Chapter 2

Quentin had been outraged at the Mayor for allowing Klaus to be arrested and brought to the police station for interrogation. The sight of Klaus being waterboarded had horrified Quentin and yet, despite his protests, the Mayor remained firm, stroking his white beard as he watched Arthur and his men torture poor Klaus.

"This is wrong, Sir! You have to stop this!" Quentin yelled as the Mayor shook his head.

"Relax, Quentin. The boy was practically asking for it. Besides, they're only doing it as a deterrent. It's like my father always said, you get better results showing someone how sharp a knife rather than stabbing him repeatedly with it. Klaus here will no doubt understand that we're not the kind of people he should mess with."

"But still…" Quentin pleaded as the Mayor raised his hand, a sign that the conversation on the subject had come to an end.

"I'm surprised at you, Quentin. Not only are you standing up for a Scab but one according to police records, has done quite the number of crimes including murder and theft."

"Allegedly, Sir. The facts aren't incontrovertible." Quentin sighed, as he watched Klaus being released by Arthur. "I'm just worried that Arthur might go overboard and we would have to answer some questions from the public with regards to my contestant's appearance."

"You don't have to worry your pretty little head about that." The Mayor chuckled before gritting his teeth. Quentin could see the Mayor's eyes glaring daggers at Klaus through the glass. "I can't wait to knock him down a peg or two. Smug little prick. Thinks he's a billionaire already."

"He's not going for the billion dollars," Quentin exclaimed as the Mayor turned his attention towards him.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, Klaus Baudelaire isn't going for the billion dollars. He's going to take the Favour if he wins."

"Like hell." The Mayor scoffed derisively. "The boy would be throwing away a fortune! No sane person would turn down a billion dollars."

"Klaus would," Quentin replied. "He needs the Favour more."

"What could he possibly want?" The Mayor asked as he turned his attention back to Klaus. Quentin said nothing as he stared at the young man seated in front of Arthur thinking back to a few months ago when he first met Klaus Baudelaire at his home.

….

"Jonas!" Quentin exclaimed as his brother in law entered his living room. He gave Jonas a hug as he led him towards his fireplace where two comfy chairs, an assortment of cigars and two wine glasses await. "What brings you here?"

"Just want to congratulate you on a great show last night. Really riveting stuff." Jonas said as the tall, black-haired man gratefully accepted a cigar. Quentin scoffed derisively as he sat in his seat.

"Please. You don't have to mock me. It was a bore-fest." Quentin sighed as Jonas took a sip of wine before lighting up his cigar. "You would think that a professor of such an esteemed college would at the very least, go for the seventh question but no, he takes the money and runs! He's an Upper, for God's sake; surely he could afford a debt."

"It seems that's the way it's been going ever since you got back," Jonas replied gently.

"Tell me about it. Our ratings have been plummeting, Jonas!" Quentin sighed. "No one wants to see anyone play it safe. This game used to be about risk-takers! Now, all we have are people coming in and pulling out when it's safe. It's like having sex with a condom."

Jonas gave a laugh. "That's quite an interesting way of putting it."

"Now, the Mayor is up my ass as if this is all my fault," Quentin complained as he took a smoke. "I try telling him to push up the safety question but he refused me on it. Everyone already knows that the game is a way for the city officials to increase their wealth. No one is buying into the game anymore. Even the Norms have stopped applying!"

Jonas gave Quentin a strange look as he placed down his wine glass.

"Say, Quentin, what if I tell you that there's someone who's willing to go all the way? Someone who's willing to put it all on the line to go for the billion dollars? What would you say?"

"I'll say that your alcohol tolerance level has dropped tremendously, my brother." Quentin laughed. "Who's the Upper that wants to take a shot at it? Please don't say yourself, mate. My sister will kill me!"

"Not me," Jonas whispered as he moved closer to Quentin. "And he's not an Upper."

"A Norm?" Quentin exclaimed as he raised his eyebrows. "That's interesting. Tell me more."

Jonas gave Quentin a strained look. "Technically, he's not a Norm either. He's a Scab."

"A SCAB?!" Quentin cried loudly as he glared at Jonas. "Do you take me for a fool, Jonas? Or do you just enjoy pulling my leg?"

