision took him and he paused.

Why help?

Why protect the man who had done them such harm? Who had hurt Mac...?

He stared down at his boss, who was struggling to rise from the couch; to act, even though he could not see the fight for himself. And there was his answer, plain and simple.

"Because it's the right thing to do," he whispered.

Pushing Mac down with a gentle hand, he leapt into the fray.

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Confusion.

Voices all around him, echoing, and a sense of empty space.

The pain was swelling in his head, crushing his thoughts until they bled together...

The only other constant now was Adam. Who had left his side... Why was that? A moment ago, he had known - had tried to move. But right now his mind was blank, and that was terrible. To lose himself; his thoughts and all his memories... I'd rather be blind forever...

He could hear sounds of a struggle. A disconnected jumble of words. Frowning, he tried to make sense of them.

"Murderer!"

"Get your hands off..."

"Help... ow!"

"Carter, stop it. He's not worth it."

Beneath the words, Mac heard the ugly sound of flesh and bone connecting, mingled with grunts and cries of pain. Some of those, he could swear, belonged to Adam.

He lifted his head, remembering why he had tried to rise before, and desperate to help. But how?

As the darkness spun around him and his stomach heaved, he heard a yell from Carter, a final crash - and silence.

Followed moments later by the sound of angry footsteps bolting from the room.

A door slammed, and a heavy piece of furniture was dragged across it.

"Boss..." said Adam, breathless and far closer than he had expected. "It's okay. Lie down. It's fine... We stopped the fight."

Reluctantly, he obeyed. "What...? Adam. Are you hurt?"

A short laugh, humourless and quite unlike the lab tech's usual manner.

"I've been better. So have you." With a deft touch that did not go unnoticed, Adam changed the subject, slipping into a whisper. "Boss, what now?"

Sleep, begged the weary voice inside his aching head. Mac fought against it. Maybe they were safe here - maybe not. At the very least, someone should know exactly where they were. Someone who, with any luck, was already on their way. "Don. Call Don..."

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Adam reached his good hand into Mac's pocket for the cell phone. He pulled it out and jabbed at the keys with his thumb, bringing up Detective Flack's number with no trouble at all. But when he tried to call it...

"There's no signal in here," he groaned, raising his arm and pointing the phone in every possible direction as he tried to increase the number of bars from zero to three... two... any reception at all. "That's just crazy."

Arabella watched Adam's efforts with a look of pity. She left Thorne, whose swollen face and bloody nose were being tended to by his female companion, and came over to the couch, squatting down beside him and laying a firm hand on his arm. He winced, as she caught yet another fresh bruise. His body was full of them by now, like a patchwork quilt, and there was a bone-deep ache across his cheek where Carter's fist had caught him during the struggle. Not to mention a stinging sensation in the knuckles of his already-injured hand. Some day I really should learn how to throw a proper punch, he thought, as he stared at Arabella in disgust.

"The whole apartment is shielded," she told him. "Phone-proof, fire-proof, bomb-proof..." Her eyes were full of meaning. Tucked away in here, they were still too close to have missed the tremors caused by the explosion. "Nothing gets through these walls."

"Of course it doesn't. That's just great. How nice for you." His voice rose to a squeak, just as it always did when he was worked up or frustrated. He forced it back down to a manlier pitch. "Perhaps you'd like to tell us what's going on. I think we've earned it..." Shoving the Port-all across the floor towards her, he continued. "I don't want this any more. You're right."

A flush of embarrassment spread across her face. "I don't blame you," she muttered. "And please believe me when I say that none of this was my idea." Her sharp eyes could not meet his own, but somehow Adam knew that she was sincere.

"So... what? Thorne's your son?"

The look of sheer dismay was almost laughable, under the circumstances.

"Brother?" he amended, quickly. "Oh! That was you? In the photograph, standing together."

"In Cyprus." She nodded. "Happiest summer of my life. I keep that picture to remind me how things used to be."

"Lovely." Sarcasm was creeping in. Adam had never felt so angry. "Happy families, then. And the kitten? What, was that your favourite pet? You and Thorne are in this together. You're crazy, the pair of you. Look what you did..." He gestured to Mac. Arabella grew pale.

"No one was meant to get hurt," she insisted. "I told Marcus this was wrong. Using people as guinea pigs... That's why I came." Her voice became bitter; self-pitying. "I should have stayed away. He played his game, and I played mine. I tried to stop you all - don't you remember?"

"And when that didn't work... you thought that a bag would solve everything?"

Arabella lowered her voice, casting a backwards glance at her brother, who was studiously ignoring them, as though they had no right to be there whatsoever.

"The challenge was a con," she whispered. "No one could possibly win it. I wanted to change the odds. Marcus set up this whole thing as a study in human behaviour. To teach his damned computer. It's the only thing he cares about, these days. He's terrified of the outside world. Thinks this building, and that artificial monster will protect him."

"By murdering anyone who tries to get anywhere near him?" Adam's eyes were cold with fury. "Carter was right."

"Safety protocols," Arabella breathed. "He said the safety protocols were on..."

"He lied," Adam told her.

She shook her head, troubled. "I don't know... I can't believe he'd go that far..."

"You weren't out there. It's like some kind of bad disaster movie, okay? Maybe the computer set his death traps in motion, but he was the one who installed them. He's culpable, Arabella. You need to know that. And if you're part of this in any way, you're culpable too."

"I gave you the pass code," she insisted. "And the book. I hoped..."

"You hoped we'd get through?" he said bitterly. "Well, we did. And what now? He doesn't look happy to see us."

Arabella fell silent. Rising to her feet, she stepped back slowly. Her confident manner had fallen away completely, leaving nothing but fear and uncertainty.

"You cheated!" Thorne's horrified exclamation drew Adam's attention. He, too, scrambled to his feet as the man slipped down from his seat, pushing his companion away. "Bella - what did you do? Young man, I can promise you this. You're not getting a dime!"

"The money?" Adam was almost hysterical by now. "You think... you think that's what I care about? Get us out of here! Right now! My boss needs a hospital. Don't you understand? You're hurting people!"

"Not me," Thorne said, with heartless pride. "Yƫrei. She's alive at last..."

It took every ounce of mental strength that Adam possessed to keep him from hurling himself at the man, just as Carter had done.

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A/N: To continue the meal analogy, we've reached the dessert course! Time to solve all the puzzles. Thank you for sticking with me this far, and thanks for all the encouragement. Particular thanks, as always, to farmgirl and Lily.

I'm not sure exactly when the next update will be. This week is insanely busy! Please bear with me and rest assured that as soon as I can post, I will!