"I'm not messing with you!" Jonas snapped. "I'm dead serious. Look, last night I lost a bet playing cards with one of my employees and well, instead of having to pay him, he has requested that I ask you for an interview with him because he wants to join the show."

"Oh, so that's what you're playing at," Quentin replied with a scowl. "You're too cheap to pay him so you ask me to entertain this Scab for a like a minute or two."

"Mate, please!" Jonas begged as he gave Quentin a pleading look. "I would owe you one."

"I think you have overstayed your welcome, Jonas. You may take the cigar and leave." Quentin replied coldly as he pointed to the door.

Jonas stood on his feet. "The Scab is unlike anyone I've ever seen. His name is Herman Melville and quite frankly, he's a genius. He spends his free time at the local library, devouring knowledge, unlike anyone I've ever known. I'm not saying you have to put him on the show but at least, grant him an interview. Please, Quentin, for me. I won't ask you for anything else, ever."

Quentin took a moment to stare at his brother-in-law. In all the time they spent together, Quentin never knew Jonas to be a poor judge of character. Perhaps it explained why Jonas was the best lawyer in all of Viceroy City.

"Very well. When shall I meet the Scab?"

Jonas said nothing as he headed towards the door. Quentin could see him motioning to an individual outside as a young man, in his late teens, with messy brown hair and black glasses entered the room. The boy was lanky and of average height yet his face showed an expression of resolve as Jonas welcomed Herman into the room. Ushering Herman towards Quentin, Quentin watched as the man held out his hand.

"Hello Sir, my name is Klaus."

"Klaus?" Quentin said as Jonas gave Klaus a confused look.

"Yes. A learned man such as yourself could probably infer that Herman Melville isn't my real name." Klaus replied without missing a beat. "I wouldn't want to insult your intelligence by hiding behind the author of Moby Dick, sir."

Quentin gave Klaus a smile as he shook his hand. "And your last name?"

"That must remain a secret for now. " Klaus replied. "I can't tell you as of yet."

Interesting Quentin thought as he turned to face his brother in law. "Jonas, leave us. I will interview Klaus myself." As soon as Jonas left, Quentin motioned Klaus towards the chair. Klaus sat across from him, his arms by his side.

"You know most Scabs I know would at least sneak a peek at the cigars and wine. A taste of luxuries they could never afford."

"I have no need for such luxuries," Klaus replied. "I just want to be on the game."

"Why?" Quentin asked.

"I need a Favour from the Mayor. Only he can grant me what I need."

"And what do you need, Klaus?"

Klaus pulled out the photograph of him and Violet. "I need him to help me find her."

"Who is she?" Quentin said as he took the photograph before admiring Violet. "Girlfriend?"

"She's more than that," Klaus replied.

"Klaus, you do realise how the game is played, don't you? If you fail to answer any questions after the sixth, you would have to pay the amount that the question is worth. How do you suppose you are going to accomplish that?"

"If it comes to that, I'll work my debt off for the rest of my life but I assure you, Sir, it won't come to that. I have every intention of getting to that Billion dollar question and I have been studying and reading for quite some time now. I can do this, Sir, I promise you."

Quentin shook his head. "I'm doing you a favour, son. This competition will ruin you for the rest of your life. I admit, the idea of the very first Scab on my gameshow is tempting and hell, ratings would most definitely increase seeing as how Scabs make up sixty percent of my viewership but it's too risky. I'm sorry, Klaus."

"Ask me a question. A question that hasn't been on the game show so you'll know that I'm not just memorising episodes." Klaus replied firmly.

"Klaus…" Quentin sighed.

"Please, Sir. Just a chance."

Quentin took a moment to study the man that stood before him. Klaus certainly looked unfazed by the size of the task ahead. Most Scabs he knew would have taken to the hills, intimidated by the Norms and Uppers that stood before him but Quentin could sense the determination behind Klaus's words as he stared back at the stoic expression of the brown-haired Scab.

"Fine," Quentin replied, willing to humour Klaus in the least. "Off the top of my head, what is the 35th digit of pi?"

"8," Klaus replied, almost instantly.

Quentin was taken aback. Walking towards his library, Quentin pulled out a book with the first hundred digits of pi recorded. Flipping the pages, Quentin gasped out loud as he realised that Klaus was right.

"I can quote you the first two hundred if you wish?" Klaus said as he recited each digit of pi perfectly without missing a beat. Quentin stood there, astonished at what the Scab had achieved as a smile crept up on his face.

"That was impressive!" Quentin remarked as soon as Klaus was finished. He could see the Scab smiling warmly at him as Klaus nodded gratefully at the compliment. "How on earth could you possibly know that?"

"I memorised it when I was ten, Sir," Klaus replied as he held his hands behind his back.

"Please. Call me Quentin." Quentin said as he extended his hand for Klaus to shake. "You must have been a prodigy."

"More of a bibliophile with an eidetic memory," Klaus answered as a faint blush came upon his cheeks.

"Listen, Klaus," Quentin said in a serious tone. "I still think it's a mistake for you to contest but, if that's what you're willing to do, then give me some time to consider. I will need to discuss this with the Mayor."

"Certainly. Thank you for giving me this interview and this chance." Klaus replied as he shook his Quentin's hand once more. "I really appreciate it."

"The pleasure's all mine," Quentin replied with a smile on his face.

…

"Well, I suppose there is a silver lining to all this." The Mayor sighed before laughing and clapping his large hand on Quentin's back.

"What?" Quentin asked, not taking his eyes off Klaus.

"You'll be paying me a million dollars at the very least."

"What do you mean?" Quentin exclaimed in surprise, his attention now turned to the Mayor.

"Have you forgotten?" the Mayor replied. "The only reason this Scab got onto the game show is that you convinced me that you would sponsor him in the event that he misses out on a question. You should thank your lucky stars that I ordered for him to be removed before he could have a stab at the final question; otherwise, you would be owing me a billion dollars instead."

"Wait, hold up. So you have every intention of not letting him go for the Final Question? Are you insane?" Quentin replied, raising his hands in the air. "Our numbers are through the roof! Ratings have exploded! Everyone and I'm not speaking in hyperboles when I tell you this but everyone in Viceroy City is hooked onto the game! There's even groups and discussions on what the Final Question could be and you're going to pull out the one contestant that has gotten there all on his own just before the finale? Admit it, Sir, Klaus Baudelaire is right. We've come too far. We have to at least allow him to answer the question."

"All on his own?!" the Mayor repeated as he glared at Quentin. "He's a bloody Scab, for God's sake! You honestly think that he got there all on his own?"

"How else could he have done it?"

"I don't know!" the Mayor threw his hands up in the air in defeat. "He could have some kind of listening device implanted in his ear that our detectors can't detect. Whatever the explanation is, it is at the very least, more plausible that the fact that the Scab here is a genius!"

"Maybe he is, Sir." Quentin sighed.

"If that's the case, then I fear, the situation is much worse."

"Why?"

"Use your goddamn brains, Quentin." The Mayor growled. "Think about the consequences of what would happen if Klaus Baudelaire actually succeeds in winning the game show. A lowly Scab, able to accomplish not even the greatest minds of our city can accomplish! A Scab who proves that he is better than all the other Uppers and Norms in our city, who have all gone to prestigious universities, colleges, academies, and schools! The Scabs have remained quiet for the longest time but Klaus winning might be the spark that ignites an uprising! Scabs demanding for equal treatment, equal rights! No, no. I will never allow a Scab to be the first to win the competition. That honour has to go to an Upper or at least a Norm. Once we get rid of Klaus, I will take steps to assure that an Upper wins the competition."

"You mean rig the gameshow?" Quentin exclaimed in disgust. "We can't do that."

"The hell we can!" The Mayor roared. "And you better get on board with this, Quentin, otherwise you can go back to your manor and sip wine and smoke cigars all day for all I care. No one gives about the host."

Quentin clenched his fists, outraged at such a threat. He chose to remain silent, however, as he turned to Klaus and Arthur, both of whom were now watching a recap of Klaus's performance in the competition so far.

Come on, Klaus Quentin thought angrily as waves of rage and despair ran throughout his body.

…..